A Chicago Love Story The Meeting

Hi all, I am honored to be making my foray into published writing here at Literotica. First off I welcome all comments, suggestions, criticisms, etc. from readers to help me become the best writer I can be in order to produce the Highest quality of work for the readers' pleasure. Now as for the story it is a work of fiction; though I have used and mixed many real names, as well as descriptions of actual places, persons and events in with completely fabricated ones. This story features a large arc that will be played out over several smaller Chapters and Sub-Chapters. The journey I believe will become an intense build-up to a very satisfying and fulfilling climax at its culmination. Having said that I will clarify that the actual complete sexual act between the main characters of the story will be long in coming, but I hope to make the individual Chapters stimulating enough to be enjoyed as One Shot tales. The story will also mostly be told from the main female point of view, with a few treks into the leading male's mind at specified times. So without further ado.....

*

How did everything become so trivial?

What was the point where my life became a landfill of the mundane?

Laying here in bed on this extremely ordinary Wednesday morning, staring at the white nondescript off white paint of my ceiling and listening to my alarm clock chastise me in the form of a shrill monotone beep that hitting the snooze button again will only cause me to be late to work for what is it the third time month,

I am feeling even sorrier for myself than usual.

Sighing deeply I push the thin sheet and heavy goose down comforter away from my warm and relaxed body and sit up on the edge of the bed placing my face in hands and exhaling loudly.

After a few minutes I find myself standing in front the large vanity mirror and black marble countertop in my bathroom (one of my few treasures in life).

Standing here gazing at the fleeting vestiges of drowsiness in my eyes as well as the light sleep lines tracing the contours of my rounded face I smile little.

You see although I feel as if I am sifting through the dregs of the self worth and confidence bowls this morning I know by one look at my modestly attractive countenance that things could be worse, and probably will get better.

My name is Catherine Elizabeth Sheering. I am a 42 year divorcee from the Oak Park Suburb in good ole Cook County, Illinois.

A Registered Nurse of 15 years I am currently employed at a small General Medicine Doctor's office in downtown Chicago headed by Dr. Stewart McDaniels, a kind man of 57 who just seems to have an incredible ability to diagnose the ill, and not just the physically ill; but that is another story.

I love what I do, and I genuinely like the people I work with. I have always been good at listening to people who have problems, and I found that I was quiet talented at helping them alleviate those problems.

Hence my trek into the field of medicine, and Mr. McDaniels' patients seem to really like me. The men always compliment me on my looks, and some have even asked me out.

Not to convey any type of self confidence nor exacerbate my current gloomy mood, but judging from what I currently see in front of me, I find that I am not terribly grotesque.

My wide toothy smile of straight pearly whites is mostly the result of the brief joy I feel at noticing that my age along with all the stressors and negative experiences in my life have not detracted from my youthful appearance.

Given that my honey blonde hair does not feature a single grey strand, and a healthy diet as well as regular trips to the gym has kept my very fair skin clear and my body firm and supple.

In my honest opinion, I don't look a day over 30.

After tossing my nightwear consisting of a white wife beater and old, worn, grey sweatpants into the clothes hamper I enter the shower trying by the second to cheer up.

With the water temperature finally to my liking, I revel in the sting of the pressurized water as it slaps against my lithe form.

I stand directly under the shower head allowing the water to cover my entire body, gently I begin messaging my scalp with my fingers and working the knots out of my bed tussled hair as the water runs over my head

Lathering my beloved lavender colored bath sponge with my favorite vanilla and apricot scented body wash, I groan softly as my mind drifts back to my depressed feelings of this morning.

One of, okay a pretty big catalyst for my current melancholy disposition is the fact that I haven't had the pleasure of a nice hard male body in the last year and a half; eighteen months and eleven days to be exact but who is counting?

As a young woman I sported a pretty impressive libido and considered myself a very sexual creature; much to the chagrin of my extremely conservative parents.

I wasn't a nymphomaniac by any means, but my goodness did I enjoy the incomparable feeling of having a hard dick in front of me to do with as I please.

Admonishing myself at the crude thought, I pause in the washing of my limbs and turn and lean back against the tiles on the side of the shower wall and close my eyes.

Crude though it may have been, but the thought of the only part of the male anatomy, in my opinion, worth any time or effort has definitely done its job in causing a warmth to flow outward toward my extremities from my lower belly.

Just like that I am aroused to the point where my breath has both quickened and deepened.

These sensations feel almost foreign having not allowed myself to experience them in what feels like months, but is probably only weeks.

It is somewhat like an out of body experience where I am aware of the hot water spraying against my skin, and the cool tiles pressed against my shoulder blades and back, but I do not really feel them.

Suddenly it all becomes real, and I moan out softly feeling the steam gathering in the small space tickling my face, arms, and chest in a caress.

Feeling the heated water run down my neck, over my Clavicle, and down over my breasts forces my previously docile hands into action.

I bring the hand holding the body wash saturated sponge up and begin lightly brushing it across my aching breasts; and almost instantly my nipples become erect and tender.

Another moan escapes my lips as I bring the empty hand up to my left breast and cup it gently.

My cupping turns into a firm squeeze, and before I can stop myself I have taken my swollen left nipple in between my thumb and forefinger and am applying slight pressure.

My body arches sharply against the shower wall and I release the sort of groan that only the helplessly sexually frustrated of us could pull off.

I become aware of the fact that my entire body is trembling as I slowly drag the soapy bath sponge down away from swollen breasts, slide it over the now tense and twitching muscles of my stomach, all the way down to the little lady.

Reaching my destination, I gasp rather loudly as the scratchy material of the sponge scraps against my slick outer labia.

I swear it is like I have never been touched nor touched myself before the way my body is reacting to this particular stimulation.

My pussy lips are swollen, puffy, and sensitive to the touch it appears.

Making the necessary adjustment I begin lightly and more carefully rubbing the sponge across my mound in a clockwise pattern, with the occasional vertical brush against my exposed clitoris.

Deep moans and groans are exiting my mouth in an almost constant stream by now. I am now alternating between squeezing my breasts, and pinching my large plum colored nipples.

My body at a fevered pitch now, I feel as though the beads of moisture covering my flesh has nothing to do with the water coming from the shower head, but instead my own perspiration.

My breasts feel heavy against my ribs, my nipples have hardened to the point of pain, and I feel my overflow of juices seeping out of plump outer lips to drip to the shower flow disappearing down the drain with sudsy water.

Dropping the bath sponge I place my hand over my mound cupping it and feeling the heat wafting off of it. I then slowly slide my open hand lightly up over my outer lips, my breath hitching as my palm grazes my distended clit.

Maintaining contact with my clit by trailing the middle finger of my right hand in the trail left by my palm my cunt begins twitching and spasming in anticipation, and I acquire the shakes throughout my body.

Eyes shut tightly, mouth hung open with ragged breaths proceed out, left tit fully grasped and squeezed by my left hand, I am in the process of a full on self implosion.

In deliberate fashion I rub my clit in little clockwise circles a moment before I finally slide my hand down against my red and tender pussy lips. My index and ring fingers smooth along the outside of my opening framing the wet lips, I then gently place the tip of my middle finger just inside of my dripping opening and press my palm firmly against my clit causing a delectable pleasure to shoot straight up my spine and my knees to nearly buckle out from under me.

I lay my whole back against the now warm shower wall to hold myself up as my thighs tremble uncontrollably and my knees attempt to regain their strength.

Releasing the grip on my left breast, I slide that hand down to rub my lower stomach to try to ease the knot that has formed there as a result of my intentional self teasing session without release.

Immediately I know the only real way to relieve that pressure, and I set out to do just that as I stab the finger poised at my sopping entrance deep inside of my cunt curving upward slightly at just the right moment to scrape my G spot.

My entire being shudders, and due to the incredible build up to this point, I find myself at the precipice of serenity almost immediately. I shriek in intense pleasure and joy at my impending release as my finger continues to slide up and down along the sensitive area at the roof of my warm tunnel.

Then unbelievably I hear the sing song melody of the doorbell echo throughout the house and into my bathroom and finally reach my ears. I knew today would suck even more than usual.

"GOOOOOOODDD" I shout loudly not truly ready to believe my misfortune. I momentarily consider saying to hell with it and just finishing myself off, but figuring the person at the door to be my Ex husband coming by to pick up a package and I don't want him entering the house with the spare key and wandering in on me in this condition.

Quickly rinsing the remaining suds off of my taut body, I grab a large bath towel from the bar mounted at the rear of the shower and dry off as much as I can as I hear the doorbell serenade me for the second time.

Exiting my fortress of solitude I grab my powder blue terry cloth bath robe off of the hook on the wall just outside of the shower door and wrap it around my still damp body.

Something inside of me is telling me to better cover myself before answering the door, but I dismiss the thought knowing it is only the Ex and there is nothing I have that he has not seen before. Also there is no way in hell I will be tempting to him anytime ever again.

I tie the clinging robe closed as I jog down the stairs to answer the door. Hearing the door bell ring for the fourth time, I am actually surprised Jim hasn't just let himself in by now.

Reaching the first floor landing I pass over against the entrance to the study and stride through the sunroom and enter the main foyer arriving at the front door just as the doorbell sounds for a fifth time.

"What the Hell Robert, you choose now to start respecting my...," my voice trails off as opening the door I find myself face to face with a very not ex husband.

Instead I am standing before a tall and rather attractive young African American male sporting a startled look and holding a torn piece of white copy paper out in front of him.

"Hi, sorry to...bother you, but maybe you can help me; I am looking for the address 2817 Deer Shire Lane." He says holding the piece of paper out toward me to inspect; though not before giving me a quick but thorough once over with his dark eyes. Confidence is coming off of him in waves, and I have half a mind to put him in his place concerning just what he is suggesting by that 'bother me' comment, but then I realize the scene I have presented him with.

Here I am in the doorway of my home before this total stranger in nothing but a bath robe that only comes mid-thigh and still damp from my interrupted shower.

Glancing down at my appearance, I notice that the top of the robe is open exposing quite a bit of cleavage due to the looseness of the knot I had tied. I quickly pull the opening closed with my left hand and blushing slightly, I force myself to look directly at the man on my doorstep and reach out with my right hand to take the proffered piece of paper.

"Why, if I may ask are you looking for that particular address?" I say bringing the scrap of paper up to my eyes and am surprised to find what are written directions to my home. Raising my eyes to the man before me once again, I am a little startled myself at just how attractive he is with his dark complexion, high cheek bones, strong jaw line, and soft looking full lips.

His facial bone structure and symmetry is unlike any I have ever seen on a man; though it is his eyes that truly define his allure. They are large and penetrating, a medium brown that display a keen intelligence that seem able to perceive things others would not want known.

"Well, first off my name is Alexander Haden and I am new to the city and area.' He replies and for the first time I notice a Northeastern accent in his voice and wonder again at his arrival on my doorstep.

"Now as for my reason for wanting to locate that address is simply that I am responding to a personal ad I'd read of someone in search of a roommate there." He crisply states before gracing me with an honest smile.

"I'm sorry, but there must be some mistake, do you happen to have the paper this ad was placed in?" I say becoming a little nervous at the prospect that this was some sort of scam and this man a con artist.

"Well actually the ad wasn't placed in any newspapers, well not to my knowledge anyway. No I came across it in a magazine I am fond of called 'The Science of Things', it's actually sort of a journal of Professionals on...."

"Computer Technology," I finish as realization suddenly comes over me at my foolish impulse of so long ago.

"So you know it? I take it then I am in the right place?" I once again appear to catch him off guard, but like before he recovers rather swiftly with his response volleying the ball back into my court.

Taking a deep breath to compose myself I hand him back the slip of paper containing the directions and step aside widening the large and heavy Red Oak front door in a gesture for him to enter.

"I'm sorry; yes you most certainly appear to be, please come in."

"Thank you." He politely says folding the paper and sliding it smoothly into the inside breast pocket of his crisp looking navy blue colored blazer, and moves to step past me and into the house.

Once inside he stands quietly behind me on the tiled floor of the foyer off to the side near the coat closet as I fully close and lock the front door.

Turning to him I am honestly not that surprised to find him openly staring at me as I walk past him heading toward the small den off to the left of the main entrance. I desperately want to retreat to my room to finish dressing so not to be half naked in front of this man; but I am not inclined to leave someone I don't know alone in my home even if to just go upstairs.

"Please have a seat Mr. Haden, I am sorry for the questions, but I'd honestly forgotten all about placing that ad." I say in my Professional tone as we enter the cozy area, and I find myself a little thrown off guard by the handsome stranger.

"No worries Miss...." he leaves the question hanging in the air, and I am quick to apologize for having not introduced myself.

"Oh my, I am terribly sorry, where are my manners, my name is Catherine, Catherine Sheering." I say extending my right hand toward him in a belated greeting, which he takes immediately with his own massive one that nearly swallows mine whole. His grip is firm, and powerful, his palm warm and slightly roughened, and his long fingers wrap around my dainty hand in a gentle and confident manner.

Glancing down at our joined hands, I am taken aback momentarily at the stark contrast of our complexions, his a dark chocolate and mine very fair without a hint of tan. The sight does not unnerve me as much as I would have originally thought and his touch feels almost like a caress to the suddenly heated skin of my hand.

I feel what can only be describe as a little flare of electricity shoot up my arm from our point of contact, so I discreetly remove my hand from his grasp and turn quickly away now heading in the direction of the wet bar situated in the left corner of the room while adjusting the flaps of my robe to better cover my bosom. Immediately I become aware of my nipples hardening against the soft and damp fabric of the robe as well as a strong pulsing in my nether regions which brings my mind back to my shower that was cut short by this very man.

"Plea...Please have a seat; would you like something to drink? I have water, or juice." I ask upset with myself over not being able to control the nervousness in my voice, and to an even greater extent, my body's aroused reaction to this man that I have just met. In my bath robe no less, geez Cathy, the guy can probably smell the juices forming just behind the damp slit in between your legs.

"Thank you, I'll have water please." He responds to my retreating back as I round the counter of the bar to reach the small waist high refrigerator underneath it. I hear him sink into the smooth cream leather sofa located on the wall opposite the bar and adjacent to the entrance of the room.

"Say Mr. Haden may I ask just how you managed to get my address from that ad?" Curiosity springing forth and inadvertently calming me, as I realize that the ad I had placed in that boring magazine my ex husband used to subscribe to was input in the form of a complex riddle. Resulting in absolutely no responses until Alexander Haden came a ringing.

It was in a moment of helplessness that nearly overcame me a month after my then husband Robert James Sheering, or Jim as everyone calls him, had announced his plans to enter a new chapter of his life sans me; and two weeks after he had successfully removed all of his personal belongings from the house we had just moved into six months prior at 2817 Deer Shire Lane.

I was feeling depressed at not seeming able to quell the tornado my life had become seemingly overnight. Sitting on my bed staring at the single possession of Jim's left from his exodus out of our marriage, a current copy of 'The Science of Things', I decided then that a nice puzzle would help me feel more in control of things. So by the next month's issue of the publication a nice little mind twister was present in the personals section that was never supposed to be solved.

"Please call me Alex, considering I hope to become your roommate soon." He says bringing me out of my sullen thoughts, and I stand from fridge holding two bottles of water and facing this gorgeous man inclined on the couch with his right leg crossed over the left, looking entirely too comfortable in the space. Almost as if it was his natural habitation, like he belonged right where he was.

"Okay, Alex, how exactly did you come to arrive at my doorstep from that ad?" I say walking from behind the bar and toward his relaxed form, arm stretched out with water bottle in hand. He reaches out once I am close enough and takes the offered beverage from my hand with a slightly cocky chuckle.