Coffee Shop 4

This story is long....very long. I considered breaking it into chapters, but I didn't want another series. I wanted it all in one shot.

So, you are forewarned!

Please vote and as always, send me your feedback other than it was a long story...that I know.

By the way, some of this story is based on reality.

Enjoy!

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The preparations for tonight's get together were done. I sat at the kitchen counter enjoying a glass of wine. Looking around my thoughts reworked the past two years....

Sitting next to the door in the crowed limo, I stared out the window and into the dreary surroundings only a Chicago February could paint. My mind drifted between the numerous remembrances of the past 27 years. For the most part they were as dreary as the surroundings outside. This ride was the final step in burying all those years. By the end of the day my deceased wife, Kathy, would be in her final resting place, and the friends, family and professional Irish Catholic mourners would be gone. In the morning my new life would start.

Mentally I wasn't jumping for joy, but I did feel good. Actually, good doesn't accurately describe the feeling. It was more a feeling of comfort. It reminded me of when I was a kid and school was cancelled because of snow. I would spend all day outside in the snow and that night, wrapped in my blankets, safe and warm in bed, the effects of the day would take me peacefully to sleep without specific thoughts; just a good feeling; which is how I felt then.

I was keenly aware of the other eyes in the limo trained on me. They probably were thinking about my incredible loss and how well I was handling it; after all they were South Side Irish Catholics whom loved to bask in the aura of hardship. Kathy died suddenly from a brain hemorrhage. They found her dead at her desk at work. When my thoughts did drift towards my wife's family, I basked in the aura of the countdown until they were out of my life also. For their benefit, no smile crossed my face. In spite of this, there were two people in the limo for whom my heart felt sorrow: my kids. They just lost their mother.

The last guests left our house around 11pm; it was now just my kids and I. My son asked if I wanted a night cap. I did. I told him to make it strong. Both he and my daughter chuckled and she added, "Dad, you'll never change!" I simply smiled. We reminisced. It made them feel good.

Leaving the bank the next morning, I shook hands with my insurance agent as he said, "Russ, again let me express my condolences on your loss. I'm glad we were able to take care of you fiscally. Between Kathy's work and personal policies you should be able to live very comfortably."

I thanked him for the fast settlement (Kathy died a little over a week ago and I was surprised how quickly he turned things around.) As I walked to the coffee shop I did smile for I was suddenly wealthy; very wealthy.

The next year was interesting. I decided not to do anything major until I saw a clear path. I did however donate Kathy's clothing to charity rather quickly.

Getting rid of Kathy's wardrobe was an act unto itself. I imagine most men would have a favorite dress, or favorite intimates which would spark fond memories. In my case it was akin to going through the belongings of a nun. Although Kathy was a good friend and mother, she was frigid and unresponsive as a lover. Sex was a filthy, vulgar act isolated to procreation and solely for the purpose of procreation.

We did have premarital relations and I figured then our bedroom was not going to be a sexual Disneyworld. However I did not figure it to become a barren sexual dessert. So our love life totaled two kids in three years and then twice a year for about ten years, and finally the last fourteen years of absolutely nothing. Kathy seemed happy but I was not.

Some may ask, "Did you try this, try that, try something like this?" I tried everything: love notes, romantic getaways, and counseling. Even the counselor commented about Kathy's values being archaic and not adaptable to change. Divorce was also discussed. This just wasn't going to happen.

I thought about an affair and even had a few opportunities, but I felt the affair would turn into love, which would lead to deep wounds, and more than likely divorce and ruin.

Prior to marriage, I had a very healthy sex life. In the military, I traveled around the world and tasted the forbidden fruits offered by professionals. Back home, before Kathy, I dated a few women who craved sex. My mistake was in thinking Kathy would warm to the pleasures of the flesh.

When the sexual drought engulfed me, my selected alternative was to go back to the professionals. I needed carnal pleasure and was tired of doing it myself. For nearly twenty years, I developed relationships with strippers, massage parlors attendants, internet escorts, transvestites, transsexuals and Mistresses in the BDSM community. In spite of being married to a non-responsive woman, I grew sexually. Through these varied experiences I gained an understanding of my needs and developed a style I call Erotic Passion.

Erotic Passion covers all acts of the flesh by all members of all communities. In essence it means ones' senses are overwhelmed with the power and emotion of lust. The scene is being performed because the person(s) performing it craves the pleasure it brings to both parities. Thus fellatio from a wanton transvestite can be better than a blow job from a clock watching escort. It is HOW the act is done rather than WHAT is being done. Combining a powerful HOW and WHAT can be mind blowing.

Those first six months after Kathy's death were sexual fantasies coming true. I found a few professional ladies in Chicago who really enjoyed their trade and had similar cravings to mine. Most of the ladies were involved in the BDSM community and truly knew how to role play.

You may be thinking welts, bruises, humiliation, kicking, twisting testicles off. I'm not into that.

I'm into to the erotic power of woman; the sensation a sensual woman has over a man: the subtlety of rubbing a breast across your back as she wraps her arm around you to squeeze or pinch your nipple; her tongue and breath at work on your ear as she explains how you are going to please her this day. There is a certain feel to rubber and latex which is incredible. The pure moans of pleasure as ones ass is slipped into. The list goes on.

The nice thing is I now had the money to do whatever I wanted for as long as I wanted. I even took a nude vacation with three of my favorite ladies; two Mistresses and one Escort. The four of us came so many times I think we lost weight even though we dined and drank to our hearts content. To heighten our pleasure were the other hundred guests with the same desires as us. I can still feel the sensations of licking an Indian (as in India) woman as two Asian women milked my cock and balls. As I was going nuts, a German fellow filled my ass with his cock. Wow! (Gay...no....Bi...it can be very rewarding).

It was also during these first six months I realized I needed to move out of the town I was in. My friends and family started playing match-maker. For example, one Saturday night friends invited me over for dinner. When I arrived, it just so happened a divorced, mother of two (dressed to the "nines") dropped by to say "Hi" to my friends. What a coincidence! She might as well stay for dinner!

During dinner my buddy's wife gave her friend, Trish, the details as to what a nice guy I was; what a great dad I was; how I was a school teacher with plenty of time; and how I am financially secure. At the appropriate time, my friends cleared the table and went to get desert.

"Why don't the two of you just talk for awhile?"

Trish looked at me with such an obvious agenda and said, "So what do you like to do, Russ?"

I felt like saying, "Well, I like to lick a woman's ass while she is naked on a bed resting on her hands and knees with her butt sticking in the air."

But I did not. For some bizarre reason I feared my interests would not be those of my counter parts in suburbia (wink, wink). What I did say was, "Oh, it varies. What about you Trish?"

Forty-five minutes later I knew too much about this lady. She loved pets: 3 cats; 2 dogs, fish; 5 hamsters, a pair of chirping love birds; and a rabbit. She also told me as "sex" was now over in her life, she was looking to build a meaningful relationship. When she said the word "sex," she made the quote signs with her fingers; lowered her voice; and looked around to make sure only the two of us would hear her daring and bold statement. I smiled and told her I understood.

As I left, my buddy pulled me aside to tell me Trish would like to see me again. From the front door, I gazed into the kitchen. The ladies broke their huddled conversation to wave good-night to me. I waved back which met with everyone's approval.

There were too many of these set-ups. As an FYI, I did not see Trish again.

My path was now clear: get out of town. I moved quickly over the next few months. I gave the kids practically everything: the china, the crystal, the silver, furniture, the everyday dishes, appliances, photo albums, etc. You name it, they got it. I also gave each of them a sizable check. Their life needed to change too.

My house sold quickly and in a bidding war. I found a great townhouse in the middle of the village two towns away from mine. It was less than 10 miles from my old place, but it seemed like the other side of the country. No one knew me and I was a new man.

The townhouse was bigger than what I needed, but not too big: three bedrooms, three baths, a modern eat in kitchen, a formal dining room, a family room, laundry area, unfinished basement and a two car garage in the front of the house with the entrance onto a court yard leading to the front door. There was also a deck leading off of the kitchen/dining room which overlooked a very wide and long pond. Sitting on my deck I couldn't see any of my adjacent neighbors and the ones across the pond could be seen but without any detail as to their activity. I loved my new place.

The village center was nice with a good blend of activities. It had decent shopping, good restaurants, as well as a couple cozy clubs and coffee shops. I especially liked the coffee shop about one-half block away and next to the commuter train station. I could easily grab a latte and head downtown to meet one of my ladies for another round of fanta-sex.

One of the best parts of the move was the timing. I was completely in my new place by May. In a couple of weeks school would be over and I would have the entire summer to do whatever I wanted.

On my list of things to do was to develop a web based software program which determined ones hidden sexual desires. The Mistresses often complained of men's discomfort with vocalizing their fantasies. Guys seem to expect Mistresses to be mind readers. As an engineer turned math teacher, I had an idea for a product to help discern ones deepest fantasies. The Mistresses and I worked out a spec and one of my bedrooms became my software development lab.

In a matter of a few weeks, all the equipment was in, connected, and running. The walls were adorned with white boards covered with flow charts; cork bulletin boards with posted sub-routines; the blinking lights of routers, servers and cable interfaces gave the room a very techie feel, and the various flat panel displays alternated between strings of code and erotic images.

Furnishing my house was slow but pleasurable. I let the surroundings dictate the mood. The look was a bit bachelor-ish, but in a few months it was complete and to my liking.

The coffee shop at the end of the block was wonderful. Their lattes were superior. It was at this shop I first met Barbara.

It was an early Monday morning in late May. The weather was perfect: starched shirt, slacks and my comfortable school shoes. I loved being a teacher, especially after spending twenty years in industry and wearing a coat and tie every day.

Teaching math was a delight compared to the fights of the boardroom. The kids were fantastic and never a problem. In seven years, I never needed to give a detention to anyone. Problems were worked out in class. Kathy never liked my choice to become a teacher since it made her rejoin the workforce. However, the hours, holidays, vacations and summer breaks combined with zero stress made the change a "no-brainer." With Kathy gone, my work schedule was ideal.

As I approached the front door to the shop, I noticed a woman heading towards the door also. It was obvious we would get there at the same time. I did pick up my pace just a bit and got to the door first. I opened it and motioned for the lady to enter before me. The smile which broke out on her face was genuine.

"Thank you kind sir" she said entering the shop.

"No problem" was my simple reply.

It was apparent by her wardrobe she was a business woman. Her hair was salon coiffed and colored. The style was short but full with a layered look, and the color was an orange red, obviously a salon color, going well with her light, creamy skin tone.

My nose was treated to a wonderful scent as she passed. Not overpowering, just a warm, deep, pleasant aroma drawing ones attention to the wearer. She wore a bronze three-quarter length cloak which covered her business garb underneath.

Walking behind her I could see her legs from the calves down. Sheer black nylons encased them and a French seam trailed from heels up her legs and into her cloak. She wore black three inch heels. The straps were very alluring. A thin chain clung to her left ankle.

My mind sensed something very interesting about the woman in front of me.

At the counter she ordered an "iced black Irish," a drink name I never heard before.

Keeping a few steps away, I studied her as she paid. Her eyes were hazel with makeup of bronze and copper tones. Her lashes were deep black with no apparent liner; subtle yet captivating. Pearl sized auburn stones dangled from gold half-hoop earrings, the color of which matched her lipstick and eyebrows (probably her natural hair color). Small crow's feet age lines at the corners of her eyes along with gentle wrinkles in her hands were tale-tale signs of this crimson lady's age.

I guessed her age to be close to mine putting her in the late forties/early fifties category which made her hair and look more fascinating.

Of particular interest were her hands. The nails were perfectly manicured and the color matched her lips, brows and earrings. I imagined a large stoned wedding ring but there was none. Now I was becoming very intrigued.

When she finished paying, she moved to the pick-up area. I quickly ordered my standard drink, paid, and moved to the pick-up area to see more of this lady.

She was tall and in her heels she stood around five feet ten. Her build was big; not fat or chubby; she was just a big boned woman. Style, class and power surrounded her.

A smile and a glance in my direction gave me permission to break the ice.

"Interesting drink you ordered; iced black Irish. I never heard of it before." was my neutral non-threatening opening.

Picking up on the cue, she said, "Oh, it really isn't anything exotic." Her voice was smooth and inviting as she continued. "Black Irish is a blend of teas which look black before brewing and the iced part just makes it an ice tea."

The barista handed her the drink and moving to the mixing table she asked, "What did you get?" allowing our chat to continue.

"My standard, a vanilla latte" I replied gazing at her and pausing for a reply.

"I don't drink coffee. What is your order?" She was finishing adding sugar to her tea and putting the lid back on her drink. Preparing to leave she hesitated as my drink was now ready.

Walking out of the shop together, I told her about lattes and how they were my special treat. Opening the door, I again said, "After you."

And again she replied, "Thank you kind sir."

We exchanged "Have a good day" and went on our separate ways.

I thought of her often the rest of the day and returning home I surfed the net for red headed beauties. My search was successful. Slipping into bed at the end of night, I again thought of her and enjoyed an orgasm the old fashioned way. I thanked my crimson lady as I fell asleep.

Getting ready for work the next day, I wondered if "she" would be at the coffee shop today. It didn't take long to find out. I felt like I was in the movie Groundhog's Day. We met under the same circumstances. We were walking up to the shop at the same time.

We both smiled at the coincidence. As I opened the door for her, I said, "Déjà vu" with a cavalier wave gesturing towards the opening.

She smiled, and with an overtly seductive look, said softly, "Perhaps not, kind sir."

Fireworks went off in my head. Unable to conceal my happiness, I took the opportunity to introduce myself. "By the way, my name is Russ; Russ Gilbert."

Smiling, my crimson goddess turned, extended her hand in an exaggerated fashion and said, "Very nice to finally know your name, kind sir. My name is Barbara, Barbara Hayes."

I took her hand in mine and it felt wonderful. Placing my other hand on top the two, I smiled and said, "Barbara, what a pretty name." I didn't want to leave go. Eventually I did but not until I had memorized her touch.

As we walked into the shop chatting, I couldn't help but notice her look. Today she wore black slacks and a sweater. (Yes, yes....I looked...I'd say a large B or smaller C.) Her tones were again dominated with bronze and copper but today there was a touch of pink to match her lips.

The rest of the week was a wonderful blur. Meeting each morning, our conversations lengthened, and we lingered in each other's company longer. By Thursday, I knew Barbara lived in my village but a number of blocks south of town. I knew she was a district manager for a pharmaceutical company. In turn she knew I lived in the new townhouse development and I was a former engineer turned math teacher.

Neither of us mentioned marital status.

Friday morning I wanted to do something nice and a bit different. As we both had ordered the same drinks each day, my plan was to get to coffee shop a few minutes early and meet Barbara at the door with our drinks. We might be able to spend a few more minutes together in the fresh air.

Entering the coffee shop, I burst out laughing. Walking towards me was Barbara with two drinks in her hand.

"This is too funny!" I exclaimed. People glanced our way and then back to their business.

Barbara smiled and said, "Why?"

"You're not going to believe this, but I was going to do the same thing."

"Well, I do believe it. After all, great minds think alike." Barbara answered back. She walked past me to the door and continued, "But...What makes you think one of these is yours."

Her eyes told me she was playing. I opened the door and followed her outside.

Handing me my drink, I thanked her. Barbara stretched as she took in a deep breath of air. "What a great day. Why don't we sit on the bench by the tree? Do you have a few minutes?" she asked.

It was the first time in my teaching career I was ready to call in sick and blow off the day. "Sure do!" I replied and we headed towards the bench.

We chatted for a while and I finally realized it was time to go.

"This has been a great week," I said sincerely. "I have truly enjoyed meeting you and our morning coffees. I hope to see you again on Monday." I stood to leave and offered her my hand to help her up.

Barbara looked up at me and said, "What about tonight?"

"Tonight? Uh..." I hesitated. Friday nights I have a standing session with Mistress Fiona.

The look on Barbara's face went to business. "I understand," she said as a mater of fact. "Come to think of it I do have an appointment I completely forgot about. I guess Monday it is." She rose to leave.