I lived in San Francisco for few years, back when I was still relatively fresh out of law school and working for one of the city's premier law firms.
On the particular day in question we had wrapped up some complex negotiations for one of the firm's larger Silicon Valley clients. Everything had gone smoothly for a change. And I was unexpectedly left with a whole afternoon of unscheduled time.
I decided, rather than spending it in the office billing someone as I ought to have done, to go out and enjoy the beautiful fall day. It was a rash decision for me, as I was of the more ambitious sort. But being one of the hardest working young associates in the firm and having plenty of billable hours for the month already, why shouldn't I treat myself to jaunt around town?
So there I was, walking along Market Street from Powell near where the cable cars turned around to the busy hustle and bustle of the Embarcadero.
On a whim, I decided to go into a little bookstore that I saw off one of the side streets.
It was one of those stuffy kinds of places, where the books were all older than me, and covered with an inch of dust.
I was browsing through the literature section looking at a copy of Lady Chatterley's Lover, and thinking he was probably a lucky man. But then again, I could be wrong, because I probably was never going to read it anyways.
Give me the Cliff Notes please.
It was at that moment I happened to look up and see a pair of the most beautiful green eyes I'd ever seen looking back at mine.
They belonged to a woman who was sitting in a chair across the way from me. When I caught her eye she immediately glanced back down at her book. Aside from the fact that she was a woman and I was a man, and that every first glance I take of a member of the opposite sex is to gauge my level of interest in having sex with her, I thought nothing much of our encounter at first.
Harmless flirtation. Nothing more.
I looked over at her again, and again she averted her eyes.
My evaluation was that she was certainly a knockout. More than worth my trouble. Her long legs were exposed since the skirt of her suit had ridden up slightly. I could see up the length of her smooth thighs. She had unbuttoned her blouse ever so, revealing the top bit of her creamy round breasts. Just enough of a hint to make you really interested. This was topped off with a full head of auburn hair wrapped up in a twist just the way I like. Her shade of lipstick maybe a shade too red to be polite.
It was a pretty attractive package altogether, I thought. Still, I didn't feel like hanging around a bookstore all day, when I could find other diversions elsewhere. And this knockout was maybe a little too shy for me.
Now I have had my share of sexual adventures, but I find now that as an attorney I don't have as much time for picking up women as I did when I was in college or the Marines. The kinds of women you meet in my line of work tend to be looking for husbands, not casual sex. Of course I've had a couple of steady girls and the occasional one-night stands as often as I can get them, but most of those girls aren't as adventurous as the girls I'd known when I was younger, more's the pity. After a moment's reflection I thought I'd hit the streets instead of trying to make something happen here. I could always head out to the bars and try and score a little action later.
Having made up my mind to go wander on my way to somewhere else, I flashed this girl my patented winning smile and headed out the door.
I didn't make it far before I stopped into a café and to have a latte while I read over the Wall Street Journal. Relaxing, I was just getting into an article when someone bumped into me from behind.
"Excuse me," said a softly feminine voice, "I'm so clumsy."
I looked up and saw that it was the girl from the bookstore.
"Oh," I said graciously, "I'm sure it was all my fault. I'm always getting in the way."
She gave me another shy smile, which encouraged me to continue.
"Are you alone? Why don't you sit down and join me?" I asked, motioning to the empty seat.
I think this girl had decided to take a chance on me.
Therefore it was imperative to chat her up as much as I could. She was actually pretty friendly. It turned out that Rochelle, or Chelle as her friends called her, was here for some sort of business convention and had decided to skip the afternoon session. She was from New York and had never been in San Francisco before.
"How fortuitous," I told her, playing with words too big for me, "I'm playing hooky too."
"Well it's a good thing we found one another then, huh?" she smiled.
We chatted about all sorts of things, from the Giants and the Yankees to the recent trends in the stock market. While I was entertained, I wasn't sure this was going to actually get past a casual if engaging conversation. Throughout the conversation I had been looking at her breasts and trying to make my glances seem more casual than they actually were. I was hoping it would turn her on more that turn her off.
But, man, do I love it when a woman pleasantly surprises me.
I had just passed some witty comment about California cuisine when she said causally out of no where, "Speaking of waiters, it seems like all the guys in San Francisco are gay."
I sat bolt upright. What did I just hear? She was looking past me at some of the people walking by.
"I wouldn't say all the men in San Francisco are gay," I stated, probably a little more emphatically than I needed to.
"Really?" she sighed, "I mean you hear stories about what a queer town this is, but wow. You know it's just that I've been here for two whole days and there hasn't been a single eligible man who's tried to go to bed with me."
"Well," I stammered in spite of myself, "I'm an eligible man, and I'm here...."
She didn't give me a chance to say anything else; she just reached over and actually grabbed my cock through my pants. Just grabbed it. So much for being shy! I couldn't help getting hard.
"My," she said thoughtfully, "You certainly are eligible!"
"Um," I said before taking a sip of my latte for strength. "I could help you out with your...uh...problem."
She seemed to be mulling the idea over, "How do I know you're not gay? I mean you are good-looking and intelligent. Most of the men I know who are able to hold a half way decent conversation with your attributes are as queer as three dollar bills."
Now, to give her credit, in San Francisco this probably is a valid question. I for one have several gay friends and I don't feel the least threatened in my sexuality.
"Well," I said reasonably, "You could take me out for a test drive and see if I can manage to your expectations."
"It might worth a try," she was leaning in to me and by this point running her fingers over my chest.
I thought it an opportune moment to move in for a kiss. I've found a kiss can tell a woman everything she needs to know about a man. Her lips were so soft that my mouth lingered there for a while, reluctant to let go.
"My place or yours?" she murmured.
"Which is closer?" I asked, with a sense of urgency.
"I'm just staying at a hotel by the Embarcadero," she said, "I'm probably closer."
I kissed her again and it took me a couple minutes before I reluctantly broke away from her tongue.
"What are we waiting for?" I asked.
We quickly got up with a sudden necessity to be on our way.
One thing that we hadn't noticed was how dark the sky had gotten. You see the problem with San Francisco in April is that, while it's usually warm, it is often subject to unexpected showers. The overcast skies started to sprinkle. And neither of us had an umbrella.
We took off down Market Street for the hotel at the best clip we could make, but we weren't fast enough, and the faster we walked the heavier the rain came down. By the time we had made it to the safety of the hotel lobby I was thoroughly soaked in spite of my suit jacket. Her blouse had become pasted to her breasts finally allowing me a tantalizing view of her luscious cleavage.
We made it into the elevator and pressed the button for her floor. But she couldn't help herself any longer. Chelle turned around to face me and melted into my arms, kissing me like it was going out of style. I just wanted to get my hands all over her, my manhood growing larger with each erotic impulse. I reached down to firmly take hold of her ass as she grabbed on to my neck to pull my mouth closer to hers, I hoisted her up as she wrapped her legs around my thighs. I moved my hands to every spot I could reach, nuzzling on her ears and taking in a deep breath of her beautiful hair.
Her perfume was driving me crazy.
It didn't taken her long to get her hair undone and it didn't take us long to get to her floor. As soon as the elevator doors parted she was off me and down the corridor to her room like a shot, with me in hot pursuit. It's probably a good thing the other guests didn't see us because I don't know what they would have thought.
I caught up with her at the door to her room and we worked our way, entangled together, to her bed, barely remembering to shut the door behind us. She slipped back onto the bed taking off her jacket as I took off my suit jacket. She started to work her blouse buttons off in time with me, as I undid the buttons of my shirt.
The need we had was incredibly erotic.
In a few seconds I was standing in my undershirt and she was in her lacy black bra. I made a big show of taking off my soaking undershirt like I was in a strip show, trying to be as masculine as possible as I pulled it over my head, leaving myself bare chested. She stood up and took off her bra allowing her round firm tits to bounce out in front of her. I reached over to move my hands over them twirling my thumbs over her smooth pink nipples. She moaned and moved closer to me moving her hands over the muscles of my arms, chest and stomach before ending up at my belt.
