Perfection 21

On Valentine's Day, he encounters the "perfect" woman.

© SouthernCrossfire - 2023. All rights reserved.

This story was written for the 2023 Valentine's Day Contest.

______________________

Someone once said beauty is in the eye of the beholder, but I think that applies even more so for those seeking the ideal known as perfection.

Some see perfection in certain shapes or patterns, some find it in certain mathematical ratios, and some even find it in symmetry while others delight equally in asymmetry. Then there are those who will persist in telling everyone that there is no such thing as perfection.

It took some luck and a long while to figure it out but I finally know the truth....

***

Someone left a light on at their workstation so I went back to flip it off and make sure there were no stragglers before I left for a quiet evening at home alone.

As I approached, I saw it was Lisa's station and I heard soft sobbing coming from within. I knocked gently to avoid scaring her.

"Hi, Lisa. It's Mr. Carter. Are you okay?" Surprised she was there, I added, "I thought you left early this evening."

On hearing my voice, she looked up and quickly wiped her tears as I came around the corner. She was trying to put on a good face.

"Uh, I did, sir, to meet Hogan and some friends for dinner at the restaurant across the street. We wanted to get there before the Valentine's Day crowds. Our friends showed up but he didn't. He sent me a text message instead, saying that he didn't think we should see each other anymore."

Ouch! I looked into her eyes, deep pools of tears over dark brown irises that normally seemed so playful as well as matching her hair. She was one of the most naturally vibrant and positive young people I knew, which made me want to cry inside for her on seeing her reduced to this pitiful state. Yes, she was a lovely young lady, twenty-seven or so, and in peak womanly form. If I were twenty years younger and not her boss....

Hogan, Lisa's boyfriend of the past year or so, was an idiot.

In the few times I'd met him, I'd liked him but he always seemed a bit shy for someone as outgoing as Lisa.

"Lisa, I'm so sorry. Why don't you head home," I suggested. "Anything here can wait until tomorrow."

"An empty apartment on Valentine's Day? If you don't mind, sir, with you leaving, I can cry here without disturbing anyone, I might even accomplish something, and I won't have a hangover in the morning. I'll be sure to lock up when I leave."

I stifled a chuckle at that but nodded. "Decent plan, I guess, but I might have a better idea. Be at my place at 8 with your pad with the photos from your trip to Germany and Austria. We'll fix a salad and grill a couple of steaks and we'll have one glass of wine each so we won't have to worry about that hangover. You can show me the photos, we can look for potential design features we can emulate, and you tell me about your trip. That way, you still can be home by 10 or so to get a good night's sleep."

I didn't add that it might get her mind off of Hogan.

"Mr. Carter, I don't want to impose on you...or depress you," she started, but I held up a hand.

"If you don't want to come, I understand; it's just an invitation that you can accept or decline. Either way, I don't have any plans for the evening so you won't depress me anymore than I might already be, and you being there might even help cheer me up. Lisa, I'll be glad to have you if you want to show up, but completely understand if you don't. Either way, I do want to see the pictures from your trip someday soon."

She looked at me for a moment before nodding. "Okay," she said. "I'll come."

***

Fifteen minutes later, I was making my way through the grocery store picking up a few things. When I asked Lisa to come over, I hadn't really considered that my refrigerator was almost empty.

As I made my way down an aisle, my eyes caught sight of a woman pushing a cart in my direction. She was about 5'-7 or so with long, wavy auburn hair held in place by a black scarf tied around it. It was cold outside so she had her form-fitting coat buttoned up tight over a pair of blue jeans and zip-up boots. She was even still wearing a pair of black leather gloves but the oddest thing was the dark sunglasses despite it being well after dark.

There was something about this woman, or maybe a lot of things, that screamed out to me that she was my ideal image of a woman, perfection in blue jeans and boots. As I got a better look, while being careful not to stare, I realized she actually reminded me of someone, someone I couldn't place at the moment, but someone I knew who'd once at least attracted me, if not more.

I thought back over the years but couldn't place her. College maybe? Grad school? A date before I met Leigh? I couldn't remember so I took another look.

I slipped up this time and she caught my glance. As we passed, I smiled and said, "Hello," keeping my eyes on her face, wondering what was hiding behind the dark tint of those glasses. She gave me a hint of a smile and kept going without a word.

And that was that.

I shook my head, unable to get her out of my mind and I laughed inside. I'd seen the perfect woman and she'd blown me off in public.

On Valentine's Day, nonetheless.

I started to whisper "FML" to myself but it wasn't true. While I wasn't going anywhere in the romance department, my life was actually quite good. My parents were retired and well; my children loved me, were now in and almost in high school, and were doing well; and my finances were in remarkably good shape. Besides, Lisa, who'd become one of my best employees in the three years she'd been with us, would be over and in need of positive reinforcement before long so I didn't need to be having negative thoughts.

Therefore, I put it all out of my mind.

I turned the corner to the next aisle and stopped to look for something only to hear a soft "Hi" a moment later. I looked up to see her smile at me and then continue on, turning at the end toward the next aisle. Realizing that maybe I still had a chance, I spotted what I needed on the back of the shelf, grabbed it, and made for the far end, turning to go down the next aisle.

She'd stopped to find something but I noticed her glance my way and smile before studying that shelf, probably as hard as it had ever been studied.

"Excuse me," I said when I was a few feet away. It was a terrible come-on line but it was the absolute truth so I continued, "I think I may know you from somewhere but can't remember where for the life of me."

The woman, probably thinking I was toying with her, smiled and shook her head. "No. I'm sorry. I'm pretty sure we haven't met. Well, not before two aisles ago, anyway."

I chuckled as did she. "I must admit to having been disappointed in the outcome of that initial meeting, but I appreciate both of our meetings since."

A warm smile came my way. From her look, I figured she was in her mid-30s and probably weighed about 120 to 125 pounds. Her eyes were still seemingly focused on mine as she reached up and repositioned her sunglasses on top of her head.

It wasn't her deep blue eyes; despite being considered a rare color, there are thousands if not millions of women with that color. No, it was seeing her as a whole in combination with the cock of her head and the hint of playfulness that I recalled so well. I knew exactly who she was in an instant, the thought hitting me broadside like a locomotive plowing into a car that suddenly stops on the tracks. In my surprise, I gasped and bleated, "Alicia Astin!"

The blood seemed to drain from her face, so perfect and beautiful just a moment before, and she gasped a word of her own, "No!" and spun her cart around to practically run away.

***

Ten years earlier

Leigh, my wife, and Portia, Frank's, had been playing doubles tennis in the league for the past season and our two families had become fairly close, attending an occasional practice, going to all of their matches, and, in recent times, getting together at one house or the other or sometimes at a restaurant to save on cleanup.

This was one of those restaurant nights. We'd waited forever for a table and Lizzie, our daughter and younger one, was conked out in her car seat as we drove home afterward. Dan Junior, Danny, was yawning while playing his video game in the seat behind me when Leigh leaned over on the center console and whispered in my ear, "Did you have a fun time tonight, Dan?"

Leigh and Portia had been drinking while we waited and drinking more with the meal, so Leigh, at least, was feeling good. I suspected that Frank was dealing with a similar situation with Portia.

Leigh's hand rested on my thigh as she asked the question, and then she was tracing a figure eight on my pants with her index finger. The eight got a little longer, more like an infinity symbol, getting closer and closer to where it shouldn't be considering we were traveling down a major street at 45 miles an hour.

"Ah, yeah, they're a fun couple. I'm glad you and Portia have hit it off so well and that you've done so well on the courts, too."

The weekend before, they placed third in the league for the season in the Women's 30-35 division. With both being beautiful, in excellent physical shape, and being two of the most well-endowed women in the whole league, they'd drawn a crowd through their entire bracket run.

"Good," Leigh said. "I really like them and the kids seem to get along well too."

That infinity switched to a spiral which almost immediately became a direct hit, with her rubbing me and my pants straining as a result.

"Le-igh," I whispered in warning.

"What, honey?" she asked with pretend innocence, followed all-too-soon by a giggle. I had no idea how many drinks she'd had but I believed it was more than I'd seen her drink in one evening in all of our years together.

She cupped me with her hand and continued, "Are you

up

for some more fun when we get home?"

"Yeah,

when

we get home," I agreed, shifting slightly, trying to get comfortable.

She noticed, of course, and leaned over and kissed my neck, flicking my ear lobe with her tongue as we turned onto our street. I flashed a frown at her, she shot one back at me, and I grinned, looking forward to our fun. She grinned too, having won our little skirmish.

When we were in the garage and the door closed moments later, Leigh scurried Danny into the house to get him to bed while I untangled Lizzie from her car seat and carried her inside, her head on my shoulder, her arms hung loosely around my neck, and her little body draped over my chest like she was a rag doll. I had her teeth brushed and almost ready for bed when Leigh came into our daughter's bedroom. She'd already changed out of her dress and was wearing her bathrobe.

"Danny's in bed and said goodnight. Kiss her goodnight and then go make us a drink. I'll finish up here and be there in a couple of minutes."

I kissed Lizzie's forehead and told her goodnight, and she gave me a sloppy, sleepy kiss on the cheek in return. "Night, night, Daddy."

I made the drinks as requested; it was a Saturday night so if Leigh wanted to cut loose, I wasn't going to say anything. She rarely had more than one or two, but when she did, she tended to be a little more rambunctious and sometimes a little louder in our bedtime play. With four or five or however many it was, I wondered what she'd be like this time. I turned on our stereo to cover any such sounds. Wondering again how much she'd had over the course of the evening, I turned it up a little louder.

Leigh stepped into the doorway between our master bath and the bedroom just as I was finishing a bit of cleanup. She leaned back against the door frame, arching her back and thrusting her sweet tits toward the sky. At a 34E and her nips normally still pointing straight out even after two kids, she was as hot as fire and sexier than a succubus. In that pose, she was my picture of perfection, my wife and lover, and all I wanted forever—

There wasn't time to complete the thought because her nightgown dropped from her shoulders, falling into a loose pile around her and revealing the new nightie she was wearing. It was a fire-engine-red baby doll, sheer as could be except for lace on the cups, with a G-string pulled high visible underneath it.

Leigh stretched, her arms straight up and her tits straining, before turning away, toward our bedroom. She rocked her ass up toward me, those buttocks as perfect as her boobs, inviting me to play.

My arm shot around her, pulling her back against my rock-hard rod.

"Ooh, Mommy needs some of that Daddy meat," she whispered, pushing back against me. She turned her head back over her shoulder toward me and I was kissing her as one hand cupped her tit and the other slid into top of that tiny G-string.

Leigh always kept a little patch on her mound, but my rubbing showed something was wrong.

"You like? Portia and I got waxed after we did our manicures this morning. She said Frank really likes her smooth so I decided to give it a try."

"Oh, I like, all right! Thank you, Frank!" I agreed, rubbing her softness before pushing down into her vee. Separating her, I ran my finger over her clit.

"Ooooh," she moaned. "Ooooh. Oh, Dan, fuck me, fuck me right here. Do it. I'm wet, so get that fucking cock in my pussy and fuck the hell out of me!"

I kicked my boxer briefs to the side, pushed that damn little string over about the width of a frog's hair, and slid my dick into her sweet pussy. She was wet, all right, wet and perfect, and I buried myself to the hilt in one smooth stroke. Leigh bent forward, her back almost level with the floor, and she grabbed the door frame while I took a hold on her hips and started pounding her like she'd asked.

In the bathroom mirror, I could see her big breasts swinging, doing a wild but lovely dance as they settled into a harmonic rhythm. I always loved to see them do that, and this was the best ever so I pounded her even harder.

Leigh's moans were almost continuous when she tensed and her legs quivered. I stopped a moment later when she cried out, looping an arm under her taut belly to keep her from collapsing. Then I picked her up and carried her to our bed.

She hugged and kissed me once we were there. "Oh, wow, that was so good!" She looked at me, perhaps realizing that I wasn't quite as enthusiastic. "Dan, did you come?"

"No, not yet," I replied, causing her to grin. I kissed her for a bit—her lips, her neck, and her breasts—giving her some sweet loving before trailing down and kissing her kitty, enjoying its incredible smoothness. After some good kissing and sampling all around, I concentrated on her clit until she started to squirm. Not wanting to push her over the edge from that, I slowed to ease her back down a little and then climbed atop her and started to push into her opening.

"Oh, Dan!"

I rocked in and out of her for a while, a slow and steady pace, until she was ready and then I sped up. We were looking into each other's eyes as we did it, Leigh biting against her lower lip.

"Here, try this," she said, turning on her left side and putting her right leg straight up. We lost our link for a moment but she guided me back in and said, "Hold my leg and fuck the hell out of my pussy until you come."

I looped my left arm around her leg and started pistoning into her; my right hand cupped her tit, enjoying its firm softness as I rubbed my cheek against her foot, planting little kisses on it since that was the only thing I could reach. Leigh's eyes closed as I could see her coming back up on that orgasm I'd delayed minutes earlier.

With my balls smashing against her thigh on each stroke, it didn't take long before I had to fight the buildup. As she reached her point of no return, it became too much for me and I exploded into her.

***

We were a tangled mess as we lay together there on the bed afterward, with both of us exhausted. Leigh normally wanted to clean up quickly, but not this time.

"Here, sweetheart, let's go clean up and go to bed."

"Fuck it, Dan. I'm too fucking tired."

Leigh rarely cursed but she'd been doing it like crazy throughout our session, so I grinned. All of that alcohol, however much, and the sex had really done a number on her. I brought a warm cloth out a couple of minutes later and gently cleaned her, getting a really nice look at her freshly plucked cooch, its form, its folds, and the oh-so-enticing entrance to its depths. It was much too tempting and I leaned down and started kissing it again, sucking her swollen clit between my lips.

"No!" she laughed, squeezing her strong thighs around my head. "Enough! For tonight anyway, okay?"

I laughed and kissed her thigh instead of her sex and then tossed the washcloth toward the bathroom. Leigh snuggled up against me holding a drink that she must have gotten while I was in the toilet. She threw it back before I could say anything and then set it on the nightstand next to her. She moaned lightly and fell asleep—or maybe passed out?—a moment later.

I turned on the TV and watched some of the local news. As usual, it was more bad news than not, so I hit the button and was about to turn off the lamp by my bed when Leigh stirred.

"Oh, Dan, it was such a good day, don't you think?"

"It really was, Leigh, and tonight was a lot of fun. Say, where'd you see the leg thing-ie? I don't think we've ever done it like that before."

She laughed. "Portia showed me. She said you can get—"

I didn't hear the rest. Not "Portia told me about it." No, "Portia showed me." Maybe I was reading too much into it.

But maybe not. I posed it as an offhand remark, laughing when I said, "I bet Portia's good at eating pussy, too."

"Yeah, she's really good at it. She—FUCK!" She looked at me, her eyes wide, a degree of sobriety now present that had been absent a second earlier. My face was an angry mask, not sure where this conversation was heading but suspecting it was nowhere I would like.

"You had sex with her, didn't you?"

"Dan, I'm so sorry! After our spa day today, it just happened. My pussy was on fire after the waxing; they put soothing gel on it but Portia said she knew how to make it better and, well—"

"You fucked her," I said, seeing it as plain as day on Leigh's face. I was shocked that my wife would do that, betray me and our vows, but she had enough alcohol in her system that her inhibitions were lowered, her tongue was loosened, and her usual common sense was on sabbatical.

We argued on and on until she passed out and then argued more on Sunday. It turned out that she was interested in further "exploring her sexuality" and wanted to do it despite all of my objections. The damage already done but not wanting to see more heaped on top of it, I had her served a few days later, as soon as the divorce attorney could get the papers drawn up. At that point, her attitude finally changed, but like the convict facing punishment, I wasn't sure how much was genuine and how much was crocodile tears. We did some therapy sessions that the judge mandated, but it wasn't enough.

There weren't any huge surprises and the divorce went about like my attorney had predicted. The kids went with her, but I usually had them three weekends a month, a week during Christmas break, and four weeks during the summer. Leigh was a good mother and we eventually reestablished a working relationship with regards to them, trying to give them as close to a normal childhood as we could despite having two homes.

To her surprise, it didn't take Leigh too long to discover that, as good as being with a woman might be, she missed dick a lot more.

"Forgive me, Dan, please. I made a mistake and I miss you. Let's give it another try."