PAINTING DIANNE
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If you are looking for a story with immediate or detailed sexual activity, please look elsewhere. This one develops slowly and features more narrative than it does sex. It is by no means great literature, but I had fun coming up with the plot and characters.
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A nice young woman named Dianne (with two "n"s and don't you forget it) came into my nursery and garden shop late one fall looking for end of the season specials. It was a dreary day in western Oregon, there was a fine mist falling and the temperature had dropped into the low 40's. I had pretty much sold out of my plant stock, except for a few perennials which were looking fairly sad. She wasn't interested in anything in particular but just wanted to get a start on her new garden. Since it was late, I turned my joke "Sorry, We're OPEN" sign around to "Yes, We're CLOSED" and invited her to sit while I reviewed her options. She had recently moved into an old house which needed a lot of work and she wanted to neaten up the exterior with a nice front garden before turning her attention to the actual remodeling and repair work which was needed.
I spent a few minutes reviewing her gardening needs and made some suggestions for plants I could supply her with, drew up a quick sketch as to how they might look together in the garden and gave her a list of other plants she should consider in the spring. After thanking me profusely for the help, she purchased what she could and promised to return in March for the rest.
She was very attractive and pleasant and I decided then and there that I did not want to wait until March to see her again. Going out on a limb, I boldly asked her if she would be interested in a quick drink at the brewpub a few doors down. She seemed a bit surprised but nodded "Yes" and said she had wanted to try their amber ale for quite some time.
After putting her plants in the trunk of her car, we went over to the pub where we had a quick bite to eat, a burger for me and fish tacos for her. The beers were tasty, I sampled her ale and she my lager, and we agreed we'd both like to taste some of their other offerings in the future. I used that as a lead in to ask her again. She hesitated before agreeing to meet me there in a couple of weeks.
On the next occasion, I arrived at the appointed time to find her already half way through a large IPA. She smiled when I came up to the table but, as the old saying goes, "The smile did not reach her eyes." She seemed tense and upset. After I ordered my brew at the counter, I greeted her with a slight pat on her shoulder.
"You don't seem to be terribly happy this evening. If there is anything I can do to help, let me know. Or we could certainly reschedule."
"Oh, I'm not so OK, I guess. I just got some bad news. It seems my boyfriend, who now lives in the bay area, decided to look for greener pastures. He dumped me via text this afternoon."
"Oh shit, that's horrible. I'm so sorry," I replied. "I certainly would understand if you wanted to cancel this evening's brew tasting."
"I was tempted to do just that, but then I decided what the hell. I am going to try and forget the bastard and the best way to do it is to keep my mind occupied and the beer flowing. So, it is your job to entertain me this evening."
"Well, I will certainly be glad to sit and chat a bit. I know how hard this can be on someone. My girlfriend and I split about six months ago and it took quite some while before it was not the only thing on my mind. If you want to talk about it, fine, but if not I'll be glad to talk about the Trailblazers, Ducks, Beavers or, if you insist, I'll even talk about the Timbers to take your mind off things."
"You know," she laughed, "I'm a rabid Timbers fan. I was raised playing soccer, even played in college. I try to head up to Portland at least two or three times each season to see them play."
"No kidding? I never thought a sport that doesn't use hands was much worth watching. I also like to see some scoring, points on the board."
"That's just because you don't understand the game. There's a lot of strategy, player positioning and the like. You would like it a lot more if you ever played it. Seeing someone launch a ball clear across the field to the feet of a running teammate is as beautiful as a three-point jump shot from well behind the arc."
"Maybe I need to watch it some more. Somehow I'm not sure it is the game for me."
"Bill," she said. "Due to my new found single status, I happen to have two tickets to the next Timbers game that I could give to you. The bastard was going to come up for the weekend, but I guess that's off. Take someone and go on up to Portland and watch it live. The fans there are crazy and it's part of the fun."
"Dianne, that's very nice of you, but I could only accept them if you would be willing to go with me."
"No, Silly," she laughed, "The tickets are for you. Take a friend and enjoy the day."
"Uh, I'm 'between' girlfriends right now and I would really enjoy going with you. Maybe you could teach this Neanderthal a thing or two about the game. Come on, it could be fun."
She eventually agreed and we arranged for the trip together. I picked her up and we drove to Portland chatting all the way. We cracked jokes and generally had a good time together. At the game I was surprised at the crowd's enthusiasm. There was chanting, yelling, flag waving and plenty of beer was consumed. I limited myself to one, as did Dianne, and she spent much of the game giving me a running commentary on the details of the sport.
The Timbers scored three goals while allowing two. There was a fellow dressed as a lumberjack and with each Timbers goal he would fire up his chainsaw and cut a slab of wood off a log, raise it over his head and march around the field holding it up for all to see.
All in all, I had a great time both at the game and on the way home. She was excited, happy with the win and quite talkative. When I went to drop her off, she surprised me with a warm but brief kiss at her door, something I was not at all expecting. She thanked me for the wonderful time and said we needed to get together again soon.
I look back on that day as the start of our long-term relationship. We started dating occasionally after that and in a matter of a couple of months, we became somewhat closer. I still sensed her reserve about a physical relationship and did not push for intimacy at all. We certainly spent time kissing and, to use an old term, necking like teenagers, but it wasn't until New Year's Eve that our physical relationship took a giant step forward.
For Christmas she had flown back east to visit her parents. I had previously invited her to a big New Year's party and she apparently wanted to go, so she cut her trip back home short and returned on the thirtieth. She called me about how she should dress and on a whim I suggested we should dress up for the event.
That night I wore a tuxedo, brought her a small wrist corsage and met her at her door. Her outfit stunned me. She had on a gorgeous, deep blue, skin-tight dress which flared out slightly below the knees. The most memorable feature was a plunging neckline which went practically to her belly button and her back was completely bare. Now Dianne was an attractive woman with a hot figure, curves in all the right places and breasts to die for. I never did like huge boobs but hers were full, appealing and, in this dress, seemed to defy gravity. It was all I could do to keep from staring down at her cleavage and keep my eyes above her chest.
As we got to the car, she giggled, "I hope you can keep your eyes on the road."
"I do to," I replied. "You sure know how to get my attention."
She was the hit of the party. I don't think any of my friends had met her and they all wanted to talk with her, particularly the men. As the night wore on and as the alcohol was consumed, the talk got more risqué and the laughter got louder. I watched Dianne circulate and meet others. She occasionally would sit down and lean over to pick up her glass and her breasts seemed to practically spill out of her top.
Up until this evening she had been fairly conservatively dressed and wore the typical Northwest jeans and flannel most of the time. I had not seen this sexy, almost vampy nature of hers. As the hour wound down towards midnight, she spent more time with me and with our arms around each other's waist. Immediately prior to the final countdown, she grabbed my hand and whispered she wanted to go somewhere away from the group. I looked around and saw the kitchen was empty so I led her there.
As the countdown hit one minute before midnight, she hopped up on the counter, pulled her dress up to thigh level and pulled me between her legs. At twenty seconds I leaned in for a kiss and she grabbed my right hand and slipped it beneath her top, right onto her breast.
"Ten!" I gently rubbed her breast and nipple.
