Impulse - Results

*** Authors Note: Part 2 obviously picks up where Part 1 left off. While I make the suggestion to read from the beginning, a couple of refresher notes:

Characters previously introduced:

Phil - Main protagonist. Wealthy 40-something white male who reshaped his entire life following a workplace accident. Has had a lifelong tendency to act rather impulsively, sometimes with mixed results.

Stacy - Phil's physical therapist and friend.

Paul - Phil's live-in personal assistant. A minor character at most.

Phil and Stacy, after weeks of working together to regain Phil's strength and mobility, had just had sex for the first time and agreed that occasional sex between them moving forward would be a mutually satisfactory proposition.

This second part features less actual sex than the first part (ie, none) but continues to build the relationships and scenarios (nudity and teasing) that will see the action pick up in subsequent releases. Keep your eyes open for more in the near future! I hope you enjoy.

*****

Stacy hadn't lied. Our afternoon workout was tough that day. She was really ramping up my weights and resistance training as my stability was really coming back. If I didn't know better it was like she was making it extra difficult just to prove a point that "work comes first." Though, if I can pat myself on the back, I got through with nothing more than a peep of discomfort.

I knew I was her last appointment that day when she did something I was not expecting

.

"Hey, do you want to come over to my place for dinner?"

I had a smirk on my face when I answered a moment later.

"Dinner, huh? I thought that would be relegated to 'relationship' status couples."

"Quit it, jerk," she responded in mild embarrassment. "Yes or no?"

"Of course, just have to find a ride there."

I owned a car, a few of them to be exact. However most of them were in storage and the one I kept on site I had basically given to Paul.

"You find a way to get there and I will make sure you get home, okay?"

"Sounds good. I will bring some wine."

Stacy wrote down her address. She might as well have lived in Milwaukee, I had so little clue as to the geography of my new city. I really needed to get out more and apparently tonight was going to be the catalyst to get that going.

Stacy asked that I show up around 6:30. It worked out well because that is when I normally ate dinner with Paul but also because she said it gave her the time to get home and cleaned up before I got there. It also gave me time to do the same.

I had a talk with Paul, who explained to me that it really was not a big deal when I made last minute plans changes. As he tended to be cooking for only 1-3 people it wasn't as if he had a ton of effort into meal changes one way or the other. I reminded myself that he deserved a bonus with how great he was with his flexibility.

After checking out her address using online maps I decided that I was going to get my old bike out of storage and use it to get over to Stacy's house. She, unlike me, did live in a detached, single family home. It was well inland but, by bike, would still only take me about 20 minutes to get there. It was a beautiful night and seemed like a perfect way to appreciate my surroundings as opposed to a cab. So, strapping the bottle of Old Vine Zinfandel to my handlebars, I hit the road with high hopes for an enjoyable dinner.

As it turned out, Stacy lived on a nicer street than I expected. It was filled with quaint, very well maintained homes. I admit that I wouldn't have expected her to have made enough money to live here but was ashamed of myself for the thought process even beginning.

Pulling into her driveway I found she lived in one of the middle-of the road houses on the block, a picturesque standard Florida ranch. I felt a little like I was back in high school, tucking my bike around the corner of the house and out of view before making my way up to the front door.

Stacy had stressed at the end of PT2 that dinner was going to be extremely casual so I really shouldn't go overboard with what I was dressed in or what type of wine I was bringing. Taking it to heart I was wearing a very casual pair of shorts and a loose v-neck T. There is no way anyone would have accused me of being overdressed except for at a nudist resort.

Wait a minute...

Thankfully, Stacy opened the door a moment later fully clothed... at least she was fully clothed by the most loosely defined version of the words.

Her long-ish brown hair was still wet and down, different from the ponytail I normally saw her with. She was wearing what I would refer to as an extremely loose, extremely thin cut-off t-shirt that somehow both hung off her body aimlessly at the same time as accentuating her feminine breasts and stomach. She was also not wearing shorts or pants, instead just what appeared to be a large silk sari wrapped around her waist that was, because of the tie, cut so far up one of her legs was practically bare. It appeared she was not wearing anything else.

"Hey!"

She greeted me enthusiastically and pulled me in for a very quick, casual one-armed hug and kiss on the cheek.

"You obviously found the place. Any issues getting here? Did Paul drop you off or did you taxi it?"

"Neither. You are actually looking at the oldest kid on the block," I responded. "I rode my bike."

"Nice!"

Stacey kind of pulled me into the house and then closed the door behind me.

"Okay, so I still have some things to finish up. You can take a look around if you want or otherwise I figured we would sit out back."

She pointed me toward the back of the house where I saw a set of french doors that were opened up to a patio.

"Make yourself comfortable. Mi casa e su casa."

With that, she skirted away, back to the kitchen I suppose, leaving me in the joint entryway/living room.

It was a nice space. Clean, comfortable, airy. I looked around the room. Pretty typical. Not overly feminine, not overly anything. Just a normal, American space.

"Why don't you get that wine opened up?"

She called out to me from the kitchen and I followed her voice to where I found her working over a frying pan.

"Fish tacos," she said.

"I guess I shouldn't have brought red," I responded, holding up the bottle of wine.

"Nah, I never get hung up on that stuff. Besides, I like red better anyhow. Crack it open and pour."

Stacy handed me a wine key and I pulled the cork on the bottle. I brought it out to the back patio and, again, I found a nice, clean space that looked like it could have been in a Home Depot flier.

Making my way back to the kitchen, Stacy was finishing up. She directed me to grab a tray of fixin's: lettuce, tomato, peppers, onion, etc. She had a little bit of everything available. She herself had a tray of the lightly fried fish, a bowl of white rice and some sort of sauce.

"C'mon," she hurried me as she walked out into the back. "I'm still hungry from this morning."

Her acknowledgement of our earlier dalliance brought a smile to my face. It was somehow fresh in my mind and yet seemed so long ago.

She plopped us down and did the honors of pouring us each a glass of wine.

"Thanks for coming," she said, holding up her glass for cheers. "I have been meaning to have you over for what seems like now, I am glad it finally came together."

We chimed glasses and got down to eating the deliciously light meal she had prepared for us. So many people think you can't eat well when you are watching calorie counts and food intake. I counter those people are just not eating the right things.

Our conversation was open and organic. She opened up about how her burgeoning business was going. Which, as it turns out, was very well, but driving her a bit crazy with the schedule. I also opened up a bit about my past. I did not go into every single detail about my past relationships and wealth, but I did speak briefly about the fact that yes, I had been divorced and how I was "starting over."

As our dialogue progressed, I learned a couple things about Stacy. First, she was a little bit older than I thought she was at 35, only 7 years my junior as opposed to the 14 I originally guessed. She too had been divorced. She was also in the process of "starting over." She had come out of college and worked HR in a large-ish company. During and after her divorce she realized she had just been playing it safe with her career and decided to give something a go that would help her both personally and professionally and got into personal training. It had been a rocky path getting started, mostly financially, but she was really turning a corner and was glad she made what she feels was the right choice.

I watched her in wonder, marveling at how natural she was. Her shirt hung far off one shoulder, very loose in front of her and just gently grazing her nipples that were visible underneath. Her silk wrap might as well have not been there. It hung so far open I could see her smooth, toned and tanned legs in full with occasional flashes of her trimmed pubic hair as she moved. Again, as at the beach just the day before, she was not taunting me with her charms, just incredibly comfortable in her lovely, earned physique.

We had been finished with dinner and were finishing up the bottle of wine when she requested that we move over to the lounge furniture as she was a bit uncomfortable. Plopping ourselves down on the soft, outdoor couch that was nearby, Stacy put her feet up on my lap and sighed.

"This is nice."

Indeed it was.

Our conversation continued but we also just relaxed. I am sure she was exhausted after a long day of work. I myself took the opportunity to be a little handsy. With her long, smooth legs on my lap, it seemed like an appropriate time to offer an impromptu and informal leg and foot massage. And, while I am not going to go so far as being one of those tools who call them their specialty, I believe I have enough skill to make them enjoyable for the recipient.

Stacy was no different.

As I worked on her feet and calves she stretched out on the couch like a cat waking up from a nap; her shirt pulling up on her chest until the bottom curve of both her breasts was clearly exposed.

"Good, lord," she sighed, "that feels incredible. Apparently I took advantage of you in the wrong way this morning."

"You most certainly did not!"

Her response was only to take one of her feet and rub her toes into my crotch while simultaneously blowing me a kiss and pulling up her shirt to flash her breasts.

Yup, that got me a bit hard.

We continued relaxing for a little while, my hands making themselves up and down every inch of her legs but stopping short of her basically completely exposed pussy, lost in the moment. I admit I had zoned out a bit when my trance was broken by the sound of a voice.

"Whatcha' up to there, folks?"

I looked up to find another woman standing in the doorway. She was dressed in light blue hospital scrubs and looked somewhat tired.

"Hey, you."

Stacy sat up and straightened out her clothes, not in any sort of hurried manner, more just as a matter of habit.

"Home from work. What's going on?"

Stacy put her hand on my leg and gestured to the mystery woman.

"Phil, this is my roommate Karen. Karen, this is my friend Phil."

Karen began walking over and I stood to meet her. A quick handshake and greeting and our standard, cursory American introduction is complete.

"What are you doing home so early," Stacy inquired.

"Not early, babe. It is already 10:30. My shift was over."

That certainly surprised me. Four hours had come and gone in a flash.

Stacy looked over at me. "Wow, I can't believe it got that late."

We all stood quietly for a moment and I realized that was my queue.

"Well, guess that makes it time for me to head out. Karen, it was nice to meet you. Stacy, thank you for dinner and the company. I guess I will see you in the morning."

We all exchanged pleasantries and I walked out the front door into the night. It wasn't like I was expecting to have sex again that night, not that I would have turned it down, but it was a somewhat disappointing and abrupt ending to the evening. Getting on my bike and riding out into the calm, comfortable Florida night, I was still happy. Happy with how my life was so far turning out after making so many drastic changes in it at one point. Also happy with how much living I knew I had left to do.

-------------------

The next 6 months or so were a whole lot of same ol', same ol' that I had gotten used to before our "lunchtime fuck." Stacy was my therapist, physical trainer and friend, but there was absolutely no sex at all. We had meals together often and even went to a movie a couple of times but the physicality was non-existent. It was a bit sad but not the end of the world. I was taking my bike out much more often. Taking in the sites of my new home city and getting accustomed to the lay of the land. I was trying out new, varied restaurants with quite a bit of success and getting a handle on the vibe of the community I lived in. Plus, in an odd way, there was still quite a bit of sensuality between us. Lots of flirting, lots of "innocent" touching. Just no penis-in-vagina action. On more than one occasion I feel that talking about or acting on it was something that both of us would have taken advantage of but, for a variety of distractions each time, it just didn't happen.

Paul and I were starting to realize that my need (loosely defined) for him during my recovery was coming to an end but he agreed to stay on as long as I felt like it. When I first hired him I had been under the assumption/hope that we would have developed more of a friendship but that didn't end up being the case. He was more like a productive ghost. As long as he was okay with that I was too. It was probably a great deal for him as well. I still paid him quite well and he still had a free room and car. Why give up a good thing?

I had joined two social groups that were beginning to keep me occupied a little bit more, though, I could admit to myself, now that my physical condition was pretty much back to normal, I was starting to get bored with not having a day job. One of the groups was a cycle tour group. Basically a pack of like-minded people who would take leisurely rides around the city once a month and stop in at a couple of bars along the way to grab a drink and/or bite to eat. It was fun and it was enjoyable but, at only once a month, it was not a major block in my social calendar.

The second group, make fun of me if you want, was actually a Scrabble club.

Yes, the board game. Yes, it was with old people.

I found out about the club after seeing a posting on the wall in the lobby of my building. I figured since I lived in what was generally considered to be such a young area of town it was going to be with younger, if nerdier, people. I was surprised, but not repelled, by the fact that it was an older group. While the biking group was mostly people in their 20's and 30's, not married. This group was mostly a bunch of people in their 60's, empty nesters who wanted to get back into the social scene but were not part of the bar crowd. That said, this group did apparently have a couple of parties each year that were apparently wild events and I was looking forward to those as well. Similar to the bike club, it was only twice a month, not doing too much to fill my need for some fulfillment.

PT sessions were down to three days a week, one session per day with Stacy. Massages were down to just once a week. I didn't see her any less as she was in my apartment often, but it was different.

All in all, life continued to be good, I was just bored.

IMPULSE: I needed something to do, I needed something different. It was a very hot weekend day when I decided to check out that nude beach formally. I was feeling good about my physical shape and wanted some sun, what better place to do it?

RESULT: I had taken to embracing a more bohemian Florida lifestyle and had upgraded by downgrading my bike. I got rid of my old, high-end mountain bike and was now riding a true beach cruiser. It had huge, wide tires and a rack over the rear wheel that allows me to carry quite a bit of cargo. My cargo of choice for that day was a folding beach chair, umbrella, towel, and a cooler/bag combo that contained some drinks/snacks as well as sunscreen and the latest book I was reading.

The beach was busy (but still not crowded) by my limited experience with such places. I probably spotted about 150 people spread out along the expanse of beach. While I knew that naturist beaches in Europe could literally be shoulder-to-shoulder crowds, I assumed it was different in the US, especially at a beach that was not (to my knowledge) publicized.

I set myself up smack dab in the middle of the sand. Probably about 50 meters away from the closest people. Plopping myself down, I immediately began the most appropriate activity there is for any beach.

People watching.

As expected, the majority of the people that were within immediate eyesight were men. Of course someone is going to say that it must be because men are perverts and very willing to expose themselves in order to see someone else exposed. I think it is because men, in general, don't get as hung up on their bodies as women do and therefore don't mind being out in the nude and possibly seen by others. Yes, there is always the issue with penis size, but once you get over that there isn't much else to worry about. It wasn't exactly a full census that I was taking, but I would probably say it was about 60% men and 40% women overall. The women tended to be with a single male or female companion and I saw a couple small female only groups but I did not spot a female alone by herself. Not surprising and not that I cared. Just something I noticed.

I had been out in the sun for a while when I decided it was time to cool off. Floating around in the gulf water I marveled at how many years I had been busting my ass making money instead of stopping to smell the roses and enjoy the pleasures the world had to offer. I didn't even have to travel anywhere, the water was available for free.

I had been floating on my back, not paying attention when a small wave, caused by the wake of a boat, washed over my face and got into my eyes and up my nose. Blinded, hacking and realizing how long I had been in the water anyhow, I determined it was time to get out. Of course for men this can often be the most fear worthy part of the experience, shrinkage and all. Thankfully that day the water was extremely warm and I didn't need to worry about it too much.

Again though, why should I even care?

I was making my way back to where I thought my chair was but was having difficulty based on the seawater's lasting distortion of my vision. I saw that shapes that I thought were my belongings but noticed a flesh colored object in the chair. Someone else was there.

It took a moment to clear my eyes and mind but, wouldn't you know it, Stacy was sitting there.

"We have to stop meeting like this, Phil!"

She hopped out of my chair and jumped into me, wrapping me again in a sweaty, salty hug that immediately brought back the memories of that day so long prior. My dick went from practically shriveled to half mast.

"Hey there," she said, reaching her hand between us and wrapping my fingers around me. "Don't you know it's bad form to get an erection on a nude beach."

Because it helped shield the fact, I kept her pulled closed against me.

"Yeah? Well you can blame yourself for that one, Stace. I was having no issues at all until you showed up."

"Ooooooo, this is because of me? Well," she purred, "aren't you the sweet talker. You certainly know how to make a woman feel good about herself."