"Who could be calling," I thought to myself as my cell phone rang early Saturday evening. "What? Lauren? I thought she was doing her high school 'band mom' thing even though her son graduated two years ago."
"Hey, Lauren, what's up?"
"Stan, I need your help," Lauren pleaded with a sense of urgency and exasperation in her voice. Before I could ask what was needed, she blurted, "I got 'bombed' by stinking piss bomb! Yeah! I was on the band bus on the way to the football game when we pelted by what I thought was water balloons...until one damn balloon flew through the open window...to hit me right in the chest! When it burst all over me, I immediately knew it wasn't water. Stan, some damn punk filled it with piss! Stan, I sopping wet and stink like piss!
"I'm sorry to bother you, Stan...but I stink of urine...and I can't stand it. Can I take a shower at your place, please? You're the only one I could think of. I'm at the high school...up the street from you. Can you please pick me up? I know it's a big hassle...what? No problem...oh thank god. Yeah, I meet you by the stadium ticket booth. Ten minutes? Oh, thanks Stan. I knew I could depend on you. Oh, Stan, bring me something to sit on. I don't want to ruin your car's leather seats. Don't worry? Okay, see you soon."
As I drove to pick up Lauren, I realized that tonight was like the quirky nature of our relationship. We'd been friends and co-workers at in this small travel agency for years. She was married and a mother of one, and I was the confirmed bachelor. Since my life outside of work was pretty much non-existent, I listened to Lauren's trials and tribulations with her husband, Larry, who was a zero-personality grump, and then about her son, Andy, who seemed to be a regular chip of the old block. Her two male family members really played on Lauren's Asian nature of engrained deference and servitude to the male gender. They shamelessly ran her ragged while giving her little respect, appreciation, or love in return.
About the only man who did do right by Lauren was me. I found her Oriental culture and upbringing to be endearing and gradually over time I became the third male in her life. She constantly demonstrated her gratitude for my caring with little snacks, and I reciprocated over shared lunches with my zany banter that had Lauren falling off her seat with laughter.
Then Lauren began making thinly-veiled attempts to fix me up. We'd argue for hours as to what I wanted in a female companion versus what Lauren thought I should be looking for. She'd encouraged me to date this girl or that one, but in the end seemed to find some flaw that made the girl of my interest just not the "perfect" one for me.
Don't get me wrong. I'm not some kind of gay, loser, or anti-social kind of guy. Lauren describes me as being okay looking (in a brotherly way); short (two inches than her five-eight height); chubby (think cuddly panda); and kinky (prefer to think of myself as open to possibilities). I love members of the opposite sex, and at the time was drawn to the young, cute, slim but busty (you know the type). Unfortunately, I couldn't find any woman who could put up with me for the long haul...well...except for Lauren.
I had to admit that in the beginning that I wasn't attracted to Lauren. I mean she was a nice-looking Japanese-American woman in her late-thirties with creamy skin that contrasted sharply with her shoulder-length black hair, twinkly almond-shaped eyes with high cheek bones, a cute button nose, and a warm mouth. However, she had what some might call a spoon-shaped figure that was small on the top with a slender waist and broader in the bottom. All and all, my impression of Lauren was that she had that next-door-neighbor girl kind of look - pleasant to look at but nothing that would blow your socks off.
That is until the day when Lauren leaned over this large table map of Japan to show me possible points of interest for this group tour that we were planning. By this point, we had become so comfortable with each other that Lauren wasn't even aware that her loose blouse and bra had fallen forward. There cradled in the gauzy lining of her opened bra cups were her small snow-white breasts from which incredibly meaty cylindrical nipples jutted to give her boobs this enticing pointed look. This breathtaking vision was indelibly seared into my memory and vividly recalled that night when for the first time I beat my meat thinking of Lauren as more than just a friend.
As my voyeuristic interest in Lauren grew, I subtly suggested clothing that gave her a more appealing look while enhancing my viewing pleasure of her bodily delights. I complimented her on how attractive she looked whenever she wore tops or dresses with revealing necklines, but failed to say how such apparel easily revealed Lauren's mouthwatering nipples though out the work day. Shortened hemlines that were praised as giving her an air of youthfulness, enabled me to covertly enjoy her long nice looking legs and the occasional panty flash. And although I didn't think of myself as an ass-man, I had to admit that my eyes were drawn to the swishing of Lauren's spongy buns whenever she sashayed by in her mini-skirts.
With such stimulating sightings at work, it was a wonder I didn't reduce my dick to a stub given how often I jerked off at home.
"God, thanks Stan," Lauren said as she slipped into my car, snapping me out of my fantasies and bring me back to the present in a flash. "Sorry, but I smell like a urinal...shit, if I ever catch that fricking kid, I'll wring his nuts! Jeez, and of all the times for Larry to be on one of his week-long junkets to the West Coast...not that he would have come to my rescue like you did. And if he did, it'd be only after a hell of an argument. What a shit-head of a husband! I'm beginning to wonder why the hell I stay married to him!"
"Calm down, Lauren, calm down. Once we get to my place, you can shower and I'll wash your clothes. What time do you have to get back for the bus ride back? What? You told the band instructor not to wait for your and that you'd find a way back?"
"Oh, Stan, I'm so sorry. I forgot to ask you if you could take me back home. I was so upset at being covered in stinky piss - that I just couldn't bear to have to sit in that urine-splatter seat on the return trip. Hey Stan...but that's no excuse and I should have asked you first. If you don't want to, I can catch a cab. What? It's no problem? God, Stan, what would I do without you. No wonder I love you so much."
Minutes later Lauren walked into my place for the first time. "What a neat place, Stan! It's cozy, really relaxing, and extremely intimate for a bachelor's pad," she cooed, "It's just like you. Hmmm, I'd better watch myself. I could get to like this place."
"Well, thanks. The bathroom over there, Lauren, and you'll find a clean towel in the shelf above the toilet. I'll take your wet clothes but first let me find you something to wear." With that said, I quickly dashed to my bed room closet to grab one of my long-sleeve, button-down work shirts for Lauren to wear.
