Leo

This story is an odd tribute to a real woman whom I had the privilege to know many years ago. Sadly, almost all of our relationship as described here is fictional.

This story is a work of fiction. While some real places and organizations are mentioned or implied, they are used fictitiously here. As far as the author knows, no real person affiliated with any of those places or institutions has done anything akin to what is described in this story. Any similarities between any character in this story and any real person are mostly coincidental and unintended.

I encourage comments on this story, both favorable and unfavorable. Thank you for reading.

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I met Melissa Parke and Benjamin Schrodt early in my first year of law school. Neither of them was a law student. Ben was working on his master's in chemical engineering and Mel was in the first year of her MBA program. What brought us together initially was our accents, more accurately a lack of a particular accent.

Mel was from Pittsburgh and had gone to undergraduate school in Philadelphia on a partial scholarship for gymnastics. Ben was a Milwaukee native who had gone to school at the flagship campus of his state university system. I was an Ohio native who had gone to undergrad in the Chicago area on a partial wrestling scholarship.

Mel, Ben, and I all ended up in graduate programs at a well-regarded university in a fairly major, and growing, city in the upper South. The City's image was closely associated with a particular type of music, but it attracted young musicians in all genres hoping to land recording contracts. It was also, as someone famous once said, a very "self-consciously southern" city.

A couple of weeks after I came to town, I had decided to take a short break from the law, and my fellow law students, and went to a small jazz club a few blocks from campus. I went to the bar to order a drink, not really paying attention to the people around me. After I ordered my beer, a female voice to my left said, "thank God! Someone else without a southern accent." I turned to face one of the most beautiful women I had ever met in person. She had shoulder-length dark brown hair framing a face that reminded me of Diana Rigg in The Avengers re-runs which one of the Chicago TV stations ran after the 10:00 p.m. news on Fridays.

The young woman had a captivating smile. "Hi," she said, "I'm Mel Parke." Pointing to the young man to her left, she added "that's Ben. It's just refreshing to hear someone with a normal accent. Who are you and where are you from?"

"Peter Stone," I replied. "Columbus, Ohio by way of suburban Chicago."

"I'm from Pittsburgh and went to school in Philly," Mel said. "Ben's a total cheesehead: Milwaukee and Madison."

The three of us talked until the bartender shushed us at the start of the combo's next set. After a couple of numbers, Ben whispered, "let's go somewhere we can talk." To make a long story shorter, Mel, Ben, and I quickly became very good friends. Although we had many common interests and attitudes, it was probably due as much to the fact we were all three recent arrivals in a new city. However, it quickly became clear that Mel and Ben had wasted little time in becoming a couple.

Her face was not Mel's only physical asset. Although she was relatively short, she had, so far as I could tell, a splendid body. She would joke that, "I grew tits in high school. That was great for my sex life but fucked me up for gymnastics." Mel was also a very magnetic person. Without even thinking about it, I found myself wanting to please her. Ben, whom I learned was a quietly strong-willed person, commented on it once: "she gets you under her spell even, I think, when she's not trying."

By the second semester, I was dating another law student. Carol was bright and very attractive. However, she did not take well to my friendship with Ben and Mel. If the four of us were out somewhere, everyone from servers in restaurants to people at a party gravitated to Mel and made her the center of attention. While I never got the sense Mel tried to achieve that, Carol felt slighted and was, I think, jealous. At the end of my first year, I had a summer job clerking for a medium-sized firm in the City. Carol went back to Tampa for the summer. That was that.

I lived in an older four-story apartment building five blocks west of campus. I had gone to work out on a Saturday morning ten days before the start of my second year. When I pulled into the parking lot just after noon that Saturday, there was a large rental truck parked outside the back door. I parked my car and was walking past the truck when I heard a female voice exclaim, "well shit! What do I do now?"

I took a few steps towards the rear of the truck. I was met by a young woman in a tee shirt and jeans staring at her smart phone. She almost bumped into me, stopped, and said, "I'm sorry. I drove this truck up from Macon with my stuff, furniture, clothes, computers, everything. My dad and a couple of his friends loaded it for me. My little brother was flying in from Boston to help me unload. They've got a storm up there and his flight was cancelled. How do I get this shit up to my apartment?"

I like to think that I'm naturally inclined to help people. However, being honest, the facts that the woman had a face which remined me of Vivian Leigh in Gone with the Wind and a body outlined by her tight tee shirt and jeans that suggested Lynda Carter as Wonder Woman, probably had some effect on what I did next.

"I can help you," I said.

"Would you?" the woman said pleadingly. "I've got to warn you I have a lot of shit." I followed her to the back of the truck. It was one of those tall enough that you pulled a ramp out through the back bumper to reach the cargo area. The woman unlatched the rear door and pushed it up. Yes, she had a lot of stuff: chairs, a dresser, dresser drawers, a couple of tables with the legs unscrewed, a disassembled bed frame, and a mattress and box springs among other things.

"What apartment are you in?" I asked.

"404," she replied.

Ok. The building didn't have a passenger elevator, but it did have a freight elevator. That would make the project a lot easier. "Let me find the maintenance guy," I said. "He's got the key to operate the freight elevator." I went inside and down to the room in the basement where Bo, the maintenance guy, usually hung out. The door was locked.

A piece of paper taped to the door had a scribble which may have said "back later." I wasn't surprised. Bo was an ok guy, but he wasn't incredibly reliable.

By 4:45 p.m., I had most of the woman's things up the three flights of stairs and into her apartment. Amazingly, I hadn't broken anything. All that was left on the truck were the mattress and springs. I really didn't think I could get those up to the apartment without more help than the woman could give. I'd also learned that her name was Leo, "short for Leonora," Hart; that she was from Macon, Georgia; that she was starting a master's in computer science; and that she'd gone to undergrad in New Orleans.

About 5:00 p.m., a pick-up truck pulled into the lot. The large, blond-haired man who got out looked like he might have been an athlete hundreds of cases of beer ago. Leo and I were standing beside her rental truck.

"Y'all cain't leave this truck here for long," Bo told us. I explained that the truck would be moved as soon as we got the mattress and springs off and up to 404, but I needed a hand. "Not as strong as you look?" Bo teased. "Them's nothing. Let's get at it." Bo jumped into the truck with an agility that would be surprising if you didn't know him. While Bo liked his beer, he was still a very strong man; and he was nowhere near as dumb as he liked to sound.

With Bo's help, we got the mattress and springs up to Leo's apartment and onto the frame easily. Leo told Bo, "Thank you so much!" She started to pull a twenty out of her wallet.

Bo raised his hand in a "stop" motion. "Management don't let me take tips from tenants, Ma'am; and it weren't much work at all."

I didn't entirely agree with Bo's last statement. I followed him out Leo's door and thanked him myself. Bo smiled. "I know why you were helping her," he said. "She is one very fine-looking woman. Good luck."

I went back inside. "I should set up the computers," Leo said, "but all I really want is to have a drink, or three, eat something, and sleep. I stink. I don't have the energy to take a shower, and I don't remember which box has my towels."

Leo didn't stink. She was a bit sweaty from carrying smaller things up the stairs, but that just made her sexier. If anything, she looked more beautiful and desirable than when I met her about five hours earlier.

"There's a place which makes pretty good pizza about three blocks from here," I said. "They have a beer-only license, but we're ok going in as we are."

"Sounds great," Leo said. "I'd better move that truck."

I waited while Leo parked the rental as far out of the way as possible in the small lot that served the building. As we started to walk out to the street, she asked, "you do live here, right?"

"No," I said. "I just roam the parking lots of apartment buildings near campus during the weeks before school starts looking for beautiful women who need things carried." Leo gave that the weak grin it deserved. "I'm in 104," I said more seriously. "Ground floor, directly below you." Leo gave that a bigger smile.

Over pizza and beer, I learned that Leo Hart was at least as bright as she was beautiful, well-informed on a range of topics, and that she could be very funny. I thought of how Ben described Mel getting you "under her spell" whether she meant to or not. Leo had that same quality: a combination of physical beauty, intelligence, personality, and a subtle sexiness.

We went back to our separate apartments that night. I'll confess I spent much of the rest of the night thinking about Leo Hart. I was grateful when she knocked on my door that Sunday morning and asked if I could help her set up her computers. Without, I hoped, being too obvious, I tried to talk to Leo every day, if only for a few minutes.

The following Thursday, I saw Leo by the building's mailboxes. "Hey," she said, "the graduate students association is having a welcome party for new grad students tomorrow night on the lawn along West End. They're having a band, and an hour of free beer. You're not a new grad student, but do you want to escort me?"

Hell yes! I'd escort Leo to church if she asked. What I said was, "thank you. That sounds nice. I'd be honored to escort you."

"It's outdoors and the announcement I saw said 'casual dress." Leo added. "I'll be at your door at 7:00 p.m. If it's boring, we can go somewhere else."

I was unreasonably excited that Leo Hart had asked me to go somewhere with her. I was also nervous I would screw it up. That may have contributed to what happened the next night.

Leo was at my door, as promised, at 7:00 p.m. Even in a knit shirt, shorts, and running shoes, she looked exquisite. We walked the three blocks to campus. There was no problem finding the party as the band had already started. We did have to wait in line to have our IDs checked before we were allowed in the roped-off area. There was another line waiting at the beer truck. "Better get us each two," Leo advised.

We'd each had three beers when the free beer ended. More beer meant buying tickets at a tent set up on the opposite side of the enclosure from the beer truck. We walked over there. When I asked Leo how many tickets to get, she said, "we used to party every weekend in New Orleans. I'd say twelve, that's six apiece."

We had both had more than six more beers when the party shut down at midnight. I suggested going somewhere else. Leo laughed. "I think I'd better get you back to the apartments," she said. "Me too for that matter."

I had drunk more than I should have. When I awoke late the next morning I felt it. I also realized that I couldn't completely remember getting from the party to my apartment and into bed. I was still in bed when someone knocked on my door.

I rolled out of bed naked, grabbed a pair of shots, and went to the door. As I feared, it was Leo, looking gorgeous as ever.

"Feeling ok?" she asked.

"I'm sorry," I said. "I apologize for whatever I said or did."

I stood back and Leo walked into my apartment. "Well," she started, "you said I was the most beautiful woman you've ever met. That was nice. You also insisted on taking all your clothes off before you got into bed. That was very nice."

"Shit," I said.

Leo was smiling. "You can make it up to me," she said.

"How?" I asked.

"Cook me dinner tonight." Leo replied.

"Are you ok with pasta?" I asked. I knew how to make a pasta dish with shrimp, herbs, and feta cheese that most people liked.

"Pasta is great," Leo answered. "What time should I be here?"

I had assumed she wanted me to come up to her apartment and cook. Foolishly, since she was in my apartment then and had seen it the night before, I was calculating how long it would take me to clean the apartment, get to the store, cook, shower and shave. "Eight?" I asked.

"Great!" Leo said. She turned and let herself out of my apartment. The shorts she was wearing reminded me Leo had a great ass.

I spent the rest of the day frantically cleaning my apartment, running to a special grocery store I had found across town, spending more than I could afford on a bottle of wine, and then cooking the pasta. At twenty till eight, I realized I hadn't showered or shaved. I had just gotten into the uniform polo shirt and khaki slacks when I heard a knock at the door.

Opening the door, I nearly gasped. Leo looked stunning in a dark green dress which clung to her figure closely enough for me to see she wasn't wearing a bra. She wasn't wearing make-up, but she didn't need any. She had combed her black hair back over one ear and put a flower in her hair above the ear. All I could say as I stepped back to let her in was "wow!"

Leo smiled at me. She turned and looked around the apartment. "You've been busy today," she said. I was focused on the fact that her dress fit tightly enough that I was fairly sure she wasn't wearing panties either. Leo had a paper bag with something in it in her hand. "May I put his in your refrigerator?" she asked. I nodded affirmatively. She smiled. "Don't look," she said. "It's a surprise and may not even be appropriate."

We had a drink from a less expensive bottle of wine and stood in the kitchen talking while I finished the pasta and the salad, and took the garlic bread out of the oven. Leo was always an interesting person to talk with. Relying on the rule that people enjoy talking about themselves, and because I was genuinely interested, I asked her why she was studying computer science. I got a succinct and sensible answer, so I moved on to ask about her family. I learned that her father was a family practice doctor in Macon, that her mother was a history professor at the university there, and that she had a younger brother in undergrad in Boston.

It was still summer and still light out when dinner was ready. My attempt at candlelight lost most of its effect. Leo liked the food I'd made, and we both agreed I'd made a good wine selection. Making desserts wasn't in my skill set, which I admitted as I brought out a plate of bakery cookies. I put them in the center of the table and sat back down across from Leo.

"Don't worry about dessert," she said. "The pasta was delicious." She paused as if debating what to say next. After a moment, Leo said, "you said something else last night."

"Oh shit," I thought. "What?" I asked.

"You said you'd like to fuck me every night for the rest of our lives," Leo answered. She didn't say it in a way that sounded like I'd offended her, but I knew I'd screwed up massively. Leo leaned to her side and took something out of her purse. She straightened back up, faced me, smiled a very sexy smile, and said, "you have some pretty good ideas when you've been drinking." She put a box of condoms on the table. She stood up from the table. "I don't know about the rest of our lives," she said, "but the rest of the night would be fun." She reached down and took off her shoes.

I stood up and walked around the table to Leo. I slid off the sandals I was wearing. I stepped close, intending to kiss her. Leo stopped me, unbuckled my belt, unbuttoned the top of my slacks, grabbed my shirt under each arm, and pulled it up over my head and off. She tossed my shirt onto one of my few chairs, unzipped my slacks and pushed them down to my feet. She did the same with my boxers, leaving me naked in front of her.

I stepped out of my slacks and underwear. Leaving them on the floor, I stepped closer to Leo and took the hem of her dress in my hands. "My turn," I said. Leo raised her arms as I lifted her dress off her. I was right: she was naked underneath. What I wasn't prepared for was how incredibly beautiful Leo Hart was naked. I just looked at her for a moment.

"Like me?" Leo asked.

"Like I said earlier," I replied, "'wow,' only more so."

"Good," Leo said. "Now that there's none of that nasty clothing between us, we can kiss."

We kissed, and hugged, for quite a while. Our tongues began flirting with each other. Both of our hands moved down the other's back until we had our hands on each other's asses, pulling our hip together.

I was hard when we finally broke our kiss. Leo's nipples were erect. We were both breathing harder. Leo picked up the box of condoms in one hand, wrapped her other hand around my dick, and said "come." I followed her into my bedroom.

"You were the only person naked in here last night," Leo said. "I like it better when we're both naked." So did I.

We were already pretty aroused. Leo opened one of the foil packets, pulled out the rubber, and rolled it out over my dick. Just her doing that felt wonderful. She lay on the bed on her back and said, "now, get in me."

The first time you have intercourse with someone there is a bit of awkwardness. You don't know each other well enough yet to know what the other expects or what works best for them. Leo was great about telling me what was more and less stimulating for her and seemed genuinely concerned about my pleasure. It wasn't as great as it would become later, but we both got off. Added to my mental list of Leo's great qualities was that she was enthusiastic about sex.

After we came, we lay together for a while. Leo carefully took the rubber off me and threw it away. "We're going to Student Health Monday," she said, "to get STD tests and I'll get a new birth control script. It'll be better for both of us when you don't need to wear those." A moment later, she exclaimed, "Oh! I forgot! Come into the kitchen."

I followed Leo's glorious bare ass to the kitchen. She opened the fridge, pulled out her paper bag, and pulled out a bottle of champagne. "I brought this to celebrate the first time we made love."

I had to wash our wine glasses since I didn't have any other glassware. Leo opened the bottle expertly and poured a healthy amount into each of our glasses. We stepped back by the dining table. Leo raised her glass and said, "to us." I gently clinked my glass against hers.

That was when I realized we hadn't closed any of the blinds in my apartment. Leo and I were standing there nude drinking champagne looking at a woman in the window of a third-floor apartment in an adjacent building. When the woman realized we had seen her, she smiled, raised her wine glass in a toast-style gesture, and took a sip. Since my bedroom was on the same wall and had a window, it dawned on me that the woman may have watched us fuck.

Leo read my mind. "I hope she enjoyed the show," Leo said.