I've always thought of myself as a fairly ordinary heterosexual woman, when I thought about my sexuality at all. Liberated, maybe more orgasmic than some of the women I've known, but still destined to marry a guy and have a kid or two, like much of the rest of society. And I didn't believe in "love at first sight" or even "love at first kiss." Polyamory? Never heard of it. As it turned out, I had a lot to learn.
By the time I was in my mid-twenties, the extent of my sexual experience was dating several dozen men and eventually taking a half a dozen of them to bed. A lot of my dates were turned on to me because I was "exotic" -- the progeny of a white man and a woman of Japanese descent. My dad's genes made me a few inches taller than the average Japanese woman, and I got my dad's dark brown hair, but the rest of me was pretty much my mom's slim form and dark eyes, with their epicanthic folds. I was wearing my mom's A-cup bras up until I was twenty; my breasts stopped growing just short of a comfortably snug B-cup. I also got my mom's nipples -- dark brown, not long but fat, perched on cones of areolae. They stiffened with the slightest provocation and loved being played with. The last trait my mother gave me was soft, silky pubic hair that I loved to run my fingers through.
Now that I look back on it, though, that exotic Asian look might have hurt me in the long run, because while some men fall victim to "yellow fever," they're often averse to forming a real commitment to women not of their race. (The fact that I was only half-Asian didn't make any difference.) And to tell the truth, while the sex was fun, I never felt myself falling in love with any of them. So I stayed single, taking my fun where I could.
Until I met Michael.
I used to know Michael from when we both worked at Progressive Industrial, which made heavy machinery. I was in the accounting department, and he was a purchasing agent. From time to time, he'd visit my office get my boss's approval for an expenditure, and we would chat. I knew he was married, so I didn't make a play for him, and he always behaved himself. It was never the sort of flirting that would get us in trouble with the human relations people, but his smile always made my day brighter, and I couldn't help but notice (and appreciate!) the way his gaze sometimes drifted from my eyes to my tits. I remembered that he had lost a son to cancer...the boy was only six...and we all signed the condolences card that was passed around the office. But that was about all I knew about his personal life.
After we'd known each other for a few years, he quit to join a chemical manufacturing company in Newark, New Jersey, as a sales rep. (That company was one of our suppliers, which is how he knew about the job opening.) The new job entailed a move from Wilmington, Delaware, where Progressive is located, so we threw him a going-away party, and I expected that our paths would never cross again. I found that I missed his company. So when I got a text from him about six months later, asking me out to lunch, I immediately accepted.
It turned out that he was back in town to make a sales pitch to the new purchasing agent. "Adel Chemical...the company I work for now...has developed a new solvent," he told me as we waited for our food, "and I remembered how much of the old stuff that I bought at Progressive, for cleaning the machinery before they shipped it out. This new stuff is...what's the phrase they're using now? More eco-friendly? Anyway, it's better than the old stuff, and cheaper, too, and I'm sure I can make the sale. So how are things at Progressive nowadays?"
So I filled him in on the usual gossip. Jane in HR had a baby, somebody in the financial department got caught embezzling, Gregory over in testing got promoted, and so on. As we talked, I noticed that his eyes kept drifting downward toward my bosom. Well, that wasn't new. I figured that, like all men, he had a proclivity for mentally undressing me, although he was enough of a gentleman not to let it show too much. Since I was on my lunch break, I was wearing what I usually wore to work, a non-sheer blouse with a stiff-cupped bra underneath, so my nipples wouldn't show. I noticed something else, too. His wedding ring was gone.
"So how are things going with you and Kay?" I asked cautiously.
"Well, we've divorced," he replied. "When we moved out of town, she got a job at a start-up company in Manhattan, but it folded almost immediately. There wasn't another one around, but her old company offered to take her back, at a higher salary even, for an office they'd opened in Philadelphia. So she moved there. We knew at that point that our marriage was over, anyway. We'd kind of been drifting apart after Kyle died. These things happen."
"Yes, they do," I said. But my mind was racing. He's not attached anymore, we don't work together anymore. All the impediments that kept us from getting closer are gone. Is that why he's getting back in touch with me? Should I make a play for him?
"How about you?" he said. "Anybody special in your life now?"
"Not really. I have a few boyfriends, but nobody steady. That's the way I like it right now."
"I'm happy for you. I think my mistake was settling down too fast, before either of us got to really know each other. You're doing the right thing."
Well, I thought, I should give him a chance. "Are you going to be around for a while?" I asked.
"Probably until tomorrow, at least. I was supposed to make my sales pitch to Craig this afternoon, but something came up with his family, so I re-booked for tomorrow morning. "
"Oh, yeah. His son broke his arm this morning, and his wife is out of town, so he took the rest of the day off. I guess that means that you're not going back home tonight, are you?"
"No. I've booked a room at the Fairfield."
"Well, if you don't have plans, why don't we go out to dinner tonight? I'll treat."
"I'd be a fool to turn you down!" he said with a grin. So I told him where I lived, and asked him to pick me up at seven, so I'd have time to take a shower and change my clothes.
On the way home, I stopped by the drugstore and bought a box of condoms and some contraceptive foam. I'd shaved my legs just the other day, so the shower didn't take long. I chose a low-cut dress that would show off my breasts and give me some cleavage, and a bra that would give my bust a bit of an uplift. A string of pearls, just long enough to reach down to the valley of my breasts, completed my outfit. I dabbed a little perfume onto my neck and examined myself in the mirror.
"Jessie, you're loaded for bear," I thought to myself. I didn't think I could have been more blatant if I'd worn a sign that said, "Fuck me now!" I had just enough time to change the sheets on the bed, in case our evening ended up there.
He picked me up at seven, right on the dot, and took me to a Thai restaurant that I liked, and then back to my apartment for a dessert and coffee. But when I sat down with him on the couch, put my hand on his thigh, and said, "Well, how about another kiss?" he said something that took the air out of the whole evening.
"I'd like to, Jessie, but there's a complication. I'm seeing another woman right now, and I'd feel guilty about making out with somebody else behind her back."
"Are you that serious about her?"
"I think so. After we started dating, I got the impression that she wanted me to date other people, or at least ask her permission first. Claire's a sweet girl, and I wouldn't want her to think that I'm two-timing her."
"Well, I respect that. I was looking forward to a little more from you tonight..."
"You mean making out, right? I thought that might be the case."
"Making out? I meant fucking, Michael." And I leaned forward, to deepen the valley between my breasts and give him a little eye candy, a trick I'd often used in the past to flirt with him.
