I should've titled this story Bloody Mary, but it started with a perusal of the Casual Encounters area on Craigslist. Oh, the things people post out there! My husband was away for the week fundraising for the university. Since I left academics about ten years ago I've been spending my time writing and working with publishers. This particular Saturday afternoon I was feeling unusually horny and decided to reach beyond the norm. At 49, I've had affairs, with both men and women, I've done a lot, but never a one-nighter with a stranger. I recalled that a graduate student I was quite fond of mentioned during one drunken party about a guy she had met on the Craigslist personals. I had visited the site only once before to find a tenant for the apartment we owned in town.
I found the Personals section, and quickly clicked on Casual Encounters. There was so much to choose from, so many different people in my own city who wanted to fuck in so many different ways it seemed! I was thinking about what kind of guy I'd like to attract; did I need a picture, would he be turned off by my age, all of that. I thought I'd first look at the other ads for women seeking men just to get an idea of the language, the format, the way to do this thing. I clicked on W4M...
"Sexy 22-year old, clean, professional, seeks NSA (no strings attached) for fun and thrills all night. D and D (drug and disease) free..."
"Oh Jesus," I thought, "I'm not that young, and how boring, besides..."
I continued reading through them, from the BB (big breasted) BD (black divorced), 38, will take you into me completely. Oral a must. You are handsome, drive a Z4, and can come five times in one night. Pictures a must. No disease..
"Yich," I thought as I tried to imagine what she would look like, legs spread, humping like a whale.
Then, something really caught my eye, "Naughty supple woman wants bloody raunchy fun." I clicked on the link. It continued, "In town tonight only, 42, full-bodied but not fat, in my mensies, can you handle it? Can I use you as my toilet? Don't bother contacting me if you're scared. I'm serious, are you? D and D free, obviously."
And then I thought, "that's exactly what I want tonight." My husband fucks me fine, but it's gotten to the point that nothing is new anymore. We've reached our limit on experimentation. I like it when he fucks my ass, I blow him occasionally, that sort of thing. I am in love with a woman here in town with whom I've had an extremely heated affair for the past six months. We get so dizzy with each other after a night together that we have to keep separate for several weeks. I was the first person to anally fist her. I should have called Carla, but she was in Europe this week.
So I started composing my posting: Prude by day, filthy by night. In town only this weekend (I'd take a hotel room for cover), late 40's, WM (white, married) sexy, professional and society, wants to dirty your mouth and body with my holes. NSA, D&D free, must send picture. You are 30-50, mature, and discreet.
I figured that would get some attention, especially the "society" description. I clicked back to the listing page where I saw the post that inspired me and stared at it a long time thinking, "I'm competing with her for the same type of spunk shooter, it'll never work... the odds that there are more than one good match available on short notice.. forget it. Then I had a brilliant idea.
I deleted my posting prior to sending it and responded to her notice, "Hi, I'm just the perfect match for you. I'm clean, good-looking, athletic and fit. I'm established, I'm 49, well-endowed, long-lasting, and I'm ready to drink your blood and thick offerings. And I'm discreet, NSA. Contact me by email." I hit 'respond.'
I was playing the man to her request. On the faceless Internet, everyone can pose, so why can't I? If she responded and we liked each other, I'd set up a meeting and see what would happen next. What the hell, I had nothing better to do? At best she could be bi, at worst I'd leave her hanging and never introduce myself.
An hour later she responded. "I don't want your name or your picture. If you are all you describe, we can probably have fun. If you are lying, I'll look at you and politely excuse myself. I'm staying at the St. Belize. I'll be at the bar at 8 p.m. sitting alone, reading a book, hopefully with a drink. When you find me, I'll ask you 'have we met?' and you are to answer, 'I have always hoped to.' That's our signal, remember. Ciao filth-hound."
I couldn't believe it. No request for continued dialogue to raise suspicions, nothing. And I loved her salutation. I booked a room at the St. Belize, a rather fancy place, she must be doing well, I thought.
I checked in and had a beautiful dinner alone in the bistro. A little before 8 I looked into the bar. A very attractive blond woman with ample figure and full breasts was sitting at the bar reading a book. There were several vacant stools alongside. Carrying a few books and a notepad, I took a seat to her right, leaving one vacant stool between us, it seemed natural to do so. She was nursing a white wine. I ordered a scotch and opened my books and notepads and began feigning editorial work, concentrating intently, seemingly oblivious to my surroundings.
At ten past, she lit a cigarette and checked her watch. She was wearing a thinly strapped black top that outlined some gorgeous tits, the nipples sticking out enough to give me a shock. She looked well put-together, not slutty. She was wearing black jeans. She wore very tasteful jewelry. She ordered another wine. I was waiting to make my move, not wanting to lose her.
At a quarter past, I put down my work, finished my drink and turned to her.
"Excuse me, do you have another cigarette?"
"Hmmm, I'm sorry, oh... sure, here," she responded with a warm smile, and passed one to me. I put it in my mouth and she instinctively lit it for me.
"Thanks so much, I actually don't smoke much anymore, but it looked so good when you inhaled, I had to ask. I'm very grateful, what are you drinking?"
"White wine."
I ordered another round, "Waiter, two scotches." I turned to her, "It goes well after wine as a chaser." And I turned away, back to my work.
She returned to her book, I could tell she wasn't in the least bit concentrating on reading, saw her glance at her watch. Just then, a sloppy man approached the empty stool between us. Balding, collar unbuttoned, had a cell phone and another device clipped to his belt, you know the look, a sales guy or something. He had come from a rather loud table of blathering men at the back, clearly a bet he was put up to. He sat down and faced her.
"Excuse me, miss, is this seat taken?"
She looked up, assuming he was the one who responded to the ad. I turned my head to the activity right next to me. Her eyes caught mine and I could tell she was disappointed with this poor guy by her look.
"Have we met?" I overheard her.
"No, I don't think so. But I was wondering, you know, if you'd let me buy you a drink or something."
And he smiled a hopeful grin that displayed how awkward his mustache looked and how out of place he was. I heard his buddies whoop and yell at him.
She now was pissed off at him for his buddies having putting him up to this. She glanced at my direction and said to him, "Listen friend, my girlfriend and I are having a little argument right now, so thank you, and kiss off." He got up embarrassed and returned to his table. She moved over beside me, bring her book and drink with her.
"Girlfriend?," I asked.
"I wanted him to leave. Thanks for allowing me to exploit your kindness. I'm Kate."
"I'm Diane. Let me guess... you were waiting for someone to show up, this guy came by, but he's not the one you were expecting. What argument are we in, by the way?"
"Sorry, that was for cover. Your right, he didn't show. I just felt like some fun, now I feel embarrassed. Sorry for unloading. I gotta get out of here."
And she started to get up to leave.
