It had been a long time since I had last seen Alicia. What was it, fifteen years?
No. Sixteen. Good Gawd A'mighty!
Actually, she looked better than I remembered. Of course, that last time I saw her she was recovering from breast-reduction surgery and wasn't in her best sorts. We were also married to other people then, and it wasn't the best time for me either. I hate winter, and back then it was a dark, wet, and miserably cold winter, too.
But this time, even though it was winter again, it was also south Texas instead of Kentucky, and the sun was shining warmly. Makes all the difference in the world! I was in town to deliver a load of air conditioning equipment, and was seriously out of driving hours for the week when it was over. I made it to the nearest truck stop and "dropped anchor" for the weekend.
It took a few tries with the local phone book before I found her. She shrieked with delight when I told her who this "strange voice from her past" was.
"Jimmy, you were never strange, just perverted!" she exclaimed, then added: "You know how I like that in a man!"
I always did have rather, um…unusual ideas about how to do the horizontal cha-cha, and not all of them were horizontal. That was then, though.
"Where's Esther? Is she with you?"
"Well…you know how it is…"
She did, having been around a couple of times herself. No more needed to be said in that department.
Before long she pulled up to the truck stop in a Camaro with the top down. Let me rephrase that: it was the CAMARO'S top that was down. Her's was up just fine, thank you very much. A convertible coupe was just like her. When I knew her the first time it was a Triumph Spitfire. My ex- reported that she like to ride with her skirt up around her waist and no panties to give truckers a thrill. I wasn't driving trucks in those days, dammit!
Al's hair was a lot longer than before, and I could see that the surgeon had been a great artist. Al always was well proportioned and "statuesque," but top-heavy. Now she was about as perfectly figured as could be imagined, with cleavage no Wonderbra could provide. For that matter, she wasn't wearing a bra, yet her breasts had that gravity-defying thrust of a teenager's. She was wearing a form-fitting long sleeved white bodysuit that set off her perpetual tan, and a tailored white leather jacket and miniskirt. A pair of strippy little high-heeled sandals made her legs look two yards long. I knew I was in trouble. All I wanted was to see an old friend, but seeing this "old friend " was like getting hit by my truck! I was in trouble, but it was too late to turn back.
"Jimmy!!!" she squealed and threw her arms around my neck, pressing that fabulous body of hers against mine and smothering me with kisses.
"Good to see you, Al!" I said with all the warmth I could muster. "Dinner's on me, where we goin'?"
She took my hand and led me back to the car. We talked of old things, old friends, and times that were no more as we drove to a steakhouse and dined. As the Evening wore on I learned that while I had changed tremendously, she was remarkably the same as when we first met in the Seventies. She still painted and sculpted, usually in the nude, and still hung out with the local nudist colony on the beaches and at a few waterholes she knew in the desert. That accounted for her unmarked tan. She had also been into swinging `way back when, but had almost become a nun since breaking up with her last husband. Being bisexual, she had made do with one of her woman friends from the nudists, but she definitely preferred men.
By the time she dragged me to her place she was a little tipsy from the cocktails and wine we had had with dinner. Fortunately, it only made her more charming, if that was possible, but I still insisted on driving. While I enjoy alcohol, it isn't my favorite inebriant, my preferred herb is one of those things that mustn't show up in my urine if I want to keep on driving, so it's "on hiatus" until I retire. Besides, while I enjoy Al's hot sexuality, I'm not really trying to make any moves on her, especially if she's at a disadvantage. I'm not that kind of a guy. I was just there to be with my friend.
But I could tell Al's fire was hot in her fireplace, even hotter than the one she lit in the fireplace in her living room. She lit candles and turned on the stereo after we walked in, then fixed a shaker of martinis. Clearly, she was trying to make a move on me, and now I knew how a girl must feel when a guy is putting on a "full court press." At least I knew that Al had been, um…fixed some years back, so there wasn't any worry of any "unexpected consequences" to worry about.
"Stop that, Jimmy! You're just here for the friendship, remember?" the voice in my head snapped.
"Yeah, yeah, I hear ya'." I replied. So why am I not resisting any harder than I am?
She returned from the kitchen with the shaker and two glasses on a tray, bending just so to give me a good view of those bodacious wabbos pressing against the thin fabric of her suit. She had left the jacket over the back of the chair by the front door as we came in. She straightened and knelt beside me on the sofa.
She poured a round and we touched glasses. Her eyes never left mine as we drank together.
"I've got to tell you, I was always jealous of Esther because she had you and I didn't. I could tell how much more you loved her than Bill did me. I always wanted a man to love me like that, but never could find one who would."
That's quite a compliment, and I had to pause and smile my appreciation.
"Ultimately useless, alas." I said, in my usual mock-noble way.
"No it's not." She replied. "It wouldn't be useless with me."
She was looking at me with "those" eyes when she said it. Dark eyes, and dark hair. I can't resist dark eyes and dark hair, especially long, dark hair.
"Thanks, babe. It's nice to hear someone else say it."
"It's nice to be called `babe'." She said. "At least by someone who means it like you do." She was still looking at me as she said it.
This is getting too close. Even after several years of driving I've never had a load to here before, and might never get another one. Besides, she's spayed and a—what is it—three-time loser already? I thought to myself savagely, trying to break this spell before things went too far. I didn't want to…to…you know…if I couldn't keep her and have children by her. That's what I had set my sights on, right?
"Look, uh, Al…" I began.
"What?" she replied, leaning forward and stroking my cheek with her hand, and looking even deeper into my eyes than before. Maybe it was because she was so much closer than before, if that was possible. I noticed she was still wearing that same sandalwood musk perfume she used to wear when she and Bill were an item.
What, indeed? I knew I should have an answer that would shut this evening down and take me back to the safety of my truck without hurting her feelings, but I couldn't say a thing. Al was a spectacularly beautiful woman, with one of the sexiest mouths I had ever seen. She was now inches from my face, stroking my hair…then she kissed me.
The first contact was small, almost like a child's kiss; close-lipped and just a peck in the center. But then she pressed a little harder, and pulled me to her with her hand behind my head. The third was the killer, as her lips opened, she pressed hard, her eyes closed, and her tongue probed for mine. Her other hand found mine and guided it to her breast, a signal so unmistakable that I could feel my spine turn to macaroni. I squeezed gently, and heard her suck in her breath in response. I was a goner.
Alicia pulled back, unzipped her skirt, and reached between her legs to unsnap her bodysuit. In one motion she pulled it off over her head, like a cat stretching, her fine melons swaying with the motion as she arched her back to thrust them even higher for me. Long ago, I learned that if a woman takes it into her head to make love to you (got a better term?) to let her make all the moves. I waited for her instead of reaching out, even though she obviously expected me to do so. She didn't miss a beat, though, and rose up and put her arms around my shoulders, guiding my face into her breasts.
She could feel me collapse into her as she pressed those warm, soft, life-giving mams to my head.
I relaxed even further, embracing her to me. It was no use hiding from her, she always did have a sixth sense when it came to feelings. I guess it was because I didn't jump right away on her bones and grope her that gave me away.
"Jimmy, how long has it been since you've been with a woman?" she asked, gently.
