MaryAnn stepped from the tub, examined herself in the mirror, and smiled at her image. She was petite, 5'3" 123 lbs, and her size 32C breasts were still firm. She knew her blond hair would be a special advantage tonight so she shaved and purposefully left a wisp of it "down there." At age 43, MaryAnn was still a knockout.
She walked into her hotel room. "Maybe I won't be a disappointment tonight," she said. "Not even as a middle aged widow."
Her friend Gloria had come over to help her get ready for her big evening. "You'll kill them love, especially in that dress we bought this afternoon. Every young dude in the room will put a move on you, and not a one will care about your age. You'll have as many fantasies come true as you wish and you will escape the doldrums of widowhood at least until you return to San Diego and respectability."
"Thanks Gloria. I am going to go for it even though I'm scared to death. Now let's get me into the sexy duds."
Sexy indeed! A week earlier, the day she arrived in New York, Gloria had taken MaryAnn to a renown dress designer in one of New York's haute couture shops. When she introduced her, Gloria told the owner she would be wearing it to Smitty's Colorful Club. That did it! Ms Helga, the owner, knew exactly how to design it to show her off to the best effect. Ms told her that a clinging dress would show her figure off best, but she suggested simply a very low, v-cut bodice, and a short loose fitting skirt. "It won't present an awkward problem if it needs be taken off for some reason," smiled Ms. Helga.
Ms. Helga, a slender, sexy woman also in her 40s obviously knew what went on at Smitty's. MaryAnn wondered if the designer knew about Smitty's from experience? She also hoped the place wasn't so notorious she might be recognized. Her point in joining the club was that she would be 3000 miles from home, and if she was going to go wild she didn't want to be recognized.
In any case, the dress did its job. MaryAnn not only looked – but felt – sexy wearing it. It looked as revealing and beautiful as any of those worn to the Academy Awards. Sher herself might have blushed a bit at wearing it.
Now she slipped it on over her lace panties and half slip. No bra for this piece of art. The designer assured her that "the bodice is designed so your breasts will never be completely exposed. . . unless you want them to be." Her outfit was simple and – as the designer said – efficient. MaryAnn selected one pearl earring, and put it on her right ear. The matching earring stayed in the box.
Sexy, perhaps elegant? Yes, but she was still trembling inside. She not only had never tried something like this, she didn't know anybody who had.
No matter. Now was the time for the test of her life. Gloria drove her old friend the few short blocks to the club and gave one last piece of advice, "Please call any time of the night, or next morning if all goes well. I'll come get you."
Now she was on her own. MaryAnn smiled bravely back at her friend, walked to the entrance and handed the doorman the letter of acceptance to Smitty's Colorful Club. She walked in, exuding a confidence she didn't feel.
It was nightclub time in Gotham, 9 p.m, and Smitty's was just filling up. MaryAnn tried not to look like a tourist, especially a nervous tourist. Among the hundred guests, she did not see a white man. She guessed that sixty-five or so were black men, the rest white women. They were, as they say, mingling.
"Well, that's the interracial dating they advertised," she thought.
Someone had gone of his way to make Smitty's a class joint. It compared favorably to any cocktail lounge or night club she'd ever been in. Perhaps the only difference was the degree of intimacy shown by the couples – close dancing, kissing, even ill-concealed groping. Someone's getting their money's worth at Smitty's she mused. Amid all this MaryAnn made her way to the only refuge in sight, the bar. She was aware of dozens of eyes on her as she wiggled just like Ms. Helga planned inside her designer dress.
She was happy for the attention, but she was still nervous. She steeled herself to resist the temptation to turn and walk out, and managed to reach her destination. She took a seat on a plush bar stool, ordered a Chablis, even crossed her legs flashing a bit of thigh in case someone was interested . . . and god, did she hope someone would be!
Someone did. In the mirror, she saw a giant of a man approach and stand right behind her. He smiled down at her reflection. She smiled back with a bit of relief. She was looking up at the man of her fantasies, a 6'4' 215 pound knockout. As with all the other men in the place his skin was black.
He said, "Hello. I'm Big Mac, the night manager and senior partner of Smitty's Colorful Club. Do you mind if I tell you that you are the classiest looking lady to come in here since we opened five years ago?" He quickly added, "and we've had lots of beauty and class."
Ah someone to talk to. MaryAnn was in her element. She loved the give and take of a repartee. She smiled, "Of course I don't mind. Do you know I paid a fortune for the dress just so someone would say something like that?" She could see his eyes staring at her right breast where the gown fell away almost revealing her nipple. It was just like the little dress maker had promised. And the effect was just as she said it would be also. He didn't try to pretend he wasn't staring.
"Maybe this rag will be worth the fortune I paid for it," she thought. "At least it got the attention of a man of her dreams. She thought, "God he's a hunk. I hope he is not just a manager trying to be properly friendly with a customer."
He appeared genuinely interested. He asked, "May I sit down?"
"Oh please do." She almost added "I'd kill you if you tried to get away. Why do you think I came here?" But she merely smiled and said, "I'm MaryAnn from San Diego."
"Well MaryAnn, what brings you here?"
"Here? To New York, or to Smitty's?"
"Well, let's start with why are you in the Big Apple, then I'd love to hear why you came to my place."
"I'm in New York because I'm a features writer and associate editor for a large, regional magazine. A local girl is starring in the revival of a risqué 1960s play called Oh Calcutta. I interviewed her for a feature story."
"Wow, that is risqué. I read where the entire cast appears on stage completely naked. They say it has a great chance of making it back to Broadway again. It's now playing just down the street here in the Village. I intend to see it soon."
"Yes our gal is especially interesting from a writer's viewpoint because she is a Mormon and she's not wearing the holy underwear, nor much of anything else as a matter of fact. In fact in the grand finale she's naked in all her beauty, and it's a considerable amount of beauty. She doesn't look a bit like a modest Mormon girl from BYU!
Mac gave with an evil grin and asked, "Did you see anything exciting?"
"Oh yes, a couple male specimens had me squirming in my seat." She then gave with a big grin as if she might, or might not, have been kidding. She hoped to keep him guessing for a while.
"And did all that nakedness inspire you to come to Smitty's?"
MaryAnn recognized a smart salesman. Every exchange led to the close, in this case sex! Now was the time to lay her cards on the table. She had read the rules and knew the club was designed just for women like herself. She explained, "No, I had a more serious reason. It's one I pondered seriously before deciding to submit a request for admission."
"Care to share?"
MaryAnn became very serious, Mac saw a tear in her eye as she continued, "I have been a widow for just two months. My husband died in an accident. I loved him more than life itself and miss him more than I can describe. I cried myself to sleep every night for two weeks. The only thing that kept me afloat was my writing. Deadlines don't wait for anybody. So every day I would write something, or edit something, or tweak a completed manuscript. I shared my efforts with a good friend, also a journalist, with whom I share everything. Gloria said my writing was as sharp, poignant, and focused as ever. I trust Gloria in everything she tells me. She smiled and added, "She recommended Smitty's."
"Other than that, my life was bleak." Her voice dropped and Mac leaned forward to hear her admit, "I even thought I had become asexual. Although when I became a widow I left behind a robust sex life, it was gone. Now I had no desire for it at all."
She hesitated, then continued, ". . . until one morning when Mandy, my daughter, went to school and I was still in bed. I found that my libido was indeed active. I don't mean to get too graphic but I ruined a cucumber."
The shock of such a brash statement caused Mac to break out in a big guffaw. She joined him in the laughter. She also noted that his leg was gently pressing against hers, or was she pressing against his? In any case it went with the ambiance of Smitty's as she understood it, and she felt things might just happen.
She continue, "After the cucumber episode, and to be safe I used a lubricated condom, my apathy towards sex made a complete turnabout. All at once I dove into a fantasy life, mostly on chat rooms on the Internet."
He asked, "And how does that lead to Smitty's?" MaryAnn was sure he knew the answer but she was happy to tell him anyhow. If anything were to come of this candid talk, her admission of her fantasies would make it easier for both of them.
MaryAnn learned years ago to drive a point home she should look directly into the listener's eyes. She continued, "Many chat rooms on the Internet are devoted to black men and white women. I learned that my fascination with the hitherto taboo subject was shared by so many other men and women. The more I chatted the more I imagined myself in as relationship, but it couldn't happen in San Diego. America's sixth largest city is still too small for a known journalist to run amok, and running amok was my urge, almost my compulsion .
Mac held her hand. She moved it to her thigh and squeezed it. Mac glanced down, smiled and continued, "That's why we have a Smitty's Colorful Club. We try to create an environment where curious women from . . . oh, say San Diego, can meet hot blooded young guys and in as safe an environment as possible. We have our rules, and insist they be followed."
"Well the attraction is there." MaryAnn looked at their hands. "Doesn't that look nice, black and white entwined? I love the contrast."
"It's even better when it is a contrast between two bodies."
MaryAnn finished the thought, "Black and white, big and small." She smiled. Mac smiled back and gently squeezed her leg. She realized they were on the right track and both recognized they did not need to hurry.
She thought, "My god, this is exciting, telling a stranger that I want to make love," But, if there ever was a place for frank conversation between two strangers this was it.
Then she leaned forward and said, "Gloria, urged me to come to New York, allow a few extra days, and go wild just to remind myself I'm a woman, not just a widow. She also gave your place an unqualified recommendation. Like I said I trust Gloria, so here I am at Smitty's Colorful Bar where fantasies like mine are encouraged. And I am nearly 3000 miles away from the people who know me.
"Most important though this is a purely selfish act. It isn't about my husband, nor do I feel a sense of guilt because I so recently lost him. I'm being completely hedonistic. I can spend the rest of my life as a "respectable" woman who's trying to save the world, but tonight and the next few days are mine, all mine."
Her comments were punctuated by looking Mac in the eye. She laid her hand on his and held it tight against her thigh. She could feel the heat of his hand through the thin material. The conversation was almost like foreplay.
