A Chance Encounter

This is a follow-up to my story, "

The Gift

," and was requested by Maonaigh, one of my favorite authors on Literotica. This story was written as a stand-alone story within the 'Virginiaverse.' However, it could give away some of the plot elements of other stories in the 'Virginiaverse.' It wouldn't hurt to read "

The Gift

" before this story.

© 2020-2023 Candy_Kane54

***

November 1985

I woke with the early morning sun shining on my face. "Oh, God, I can't believe I left the shades up," I grumbled. I had wanted to sleep in this morning. "Oh, well, so much for that idea," I thought before turning to look over at Becky. However, her side of the bed was empty. "Her Muse must have paid a visit," I mused as I got out of bed. I picked up my sleeping tee and pulled it on before heading into the en suite bathroom for a quick pee.

As I squatted over the toilet bowl to empty my bladder, I thought about how my bladder had taken more and more control of my life the older I got. Once I woke up, my bladder demanded relief, and once I was out of bed, I was up for good because I'd never been able to get back to sleep once it was light outside.

After performing a quick toilet, I walked out into the hallway. I saw the door to Becky's workshop was ajar, so I knew she was in there, working away on her latest creations. Becky loved making jewelry. Her specialty was bracelets, but she also made necklaces and other accessories. Like me, she was a lark and couldn't sleep once she was awake and it was light outside. I'd always envied night owls who could stay up all night and sleep all day, but I just wasn't built that way.

I poked my head into her workshop and saw her hunched over her workbench, working on something. "Good morning, Becky. Have you eaten yet?" I asked.

After a pause that stretched long enough that I began to wonder if Becky had heard me, she put down the tool she was using. She turned to me, a bright smile coming over her face, and said, "Good morning, Cindy. No, I haven't eaten yet. I woke up with an idea for a bangle bracelet, and since I couldn't get back to sleep, I just got up and came in here to work."

"Okay, sweetie," I replied as her smile made my insides melt. I smiled back at her before saying, "I'll get breakfast going. Love you, Becky."

"Love you too, Cindy," Becky said before turning back to her work.

I headed out into the kitchen and began putting breakfast together. I stuck a couple of Eggo™ waffles in the toaster while I started the coffee pot and let the coffee brew. I prepared to fry some bacon and scramble some eggs. When the bacon was done, I pulled the strips out of the frying pan and laid them on a paper towel before pouring the eggs for scrambling.

As the aromas of breakfast wafted through the house, I heard Becky leave her workshop and head into the bedroom. She must have been hungry this morning because some days, I nearly had to drag her out of her workshop to eat breakfast. With perfect timing, Becky entered the kitchen and sat at the breakfast bar just as I finished plating up the food.

I looked up at her, and my breath caught, as it always did when I first saw her in the morning. My nipples hardened, and a pulse went to my pussy as I drank in her beauty with my eyes. Her black hair was up in a loose bun, exposing her long, beautiful neck. Her expressive brown eyes locked with mine, and a familiar jolt went through my body as I fell into those brown pools. Tearing my eyes away, I saw that her nipples were tenting her sleeping tee, signaling that her body was responding to the sight of me. Before losing track of what I was doing, I turned back to pour the coffee. I handed her the mug with coffee and cream in it as I sat down at the breakfast bar next to her with my mug of coffee only.

"So, what are you making?" I asked to break the silence.

Becky looked up from her food and smiled as she always did when I showed interest in her hobby. "I got a great idea for a bangle bracelet, and I was so excited that I couldn't sleep. So I got up and started working on it. It still needs more work, but I was at a breakpoint, and breakfast smelled so good, I just had to take a break."

Becky reached over and took my hand in her hand, giving it a little squeeze. I squeezed back and smiled at her, my heart clenching at her display of tenderness. For too many years, we'd been sleepwalking through our relationship. I couldn't put my finger on exactly when it had started, especially since I had undoubtedly exacerbated it when I hit menopause several years ago.

I just happened to be one of those unfortunate women who started menopause sooner than expected and suffered greatly from it. The hormonal and emotional changes really irritated the hell out of me. I'd snap at the slightest things, and Becky, as much as she cared for me, just stopped interacting with me, not wanting to set me off or be the brunt of my bitchiness. Of course, her distancing herself from me made my situation even worse, and it just spiraled down to the point that for the past couple of years, you could have just called us roomies. We went through the motions of being in a relationship, but the spark we had once was gone.

The worst part was that I was the top, while she was the bottom in our relationship. While we were both femmes, she was your classic pillow princess and I, the total top, which was fine with me because I really didn't like receiving pleasure from others. Not because it was a dominance thing but because of control issues. I had to be in total control of my pleasuring and hated having someone trying to pleasure me.

That's not to say that Becky was passive in our sexual relationship. She wasn't hesitant to grab me and pull me into the bedroom to service her. Becky took great pride in controlling her orgasm to the point that I could get enough pleasure from topping her that I could enjoy earth-shattering orgasms with her.

We'd been together long enough that Becky knew that her taking the initiative was not a viable option, not just because it was against her nature but mine as well. However, she had been desperate enough to try a couple of times. Each time, I rebuffed her attempt because I was just not able to let her do it, let alone because my hormones were so screwed up I didn't even want it. Thinking about where that had left Becky, my heart clenched at the thought that it would have been so easy for her to just give up on me and leave.

"A penny for your thoughts," Becky said, breaking into my musings.

I locked moist eyes with her eyes again, and my breath caught in my throat for a moment before I answered, "I was just thinking about how close I came to losing you. I'm so glad things have changed recently."

Becky nodded solemnly and squeezed my hand again as she realized where my head was. She smiled again, a smile that just lit up the room, and said, "Yes, they have, dear, and I'm so glad that they have."

"Me, too, baby," I replied, squeezing her hand and smiling back at her. "Me, too."

The event that changed our lives took place three weeks ago. We'd had our booth set up on the Manhattan Beach pier like we have had for the past ten years, selling the jewelry that Becky made. As usual, we had our typical crowd of people and regular customers who shopped us from time to time. We both enjoyed interacting with the customers, even though we had trouble interacting with each other. In truth, we probably were using the customers as proxies for our missing personal interactions.

Then, a woman named Bonnie, whom I had noticed several times before walking the pier with two boys and another woman, stopped to shop at our booth. She wanted to buy a piece of jewelry for her friend, who, it turned out, was her lesbian lover. Becky's and my reaction to seeing the interaction between Bonnie and her lover somehow rekindled the embers of our love. For the first time in years, I wanted, no, needed, to make love with Becky. We hurriedly closed up our booth, headed home, and enjoyed making love for the first time in years. Our lovemaking lasted all day and well into the night as we rediscovered how much we loved each other. Since that day, we've been making up for all those lost years, enjoying every minute of it.

Finally, we finished breakfast. Becky helped me clean up and wash the dishes, the two of us working together like a well-oiled machine. Despite the number of times we stopped to kiss, side-hug, and grab ass, we finished quickly, the sexual tension building to a peak. We nearly ran back to the bedroom, shedding our sleeping tees along the way. Becky grabbed my strap-on and helped me put it on. She held it so that I could step into it. I then pulled it up and adjusted the straps.

Becky dropped to her knees and started lubricating the head of the dildo with her saliva. After ensuring it was well-lubed, Becky stood up and pulled me in for a kiss. When we broke, I pushed Becky down on the bed, and she spread her legs in anticipation as she landed on her back. I nearly growled as I moved in and positioned the head of the dildo at the entrance of her pussy.

We locked eyes, and Becky braced herself for what would come next. I grabbed Becky's legs at the knees, and when I figured Becky was ready, I thrust hard and buried the dildo up to the hilt. Becky grunted from the thrust, a furrow appearing between her eyes. I started pistoning in and out of her with the dildo. I nearly gaped her pussy before burying the dildo in her, over and over, faster and faster. Becky's grunts punctuated her moans and gasps as she urged me on, panting, "Faster, harder," over and over. My hips started burning from the effort as I enjoyed the sight of the dildo smoothly sliding in and out between Becky's inflamed lips. Each time I bottomed out, the nubs on the end of the dildo stimulated my clit, sending pulses of pleasure through my body.

I could see that Becky was on the edge, waiting for me to crash over the cliff with her. With one last hard thrust, I came, my thighs and core spasming so much that I leaned down over Becky, placing my hands on the bed next to her breasts as I gave in to my orgasm. Becky screamed her orgasm and started thrashing and arching her back as she totally surrendered to her orgasm, her legs clamping around my hips. I loved watching her body spasm and arch in response to her orgasm. It looked so beautiful. I couldn't help but tear up as I experienced the wonder of her acceptance of my love.

Once we settled down from our orgasms, Becky unclamped her legs from my hips, allowing me to pull out as I stood up. From the look on Becky's face, I knew she wasn't fully satisfied. Becky sat up and helped me get the harness off me. Once I had it off, Becky pulled me onto the bed and pushed me onto my back. She then straddled my head and lowered her sopping wet pussy onto my face. I dove in, sucking and thrusting my tongue into her pussy, drinking her delicious juices. I reached down with my right hand and started strumming my clit as I grabbed and crushed her right breast with my left hand, making sure to get her hard nipple between my thumb and forefinger.

We locked eyes, and Becky grabbed the headboard to steady herself as she ground her pussy onto my face. I pinched Becky's nipple hard enough to make her gasp as I thrust my tongue into her hole as far and as fast as I could. When I figured Becky was ready and I was on the edge of my orgasm, I sucked her clit into my mouth. I started sucking, licking, and biting it to send Becky screaming into another orgasm as I fell over the cliff of my orgasm. Becky thrashed her body, throwing her head back as she cried, "Oh, god, Cindy," as she surrendered to the sensations coursing through her body. I never let up my attack on her clit, sending her screaming into two more orgasms. Finally, she lifted herself off my face and collapsed onto the bed beside me, totally sated.

As we lay there in our post-coital daze, I looked over at Becky. Her hair was disarrayed, but she had never looked more beautiful than she did right now, practically glowing from our just completed tryst. Her closed eyes and the soft look of absolute contentment on her face just made my heart clench. I teared up, thinking about how close I had come to losing this. I vowed to never again let anything take this away from me. As I started to doze off, I flashed back to when I first met Becky...

***

September 1965

"Yes, Dad," I said, exasperated with his preoccupation with all things Great Britain. "I'm sure that Edward Heath's assumption of leadership of the Tories was a big mistake, but what does that have to do with our increasing involvement in Vietnam?"

"I still don't understand why Sir Alec Douglas-Home suddenly resigned as he did," Dad went on, as though he hadn't heard a word I said. I loved Dad, and we have always been close, especially since Mom died three years ago, but he can be tiresome at times. "That whole muck up with Southern Rhodesia could have been handled a whole lot better than it was."

"Yes, Dad," I said again. "Look, can we just agree that English politics is inscrutable and concentrate on the here and now? I'm going to have to cancel our dinner plans for tonight. I'm going to be attending an anti-war protest meeting tonight. Will you be okay without me tonight?"

"Yes, angel, I'll be okay tonight," Dad replied. "I'm just glad you're taking an interest in politics. Too many people don't pay enough attention to it, and the rascals can get away with shit that they couldn't have if enough people paid attention and kept them in check. I never trusted Johnson. I still think he had something to do with Kennedy's assassination."

"Oh, God," I thought, "get him off that topic fast, or I'll be listening to his conspiracy theories all day."

"Dad," I said, "I have to go now. I'll call you tomorrow. Okay?"

"Okay, baby," Dad said. "I'll talk to you tomorrow. Just be careful tonight."

"I will, Dad," I said, relieved that I short-circuited his train of thought. "I love you."

"I love you, too," Dad said before I hung up the phone.

I finished breakfast and hopped into my car to head to work. As I drove, I thought about Dad. He had served his time in WWII in England and had found England to be totally fascinating. After the war, as a ten-year-old, I remember listening to him as he went on and on about his time in England and how everything was different but the same between England and America. I was fascinated by how they drove on the wrong side of the road and the words they used that had different meanings and spellings than we had.

Dad had immersed himself in the politics of England's Parliamentary form of government, and he had fallen in love with "football," or soccer as we call it. I remembered how hard he took it when Stanley Matthews retired back in 1957, the year I graduated from Georgian Court College.

I drove past Mira Costa High School while on my way to the Culver Federal Savings and Loan Bank branch on the corner of Artesia and Sepulveda Boulevards. I saw that school was back in session. The clog of buses stopping to let off students slowed my commute. Luckily, I only had two more blocks to go to work. I wanted to be on time today because I had a meeting with a rep from Burroughs, the company that our bank had purchased its mainframe computer from. While the computer complex for the bank was located in Culver City, I would be working out of my office here most of the time. It was great not having to commute back and forth to the main facility every day. I still needed to commute up there once a week. Luckily, I could do it on Wednesday instead of Monday or Friday, the two worst days to be on the freeways during rush hour.

I loved the new bank building that opened only two months ago. I was lucky that I had enough seniority to transfer to the new location. My commute was so much easier now. At least I didn't need to use the 405 to get to work here. Besides, the air here, close to the beach, was much cleaner. All of that smog that continually hung over the interior of Los Angeles made breathing hard at times.

Finally, I pulled into the parking lot and up to the bank. I still marveled at the architecture of the building. It wasn't your traditional-looking bank. This one was oval-shaped, and the swoop of the roof made it look like a seashell. Its design made all of the architecture magazines for its freshness and looks. As I walked up to the door, Matt Spear, our security guard, came to the door and let me in. "Good morning, Matt," I said in greeting.

"Good morning, Cindy," Matt replied as he locked the door behind me once I was in. "Looks like it's going to be another beautiful day."

"Yes, it is," I said while I walked behind the counter to get to my desk. "I'm glad we don't get hurricanes here. Did you hear about what Hurricane Betsy did to the Gulf Coast?"

"Seventy-five dead, wasn't it?" Matt replied.

"Yes. If one ever hit here, it would make Betsy look like a tea party," I said as I reached my desk and put down my bag. "Oh, Matt? I'm expecting a guest this morning at about ten o'clock. Her name is Rebecca Maloney."

"Okay, Cindy," Matt replied. "I'll make sure she finds you."

"Thanks, Matt," I said as I headed to the break room for coffee. By the time I was ready to start to work, the tellers had begun to trickle in. As she headed to her office, Susan Dishman, the branch manager, stopped by my desk and said, "Good morning, Cindy. Did you have a good weekend?"

I looked up at Susan and liked what I saw. She was a beautiful woman with blonde hair blue eyes, and was 5' 8" tall. She was fit and tanned and dressed very nicely. Susan was five years older than me, and I have to admit that I have fantasized about doing things with her that a real lady would never admit to. I haven't acted on my urges because she has never exhibited any signs that she swung that way. Only having worked with her for three weeks, I wasn't going to rush into anything. Having just celebrated my 30th birthday last month, I was still young enough to take my time and be picky about finding a permanent partner.

While I've accepted the fact that I desired women over men, it wasn't socially accepted. I had to be very careful not to let on that I was gay. Of course, this left me very frustrated. The underground lesbian scene, while very discreet, left a lot to be desired as far as selection goes. I wasn't into the D/s scene, and I certainly wasn't looking for someone butch. I was femme and preferred femmes. Susan was very femme, thus my attraction to her.

"Yes, I did, Susan," I replied, careful to remember that she didn't like being called 'Sue.' "How was your weekend?"

"Oh, it could have been better," Susan replied. "I got into a big fight with Greg, and I think I'm going to give him his walking papers soon."

"That's a shame, Susan," I replied. "Doesn't he realize what a great person you are?"

Susan shook her head and said, "Apparently not. I'm tired of him calling me at the last minute to cancel because he wants to surf with his buddies." With that, Susan went into her office, leaving me sitting there wondering if an opportunity to explore a relationship with her was in the cards.

"Get a grip, Cindy," I said to myself. I turned back to my desk, unlocked it, and pulled my work out. I was the Quality Assurance Manager for the entire bank, not just this branch. Part of my job was to double-check the audit reports generated each night to ensure that nothing went wrong in the overnight runs. Each morning, the overnight runs would be couriered to me to be audited manually by randomly picking out numbers to ensure no glitches had occurred.

"Thank god for Benford's Law," I thought as I pulled out a set of randomly chosen numbers to run through the equations. Although tedious, I really enjoyed working with numbers. My attention to detail had found several areas where the algorithms used in the computer needed to be tweaked to bring the numbers back in line.