Shanda's Awaening

"Bitch what you need to do is get a life! Shanda, you are not the first woman to be divorced with kids and you won't be the last. I bet Chad somewhere laying some dick down while you all up here working and taking care of grown ass kids letting your last good years pass you up on some Ms. Independent shit. Girl I keep tellin' yo ass you ain't got to fall in love with these men just get you a boo, get the dick, and move around just like they do us. Period!"

I roll my eyes at the phone. I have heard this line from my best friend Renata at least once a month since my divorce was finalized four years ago.

"Fuck I wish my sorry ass baby daddy could scoop Aiden up, shit bitch I would ball the fuck out, straight cut the fuck up in these people streets. Shit I wouldn't know how to act."

"Bitch really, you do that now," I laughed.

"True, true girl a bitch gotta

live

. You know my motto: YO fucking LO!"

My name is Shanda Carson. I am a 35-year old, divorced mother of two teenagers, a daughter and a son. My oldest is 18 year old Brianna. My youngest is 17 year old Carlos. My Irish twins, born ten short months apart. I work as a social worker in private practice with a focus on marriage and family. One would think that my profession would give me great insight in raising these kids and keeping my marriage together, but honestly I catch hell like everyone else. Since my divorce I've devoted my life almost exclusively to work and the rearing of my children. I never saw this as a problem, but now the looming reality of becoming an empty nester in a few short weeks makes me question the wisdom of that decision.

On a normal day, I usually see about seven or eight clients and manage to get out of the office just before 5 pm, but today I'd seen 12 clients and I'm swamped with case notes. Leslie, another social worker in my counseling group, is out on maternity leave which means that my caseload is that much more demanding because I have to handle some of her clients as well. I won't complain because the extra money is nice especially with both kids starting college in a few short weeks. I didn't realize how engrossed I'd been in my work until a smooth baritone startled me out of my revelry.

"Hi, Shanda it's been a minute. How have you been? You're looking lovely as usual."

"No, please and thank you," I blush "I've been good Grayson, how about you?" I ask with a smile.

"I'm good, I could complain, but you get enough of that I suspect," He answered.

"Absolutely, good looking out. I appreciate it," I laugh. "Well since I'm here way past time I'm going to go ahead and pack it up and let you do your work."

"It's only me tonight and you really don't have to rush on my account, it really will only take a few minutes."

I reached out touching his shoulder, my intention only to tell him it was okay and I really needed to get home but the words never made it out my mouth. It was as if time stood still and for a brief moment everything in the office was stripped away till nothing remained but Grayson and I- a man and a woman with a frisson of awareness of the other. I immediately jerked my hand away and put my head down needing to avert my gaze to collect myself, silently hoping that whatever I'd felt that Grayson hadn't felt it too, but I knew he had. We had been playing this game of cat and mouse for a few months now. Hesitantly, I look up and I am confronted by the intensity of Grayson's gaze. I notice the flare of his nostrils and the rise and fall of his chest and I know without a doubt he felt that inexplicable pull as much as I did.

Grayson Jamison is the owner of the janitorial service that cleans our offices. He is quite handsome with deep brown skin and amber eyes. He has a quiet intensity about him that find both attractive and unsettling. I've noticed him noticing me on other occasions when I happened to work late or when he came in to fix minor and some major problems in the office, but I'd always been intentional about keeping my blinders on pretending not to notice. Ignoring him is hard to do. It takes a certain level of dedication to ignore a man standing over 6 feet, 220 pounds of solid milk chocolate sexiness. The man was so damn fine I felt like I was about to break a sweat just looking at him.

It seemed he lingered in the office much longer than necessary, crouching a bit too close to empty the trash., standing close enough for me to get a whiff of his cologne, close enough for me to feel the heat emanating from his body. His nearness made me become very much aware of my self-imposed dry spell over the past 5 months. I clench my thighs tightly while mentally castigating myself for having any thoughts of fraternizing with the help. In my field it's simply bad form. If nothing else, I pride myself on behaving like a professional at all times.

"Hey Susan if you don't mind waiting a few minutes I can walk you out," Grayson offered.

"Thanks, I'll do that," I answer without hesitating to take him up on his offer. Like many social outreach facilities, my office is not in the best part of town, so I figure I'd better gather my things and make my exit with him rather than going out alone. Maybe a little fresh air will take my mind off my crotch.

A few moments later we walk out together chatting amiably before saying our goodbyes. I don't pull off immediately, instead I sit in my car checking my text messages and missed calls. I debate if I want to return a missed call from Greg, my most convenient itch scratcher. Greg is single, good looking, employed, and great in bed. The only problem was he wants more than I do. Every time Greg and I had sex I would have to go through the process of extricating myself from his clinginess. The incessant "wyd" texts that followed were enough to make a bitch scream! The sex was good though, don't get me wrong, but something was lacking that I just couldn't put my finger on that always made me resist his persistence. I could use the stress relief but I decided against it.

Instead I send a text to my kids to find out what they want for dinner, only to be reminded that they're practically grown and don't need me to mother them. I try not to dampen their excitement of starting college but I must admit, at least to myself, that I am struggling with the thought of figuring out who the hell I'm supposed to be without them. I have been a mother for the entirety of my adult life. What is my life filled with if not my obligation to others? I shift my focus away from the heavy thoughts to watch the other vehicles pull out of the parking lot until there are only two left- mine and Grayson's. I act startled, like I'd been caught off guard when I hear a knock on my window, but secretly within myself I know exactly what I want to do. I roll the window down to see what he wants.

"Shanda, is everything ok, you good?"

" Yes, I'm fine just checking in with the kids seeing what they want for dinner."

"Speaking of dinner, If I'm not stepping on anyone's toes I'd love to take you out."

"Thanks for the offer, but I really don't have the time or the desire to date. With my schedule expectations get too high and I can't deliver."

"For some reason I get the feeling that you've never been presented with the right incentives."

"Now, I'm curious, what makes you think that?"

"It's not rocket science, people make room and changes for who they want to make room and changes for, so I can only assume that no one has made it worth your while."

"Or maybe I just prefer to keep things casual."

"Well what if I tell you I'm a low maintenance type of guy and 'casual' is my middle name?"

I laugh at this, "I'd tell you that everyone thinks they're 'low maintenance' until they're not."

"Try me, this can be whatever you want. You want to fuck with no strings? We can do that," he says leaning in close, his breath warm and hypnotic against my ear.

Damn he is sexy, I'll give him that. I've always had a thing for men that work with their hands. I find myself admiring strength and capability that goes into learning a trade; the dedication to and mastery of a craft. The thought creates a yearning in me to find out just how capable his hands are, to know what other things he might be able to master. The look in his eye is hot. It is almost as if he knows the direction of my thoughts. I know he wants me. His desire is a palpable thing pulsing between us.

I try to think of reasons why I shouldn't get involved with him, to be technical he isn't a colleague or a client which makes him fair game. My thoughts then go to my kids, but who am I kidding? My kids will be leaving in less than two weeks to start their first semesters of college. I can't keep using the kids as an excuse. In that moment I allow myself to entertain the thought of wanting and having something for myself simply because I want it. Not worrying about the long term or the ripple effects, but selfishly focusing on myself. I want this and before my rational mind can talk me out of it I roll my window down completely so I can run my hand against the front of his thigh. His erection grows at my touch as I rub the palm of my hand across the thick expansive warmth of his cock. I feel the tell tale heaviness in the pit of my stomach, my pussy floods in response. He opens the door and helps me to my feet immediately kissing me and pulling me close.

"We should go back inside" he suggests

"No, here. Now."

I know that the surveillance starts at the front door of the building and does not include the parking lot, though we've complained that it should. The hedges are high and full enough to protect us from any cars passing on the street. Not to mention that going back in the office thrusts me back into the reality of my conservative, ordered professional life. In my office I would feel compelled to acknowledge my behavior as classic avoidance. There I would need to think of coping skills to deal with my feelings rather than dive head first into what will probably turn out to be a terrible decision, but here in the darkness I can be this other woman who is sexy, daring, and gives the middle finger to decorum and propriety. I stand on my tiptoes to deliver a bite of encouragement to his chin. His breath hisses out as he lifts me off my feet.

We kiss. His lips are firm and full, yet so soft and tender. They feel as if they were made to couple with mine. He pulls away breathing heavily as he watches me. I cradle his face between my hands pulling him towards me to trace the outline of his lips with my tongue. Not to be outdone he licks at my tongue and we spar hungrily until I suck his tongue like a cock into my mouth. Our hunger reaches the boiling point leaving no room for tender kisses, just ravenous hunger to satiate. He urgently slides my pencil skirt further up to my waist and pulls my panties to the side. My pussy is clean shaven and drenched.

"God, you are so damn wet," he rasps. Quickly he unbuckles his belt and pulls his erection free. Using my car for balance he pushes my back roughly against the door of the car and buries his cock deep with no preliminaries. It's been a while for me, despite my wetness. The thickness of his cock comes as a shock, but that momentary flash of pain passes quickly and in its wake I'm overtaken with lust- bucking against him, meeting his strokes. The friction of his shaft is exquisite as he pounds into me. This is what I needed, no thoughts, no worries, just feeling. He pulls me up against him and says the words that trigger my first orgasm. He puts his fingers in my mouth. I suckle them wantonly while he whispers, "You're such a dirty slut, a nasty little bitch." I've never been spoken to in that manner but it starts a series of explosions inside me.

I can't recall a time when I've ever been this aroused and I know instantly that I want more of this feeling; this freedom from the weight of the world- from it's responsibilities and constraints. Grayson's continues pounding into my depths pumping against my cervix deliciously. The contractions of my pussy ripple against his cock. "That's right slut, cum for me again," he demands. And I do, again, without thought or reservation. My orgasm seems to trigger his own release. His pumps become frantic and he withdraws from me abruptly ordering me to kneel and open my mouth. There is no thought in my head that I will deny him and I'm surprised to realize that I'm turned on as much by the sexual act as I am by his authority and command of me. I follow his instructions, squatting in my sensible heels with my mouth open, naked ass exposed, ready to catch his essence in my mouth. He does not disappoint. His taste is intoxicating and I drink down every drop.

After the deed is done and I feel like I've been doused with a bucket of ice water. We pull apart breathless, immediately straightening our clothes. There is no time to engage in pillow talk when you're having sex in a public place.

He chuckles, "Well aren't you full of surprises?"

I blush with embarrassment but I recover quickly, feigning more bravado than I actually feel. "The same could be said for you," I say with an enigmatic smile. "Well that was nice, I guess I'll see you around, " I say as I finish straightening my clothes and climb into my car.

He smiles, his amber eyes gleaming with predatory promise and responds "Definitely," as I back out of the parking space.

I drive a few miles down the road turning onto a side street in hopes that Grayson won't see me should he be traveling in the same direction. My shame and embarrassment overtake me immediately. I don't want to rehash what occurred, I just want to get away and pretend that it never happened. I'm all for sexual freedom, at least I am for others more so than for myself, but that was a bit too reckless and irresponsible. I want to hide myself. I want to go back to my boring, predictable life devoid of surprises, but now I'm left to question who this other woman is who has quietly existed inside me and who doesn't want to be quiet any longer.

All I could do after that XXX-rated scene was sit in my truck in shock. Shanda was definitely not what she appeared. I had been watching her for a while, moving around the office so capable and efficient until I wondered what she would be like when she relaxed and let her hair down, when she wasn't intent on being the consummate professional. I had finally had an opportunity to really talk to her without an audience and took it. At best, after months of playing cat and mouse, I was hoping for her phone number, but ended up getting the sweetest, wettest pussy I've ever had. My instincts tell me that despite how she'd behaved that this wasn't an everyday thing for her. She had tried to play it off, but afterwards she shot out of that parking lot barely able to look me in the eyes. She said she was only interested in something casual. It stung honestly, but I understood her not wanting to date anyone associated with her job. I guard my private life doggedly, so I completely get the need to keep work life and personal life both separate and private.

Believe it or not, I'm not put off by her behavior tonight. I actually find myself pleasantly intrigued and I can't help but wonder after months of keeping me at arms length what caused her change of heart? I don't want to push and scare her off so I'll play it cool and do things her way for now. I won't crowd her space, but I won't make it easy for her to avoid me either. I'm not sure about much in this life, but I know I want more of her sweet heat and I intend to have it.

I pull into my garage, barely having a moment to gather my thoughts before the kids barrel out the door. I'm grateful that I took the time to correct my disheveled appearance. My nerves are shot. I feel that anyone looking at me could see what transpired only moments before. My children, Brianna and Carlos scarcely notice me, giving me a quick "Hi mom," as they reach for the bag of KFC on the passenger seat and continue on with their respective phone conversations. So much for not being hungry. For once, I'm okay with their disregard. The last thing they need to see is their mom looking freshly fucked.

I go in my room shutting the door behind me. My only thoughts at that moment are to get in my shower and my bed . My head is too full of the night's events for any company. I sit on my bed with my head in my hands, berating myself for my recklessness. Why did I just have sex with a virtual stranger? Why did I not use protection? What the hell was I thinking? I'm not some hot in the ass teenager who doesn't know any better. Jesus!! I can't even think of all the why's and what if's right now. I pull off my clothes, forgetting my usual meticulousness by leaving them in the middle of the floor. I turn on the shower as hot as my body can stand. The spray feels wonderful and I lose myself in the cocoon of water and steam. In the confinement of the shower my mind wanders back unbidden to the parking lot. Despite all my worry of possible repercussions I am still aroused.

Sex is strange. It changes the terrain of your body. Touch is amplified; heightened. My fingers don't feel like my own, my body is alight with sensation, my nipples tighten of their own volition as my hand strays to my protruding clitoris. It is so engorged that it aches desperately. The water does little to wash away the silky evidence of my arousal. I squeeze my nipples hard with one hand loving the painful throb while rubbing my clit with increasing speed.

The scene from the parking lot has changed in my mind. It has been reconfigured to make room for secret desires that I don't speak of out loud. Desires for Grayson to use my body thoroughly and roughly for his pleasure. Thoughts of him thrusting his cock deep in my throat , fucking my mouth like a pussy while ropes of saliva pool on my chest, having him call me slut send me over the edge. My legs can no longer hold me as I slide down the wall of the shower letting the steady stream of water wash over me, cleansing the day from my body and taking the memory of this night with it.

I wake up the next morning refreshed and renewed. I have that loose limbed gait of a woman that has been fucked properly, but as good as last night was I'm determined to get back to life as I know it and that means no more late nights working and definitely no more Grayson.

To be continued...