It was another boring Saturday at Dover Air Force Base, and Damon Erickson had nothing better to do, as usual, than to pour his entire day into the Internet. How in the green hell did I make the decision to request to get stationed here, he thought. Oh wait, I remember. It was so that hood rat I was engaged to wouldn't have to "move so far away from home." Had I known it was her ex-boyfriend that she didn't want to move away from, I'd have ditched her long ago... He knew the area well enough; he had gone to high school half an hour south of the base. That was his main reason for joining the military four years earlier: to get out of Delaware. He had been cursing himself ever since he came home on leave after re-enlisting to go to Dover. Had he waited until he came back, he'd have realized then that she was three months pregnant, not a good thing considering he'd been gone for seven months. Now he was stuck in the same state he had busted his ass getting out of.
Damon logged into his Yahoo! Messenger and entered the Delaware chat room. Who knows, maybe he'd find some female that was as bored as he was and he might actually be able to get laid. He spent a good two hours trolling around unsuccessfully, took a lunch break and resumed his activity. It wasn't until around 6:30 in the evening that he met someone willing to talk to him privately: a larger 44-year-old married white lady from neighboring Maryland. He figured what the hell; he'd chat her up and see what happened from there. The two had a very deep and engaging conversation. Her name was Amy and she lived in a town on the state line, about 45 minutes away. Her love life wasn't satisfying in any sense, which Damon could well relate to. Things got really interesting, however, when she mentioned that she was meeting a friend in Dover that evening. Although she wasn't coming across like she was looking for sex, Damon asked her if she'd like to meet him; after all, a date didn't necessarily have to lead into sex. To his surprise, she accepted and Damon even treated her to watching him get dressed so she'd know what to look for that evening.
Amy Logan plopped down at her desk and logged into the Internet, her home away from home. For quite some years now, her marriage had been devoid of any mental, physical or emotional affection from her husband, as had been evidenced again this particular Saturday afternoon. She spent a few hours squaring away some details of her business. She couldn't wait to be self-sufficient enough to be on her own and get the divorce she so desperately wanted. After achieving her desired level of progress, she logged into her Yahoo! Messenger and entered a Delaware chat room. She had only been in for a few moments when an IM popped up on her screen. It was simple and cordial enough, so she checked out his profile. The message had come from a 24-year-old black man in Dover, a town in central Delaware 45 minutes from her home.
The two chatted for a while and Amy found herself genuinely liking this kid. She told him about her dreary marriage, and he in turn related to her the story of his broken engagement. After a while, a female friend she had in Dover messaged her, inviting her to spend the evening with her and her boyfriend. Never one to be a third wheel she began to decline, but then the young man she was talking to messaged her again. She had an idea: if he would at least come keep her company, then she might be able to go out with her friend and actually have a decent evening. She casually let it drop that she would be in Dover that evening, hoping he would take it as bait to ask her to meet him. Sure enough he did, and he even turned his webcam on for her so she could watch him strip. She was getting excited watching him, but minimized the window while explaining to him how much she had enjoyed the show. She was a married woman, however unhappily; she took her marriage vows seriously and would never break them, no matter the temptation. Surely they could meet, enjoy each other's company for a few hours in a public setting, and then go their separate ways. A date didn't necessarily have to include sex.
At around 11:00, Damon hopped in his car and drove the short distance to the club he had agreed to meet Amy at. She had said that they'd be arriving around 10:00, so he was actually counting on them getting there later than he did. He entered the club and walked right up to the bar and ordered a drink. He hadn't seen a picture of her, so he had to count on her recognizing him when she walked in. To his surprise, someone tapped him on the shoulder while he was watching the front entrance. "Excuse me, are you Damon?" He turned around and saw a voluptuous white woman standing beside him. She didn't have a wedding ring on, which caused Damon to wonder if she really was trying to sleep with him. "That depends... are you Amy?" he asked. "No, I'm her friend. She asked me to come over and make sure it was you. C'mon and join us," she asserted. Damon picked up his drink and moved to the table where Amy was waiting, wedding ring and all. She was very physically attractive, with a large body (as she had admitted) and a modestly made-up face. Damon was a sucker for large breasts as well, but he wasn't interested in seducing her so he tried to keep his attention off of what he guessed to be Amy's 44DDs. He sat down and, after being introduced to Patty and her boyfriend Jason, the two commenced chatting anew. They hit it off instantly, talking about everything from music to food to relationships to eventually sex. Amy shifted the conversation away from that topic as soon as it got there, suggesting they go dance. Damon willingly agreed; as much as he may have wanted to, it was not in his best interests to sleep with this woman.
The two danced for quite some time, moving in rhythm with the hip-hop music being played. Damon found himself with an erection that got stronger the closer Amy drew into him. Normally he'd have made some effort to hide it, but they were both convinced that nothing sexual was going to happen between the two. Eventually a slow song came on and Damon pulled away to go back to his seat, but Amy tugged him back. "C'mon, let's dance to this... I love slow music." Damon shrugged and rejoined her on the dance floor. She was noticeably shorter than him, so he dropped his head onto her shoulder while holding her around the waist. Amy likewise held him by the shoulders, placing her head on his chest. The first slow song finished and another started, and Amy asked Damon a favor.
"What?"
"Sing to me, please."
"You want me to sing to you?"
"Yeah, I want to hear you sing to me."
"Umm... OK, I guess." He leaned in close to her and sung along with the song that was playing, barely whispering into her ear. There was something in his notes, Amy realized, some mysterious power that was greatly exhibiting sway over her. She could hear, she could feel, the love and affection in his voice, something she hadn't felt in a long time. She pulled him as close to her as she could; she didn't want this feeling to end, she wanted it to last all night. She decided she would to anything to make this feeling continue.
Even if it continued in bed.
Eventually the music ended and the club announced it was closed for the evening. Damon, Amy and her two companions walked to the parking lot. Patty whispered something to Amy, to which Amy gave a quick nod in response. "We're all going to Jason's house," Patty announced, "do you want to come?"
"Um, sure, that's fine with me." Damon began to walk to his car, but since it was such a short drive and the two ladies had to pass the club on their way home, he agreed to ride with them. He sat with Amy in the back seat while Patty and Jason occupied the front two seats. At some point during the ride, Amy placed her hand on the middle seat between herself and Damon. Almost immediately, as if out of instinct, Damon placed his own hand over hers. He felt her hand twitch and withdrew it just as quickly. She's married, he kept telling himself. This is wrong... maybe I shouldn't have come along with them... Jeez, get over yourself, Damon; not every woman that wants to hold your hand wants to fuck you.
Meanwhile Amy had, in that miniscule moment, felt a spark that had been missing from her life almost since she had gotten married. That such a brief, fleeting contact could bring her such sensations was a testament to just how much she craved affection. Yet she knew she had made a mistake inviting him to Jason's place; she knew in her head was she was doing was wrong, but her heart was on a totally different wavelength, screaming out for any shards of love and affection it could find. Right now they were coming in waves from this man seated not three feet from her, a black man, a black man young enough to be her own son. She prayed for Patty and Jason not to leave them alone immediately; hopefully he'd be tired and fall asleep soon after they got there.
The drive, after seeming like an eternity, only took five minutes and the four piled into Jason's modest apartment. To Amy's dismay, Patty and Jason disappeared into the larger of the two bedrooms, but not before advising that Amy and Damon could use the other bedroom if they needed to. After a hesitant offering of thanks, Damon sat on the couch and turned the TV on, looking for something to hold his attention. Amy came and sat down next to him, and the sexual tension between the two could be cut with a knife. Both wanted each other, yet both knew it was wrong, even though they both hoped the other felt the same way.
Damon had already stretched his arms over the back of the couch, as he always did by habit. Amy reclined next to him, laying her head on his shoulder. Damon almost broke out into a nervous sweat. They were pulling each other down a road neither one wanted to travel, to a place they both desperately wanted to go. Fuck it, Damon thought to himself. You want her; she wants you... so what if she's married? She's giving herself to you tonight. Let it be what it will be tonight, nothing more, and nothing less. Without giving her a chance to react, Damon swooped over Amy and planted his mouth over hers. She gasped at the suddenness of the maneuver, but once she had gotten her bearings back, she invited him to continue. She melted into the couch, and Damon was all too eager to follow her. Before long, however, she pushed Damon off of her. She stood up and ran into the bathroom, and Damon sat on the couch kicking himself. He had misread all the signals and made a complete ass of himself.
