Dinner and a movie was the schedule for the evening. I had lusted after this woman for what seemed to be years. She was perfect, not too pretty, but definitely not hard to look at, long brown silky hair, Dark brown pools for eyes, pert breasts. Always wore thin cotton shirts and short skirts in the summer, turtlenecks and slacks in the winter. I had become entranced with her over the smallest thing. She came in my office in one of her turtlenecks and a single strand of pearls, looped under one of her breasts. Not overtly sexy but it brought my attention to her breasts. Never being a breast man (I am typically stopped in my tracks by a nice set of legs) I never really noticed what nice breasts she had.
Anyway, I started noticing her on a regular basis. She never dressed overtly sexy, but never frumpy. She was trim without being skinny well proportioned but had absolutely fantastic nipples. They changed with her mood and I became to know them as her mood ring, (you know those things that were popular in the late sixties, early seventies that changed color with body temperature?). It took me several months, coming off a nasty break up, to finally ask her out on a date.
"A date?" she asked me...
"well perhaps not a date... how about you go to dinner and a movie and I'll just happen to be there?" I continued with a determined childish grin on my face. Fuck. I never guessed that she wouldn't be interested in going out with me. She'd always been so friendly, warm, with such a great sense of humor. We had laughed together over so many things in the past few months. Her nipples even became a source of humor. "your lights are on is anyone home?" and she would laugh at me, or she'd say "so you keep it cold in here just for me?" with a laughing tilt in her voice, and I'd laugh and say "absolutely!" and now she was shooting me down?
Shit.
"we'll try it as friends that just happen to be out at the same time ok?"
Anything to avoid the utter humiliation of being shot down. I felt that I had betrayed myself, let my emotions out, told her my innermost secret and she had laughed at me. As I prepared for our not-a-date-date I had serious doubts whether I should go through with it, I actually picked the phone up to cancel twice but stopped when the excuse I had planned to use sounded hollow even to me. I had a flash of the MASH episode where Colonel Potter is telling Max "ok half your family died, then the other half you family died, then they died again..." and besides, I told myself, "you just asked her out to dinner and a movie you didn't profess undying love for her, for crying out loud."
I decided to under dress on purpose. Jeans and a T shirt. What woman wouldn't fall instantly in love with a guy in jeans and a T shirt. Ok just about every woman I've ever met, but I wasn't thinking real straight. As I arrived I found her waiting for me. I wasn't late and found her readiness to be refreshing. I hadn't dated in twenty years and didn't really know what to do. Should I have brought flowers? I asked myself as I walked up to the door, "No this is a not-a-date-date." My thoughts ranged from should I shake her hand or try to give her a kiss on her cheek? This woman that I had spent so much time with at the office, that I was so comfortable with is now making me so uncomfortable I don't even know what to say.
She settled it with a simple "Hi!" and that so sweet, pearly white, girl next door smile. My god she was beautiful to me with that smile. "Hi, you ready to go?" I asked.
"No, I was waiting here for you so I can go back inside and wash my hair.." and then took pity on me as my face fell and I did the hurt puppy thing... "Yes I'm ready you goof" She seemed so at ease and I was so tense... the makings of a disastrous first not-a-date-date.
I kept a respectful distance from her as we walked down to the car, she, bouncing down the steps with a youthfulness I had somehow missed in my longterm observation of her. I looked at her hand wanting to take it in mine but not having the testicular fortitude to take the chance of getting shot down so early. I didn't even know whether to open her door for her or not. Every single motion, action and decision seemed so immense to me at that moment. I decided that it couldn't hurt to be a gentleman and blew it off with a joke, "I know I shouldn't open your door for you, this not being a date date but I have to check the carpet on your side of the truck" Not funny but give me a break would you?
We got in the truck (a pick up truck, but a nice one, without lettering on the side, extended cab, no gun rack) and as I started the truck her hand landed on mine on the center consol. I jerked my hand back as if it had been burned and could see her teeth in the darkness as she smiled at my discomfort. This just wasn't fair, how could she be so comfortable while I was so tense my shoulders hurt.
Every time my hand found its way to the center consol (my typical pose while I drive) it seemed to contact hers, and every time I jerked it back, I felt like a total idiot. Here I am 40 years old acting like a teenager on his first date. But her hand finally trapped mine, I felt her fingers curl around mine and hold on, soft skin, long trim fingers, I should be ecstatic that she would hold my hand but what do you think my thoughts were? "MY God! How I'd love to feel those fingers wrapped around my cock." Followed instantly by such a litany of self recrimination, of course, reflected on my face that she asked if I was ok.
"I'm fine." My short tense response. Could I make myself out to be more of an ass? Probably, don't ask the question or you'll find out. The restaurant in sight seemed to be my salvation, the holy grail, the oasis in the desert of my desperate quest to be myself with this woman. The dark Italian restaurant seemed such a good idea when I was setting this up, but now on this not-a-date-date, it seemed pretty ostentatious. The Maitre D smiled at us, told us that our table was ready and then winked at me. I wanted to tell him, look this is not a date! But wisely (for perhaps the first time that evening) kept my mouth shut.
I was doing great, really, I was! I had started to relax and our banter was carefree and fun, as if we were long lost friends, I sat there and listened to her stories and her descriptions of good times and not only looked interested but was able to quell the arguments in my head long enough to truly enjoy her wit and intelligence. I told her of my sordid past, my mistakes, my struggles through my failed relationship and she really seemed interested. It was truly going so smooth I was actually thinking maybe I can get through this. And then... I felt her knee pressing against mine. OH FUCK! Now what do I do? Again the thoughts of not having dated in twenty years, what are the rules, this is different than a first date because we know each other, but this is a not-a-date-date. What are the rules?
Being the first, original, idiot that I am, I ended up getting my leg pinned against the table leg, legs spread wide open trying to avoid contact, her ankle rubbing against mine. Now this is the exact situation I had fantasized about. She actually was interested in me but I was so uptight about not making an ass out myself (pretty damned difficult when it is inbred in my system) that I just wasn't reading any signals at all.
Her leg rubbing mine, a sultry look on her face she leaned over and whispered to me in the most sexy subtle voice I had ever heard... "what turns you on?"
I almost... almost but not quite, was so close to hiding the look of "say what?!" from coming across my face, but I couldn't hold back my mouth, the one that always seems to say exactly the wrong thing at the wrong time and uttered those words... "say what?!"
"what are your kinks, what gets you hot?"
"uhhhh ummmm well..." yes the consummate village idiot. Sex in an Italian restaurant, Sex in a theater, you, say anything you dolt. "lots of things I guess" That's fucking perfect you pervert, lots of things? Ok I'm not the sharpest tool in the shed.
"Like what?" and again that girl-next-door smile, the one that sets me off, the one that tells me that she could never enjoy all the kinky things that were so often the topic of my fantasies, the one that totally disarms me and gets me to tell her anything, with total honesty might I add.
"I love to watch, make, experience a woman's orgasm... I don't know why its just what turns me on" I answered in total honesty.
"You like to watch a woman masturbate? You like to lick a woman to orgasm? Or you like to fuck a woman to orgasm?" I couldn't believe that had come from her mouth. I would've never guessed she could even say those words much less in a restaurant across the table from me in public. But I have to admit, my cock, which had grown hard just from the contact with her leg, took an extra twitch at the words.
"Is this just for your general fund of information? Or are you asking me this so we can experience them together?" now my brain was starting to work. This was a situation I was prepared for, had thought about a billion times (men think sex every six seconds right? I must have a hyperactive mind).
And in that inimitable feminine way, just to be absolutely sure she keeps the indecision I'd been feeling all night going at blazing speed, her response, "I was just wondering" Now, what the fuck could that mean? Does that mean we're going to have a fuck fest and try every fantasy or is she just storing information to laugh about with her female friends. The nice thing about guys is you know what they are thinking at all times. Its always sex. What time is it? Is interpreted to how long ago or how long until I have sex. Did the plants get watered is interpreted into I'd like to fuck you in a jungle. Simple, pure. But women? Always play the edge and the least likely thoughts are the sex ones.
"Ok, I told you now it's your turn." I tried to continue the conversation.
"I have never tried it but fantasize a lot about being controlled... No pain no humiliation just controlled, to be used as a sex toy." I couldn't believe my ears. How I'd love to use her as a sex toy. One that cums over and over.
"Sounds like a plan" is my brilliant response. My hardness aching in my jeans. Why didn't I wear the slacks, the ones with plenty of room for "growth"
Did I get the "fuck me, here and now?" the "take me home and fuck me?" the "I've been masturbating under the table all evening and I'm going to cum?" Hell no! I got "the movie's going to start soon we should go." This not-a-date-date taking this turn it was easy to decide to pay the dinner tab. Finally, an easy decision.
We sat down in the theater after holding hands the whole way there. I know, seems like such a small thing but in my mind this was taking a great turn.
We sat down in the theater and watched through the previews. The theater wasn't very crowded which told me this movie probably wasn't very good. Some flick about some guy wanting to be another guy. Probably the most boring movie I have ever seen. My hand in hers was laying on her leg, her arm on the armrest. My fingers began to gently stroke the inside of her thigh. I tried to make it as nonchalant as I could but was aware that she could feel it when she sighed and slid a little lower in her seat, her legs parted slightly, my fingers trailing up her thigh as her body moved lower. I took it as a sign of disapproval when her hand slipped from mine and pulled my hand back to rest it on the arm rest.
Her hand grabbed mine and pulled it back over to place it on her leg, sliding slowly up, to the hem of her skirt, then to her hand retracted. License having been given, my fingers trailed slowly up her thigh, tracing light circles. The movie totally forgotten, my fingers were getting closer and closer with each trailing circle. I glanced over at her to find her head back, eyes closed as my fingers came in first contact with her wet panties. My finger traced over her lips through her panties and her legs spread a little farther giving me better access... She whispered in my ear... "feels good.... Hmmmmmm" I could feel her softening, lubricating as my fingers centered on her clit, its hardness growing under the soft silky texture of her panties. I could feel the warmth emanating through the cloth, the growing moisture, I used her panties to put pressure on her clit as my fingers slightly penetrated her, I could feel her lips separating and feel her breathing change... Again the subtle "hmmmmm" sign of approval.
