The persons, places and events in this story are creations of my imagination and are entirely and purely fictional. They are not intended to portray any persons, places, things or any events which have occurred in real life. Any similarity to same are purely coincidental.
The wind gusts blew directly into me as I walked down the street. I leaned into them plowing forward. A firm fine drizzle pelted my face and I winced as it stung. The cold front screamed at me from the west. Fall was upon me and I was taking the brunt of its arrival. My trench coat flapped open in the breeze. I clutched my now prized cup of fresh hot coffee, my only refuge from the cold.
I cringed as I came upon a four way intersection- they were the worst, no hiding from the wind here- and had to stop for traffic to pass. I raised the cup to my lips and sipped the piping hot liquid. As I brought it down, the cup paused at my lips, as I gazed in amazement at what I was viewing. It was like an opening act at the theater. The curtain goes up and all eyes are affixed on center stage.
My eyes immediately seized upon the street before me. It was almost as if the whole event was in slow motion. My brain must have anticipated what was about to happen. As it evolved, the entire moment was recorded, broken down, categorized and filed it away for long term storage....
From the left side of my "tunneled vision' I saw a blue car enter the scene. It pulled before me and slowly stopped just behind the first car at the stop sign. I peered in at the front passenger seat. She sat there looking out the window up at me as I stood on the elevated curb. Our eyes met for a prolonged pause. Instinctively sensing something, I momentarily glanced down at her blouse. It was open, open just enough to peer in... her left breast and nipple were barely exposed... the breast was small, the nipple conical, the tip pointed upward. The car stood still, waiting its turn to advance to the stop sign. I prayed for more cross traffic to stall the inevitable and permit my intrusion to continue. My eyes darted back to hers to see if she had noticed my glance. She sensed her exposure. I expected her to turn away and cover herself. She did not. Instead, she raised her right hand and slid it into the blouse, opened the blouse to me a bit more and touched herself.
I did not think the driver knew what was happening right next to him. He could have been her husband, a paramour, a co-worker, a boss, a friend or anyone else. His view of me was obstructed by the angle of the car to the curb. I think his sideward view was blocked by her coat- the left side was bunched just high enough for him not to see her right side. She may have even slightly shifted her body just to obstruct his view.
As she continued looking right at me, she cupped the soft smooth round underside of the breast and gently squeezed and twisted her left nipple with the thumb and pointer fingers. It was captivating. I licked the rim of the coffee cup as if it was her nipple- slowly with a tender touch around the edge, back and forth along the underside, imagining it was her areola, barely teasing the nipple tip with the middle of my tongue. She pinched and twisted the tip for what seemed like an eternity. I was transfixed as she fondled herself for me.
The car edged forward to the stop sign. She smiled slyly in acknowledgment that I had seen her exhibition. Then, as if nothing had occurred, she turned her head away, looked forward and the car drove off.
For days I was fixated by that encounter- to me there was something highly erotic about it. I repeated the moment in my mind, second by second, frame by frame, movement by movement. I worked hard to remember the event as it unfolded. I was seduced by the way her hand reached into the blouse, the way her hand cupped her breast and her fingers tenderly touched the nipple, turning and pinching it as it came erect. That sequence drove me mad. I lay awake at night repeating it in my mind, stroking myself to pleasure. I would fantasize about her- her face, her hand, her skin, her facial expressions, her body movements, the various ways I would take her, the positions, the chance meetings, how she would be dressed and undressed.
I wondered if she thought of the moment, replaying it in her mind, doing the same things I did. I doubted it. I wondered if I would ever meet her. The chances were nil. Regardless, the images were burned into my memory. If I did meet her, what would happen? Would she remember me and the moment? Maybe those things were not meant to be known. It might be better that way, lest she have no recollection of the fleeting moment. For then, my disappointment would be great, the moment would have meant nothing to her....
A few months passed and I grew less fixated with her and the encounter. Fall was winding down and the winter was soon to appear. Another cold and dingy day. I walked to the accountant's office for a meeting. Signing in at the receptionists desk I was asked to have a seat and wait. I sat oblivious to all around me until my name was called. I looked up. It was her. She was looking down at a report, waiting for one of the many in the lobby to introduce themselves as the person sought. She looked up and introduced herself- Natasha- my accountant's assistant. My heart suddenly raced with apprehension and excitement....
We walked down the hallway. I followed slightly behind her. She told me how nice it was to finally meet, we having previously spoken on the telephone. She told me she had heard only nice things about me from her boss. We arrived at the conference room where my accountant was waiting. Before I could reply to her, he interrupted our conversation (and I pay him for this?) standing up and thrusting his hand forward to shake mine. He quickly thanked Natasha for escorting me and dismissed her. She smiled at me, turned and left.
My mind raced all during the meeting. All I could think was that she did not recognize me. I was dejected. Numbers swirled around my head and I could not focus on business. I just sat back in dejected oblivion trying to absorb the business at hand.
Half way though the meeting Natasha unexpectedly opened the door and handed me a folded telephone message. As she passed the paper she said my office had called and it sounded important. She thought it best to interrupt. Dutifully, she stood waiting for instructions, looking over my shoulder as I read:
"Meet me today at 8:00 pm in the lobby tonight. No talking, no questions. You must trust me. My rules." There was a telephone number in case I was delayed. Nothing more.
"Thank you very much. Please call my office and tell Heather that 8:00 tonight is perfect. Oh, and Natasha, thanks for interrupting," I said.
