The Conversation

It had been a hard week for her. Proposals, deadlines, office politics and people, always people wanting things, that had been her week. The months leading up to this week had been as bad. Always people and their unreasonable demands. The late June sunshine baked the downtown and surrounding area for weeks now and the gentle breezes of May were gone. It was hot, and that didn't help as she continued down the freeway to the peace and quiet of her home. Her daughter, Bonnie, would be away with friends for the entire weekend and that would leave the house without the constant activity of a teenager. She would be alone.

She loved Bonnie dearly, but her daughter needed to get out and have fun with her own friends and she desperately needed time to herself. She needed to recharge her batteries. She needed time to recuperate from the grind of work and people.

Unplug the telephone, a simple dinner, a nice, long, luxurious soak in the tub and into bed with a good book would be the start of a perfect weekend. With luck she would be able to be just as lazy and self-indulgent as she wanted for the whole time.

Having dispatched the telephone and cleaned up after a slow, easy meal, she proceeded to the bath. While the tub filled with water she went to her bedroom to undress. "God, I need this." she said aloud as she removed her blouse and skirt. On her way back to the bath she paused at the full-length mirror. "Not bad. Not bad at all, if I do say so myself." she thought as she looked at her reflected image. She studied herself naked in the mirror and, all things considered, rather liked what she saw.

An attractive face, framed with soft reddish brown hair, her delicate shoulders led to firm shapely arms and expressive hands. She turned herself from side to side in the mirror and admired a body she had worked hard to maintain.

"The years won't catch up with you for years." she said to the image and laughed.

She had small, firm breasts, a flat stomach and well-muscled thighs. She went up on tiptoe to catch the definition in her calves. "A dancers legs still." she smiled to herself as she settled again on her heels.

"Enough of this. Where is that bath I promised myself?"

The water was hot as she sank into the bubbles to her chin. She let out a long low sigh as the water worked its magic on her sore, tired muscles. She closed her eyes and drifted softly with the penetrating heat of the water. The house was so quiet and everything was just the way it should be. "I hope Bonnie is having as much fun as I am." she thought.

She must have dozed off. When she awoke the water had turned tepid and most of the bubbles were gone. "What a shame." she thought with a pout of her full sensuous lips, "Still that was nice."

The house was still hot. She opened her bedroom's French doors and a window slightly, pulled the covers down and crawled into the center of the bed covered only by a sheet. She knew a book would be a waste of time. She would never make it past the first page and just lying here naked beneath the sheet was wonderful. As she floated off to sleep she saw a gentle breeze move the curtain on the bedroom window. "Tomorrow will be cooler..."

Before she opened her eyes she became aware of the sent of cologne. She breathed deeply, but still could not open her eyes. Rolling on to her back, she moaned softly and raised her shoulders as she stretched beneath the sheet. What was that scent? It was very pleasant. It had a distinctive quality, but too heavy to be a woman's perfume and certainly nothing she used herself. It lacked the delicacy of her own.

Her eyes shot open in alarm. "Oh, my God!" she thought, "Someone is here." She lay still and scanned the room moving only her eyes. Silhouetted against the drapes of the open window, stood a man. He did not move, but he stood with perfect ease. There was no threat or menace, he stood there looking toward her as if he had done it a hundreds times before. None of his features were distinct. The light entered from outside the window and was further filtered through the curtains. It did nothing to illuminate any but the most basic features.

He was tall with broad shoulders. His arms and legs were long and as he approached her bed he moved with a studied grace and a sure rhythm.

Before anger and fear could touch her he knelt beside the bed and whispered, "You were sleeping so peacefully and you looked so lovely...” He bent and kissed the back of her hand as it rested outside the sheet. The voice was measured and soft, but each word was clearly enunciated in rich, deep tones and she knew this man. Although they had never met, they had talked on the telephone for months. She knew that voice very well indeed.

She breathed a long sigh of relief as the momentary fear left her. He stood and before she could say a word he knelt on the bed beside her, bent and covered her mouth with his.

The kiss was long and luxurious. His lips were moist and soft on hers. She could feel the light brush of his mustache and smell more strongly his cologne as one kiss led to another. Her breath was becoming rapid and shallow as his lips devoured hers. From atop the bedside stand he produced a single rose. Although she couldn't see it clearly, the fragrance was unmistakable as he stroked her cheek with the soft petals. Her eyes were clouded and heavy as she fought to focus any one of the thousands of questions racing through her mind. The single rose continued its course from her temples down her right cheek, across her lips and back again. Over and over it followed it's path maddeningly dulling her mind while it awakened every nerve ending.

"No." She said as she forced herself to form the words which would take from her this half waking, half sleeping feeling. "No." She said again, "I have to know...” Still the single rose stroked her skin and replaced reason with emotion. She tried to speak again. She tried to reach for the light on the bedside table. Her muscles would not respond. She had to see this man she had spoken to so often, but had never seen. There were so many questions to ask, so many things she longed to say and longed for him to say. He laughed softly at her feeble attempts to overcome emotion with reason.

So many conversations had passed between them over the months. This man had been inside her mind and she in his. They had shared secrets neither had ever felt free to share before. So many times she had wanted to hold him, had wanted to touch and speak with him in person. So many times she had felt his pain and been his comfort in a cold and comfortless world. Now they were together.

The rose stopped and rested on her lips. He bent again, this time his lips brushed her ear as he whispered. The voice was thicker now, edged with desire, but each word was distinct and there was no confusion to the meaning. "It is only for you to say 'stop' and it stops."

He stood and began slowly to unbutton his shirt. "Oh, my God..." she said in a ragged whisper, not so much a prayer as a plea. Shoes and socks followed Next he undid his belt and the button at the waist of his pants. Pants and shorts slid easily to the floor as he pulled back the sheet covering her.

He came to her and sat on the bed. His right hand and arm slid easily across her stomach and around to the small of her back. His left arm encircled her shoulders and the warm, wet kisses he devoured her with were intoxicating to them both. He lay down beside her and folded her small, lithe body with ease into his. Their kisses were welcoming, sometimes urgent, sometimes shy and hesitant. Each was exploring the other. Each communicating without words the desire and the deep need they felt.

Her breathing was heavy now as he kissed his way along her chin and jaw and on to her neck. She freely exposed her sensitive neck to the torturously slow decent of his kisses to her shoulder. The entire length of her body was pressed to his. She was aware of the light covering of hair on his chest and the constant aroma of his cologne. Strong fingers probed deeply into the muscles of her back while her own nails raked his arm and shoulders.

His kisses were being alternated with tender bites delivered to the crest of her shoulder. At each she shivered and gave an involuntary moan of pleasure. His own neck was exposed and she kissed, licked and bit until she felt him tense and shuddered with the pleasure she was giving him. She could hear his breathing becoming heavy and broken and each of his caresses became more insistent. Suddenly he stopped, raised himself and turned her gently onto her stomach.

He seemed to be gaining control of himself again and in her fear of losing the moment and him she uttered a soft and pleading "No. Please, what are you doing? No...", but finally surrendered to the deep, rhythmic movement of his hands and fingers as they dug and rubbed the muscles of her back. "Oh, please, don't... Please come here..." she said as she tried to turn over and recapture him. He laughed softly and continued the slow hypnotic movement of his hands on her back.

His mood had changed and so had his intent and with them the tempo of his movements altered. She bit her lower lip as she realized that he was taking his time to regather himself and employing the time to tease her. She wouldn't allow him to do this. She would bring him back to her, but she became more and more powerless as his hands found sore or sensitive areas and unlocked her tension. The stress and constant strain of her life flowed out of her as he worked his way to the small of her back. Now and again he would kiss or bite her, causing an involuntary shiver to course through her.

But the tempo was changing again and with it her breathing was quickening and becoming deeper. He concentrated, at first, on the muscle groups along her hips and across her buttocks. He shifted slightly and now knelt between her legs, working from the backs of her thighs to her shapely calves. All of this was a delicious torture for her. She wanted him and at the same time she didn't want the sensations he was causing in her to stop. He was teasing her and she knew it. He was banking the fire he had kindled inside of her with his kisses. She tried to rise, to turn over, but it was no use. She had neither the strength nor the will to do it.

After a time he shifted her gently onto her back and then took up a kneeling position between her legs. Her eyes shot open and a cry of surprise escaped her lips as he drew his finger from her shoulders, across her sensitive breasts, along her ribs, across her stomach and down her legs. The meter of his movements had changed again and her breathing was again heavy and quick. She shook her head from side to side and bit her lip as each track coursed by his fingers forced a moan or a small cry to escape from her.

Her breasts rose and fell more rapidly now as she fought for control of herself. With her previous lovers she had never been able to abandon herself completely. Now she stood on a precipice. She could retreat as she had always done or she could willingly embrace the abyss and fall freely into a warm and welcoming unknown. Her eyes were closed as she felt him move over her and she made her choice just as his warm, moist lips closed over hers.

He was surprised and thrilled by the passion he found on her lips now. Although his was fast and ragged, her breathing was now easy and deep. Something had changed in her, although what it was that caused the change he could not say. He had planned this carefully and for a very long time. He knew she was tired and needed rest she had also told him in a thousand different ways that she needed tenderness and care and more. Although she never specified what 'more' was, he felt he knew because he needed it too.

It wasn't the physical coupling they needed; it was a spiritual bonding, a mingling of two flames which would together burn brighter than either had separately. They were two tired, lonely people who had talked and laughed together who had each been immediately comfortable with the other. They seemed drawn to each other out of a common need. During their telephone conversations they had laughed and joked and shared and teased together and had found themselves attuned to the other. They shared their professional failures and frustrations and each had gloried in the successes of the other. Whenever he received one of her calls he would lean back, put his feet up on his desk, relax and smile. When he talked with her the tension would leave his body and he would feel at peace, the first real peace he had ever known. Her words were a cool and gentle breeze blowing over the tragedies of his life.

For her part she found him funny and charming. He was a better companion then she could have ever dreamed possible and he seemed to understand her in a way no one had before. Most of all it was his voice. From time to time she would drift on the current of his voice. She would allow it to wash over her. Her mind would wander while he spoke and she would be carried away. He would suddenly ask her a pertinent question or ask her opinion and she would stumble for an answer trying to cover the fact that she had not been listening to the words at all. It was the feeling, the cadence, the phrasing that mesmerized her, that calmed and, in the end, excited her.

Soon each began to wonder what the other looked like. Each had a clear idea of the other and each was hesitant to take the next step. With each telephone conversation, friendship turned to a closeness. There was a reluctance to say, "Good bye." at the close of each call. Neither wanted the other's calls to end and soon neither wanted the sharing to end. They had trusted and shared so much, they had covered so much ground, soon closeness matured into desire. Each had a deep unspoken hunger that could only be satisfied by the other. They had met by chance. She had called his office one day to inquire after one of his associates and a call that could have been answered by anyone in the office turned into the pleasure of his life. Chance. So easily gained. So easily lost. So easily ignored. He had not ignored it though. He had reached out regardless of risks, ignoring the dangers. He took the chance for his pleasure. He liked the sound of this woman and without thought beyond the feeling she caused in him, he accepted her into his life completely.

Two lonely people began to talk with each other. An interlude, a lark, it started as a simple diversion to take their minds off of the day-to-day routine. Their phone calls were a chance to get out of themselves for a while, just a few moments rest from the never ending treadmill.

He had felt his own hunger very early, but chastised himself for being 'stupid' and 'juvenile'. Over the weeks he had heard a matching tone in her and began to wonder, "Do you suppose she is interested? In me?" The thought came as a surprise, he had never thought of himself as the sort of man women would desire. He denied it as much as he could. He never really believed that someone like her existed. She seemed to know him as no one ever had. He let her closer and told her things he had never shared with anyone and it left him feeling good.. She was easy to be with and each conversation was a joy to him. She matched him confidence for confidence, giving herself away a bit at a time.

Fear and denial were there, but the fear of never knowing was greater and there was no denying the natural flow they shared. She had become suggestive and seductive and cursed herself for going too far to fast. She could not know how very much it meant to him. No woman had ever said those things and they were the things he so very much wanted to hear. She filled his mind and became the subject of his waking thoughts, not after a succession of calls, but after the very first call.

It wasn't the seductiveness that had seduced him, it was her kindness and her care, her capacity to love and the matching of her needs and his. He could not recall a time after desire took hold, when he did not want her both physically and spiritually. Lust was not a part of it. He wanted her, but only if he could have all of her. The physical without her soft and cooling spirit would be a sad substitute. All of this without ever having met, never having looked upon each other.

He had gathered bits of information along the way. A word here, a snippet of news there and before long he had the puzzle pieces in order. She would be home and alone this weekend. He had suggested casually that he would join her on her long weekend. She had teased, joked and laughed about it. She told him she would welcome his company but never with the thought that it would really happen.

He had told her he would be traveling on business and would not be able to talk with her for a few days. She would miss him and she had felt the sadness of that longing and of other, more powerful longings too. She needed the rest after the hellish schedule she had maintained, but she needed him more. Her need was matched by his and in the end his selfishness won out over both his care for her and his good sense.

Now they were together and he was delighted he took the risk. She was everything he ever supposed she could or would be. Her passion kindled a fire in him he thought long dead. Her touch electrified him. Her kisses caused his senses to reel. He never believed there was anyone who could cause him to feel this way, no one who could touch him the way she did. He had suppressed his feelings for so long and thought he had them tightly controlled. Now the nearness of her released that control.

They had continued to kiss until both were breathless. Panting they held each other and were still. Outside a light summer rain began to fall and for no reason the sound made them laugh. Slowly their laughter subsided. He looked down and studied her face. The subdued light from outside cast across his face. There had never been anything to fear about meeting. They were each what the other had come to know.

The night was still warm, but his tongue felt cool by contrast on her nipples. He licked, sucked and kissed them, first one than the other. The deep ripples his attention brought made her cry out. Her fingers tangled in his thick hair and she tried to pull him away. He resisted continuing his sweet torture, until her hands fell away and she lay drowning in pleasure beneath him.

When her breasts were so sensitized that she could hardly bear even the touch of the air on them, he began to move further down her body. Dimly she sensed the urgency in him and marveled at how he could restrain it. All of his strength was focused strictly on her and her pleasure. He explored her inch by inch, tasting and caressing until she though she would go mad from the flood of sensation within her.

Again she cried out, the sound reverberating in the still night air. There had to be an end; it could not go on forever. When he parted her thighs further, his fingers rubbing against the silken skin of her inside of one and than the other, she made no attempt to resist him.

His mouth touched her and the shudder that shook her seemed to go on forever. Her fingernails scratched at his neck and shoulders. The sensations she caused in him only increased his desire to please her. Never had he imagined a woman could be so filled with passion. She was responsive beyond words and seemed almost painfully sensitive.

At last he could bear it no longer. He kissed his way over her body again and as he came more and more within her reach she took possession of him. By the time he reached her neck and covered it with his kisses, he was almost out of his mind. The intensity of feeling she caused in him left him weak and shaking. He was only able to whisper, "Please..." to which she answered, "Oh, yes..."