I'd recently returned from active duty in he Middle East. Seven years in that part of the world gives one a definite positive slant on what we Americans have here in the United States. At twenty-five I was looking forward to what politicians like to call "The American Dream", and my dream included a girl I'd known since high school. Well, to make sad story short, Rachel gave me my walking papers on my first night home. I was pretty shook up and spent a week licking my wounds and feeling sorry for myself. Then one morning I woke up, said "To Hell with it!" and decided my seven year old Mustang needed to go for a long drive. The car was completely paid for now and had barely been broken-in.
When I headed down Interstate 5 toward California, I had no specific destination in mind, but late afternoon found me in central Oregon. I'd been driving since ten o'clock that morning and was pretty bushed, so I checked-in at a Holiday Inn just north of Eugene. By the time I finished showering, it was nearly six p.m., and before hitting the sack, I drove down the street a few blocks for something to eat. As I pulled into the restaurant parking lot I noticed an expensive car with the hood up and an attractive woman peering disgustedly at the engine. I parked nearby and walked over, saying, "Problems, huh!"
She glanced up, smiled and said, "Good guess! Know anything about cars?"
"Not much," I said. "Just enough to point 'em down the road and steer." Matching her posture, I leaned my elbows on the car and looked at her across the engine. She was one of those women who use no discernible make-up, yet manage to look feminine, soft and extremely sexy. She wore a sky blue blouse made of a satin-like material. Her large, wide set eyes were of an almost identical hue as the blouse. There was a smudge of engine grease on her cheek. This and the fact that her long black hair was secured in a make-shift pony tail combined to give her an almost teenage appearance. Although she appeared to be young, something about her attitude made me think she was probably in her late twenties. Her gaze caught mine in such a way as to give me the feeling that she could see right into my mind and know my every thought.
I saw something erotic in her gaze. Of course that could have just been my thoughts reflecting back at me; I'm sure my attraction for her was written all over my face. "What happened?" I asked.
As she answered, she moved around to my side and leaned on the car, her shoulder touching my arm as we peered down at the dead engine. "I was headed home and the engine began to sputter, so I pulled in here and shut it off." It was then that I became aware of her fragrance. It wasn't a perfume, exactly, at least not one I was familiar with, but a scent you couldn't quite get enough of. She stood and said, "I've been trying to start it, and now I think I've run the battery down."
"Wish I could help, but I really don't know anything about cars." I turned toward her. As she stood beside me, the top of her head came just to my eyes. I inhaled her scent deeply. There was something about her smell that really turned me on. I judged her to be two or three years my senior, and I wondered if she would consider me too young for her. But I figured what the hell. "Can I take you anywhere, help you find a mechanic or something?" I offered.
She turned to face me and gave me another of those penetrating looks. By her expression, I could tell that she knew I was inhaling her scent; that she knew I wanted to touch her, taste her, devour her. After a moment, without breaking eye contact, she said, "No, the car's new. I'll call the dealer tomorrow and let them take care of it."
Not wanting to give up, I suggested, "I could drive you home."
She studied my face a moment. "I don't want to impose. Besides, I live all the way on the other side of town. I can call a taxi."
"It wouldn't be an imposition," I really did need to get some rest, but I was hooked on her scent. Usually, when I come across an attractive woman, it's something about how she looks or walks that gets under my skin; that makes me say to myself: ^I want some of that.^ But this time it was her scent. Not that she wasn't a beautiful woman. She was stunning, but her scent was like an addiction I just couldn't get enough of it. A slight breeze, rustled my shirt against my skin, and I realized my nipples were erect and super-sensitive. "I was just going to get something to eat here and then spend a boring evening watching television. How about you join me for dinner, and I'll drive you home?"
She took a moment to look me up and down as though undressing me with her eyes. Finally, she stepped forward and laid her hand on my chest. It just so happened that my erect nipple was underneath her hand and her long fingers did a slight caress, sending a ripple through me, and now my nipples were not the only part becoming erect. Thank goodness for my tight Jockey shorts and loose pleated trousers. "I have a better idea," she said. "Drive me home and I'll make dinner." Then, as an added incentive, as if I needed one, "I also have a bottle of Petite Syrah, just waiting to be appreciated."
"Seriously?"
"Seriously!"
"You've got a deal!" Then I thought, ^That was too easy! I don't know this woman. What am I getting myself into? Maybe I should chuck it all and just go.^ But, instead, I held out my hand and said, "I'm David Farrell, by the way."
She took my hand and gave it a sensual squeeze, kind of caressing my palm, "Hi David. Evelyn Larkin. Eve to my friends."
Eve got a bag and a briefcase from her car and we headed across town. It was a complicated route to her house, but she told me when to change lanes and where to turn. In between Eve's directions, I found out that she worked as a psychologist and held a teaching position at the University. She also mentioned that she was performing some experiments about which she was writing a book. She didn't give any details about the project, but I got the feeling she was very much into it.