An autobiographical story by XXscribbler
A five day meeting, and Edward was -- as usual- at the hotel's meeting room forty-five minutes early on day one. Two young staffers were setting out coffee and etceteras. The only other person in the room was at the nametag table: she was older, obviously in charge, and busily laying out agenda-and-background folders. As he walked towards the table he studied her. Slender, brunette with reddish highlights, pixie-cut nicely done and quite well chosen for her longish, somewhat florid face (too much sun-room, perhaps? Or a recent vacation taken considerably farther south -- certainly not due to current midwinter DC sunshine!). No visible makeup, and no nail polish - odd for an admin-type in Washington, but he approved. Nearly his height, rather plain of face and lacking in figure, dressed in an absolutely perfectly tailored Harris Tweed jacket, styled halfway between man-cut and woman's hunting. Expensive stuff: he knew - he was wearing a favorite old Harris himself. Several hundreds at least for such a nicely done piece -- if American-made 'domestic'. Considerably more if not. Under the jacket she wore a mid-calf beige-ish-yellow dress, probably silk given how it draped. Like the jacket it was clearly custom -- likewise expensive. A shimmering blue boat-necked blouse, equally drapy, set off her rather startlingly blue eyes. A single strand of perfectly matched gunmetal gray pearls, no other jewelry. Classy. He was intrigued.
She looked up at him. "My! An early-bird, aren't we?" Her tag read "Kathryn -- NSF". She waved at the table: "Beat the crowd, always a good idea. Grab your tag -- have a folder!" A nice voice, vaguely southern accent, strong hint of flirt in it. A superb white-toothed smile that was completely transformative.
He picked up his tag, she took it from him, pinned it properly into place, smiled again, said "Edward! Nice to finally meet you! You're the oceanographer who's supposed to keep us from making silly mistakes, right?"
He nodded -- that was indeed his role. "Thanks!" he said. Then, seeking grounds to start a conversation, "Beautiful bit of haberdashery, your Harris there."
She eyed him speculatively for a moment, studied his jacket, then grinned happily: "Not many people recognize Harris. Glad you like it. I see we have parallel tastes. I had it done for me in London a couple of years ago -- a complete suit. Adding the trousers would be a bit severe for today's affair, but the jacket goes with anything!" His eyes widened -- custom, London, full suit -- closer to two thousand dollars than mere hundreds. Yet more interesting.
She tugged the lapels out to open the front, did a quick pirouette. The cling of the blouse made it clear that her apparent lack of bosom was real, not an artifact of the jacket's tailoring -- and also disclosed both an amazingly well developed pair of nipples and absence of brassiere. Not that it was needed. His face registered overall strong appreciation.
Kathryn giggled, laid a hand on his forearm: "I had it made by one of the old-line shops, on Saville Row would you believe it? I chose them precisely because they showed NOTHING in the window for women. You should have SEEN the poor old galoot's face as he tried to figure out how to measure me without actually touching me! Getting the inseam and rise and chest were incredible. Thought he'd have an attack of apoplexy right there. Makes a woman feel good to cause so much fluster in a man. It surely does!" The last was delivered with an exaggerated drawl. She paused, sized him up again, finished sotto voce, "Especially if a girl simply cannot do it with her body!"
Edward snorted, said almost testily "Now Kathryn, you just quit that! You women simply cannot see yourselves properly. Trust me, I know. I'm a lifelong student of your species, and you have a fine, very attractive body. Your opinions don't count! End of statement!"
She blushed, muttered "Why thank you, Sir! Your opinion is greatly appreciated and duly noted."
The flood of attendees began: she spun off to attend to her duties. Lunchtime arrived, as buffet in a separate room. Waiting in line, he caught her eye, waved her over. "They're going to need more space than they have set up -- care to bring your lunch and join me in the meeting room?"
They spent the next thirty minutes delightedly exploring one another's background and tastes, but she had to leave before he did -- more 'duties'. He watched her as she walked away. Very attractive package there, he thought. Especially between the ears -- her repartee was FAST, and fun ... and an incredible flirt to boot, something he thoroughly enjoyed. Rather strongly to his liking, this new and improved viewing angle suggested she had a bit more bottom than he'd first thought. In fact, he found her construction sufficiently nice that it preoccupied him throughout most of the afternoon festivities. Whenever Kathryn hove into view, there settled his gaze.
Kathryn, for her part, was far from unobservant. She both intuited and actually perceived his fascination... and found herself pleased to the extent that she invented for his amusement more than a few good viewing opportunities. Within all this, she found at least three surprising factors -- first, she was intrigued at his obvious interest in her body, a most unusual (not to say vanishingly rare) expression by men of her acquaintance, all of whom seemed determinedly fixated on boobs only. All save one, so long ago and far away, who had been an utter, total bottom-fanatic and who had initiated and nurtured in her a reciprocal fascination and enthusiasm. Those long-submerged memories surfaced strongly now under Edward's interest, and produced a veritable gusher between her legs -- a considerable oddity these days. Finally, she was almost flabbergasted at the fact of her so actively leading him along -- such behavior was more than rare and largely inexplicable - but turning out to be both easy and fun!
At the afternoon break, firmly in the grip of his fascination, he took her aside. "Kathryn -- I truly don't mean to be either pushy or out of line, but if you happen to be free, I wonder - would you be interested in joining me for dinner tonight? I'd like nothing better than to continue from where we left off at lunch."
She cocked an eye at him, obviously entertaining the idea seriously. Encouraged, he kept on: "I'd have to depend on you to suggest a restaurant -- I really don't know this part of Arlington at all well. But I'm game for anything."
Her smile lit him up: "Frankly, Doctor E, I was beginning to worry that you'd never get around to asking, and ever since lunch, I've been wondering about the propriety of
ME
doing the asking! I could declare today as an early Sadie Hawkins Day. I am free, and I LOVE the whole idea. I accept!" She thought for a moment. "You're staying here in the hotel, I believe?" He nodded. "And I assume you brought an outer coat appropriate to a DC winter evening?" He nodded again. "Then here's a plan. When we adjourn at five, you go straight to your room and get the coat, I will lock up the meeting room, and we can meet under the big lobby clock at quarter past five. My condo is only five minutes walk from here, and the whole area is rife with restaurants -- the problem will be one of choosing, not finding. I can change, and we can have a glass of wine before dinner. I believe I have something potable on hand. Meet with your approval?"
It did indeed. He was at the clock five minutes early: she arrived thirty seconds later, in a full-length overcoat to match the jacket. He whistled, gave her two thumbs up. She laughed appreciatively and did another pirouette, but faster: the hem flared, rose, then sank and wrapped.
"I had the Saville Galoot hold back enough material so I could get this on a second trip."
More than a couple of thousand, Edward realized -- several. Something odd, here -- what was today's salary for her federal position, anyhow?
She linked her arm smoothly with his, said "Into the wintry blast we go, tra la! Protected by our tweeds!" and led him out the door. Arm-linked and perfectly comfortable with it, they slogged to her building -- the wind made conversation almost impossible, but it didn't seem needed.
"It's just a small condo," she said as they exited the elevator on 34: "... a one-bedroom, but it's all I need and it has a killer view!" She let herself in ahead of him -- she wanted to see his initial reactions. She flipped on the lights, watched his face. It was a study in surprise and pleasure as he scanned the living room, so she was happy.
'Spartan, almost', he thought -- ...'but hardly plain.' Fine color scheme -- each wall different, the overall effect pleasing. The good red-oak floors, complete with a purple-heart tracery border, were surprising in a condo. There was an old Berber area rug beneath a solid rosewood dining table, Chinese Chippendale, probably 150 years old. A big piece of art-glass, a vase with undersea motif, was centered on the table and filled with water in which floated a trio of roses.
The far wall was simplicity itself, almost museum-like. Two sconces carried small glass sculptures and flanked a gold baroque picture frame, all three lit from hidden sources. The frame contained a small drawing or print. She waved him in, kept watching him. He stepped to the wall, noticed that the glass pieces were certainly Steuben, artist-signed one-offs. He peered at the framed item, and did a serious double-take. A Rembrandt sketch, an original, presumably genuine -- about 4x6, with ragged edges left and bottom, razored right and top. Cut from a larger item, from a sketch-sheet probably, God only knew when. A cherub's head the size of a silver dollar. Two trees, a thumb, and the artist's initials. He stood, turned to face her, said "Rembrandt! I'm astounded!"
She laughed, said "Don't be too impressed. He was most god-awfully prolific -- there are probably tens of thousands of pieces like mine -- trivial works that are readily available and aren't genuinely astronomical, even today. I got this in Venice years ago when it was even more reasonable. Good provenance, too -- it's real."
He looked around -- the entire room, its furnishings, her clothing and pearls -- gave a consistent picture. High value, chosen and integrated with impeccable taste. "Exquisite", he said aloud. "Every little thing in here is damn near perfect... but it all looks comfortable and used, too. Difficult balancing act, that. Well done!"
She looked quite pleased. "You do look a bit puzzled, Doctor Ed! No -- I'm not some little rich kid working a job to keep my sanity. All this came out of my earnings. Care for some personal philosophy? Might explain me to thee a bit."
Edward nodded: "If you'd like to tell, I'd be fascinated."
