Red Streaked Moon Pt 01

She was my last great love and it was a surprise for a new love to appear in my mid 60's. I wasn't seeking love although a physical relationship with a female was ever on my agenda. Love only came to me when I wasn't looking.

I had, in fact, had a conversation with my adult son a few months prior about the unfortunate mathematical odds of finding a woman who would be interested in partnering with an openly bisexual man.

I even considered the idea of seeking my love interest in Europe where a woman might be more open about sex. I was preparing myself to be single for the remainder of my life. I'd been married for 31 years and was divorced in my early 50's when my sexuality changed from straight to bisexual.

I was unprepared for meeting Moon. She didn't remind me of my wife other than that I could understand how men would easily fall in love with such an especially attractive woman. Many men fell in love with my wife before and during our marriage. I'm certain that many men fell in love with Moon, and so did I.

One day, as I browsed the Craigslist personals, I noticed a posting by a woman in her early 40's who was looking for two well hung men to have a threesome. I enjoyed browsing the Craigslist personals in the days when people could post very entertaining offers. Sometimes I read the messages just to see what people were up to and sometimes I was hunting for physical entertainment with a man, a woman, or both.

Moon's posting put my brain into gear thinking about what options I could propose to this woman of multiple needs. I considered two bisexual male friends who were each packing seven inches with some thickness, similar to me.

Since both of them were in their middle 50's, I could use their ages to respond and not mention my mid 60's age. Both of them had good massage skills as did I and a free massage was always a good enticement to bring a woman to my table. A free four hands massage would be irresistible to an adventurous woman.

I sent a reply the same day of the posting and received a positive response that evening. I had included pictures of me but didn't want to send my friends' pictures without their permission. I knew that both of them would be interested in a threesome, but I didn't want to get them excited about the possibility until I had gotten a reply.

In the posting, the woman had declared herself to be a small BBW and very open sexually. She hadn't provided information about her marital status and I didn't feel the need to ask.

She was quite interested in the possibility of four masculine hands attending to her physical needs and her level of interest increased when she learned that all of us had professional massage skills. My hands would also provide warm Reiki healing energy when I touched her.

Since her schedule was complicated, she offered to meet with just me first at a local bar and we could see how to proceed from there. I was never one to spend much time in a bar, but I knew that there were two nice bars on the bay just down the street from my house. We made a plan for a Thursday evening at 8 PM.

She had face pictures of me and she declared that there were three red streaks in her long hair which would make her readily identifiable. I was intrigued by this information and sensed an increase in my libido. I also had a sense from her that if she found me sane and entertaining, she might come back to my house for a massage.

I made sure that the house was ready and that the massage table and oils were in place trying to create a positive environment. I wouldn't make assumptions, but I would be prepared for the outcome that I envisioned and wanted. I would have to be in the moment with her at the bar and determine what could happen.

Fifteen minutes before our appointed time, I walked down the street to the bar I had suggested and waited outside to see what cars arrived in the parking lot. The bar/restaurant was not that busy and parking spots were available. I observed couples arriving for late dinners or a night cap.

Just a few minutes past the appointed time I saw a silver SUV arrive with a single woman. As she exited her vehicle, I could see the overhead lights shine on the red streaks in her black hair and knew that my date had arrived.

She was an Asian woman who was thicker than most Asian women I had met, but I wouldn't have described her as a BBW. She had the standard Asian female height of 5'3". She wore tight black pants and a loose fitting light colored blouse which was a good choice for the cool September night.

She provided a warm smile of recognition when she determined that I was there waiting for her. Her bright red lipstick well complimented the red in her hair. She had a lighter complexion than many Asians and there was a roundness to her cheeks that was attractive to me. It made me wonder if she had a similar round quality when viewed from behind.

She held out her small fleshy hand in greeting and said, "Hi. You must be Billy. I'm Moon." She was aptly named for her face had a luminescence that was cool but friendly. Her open smile led me to smile in return. "I'm so pleased to meet you," I responded with an increase in my happiness level.

There were many delightful qualities about her beyond the physical attraction that I was already feeling. She had her long hair worn up in a complicated fashion that exposed her neck. I knew that Japanese women understood the nape of the neck as an attraction to Japanese men but she was not Japanese. "Shall we go inside for a drink?" I invited her simply. "Yes, let's do that," she responded in taking the first step along the path to the massage table.

Outside it was dark but the bar was brightly lit and only half occupied so it was easy for us to locate two neighboring seats that were separate from others. I wanted us to have an open discussion without either of us worrying about being overheard.

The late 20's female bartender who was wearing a tight black vest and a crisp white blouse, came to us right away and placed two drink coasters in front of us. "Here for a late dinner or just drinks?" she offered while suggesting a larger bill that would include food. The undone buttons at the top of her blouse accentuated her healthy bust.

"Drinks are good for us," I declared to the bartender and "What would you like?" I directed to Moon. My date requested a dirty martini which surprised me and I wondered if she were having a more serious drink to work up her courage for a massage. "A black Russian for me," I declared. As the bartender turned, I couldn't help but notice that she had a perfectly formed ass in her tight black pants. She was dressed for good tips from men and I was likely to provide one.

The bartender went into motion and provided our drinks with a pleasant smile. I offered a credit card in payment and she returned, "Should I keep a tab open for you?" I readily affirmed suggesting to my date that I was not in a hurry and time would tell what would come to be.

While the drinks were being made, I had turned to Moon and said, "Thank you for being brave and meeting me." "You wrote like a sane man and I'm always curious to see if someone is who they declare themselves to be," she replied in a very direct manner while looking at my face to note my reaction. "I'm who I think I am, but you'll have to determine if I'm who you'd like me to be," I rejoined with my Irish smile.

She responded with a smile at my turn of phrase and accepted that she was the one in control of the evening. I sensed that she was comfortable with being in a controlling position, but there was also an element of wanting to be guided or at least charmed.

When we were ready for our first taste of the drinks, I said, "Here's to meeting a lovely woman." She didn't blush but replied, "And to meeting a charming gentleman." The compliments were very gender driven but that was likely in an early meeting where one didn't know much about the other.

Moon decided to take the controlling position as if she were interviewing me for employment. "What kind of work do you do?" I explained that I had been in the corporate IT world in New York City but I had left that for a kinder gentler life at the ocean doing massage. "And how did you learn massage?" I explained that I had spent time in Thailand and Cambodia and learned massage techniques there but studied Reiki in the US.

The Reiki study added more substance to my understanding about the energy within people. I learned how to use my hands to inform me about what was happening inside someone else. I could only truly know someone when I touched them.

Perhaps because we were in a public setting or she was just getting to know me, she didn't ask the next obvious question, "Do you massage women and men?" I was relieved that that question hadn't come so soon in our meeting because I was finding her very attractive and wanted her to choose my house as the next destination.

I asked Moon if she had had Reiki before and she declared that it was new to her. She had looked it up on the Internet after I mentioned it in my emails, but she hadn't had any personal experience. I explained that it was a transfer of healing energy not from me but through me, and that it could enable healing physically, emotionally or spiritually. Any combination of those was also possible.

I further explained that I had studied the Chinese energy meridians used in acupuncture and appreciated their sense of how the human body processed energy. I then took the opportunity of Asian culture conversation to declare, "I'm unable to determine your Asian heritage."

She laughed and replied, "I'm a mix and that's what makes me less easy to determine, even for Asians!" This was a most kind response and she continued, "My mother was Thai but my father was Southern Chinese." In Northern Thailand it was a very common mix and I asked if she came from that area. She complimented me on my accurate guess saying, "Ah, you know more than most. I'm from Chiang Rai."

Neither of us had been drinking much of our beverages, but seemed to be more focused on each other. "And what work do you do?" I turned the inquiry to her. "I used to have a tea shop and imported tea from Northern Thailand. All of it was specialty tea and it gave me a good excuse to return to Thailand regularly to meet with my family."

"If you don't mind telling me, how did you come to be in the United States?" With a heavy sigh, exhaling some unfortunate energy, she replied, "Yes. You have asked a good question but one that has many parts to its answer and I'd rather wait until I know you better." I received this answer in a very positive manner because it suggested that she might want to know me better. I was as hopeful as a dog.

"I can understand that. What more would you like to know about me?" I bravely offered. "How did you come to be divorced?" she placed gently on the table as she took a healthy sip from her martini to give me time to compose my response. "Ah, that's also a complicated answer, but I'm willing to be open about it since it was a long time ago." I hoped that I wasn't exhibiting any of the pain from that challenging time.

I had been married for 31 years and that most of that time it was a very happy and successful marriage. I was not completely truthful with Moon when I suggested that after the children were grown and off to college, we had discovered that our shared work was no longer enough to keep us together. In addition, my work was in New York City and hers was in Western Massachusetts. We were living close to her work and I was the one with the lengthy commute which I had done for nine years.

Since she seemed to accept that much of an answer, I didn't elaborate further about the problems that resulted in the end of my long marriage. Moon may have sensed that I had reached my own personal limit with a new person and didn't push further.

I didn't ask a question about her marital status, but she offered, "I'm in the process of a very long divorce that might become longer than the marriage." "How can that be?" I questioned sympathetically. "Having children complicated our lives and he chose to be married to his business rather than to me."

"Did he have his own business?" "We both had businesses but his made much more money and supported a very comfortable life style. In the end, I closed my tea shop to be able to spend time with the children. It was then that I discovered they were more important to me than he and his money were." "That must have been a difficult realization," I empathized.

"He didn't want a divorce and fought with good lawyers and the reputation of his family. I fought for what was right for our children. And so, many years later and lots of money spent, we are still in court without a final agreement." "I'm so sorry," I sympathized while reaching for her hand to console her and offer my supportive warm hand. She didn't remove her hand but allowed me to feel her current state.

"Your hand does get warm," she replied with surprise. "How does that work?" she comfortably changed the subject. "I don't really know and find it amazing myself.

Would you like to feel how it works in a full session?" I bravely put on the table.

She didn't remove her hand but placed hers on top of mine saying, "I think that you might be ahead of me in that thinking, but let's continue with a less emotional topic." "OK," I returned without a sense of rejection.

"What was it like having your tea shop?" Her face lit up as she expressed, "I loved having people come to enjoy what pleased me so much. I made pastries to go with the tea and so many people found peace, solace, happiness, or contentment in that simple experience of human sharing.

I hated giving it up but didn't know what else to do to save my family and keep us all together." And there we were back at the dreaded divorce topic, so I asked, "What kind of pastries did you make?" "Oh, I made muffins and cookies, but scones were what most people seemed to really enjoy," she happily returned to the tea shop topic.

"I was a pastry chef in New York City for more than ten years," I kept us in the food conversation. "Really?" she responded with genuine inquiry. "Where did you work?" I explained that I had been at the 21 Club but most of my time was at the Silver Palate. "The one with the cookbooks?" she queried with open eyes and interest. "Yes, some of my recipes are in those books, but you won't find my name," I returned with only a small amount of resentment remaining from my experience thirty years before.

"There are some good recipes in those books, but I must confess that I never looked at the ones for pastry," she said a bit sheepishly. I laughed openly, appreciating her honesty. "Well, perhaps, we shall have to have a bakeoff with our scones one day." She genuinely smiled and placed her hand in front of her face the way that Asian women do so readily. I found that action so in contrast with the woman who wanted to be with two well endowed men. Some cultural traits weren't removed easily.

"I have a great kitchen in my house and you probably do too. It has 18 feet of Corian countertop and high end appliances that go well with the hardwood cherry cabinets," I bragged. "Are you wanting me to see your kitchen?" she joked tantalizingly. "It's why I bought the house and it brings me happiness," I offered genuinely.

"Is it just the kitchen that you want me to visit in your house?" she played gamely. "I'd hope that you would be at ease in all the parts of my house. There are many Asian elements to my décor since I spent time in Japan and Thailand as well as Cambodia," I enticed.

"What did you think of Thailand?" she changed the venue. "I loved the Thai people who were so open and generous. Even people who were not wealthy offered to share what they had and smiled openly to foreigners."

"Yes, we are indeed the land of smiles, but there's much that can be hidden in a smile as well you know," she rejoined. "It was the first time that I was in a Buddhist country and the absence of Christianity was remarkable to me, since I grew up filled with the dogma of Christians. It helped me to see the world through another's eyes."

"I can see some of the Buddha in you and when you touched my hand there was a spiritual feel to that touch. Perhaps that gives me confidence to come with you," Moon suggested.

"I can assure you that only good things happen in my house where I've lived for almost ten years. There's Reiki energy that fills the massage room and I know that you will sense that energy when you are there," I encouraged her. "Then it's decided," she offered bravely and resolutely. "It's only up the street but we should move your car closer to the house." "OK, let's do it," she stated with determination and a resolute posture.

I paid the bill for the unfinished drinks and we got into her car like friends more than newcomers. I guided her to my house where she was able to park on the street in front of the cedar frame elevated house that had been flooded by hurricane Sandy some years before. She appreciated the warm woody quality of the house with the red door and the maroon foundation.

After climbing the flight of stairs to the living space, I opened the door where she could see the open space that made the kitchen the largest room. She also commented on the Franklin pot belly that was in the living room and could provide a romantic setting. I had left on some lights so that the warmth of the space would be very welcoming for whoever walked in my door. Moon smiled and exhaled any of her remaining reluctance about coming to a strange man's house alone.

We hadn't really touched other than our hands at the bar and I chose to keep some physical distance until she was ready to commit to being on the massage table. One step at a time seemed to be comfortable for both of us. I didn't give her the tour of other parts of the first floor but she could also see the dining room opposite the kitchen where there was a large wooden dining table.

"I made that table from an old piece of wood that a friend gave me when I made this dining room after the flood." "Really," she replied while rubbing her hand on the finely textured thick piece of walnut. "It was the top to a life jacket bin on one of the Liberty ships from the 1930's. You can see the holes for connections and the beveled edge. It's a beautiful piece of wood and it's very heavy."

"Everything in your house speaks of warmth and security. I feel as though I'm missing both of those things," she confessed. "Those are parts of me that I can provide," I replied while keeping my distance. I was surprised by her suddenness when she said, "Fuck it. Let's do the massage. I want to be brave."

"Come upstairs then, where the massage table's ready for you," I encouraged softly while pointing the way to the stairs. I could feel her girding herself to take the next step that would lead to yet another unknown place. She had arrived at a comfort zone but had generated some new reluctance. "I'll go ahead and get the lights and music ready."

I began the ascent to the massage room and the contiguous bedroom. I hoped that my confidence in her choice would help her continue on the path that she had chosen back at the bar. I heard her soft steps following me up the carpeted stairs. We had both left our shoes at the door when we entered Asian style. I couldn't sense her level of submission, but I felt her conscious choice making. She was now ready for what lay ahead.

The massage room had one wall painted a deep red which gave an unexpected depth to the room. The wall was graced by a rubbing from an ancient Cambodian temple showing an apsara dancing lightly on one foot. A thick smooth rich gold frame highlighted the contrast between the wall and the rubbing.

The rest of the walls were a plain white, but the lighting came from a 12 inch glass sphere that was in shades of orange and brown, warming the room with its 15 watts of gentle light. I lit a small honorific candle in front of a Japanese Buddha image. As I put on the Asian massage music, I reminded her that the massage was done best with the recipient naked. "You should take off as much as you are comfortable taking off," I suggested as I left the room for her to get ready.