First Date 48

Author's note: This is the first story of what will become a series about the history of me and my wife. Originally this was written to her, and it differs from the others in its attention to romantic detail. This will be more appealing for the sentimental types, though follow-on stories will be more sexual in nature. Enjoy.

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I met my wife Tori while we were both in college. She was a year younger, and we met through a mutual friend who had dated Shane, one of my close friends. He had not been very attentive to Stacy, and I usually spent more time chatting with her than he did when we hung out in groups. We soon struck up a close but plutonic friendship. Stacy quickly figured out Shane was not long-term material, and they amicably split. Everyone remained friends, and not long afterward Stacy invited me to a group outing, promising it would be fun since I would be the only guy invited for a night of dancing, drinking, and cavorting. How do you refuse that? I sure as hell didn't.

I met up with Stacy at a large country bar, and she had several friends with her, including Tori, the only one I hadn't met before. I was immediately smitten: she was medium height (just under 5' 6") and quite svelte, no more than 105 lbs, with coltish grace and subtle curves. She was wearing tight fitting jeans and a designer black spaghetti strap blouse; the jeans fit her ass superbly and the bra she was wearing under the top was showing off some dynamite cleavage. I suspected her breasts were on the larger side of a B-cup, and they fit her frame perfectly. Her hair was straight, cut simple but with style, and looked pitch-black in the dim lighting of the bar (I later found out it was a dark, dark brown).

All of this I accepted in a glance, and when you see so many attributes on one body, the unbidden fear arises that the face will somehow disappoint. But I could not have been more wrong: despite the great expectations raised by her amazing body and sexy apparel, the exotic beauty of her face shamed my anticipation of disappointment. Her mouth sat above a dainty chin, sporting soft lips and topped with a pixie nose. Faint freckles dusted the tops of her cheeks and the bridge of her nose, and the faint lines around her eyes on an otherwise flawless face denoted a habit of smiling that was both disarming and alluring. But the eyes themselves--slightly angled, darkened by eyeliner that contrasted starkly with the bright hazel of the irises, which also stood out against the darkness of her hair--stopped my breath and sent a rush of blood to my loins. They were striking, erotic, and sexual with an unrelenting smolder that kept me staring well beyond proper decorum. It was innocent beauty coupled with instinctual desirability. As I said, I was smitten.

And she, of course, was taken.

While her boyfriend was not present, Stacy noted my stare and pulled me aside. Wiping the drool off my chin, she smirked and told me, "Easy, Romeo, she isn't available...yet. I don't have much faith in her current relationship, but she is not the cheating type, and aggressively pursuing her right now would be a bad idea. Just play it cool. Here, I'll introduce you."

And so it went for the night. I danced with her a few times, chatting about nothing, enjoying her company while trying my hardest not to let her feel my erection during the slow songs. This girl was sexy, funny, and intelligent. I wanted nothing more than to put the moves on her, but Stacy's warning proved true, as Tori never once let on that she was interested, though she did make it clear that my company was welcome. Every other girl in the group knew I was devoted, but fortunately Tori never caught on, and while I did not see her again that Spring, I had made a fantastic impression which would play out very nicely a few months later.

Fast-forwarding to that moment...

Once again I was out en masse with my guy friends at a country-western bar (they can't be avoided when you go to school in Texas), and I was getting my drink on to deaden the pain of listening to the music you would expect to hear in such a place. Midway through my third beer a chorus of high-pitched catcalls and whistles announced the arrival of our pack of lady friends, and I turned to greet them. Stacy came shoving through the crowd toward me, wearing the same smirk from that Spring night last semester.

"Tori is here," she intoned with meaning.

Being an idiot, I did not catch on, and dumbly replied, "And...?"

"She's single." Stacy bit her lower lip and rapidly nocked her eyebrows a couple times. "You should definitely go ask her to dance..." her voice dropped and her eyes narrowed, "And she was asking if you'd be here tonight."

At that moment someone could have told me my clothes were on fire and I wouldn't have given a shit. I dropped my beer and started throwing my stupid guy friends out of the way, searching intently for the enigmatic and captivating girl whose memory had haunted me all summer. In the back of my mind, I wondered in my haste if perhaps I had embellished her beauty without reference to the original in so many months.

But then I saw her, and all doubt vanished. Her rich, dark hair was pulled back into a long ponytail that just reached her shoulders, and the luster of her skin against the form-fitting teal and black sundress she wore was as if her skin radiated light, exemplifying untarnished and energetic youth. Her eyes once again arrested my focus--she had used blue-green eyeshadow, drawing out the greener hazel of her eyes and matching the teal of her dress. It was edgy and vogue and sexy as hell.

She was standing with another girl, laughing at something, and her smile and laugh carried through the room like sunlight. I basked in it momentarily, but quickly noticed how many of my friends were, too. These men were my brothers, and later we would risk our lives for each other, but at that moment those wolfish motherfuckers were homing in on and sizing up for conquest what God surely intended was to be mine. I did not hesitate or show any sign of weakness; I knew this girl was for me! Coupled with Stacy's reassurance that Tori was asking for me, I walked right up to her with all the arrogance and confidence inherent to a cocksure 21-year old alpha male and asked her to dance before any of the other clowns could make an introduction.

The other girl (who had been present on that night months ago and knew the score) disappeared in a flash, and Tori continued to smile at me as her laughter waned. "Damon, right? I would love to."

Stacy had somehow instinctively known that the two of us belonged together, and she was 100% correct. The rest of the night Tori and I danced and laughed, and I could sense an intimacy growing this time around that had been missing the first night we met. Recollections of the summer and plans for the coming semester segued into meaningful personal questions and effortless banter that became a foundation for inside jokes when we rejoined the group to replenish our drinks. I found out her exotic features came from her Japanese grandmother, and though her grandfather and father had been full-blooded Caucasian, she retained that hint of ancestry completely removed from anything European. The hours flew by, and if one of the other guys had not gotten sick around midnight the two of us would probably have continued until last call.

The bar's management had not been impressed with the distance of Parker's projectile vomit (although most of us were), and we were politely but firmly asked to leave. Stacy winked at me and quickly took charge of the situation.

"Okay, ladies and gents, I'm sober and so is Padraig, so he will drive you four and I'll take Sick Boy and Beth and Megan. Tori, you go with Damon. Okay, people, let's go." She quickly herded the group out the door while I closed out my tab.

"Are you okay to drive?" Tori asked as we walked out of the bar.

"I am; I switched to pop a couple hours ago."

"'Pop?'" She laughed, "What the hell is that?"

I stuck my tongue out at her. "That's what we call it where I'm from, because a Coke is a Coke and a Sprite is a Sprite, and they are all pop...not 'cokes' like you illiterate Texans call them."

"Ohhhh, I see...so what are you going to take this illiterate Texan to do now? I don't really want to go back to Megan's place to watch them get drunk again; we've done that every night this week."

"Well, what do you want to do?"

She grinned. "Surprise me."

My confidence was ironclad by now, and I knew that what I wanted was the same for her. We had established the foundation; the faint bonds of honesty and attraction had simmered into sexual tension by our physical closeness throughout the night, and while it would have been wrong to make a move standing outside a crowded bar, I knew exactly where such a move could be made.

I brought my heels together and offered my hand in mock formality: "Come, my dear, let's go to Research Park."

The school campus, which was massive, had a large park beside the science college's complex that had been named in honor of the water purification experiments that were being conducted on the stream which meandered through the park, emptying into a largish pond surrounded by oak trees. I parked my truck at the head of the footpath which followed the stream, and nonchalantly but with great anticipation took Tori by the hand and led her into moonlit park.

Southern Texas in August is sweltering, but the heat softens at sunset and carries through the night, and on this evening was a full moon, or close to it; the reflected light was bright enough to read by but still incredibly intimate.

Tori, despite being a biology major, had never seen the Park, and barely knew of its existence. We walked and chatted, and she squealed with surprise when a giant toad hopped onto the path in front of us. She instinctively pressed her body into mine, and, lecherous frat boy that I was, I immediately put my arm around her waist in protection. Obviously the toad was harmless but I did not pull away, nor did I remove my arm when it hopped on and we continued walking.

We passed under the oak trees and came to the mouth of the stream, which widened into the pond and over which sat a wide bridge. We walked out onto it, our wooden footsteps echoing against the unhurried water beneath. Tori strode to the railing and I let my arm slip from her waist so I could watch her from a few steps away. She leaned against the railing and looked out onto the pond, watching the moon's reflection. I brazenly stared at her body, mesmerized by the pattern of shadows across her back twisting and melding with the teal and black pattern of her dress, studying her body and tracing the line of her ponytail down her slightly arched back to her beautiful ass. She put her arms on the rail, and I watched her lower legs flex as she stepped up onto her toes to lean out over the water. I stared, transfixed, as a breeze lightly swayed the hem of her dress and sent the tree branch shadows kaleidoscoping across her back.

Slowly she lowered herself and simultaneously brought her chin down to her shoulder, presenting me with a profile of her face and ponytail, noting out of the corner of her eye my absolute stillness. She swung her hand around her body and delicately turned, leaning back with her hands on the rail and her elbows bending out over the water. Now confronted with the surreal topography of the front of her body, the hinted shape of her breasts seemed a mirage under the flowing shadows and twisting patterns, and I was locked immobile as my wandering eyes beheld her face.

A strand of hair had come loose from her ponytail and bisected her elfin features. It passed between her eyes, the green-blue eyeshadow melding in the moonlight to a dark grey, pierced by the whites of her eyes. She stared back at me with wide-eyed anticipation and direct challenge. Her shocking beauty, which I had foolishly believed I could cope with, was assaulting me, and every fiber of muscle and degree of willpower I possessed was brought to bear in a contest of wills with this sensual and surpassingly lovely girl.

I was no virgin, but standing on that bridge I faced every fear I'd ever had of the fairer sex, of myself as a man, and found reflected in her face the attraction and wanton desire that I felt inside for her, and knew that I had not been found wanting. I slowly stepped forward, never breaking eye contact as the space between us closed. Directly in front of her I paused, letting the final doubts wither and die as I looked into her hopeful eyes and found my love. She was mine. And I was irrevocably hers.

We kissed. Perhaps it should have started gently, but instead we came together without hesitation and then increasingly with abandon, until we were furiously pressing our faces together and winding our tongues intricately between frantic gasps for air. I held her tightly, feeling her body quiver beneath the sheer material of her dress as I moved my hands up and down the length of her back. Her arms wrapped around my neck and she firmly ran her fingers through my hair, grazing the scalp with her fingernails.

The kiss ebbed and flowed, crested and fell for at least fifteen minutes. Finally she broke off and looked at me, panting sweetly for breath.

"Take me...somewhere else," she commanded, carrying in her husky voice all the innuendo and pleasures of the world. I took her by the hand and resolutely led her back to my truck. She followed without hesitation--my woman. The imprint of emotional intimacy between us was set like a wax seal, and the depths that had been hinted at in the moment of connection had been truly Baikalic and touched both of us. But so early in our relationship it had been as terrifying as it had been empowering, and now we needed release of the unbridled passion we felt, having been brushed so deftly by something so cosmic.

"Somewhere else" was both tragically and fittingly my dorm room. (While I was indeed an upperclassman, obligations to the university forced me to live in a dormitory all four years, though not entirely against my will.) The tragedy was the overall lack of intimacy, as there were 80 other guys living on my floor alone, but our youth provided suitability--despite having found our soul mates and experiencing the budding of a lifelong love, we were still two college kids looking for a place to be alone so that we could do things with each other that nature, God, and even our parents intended, but not in such an abbreviated timeframe. College is great.

The dorm rules about visitors was lax and I hustled Tori up the stairs to my floor. The sterile, aging architecture and the smell of Brasso mixed with Pine Sol rocked the senses where the moonlit lake had soothed them, and we stole into my room as quickly as possible to escape the decidedly un-sensual atmosphere of the public spaces.

At least my room had human touches to mask the utilitarian nature of the building: carpet, blankets, pillows, posters and pictures on the wall, music, etc. Unfortunately, the drive over and the ruinous hallway had provided just enough contrast from our outrageously passionate kiss that once we safely entered my abode we were transformed back into shy and slightly bashful college kids, unsure of how to proceed.

"Umm...how about a movie?" Tori suggested.

Knowing that everyone in the Western Hemisphere likes Office Space, I threw it in the DVD player and turned off the lights, pulling Tori onto the futon with me (romantic, I know). She proved no exception to my theory, and we were both soon relaxed again as we watched Peter-man cope with his terrible life.

The very situation--in a room alone with a sexy girl with the lights out, watching a movie--rekindled the suspended lust like a gasoline explosion, and before we even got to the hypnosis scene we were totally engrossed in each other again.

We kissed and groped and fondled our way into a lying position with her on top. I ran my fingers up and down her back, occasionally gliding my fingers across the firm globes of her ass in a tentative move to see how far she would let me go. When I got no resistance, I grew bolder and palmed each cheek, and I swear she moaned a little. The thin fabric of her dress did nothing to hide the silkiness of the skin beneath, and without any conscious design my fingers began crawling the dress up her legs. When my fingers reached the hem, her kissing became noticeably more energetic, and when I finally slid my hand over her bare cheek she grinned while she kissed and moaned into my mouth something akin to an "Aha!" sound.

Whoever invented the thong should be sanctified. So should the genius who dreamed up the billowy, silky sundress. These men (or women) have earned the semi-deification worthy of a saint for generating the miracles of a barely concealed womanly form, unmarred by the lines of undergarments but instead magnified with intrigue and suggestion.

I was now beyond the point of suggestion, but the work of those virtuous people made the realization infinitely more rewarding. This beautiful derriere, which I had dreamed of for months, was now literally at hand, and I was content. But I was certainly not satisfied.

Having exposed one end, I now endeavored to free the other. My hands slid up her ribcage to the thin straps on her shoulders, delicately separating the dress straps from the tighter bra straps. I took my time, making clear my intentions so she could give me some kind of warning to slow things down. Instead she brought her arms up and placed her elbows by my head, allowing me to gently pull the straps off her shoulders and let them fall down her arms.

Smiling again, she leaned back and bored into my eyes with her green hazels as she freed one, then both arms from the straps, briefly revealing a black satin bra which quickly disappeared as she came back down to continue kissing.

Naturally I was not satisfied with such a fleeting glimpse, and I used the excuse of our

poor position to disengage and see her body more clearly.

"Let's put this thing into the bed position," I said as I patted the futon beneath me.

"Okay," she said, melting a little more of me with the heat of her gaze. She pushed herself back and revealed her scantily clad chest once more, and I hesitated briefly to take a mental snapshot before sliding out from beneath her.

"Should I move?" she asked.

I gave her a teasing smirk and promptly yanked the metal frame out of the sitting position down into the flat, spilling her onto the back of the thick mattress and eliciting a squeal.

I was on her in a flash, sliding my hips between her legs and planting my arms beside her head.

"Oh!" she said in mock surprise at my aggressive maneuver, "My turn," and she immediately began unbuttoning my shirt. She got to the last button and kept right on going, loosening my belt buckle and unbuttoning my jeans. My breath became shallow as the back of her hand brushed the soft underside of my rock hard cock, barely concealed by the elongated elastic band of my boxer briefs. Once the jeans were undone, she pushed them off of my waist, leaning forward and kissing my chest as she continued to push. I took the hint and lifted my hips, letting the jeans fall to my ankles where I kicked them off. Not feeling like reenacting any Risky Business moments, I quickly removed my shirt and settled once again between her

waiting legs and we resumed our make out session.

She proved just as adept at roving hands as I had been, tracing my spine and teasing the elastic band of my underwear while adding the intensely erotic motion of subtle grinding beneath my hips. My body responded in kind, and soon we settled into passionate and rhythmic frottage while I took my time exploring her neck and ears with my tongue.