Author's forward:
I am not and probably will never be a professional writer. I have however had a great time, trying to tell a tale creatively that I have not had an opportunity to do since Freshman College Creative Writing class, over 38 years ago. Yes I'm sure I need an editor. After self-editing this story well over a half-dozen times, declaring it ready to publish, then sharing it with someone I trust to give me an unabashed critique and edit, the value of an editor seems obvious. I thought seriously about placing this in non-Erotic at first, but as the story grew, I realized, I wanted to at least try a sexual encounter to provide the proper denouement to the plot. Having voyeuristically read on this site for several years, I finally felt compelled to write this and at least get one story "published," to get it out of my system. This is my first story, that I will endeavor to get "published." I admit this is long and does not contain barn-burning sexual scenes that scorch reader's hands as they turn the pages. But, it is a heartfelt, warm, hopefully romantic story, with many elements based on truth rather than fiction.
Thanks for reading, and taking the time to offer any constructive feedback you, my dear readers, deem helpful. Oh and if you could vote too, that would be much appreciated so I have some sort of objective barometer by which to gauge reader satisfaction.
I do have several other stories in-progress. Whether those stories see the light of day depends on your feedback. Enjoy!
Introduction
At thirty years old, I took stock of my newly divorced situation. I had my BMW M3 convertible which I had paid for in cash, right before I got married to my now ex-wife Cynthia. I had a comfortable apartment not far from the bank where I worked, a thousand in savings, about five-hundred in checking, what remained of half of my 401K, my clothes, my job at the bank, and now thankfully, my sanity thanks to my divorce. Time to start over.
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My name is Tim Cramer. What I look like is a banker, which is what I am. I'm just an average guy of 30 that is still in shape due to my workout regimen, about six feet tall, 180 pounds.
I thought my first wife was the only woman I would ever be with, my entire life. That was so far from the truth that I still think I had a few screws loose to marry her in the first place. You might be surprised to learn, that I divorced my wife because we were having money problems. Laugh if you will, but that is the truth. It's hard to picture a banker having money troubles. But, people are human with foibles. My ex-wife liked to spend money to excess.
Three years after the divorce, I met a woman named Natalie at a Chamber of Commerce luncheon hosted by the Mayor in our relatively small suburb of Pittsburgh, PA. Natalie was seated at my table. Admittedly she was gorgeous.
Perhaps gorgeous doesn't fully describe Natalie. She was stunningly beautiful. She's a natural red-head with deep auburn hair that is slightly longer than shoulder length. Her hair has a natural curl too. She stood approximately 5 feet 6 inches tall with chocolate brown eyes. She was perfectly proportioned. Her voluptuous bosom narrowed to a thin waist with perfectly toned legs that showed her hourglass figure. Since my divorce, I didn't seem that interested in women any longer, preferring instead to remain the consummate bachelor focusing on my career.
Throughout lunch she would sneak furtive glances my way, which I casually returned with a smile. I detected no wedding ring on her finger however, I was still "gun shy," as my Father would say about engaging with the opposite sex. I took no action that day other than to politely introduce myself to Natalie as she was seated at our table, preferring instead to simply move along in my single uncomplicated life. The luncheon ended with speeches. I never gave Natalie another thought as I departed other than noticing she was an extremely attractive woman.
About the time I met Natalie at the luncheon, my financial future brightened by taking a step in the right direction. I had taken a huge chance on a retail store that catered to up and coming urban preppy women entering the workforce. Working in business required women to dress in the latest business suites. College age women's wardrobes consisted of shorts, T-Shirts and ripped jeans. The store, was not my idea, but instead I supplied the capital to launch the business by cobbling together my meager savings, loans from banks, as well as from my family. For me, it was a huge risk, in that I felt like I had gone "all in" to see the business become successful by leveraging my financial posture to the limit.
The store sold trendy but tasteful business clothes for women. I stopped by from time to time simply observe the interactions of the patrons and sales staff. I offered limited advice to the store manager occasionally since, as a banker, I had limited experience in women's fashion. In general, I remained quiet in the background, perfectly content to collect my monthly check plus interest from the store owner.
About a year after the store opened, I noticed a change in the clientele that frequented the store. It started out as twenty something young women entering the workforce for the first time in a real job. The clients gradually increased in age. After reviewing the sales demographic data of the first year, the average age for a shopper had advanced to mid-thirties. The twenty something crowd was still a mainstay, but the older patrons seemed to appreciate the finer quality wools and designer brands the store stocked.
The effect of the age change in customers was dramatic. Sales started taking off via word of mouth. Before long it was the chic boutique in town where women's business clothes were a must have. Having seen bust and boom times in the past as a banker, I took it all in stride until I got a call from the store manager indicating a high end retailer from New York was interested in speaking with the investors. I informed the manager that I would be happy to speak with them since I was the sole investor.
A few days later, I received a call on my cell phone while at my day job as assistant manager at the bank. I had an office so privacy was not a concern. The caller identified herself as Natalie Goldman. The name sounded vaguely familiar but I couldn't place it. The voice on the phone even sounded remotely familiar. She expressed interest in talking with me in person over dinner one evening in the next week as her schedule permitted. I agreed and asked her to call me with her plans at least a day in advance so I could ensure my schedule aligned with hers.
At this point, I had no idea what she wanted to talk about. She didn't elaborate on the phone. I was intrigued by the discussion and the voice on the phone. Throughout the rest of the day, I tried mightily to remember back through my past for a name that resembled Natalie Goldman. I couldn't come up with anyone.
Natalie phoned on Friday two days after our initial phone introduction saying she would be arriving the following Monday afternoon. She wanted to know if I could I arrange to meet her at the airport. I agreed. She shared her flight plans with me via e-mail that afternoon.
