Chapter One
We were fond of each other and got along well, but our relationship was first and foremost about sex. We worked together in a high school -- I was a teacher and she was a counselor. Both in our early 30's, we each were newly single and during the large gatherings of after-school happy hours at different Brooklyn bars, we had gotten to know each other better.
I had hosted a party in my own apartment where I cooked lots of food, and coworkers ate and drank and talked and generally had a good time. A few days later, I received a thank-you card in the mail, one of those personalized ones that she had apparently designed online. The inside of the card was meant to look like the wall of a public toilet stall, and in a scrawl were the words "For a good time, call Laurie at XXX-XXX-XXXX," with what I assumed was her actual phone number printed out.
I had gone through life to that point often oblivious to signals from the opposite sex, but I was not so dense that I did not realize that this was an invitation to have sex. I called her a little while after opening the card and we laughed about it as we made a plan for dinner the following night.
For what it matters: some background information. I was a thirty-two year old white man, in good shape, amicably divorced from someone I had been with for eight years. She was a tall and slender Black woman, thirty years old, with small breasts and a shapely ass. Her eyes and smile lit up her face. She was attractive and sexy.
She had a five year old son and lived with her elderly mother. She had two sisters nearby and it was with one of them that she left her son for the weekend to be able to go out on our date.
We met for dinner at a Thai restaurant around the corner from my apartment, but she seemed to have little interest in eating. She drank a Long Island Iced tea as I served the Pad Thai we had ordered, but once I realized her focus was not on the food, I had the rest of it wrapped and we left.
A few minutes later, inside my apartment, we kissed. Her lips were warm and moist and she invited me with her tongue to do more. I had a futon in the apartment's main room, and we moved to it as we continued kissing. We helped each other out of our clothes, and within a short time we were entangled naked together on the couch. The futon was clumsy, so we stood and I pulled the mattress off of the frame and opened it on the hardwood floor.
The apartment was well heated and though it was February in New York, we were plenty comfortable lying naked on the mattress on the floor. As quickly as things had progressed between us, it was not at all strange to hear her say, "No sex today, Okay?" by which I understood her to mean we should not have intercourse.
This was fine with me considering it had been her forwardness that had gotten us this far. It occurred to me that she needed to set some limits, that maintaining some semblance of respectability was important to her, but it was a little amusing to be having the conversation while naked and panting on my living room floor.
I was very happy just taking in the sight of her body and touching her in whatever way she was comfortable with. A massage seemed to be the right way to go.
I rolled her on her back and moved down on the mattress. I lay between her open legs with my stomach pressed against her steaming pussy and reached my arms up to her shoulders to begin to work her neck muscles. My head was above her breasts, and I looked down at her hardening nipples. She had a mother's body -- her breasts sagged a little, and the right one was noticeably smaller and less firm than the left one, something I have always found sexy.
