Uncharted Territory

For a complete understanding of this series, please read the previous parts first.

Part IV: Confession

It started raining just as he pulled into the parking lot, and for an instant, he considered blowing off this hasty decision to stop. But other considerations took over, and so, he quickly exited his vehicle and ran around from the rear of the building to the front, cursing the place for not having a back entrance since that was where the owner had chosen to put the parking lot. As the precipitation came down harder, he kept his head pointed down to at least keep his face dry while the rest of him was getting soaked. Just as he finally reached the entrance, he looked up in time to collide with another person about to enter. They knocked heads, to be sure, but not so forcefully as to send either to the ground. They did regard one another coldly for a moment, but the now driving rain cooled any hostility, and Ron quickly grabbed for the door, yanked it open and allowed the woman to enter first.

In the lobby, both stepped aside and shook off the water. Each was wearing a light overcoat that seemed to have repelled the rain, and aside from their heads and feet, neither was particularly drenched.

"Table for two?" the hostess said, assuming they were together.

Ron looked up and around realizing the origin of her assumption. "Uh, no. No, no, we're not together."

"I just need a table for one," the woman said.

"Hmmm," the hostess mouthed in a tone of perplexity. "Well, I have only one table available . . ." She just trailed off.

"That's okay, she can have it," Ron offered, very gentlemanly. "I'll just grab a seat at the bar."

"I'm sorry, sir, the bar is full."

"Then I guess I'll have to wait."

"It could be some time," the hostess cautioned.

"It's alright. I have no where to be."

"That sounds lonely," the woman commented.

"Excuse Me?" Ron asked, confused.

"So, you're not meeting someone?" the woman went on.

With a frown of incomprehension, Ron replied, "No."

"Are you here hoping to get lucky?"

Now with raised eyebrows at the unusual questions, Ron answered, "No. But pardon me for asking, are

you

?"

She smiled. It was becoming—and alluring. "No. But as long as

you're

not, I would be willing to share the table."

Ron's purpose in coming to this establishment—having no idea it was so popular—was to go someplace he could be alone that was not his apartment. It was also the reason he did not visit the usual lounge that many of the company's other employee's frequented. When he had arrived home yesterday from the weekend with Jenna, he had lost himself in his normal Sunday chores, albeit later than usual: grocery shopping, washing clothes and general housekeeping. But with Monday and the start of the work week—and a slow start at that—the concerns about entering into a relationship with Jenna resurfaced and nagged him all day. So, he thought a visit to a different lounge would either help him forget those concerns, or at least, help put them into perspective. Now, that did not seem quite viable.

However, Ron quickly noticed—and he hoped he was not too obvious—that, without her coat, this woman, who was probably close to his age, was quite attractive in her . . . brown, he guessed in the dim light . . . button-up-the-front, low cut dress revealing a nice cleavage with fair-sized breasts and equally decent legs. Perhaps being alone was

not

what he needed.

"That's very nice of you," he said, again very gentlemanly. "But only if you let me buy the drinks."

"Well, maybe one," she said, then turned to the hostess, who had been standing by patiently. "We're ready to be seated."

"So, I gathered."

* * *

Neither said anything until after the waitress had taken their order: white wine for her, a beer for him. Even then it was . . .

"I guess this is somewhat awkward, isn't it?" Ron noted, for lack of anything better to say. He also had his eye on her cleavage.

She giggled nervously, "Yes, I guess it is."

"By the way, I'm Ron—"

"No last names, please. I'm Mia."

"Pleased to meet you, Mia."

"Likewise."

They shook hands tentatively with more maladroitness as their drinks were served. Ron also hoped he wasn't being too obvious stealing glances at her breasts.

"Sorry about the last name thing," Mia mumbled.

"Oh, that's fine," Ron said, waving it off with his hand. "Just two ships passing in the night. Although, this doesn't seem . . . are you a regular here?"

"No, no, I, I'm not. I'm not a regular anywhere. Are you?"

"No, actually, this is my first time. Forgive me for saying it, but we both seem out of place here."

"You mean at a lounge, or this particular one?" Mia asked, almost clinically.

"Yeah, this one," Ron answered, fumbling. "What did you mean; you're not a regular anywhere?"

"Oh, I don't usually visit lounges after work. But when I do, it's never the same one."

"Like to try different places?"

"I'm a psychologist," Mia explained, as though the occupation itself was an explanation.

Nodding, Ron surmised, "So, after listening to other people's problems all day, you need an attitude adjustment."

"Well, as a psychologist, I could never admit that turning to alcohol is the proper course of action." Mia grinned, "but if you'll promise not to tell anyone, that's exactly what I'm doing."

"Bad day, huh?"

With a twist of her head and a raised eyebrow, she noted, "All you can do is offer advice and it's up to the person to whom you're offering it to take it."

"I get the picture." Then, it occurred to Ron, "Maybe that's what I need is to talk to a psychologist."

"You are."

"I meant, in a clinical setting."

"I know," Mia smirked. "A little shrink humor. If it's not too personal, what would you want to talk about?"

"No, no, you're off the clock," Ron said, shaking his head. "I wouldn't dare trouble you."

"It's what I do."

"But you came here to

forget

what you do," Ron pointed out.

"Not to

forget

what I do. I

love

what I do. Just not some of the people I do it

for

. Like my last session today." Mia persisted, but her voice became soothing, "Talk to me."

"I wouldn't know where to begin." Ron was caught off guard—

again

. Why did he let women do that to him? Maybe

that's

what he should talk to her about.

"The beginning, of course."

While Ron paused to collect his thoughts, another round of drinks was served. To their puzzled expressions, the waitress informed them that it was two-for-one happy hour.

"I'm going through a divorce—"

"That can be traumatic."

"That's not the issue." Ron frowned with a shake of his head. "In the last week or so, I've—" he didn't want to say he fucked five different women, so he omitted Chelsea and Brianna since they were married and not looking to get involved "—

dated

three women. One I've known for a year through an organization I volunteer for; she came across as very prim and proper until we saw each other socially, then she became very wild. The second, we work for the same company; she's not quite as wild. And the third is an old flame I dated before I was married; we ran into each other by accident and she's trying to tame herself. The first is eager to become involved in a relationship, the second would if one were to develop, and the third wondered why we broke up in the first place and would be willing to resume."

"And you," Mia deduced, "either don't want to become involved so soon, or you can't decide which one."

"I'm not necessarily looking for a relationship, but if one happens through the natural course of events, I won't turn away."

"Well, of course, I can't make the decision for you, primarily because it's not mine to make, but also because I don't know you." Mia rubbed her chin in thought for a few seconds, then asked, "Are any of these women like your ex-wife?"

"Not at all."

"That's good. Too often people leave a marriage and unwittingly look for a person who is just like the one from whom they split. Then the second one has little chance of succeeding. Do you have a favorite?"

"I don't think so. What the first has told me about herself leads me to believe I might head down a path that will be quite different and unusual. The second, we work for the same company, but I don't know her that well. And the third, she was unpredictable and didn't want to be tied down when we first dated; she claims she wants to settle down, but a part of me thinks that if it didn't work the first time, why would it now."

"Because, you're both older, and hopefully, wiser. But with all three of them," Mia went on, "it sounds like you just need to get to know them each quite a bit more. The first, maybe her wildness is just something she thought would attract you. The second, you just don't know enough. And the third, maybe she

has

changed and maybe she knows you well enough to think that you're what she needs to complete that change. Besides, I sense that your feelings for her go deep."

"That's partially true," Ron admitted. "The dilemma with all three is that my ex was a homebody. Very quiet, timid. These others are exact opposites, and I'm just not sure I'm ready for, or even want that."

Nodding her understanding, Mia said, "I'm guessing the real issue we're talking about here is sex. With your wife it was infrequent, perhaps less than exciting, and with the others, it's something that you always dreamed of wanting until you got it. Now you're not certain it was really want you wanted."

The astonishment on Ron's face was evident. "Am I that transparent?"

"Not so much. But neither is your situation so unique. Unless you've decided that you absolutely want a relationship with one of these three ladies, you might consider dating other women. Perhaps there is someone out there who is in between these three and your ex, someone who will provide a little more excitement, but not excessively."

Ron pondered that suggestion. "I never thought about that."

"Or continue getting to know these three. Keep in mind, if one of them

is

the one, it can't be all about her. If they want you bad enough, they should be willing to meet you half way. Again, it's all about getting to know them better." Mia assumed a look of uneasiness.

The waitress appeared again. "Will you be dining with us this evening?"

Ron hadn't considered dinner. "Mia, you hungry?"

"Are you?"

"It would be my pleasure—or your fee—to buy you dinner."

"Okay."

The waitress handed them menus. A quick glance and Mia order a grilled chicken salad. It sounded good to Ron so he ordered the same and switched to white wine.

"I am curious about the sex issue," Mia resumed. "If I may ask—"

"You may

ask

," Ron snickered.

Mia chuckled, getting the meaning. "Without going into too much detail, what's the range between Miss Wild and your passive wife? What I'm looking for is a frame of reference."

"Miss Wild," Ron couldn't help grinning at using that term, "admitted right off that she was very sexual, that in her previous marriage they had done some swinging, some threesomes, and would be willing to do those again if I wanted."

"If you wanted? Do you think she meant it?"

"Then she took me to a sex club—wasn't any actual sex being done, but as close to it as you can get with clothes still on. Then she said we could probably get the waitress to come home with us if I wanted."

"Did that arouse you?"

"Of course. It also made me uncomfortable. My wife, on the other hand, would lay there, let me do my thing as long as I hurried up and got it over with."

"Okay, I think we're on the same page. Have you not liked anything you've done with Miss Wild?"

"No, I can't say I have. But I'm afraid that too much of it will burn me out and then no amount of stimulation will arouse me. Is that possible?"

"Yes. Anything you overindulge in can have serious consequences."

"So, what do you think?"

"I'll stick to my original recommendation. Get to know them better and consider dating others."

The salads were served, as well as another round of drinks.

While eating, Ron said, "I really appreciate the advice. I'm going to take it seriously. But enough about me. What's your story? Why did you want to make sure I wasn't on the prowl?"

"I'm sorry if that seemed—"

"It's your table, Mia, you can set the rules."

She laughed at his remark about rules. "The counselor is not supposed to reveal personal things."

"Well, I'm not technically a patient."

She shrugged. "I'm just here to unwind. Can't do that if it's a place where I know people."

"Or get stuck with people you don't know."

"Actually, listening to you has taken my mind off of why I came here. So I guess you have helped me to unwind."

He lifted his glass in a toast. "Then here's to helping each other."

"I can see why you have three women after you, Ron. You're very charming. And you seem very genuine."

He nodded his thanks. "So, do you not want to be picked up because you're recovering from a relationship gone sour?"

"Not true. I date occasionally, but I'm not involved in a relationship, nor am I looking to be."

"So, are there enough crazy people out there to keep you in business?"

Mia laughed. She was loosening up. "You don't have to be crazy to talk to a counselor."

"I know. I was just joking. There was a time in my marriage when I was under a lot of job stress and I considered seeking help. When I mentioned it to my wife, she said, 'Why, you're not crazy.'"

"Unfortunately, there are too many people out there who need help who won't get it because of that attitude."

While finishing their salads, they went on to discuss a wide range of topics. Ron was almost disappointed when it was time to part company because he had really enjoyed talking with her.

"The more I think about your situation," Mia said, "the more I think that maybe you do really need to find someone more moderate. This might be unorthodox, but I would like to offer more treatment."

"Like what?"

They both stood and she faltered. "Is there a hotel nearby?"

Ron thought she might be intoxicated. "Why? Have you had too much to drink?"

Mia looked directly in his eyes. Once again, he didn't see it coming. "No, just caught my shoe on the chair. But I thought you might like to take me to one so we can continue your . . .

treatment

."

* * *

Running into someone by accident and then sharing the last table available had not seemed too odd; out of the ordinary, maybe, but not odd. Being asked if he was looking for a pickup was unusual, but not unreasonable. But now, going to a hotel under the guise of further

treatment

was starting to border on strange. Ron had never picked up a woman before, nor had one ever picked him up, so he was beginning to feel a bit uneasy and wondering what he might have gotten himself into. Maybe Mia wasn't a psychologist, maybe she was actually a

patient

. Additionally, for someone who hadn't wanted to be picked up, she was alarmingly calm about what they were doing, which was unsettling. And adding to that feeling was the fact that she didn't want to come to his apartment because she wanted to remain on "neutral" ground. She had even driven her own car the two blocks to the Holiday Inn Express.

Talk about uncharted territory!

Before turning into the hotel's parking lot, for an instant, Ron toyed with the idea of just continuing on home. But he did not. Just as she had pronounced him genuine, so also did she seem. When they entered the room, he couldn't help but ask, "Do you do this often?"

"No, I've never done this," Mia replied. "Would it have mattered?"

"Well, you said you didn't want to be picked up."

"No, I asked if you were looking to pick up someone," she corrected, taking a seat on the small sofa near the entrance. Of course, her skirt rode up showing some nice legs. She did attempt to tug it down an inch or so for what little good that did. "The difference is once I got to know you I felt more comfortable with you. A pickup is: 'Hey, baby, want to get lucky tonight?' or a few cheesy lines and some cutesy repartee."

"So, you could do the pickup on your on terms?" It came out as an accusation, but he really didn't mean it that way.

"No, I had no intention of doing this until we finished discussing your issues. Look, I can see what with the dilemma you're facing that this might not have been a very good idea. But I really did have a purpose."

"That being . . ."

"For you to be with someone in between Miss Wild and Miss Passive."

"And just like that you're going to provide this service as . . .

further treatment

?"

"You're making this sound cheap," Mia accused.

"I'm just confused. You know that. And this isn't helping."

After a minute of quiet, Mia said in a soothing tone, "Look, you're a very kind and sensitive man. I find you attractive. You've got three women who like it wild and kinky and want you. That must mean you're also good. I don't do wild and kinky, so I thought it might be a good change for you, and frankly, it wouldn't do me any harm either." She stood and came to him, took his hand and led him to the bed. Turning to him, she put her arms around his neck and pulled his head to hers, pressing her lips to his. Her lips had a softness to them that he liked, and there was no urgency to the kiss, just slow and sensuous.

Ron's hands naturally went around her back, resting just above the swell of her shapely rear. He moved his hands around to her hips and then up the curve of her waist to her armpits, but he refrained from touching her breasts just yet.

Their tongues met, but in a caress not a dance. Ever so slightly, she backed him toward the bed, and when the back of his calves touched it, he took her direction and eased down bringing her with him. With her on top of him and their lips momentarily parting, he used his arms to pull them both fully onto the bed until his head was resting on the pillow. Again they kissed, but only long enough for Mia to drag her legs up, then she lifted her upper torso so that she was straddling him with her butt sitting just below his cock. From this position, in no hurry, she undid his shirt and spread the flaps to expose his manly chest.

Taking her cue, Ron reached up and unbuttoned her dress. Mia was now working on his belt and zipper. He pulled her dress apart to reveal her round tits sitting in a bra that barely covered the top half. But before he could reach for them, she had his pants open and his jockeys pulled down to reveal his mostly erect cock resting on his abdomen. She reached for it and stroked it evenly, bringing it to full mast. Kneeling up, she pulled her dress off and tossed it, managing to land it on a nearby chair. She also unclasped and removed her bra, sending it to the same chair.

Most unexpectedly, Mia squatted and bent over, reached for his cock and then let her mouth engulf it. She didn't seem like the type for blow jobs, but at this point, who was he to object, particularly since this was not the least bit kinky. She alternated going down with her whole mouth and licking the full length of the underside like a popsicle.

Ron let this go on for a few minutes, surprised and pleased by her talented tongue. Not wanting to come too soon, he rolled her over onto her back, keeping with the tone of no urgency. He decided to complete the picture of her lovely body by removing her panties, careful to fling them onto the same chair with the rest of her clothes. While he was at it, he shed his own clothes to put them on equal terms. Turning his attention back to her, he was again somewhat surprised to see her pussy shaven. Once more, she didn't seem like the type.

In an instant, he knew he had to taste her. A swipe of his tongue from the bottom of her moist but not overflowing slit to her hood produced a nectarous flavor, and he continued his gentle assault on her sweet womanhood. When she was good and wet from the increased flow of her own juices and his saliva, a glance up to her contented face told him she was ready for more.