Ch 01 The Mirror

There is absolutely nothing sexy about me I think as I stare at myself. The mirror is a gorgeous family heirloom, about six feet tall and surrounded in an intricately carved mahogany frame. It's the nicest thing I own. My naked reflection doesn't deserve to be in it.

Let's start at the top. My hair is a shoulder length mass of flaming red frizz that I'm barely able to tame. Framed in this mess is my face, slightly hooked nose, freckles, not so straight teeth, and full lips. OK maybe my lips aren't so bad. On my chest are two unremarkable breasts, small-in-size, almost perky. I might have hot nipples I suppose if I knew what hot nipples were supposed to look like. With my luck, they suck just like the rest of me. I'm way too down to laugh at my own rhyme. Won't someone please suck on my sucky nipples? Probably not.

I sigh, then continue my morbid self-analysis. Below my smallish, possibly hot-nippled, breasts reside a bit of a pot belly. Could be worse I suppose. At least it's proportional to my not so narrow waist and almost up to par with my "Big Ole Ass". Yes, I named it. My BOA and me, life-long companions, I guess. The damn thing follows me wherever I go and shows no sign of going away anytime soon.

I twist in place to get a better look at it. The thing curves away from my back, rounded and...well, just there, screaming, "Hey y'all! Looky here! I'm Meredith's Big Ole Ass." Why my butt seems to have a southern accent I don't know.

I stand straight again and take in my thighs. They seem average enough, which of course just makes my BOA look bigger by comparison. I can't help but notice that my hoo-hah needs a trim, not that anyone will be making a surprise inspection anytime soon. That would be a surprise wouldn't it. At least the carpet matches the drapes. Below my thighs are a pair of average calves and average feet.

I close my eyes, take two steps forward and place my hands on the wall on either side of the mirror. When I open them, I'm staring myself down. "No wonder your ex-husband wouldn't sleep with you", I say to myself.

Of course, that isn't the whole truth. It was screwing me he didn't want to do. Part of me, the other voice in my head that keeps my poor self-esteem in check most of the time points out that Randell wasn't cheating on me at least. I don't think he had any interest in screwing anybody else either. That would have been worse, I think.

High school sweethearts, then married at nineteen. You were both naive. You didn't know that you'd only have sex a handful of times in five years, only in the missionary position, for only five minutes, and mostly on your birthday or anniversary. Not his birthday though, sex wasn't a present he'd ever ask for.

I Can't believe I saved myself for him, I think. I thought he was saving himself also. Turns out he just wasn't interested.

I straighten up and say out loud, "OK dammit, I took the first step. I left his ass. I should stop feeling sorry for myself and for God's sake stop talking to myself. I deserve love, respect, good sex, more foreplay, any foreplay, and actual orgasms with someone other than myself." Of course, I haven't masturbated in over a year. Maybe I should take up that little hobby again. "This is the next chapter in your life, so get that chin up and smile girl."

I look at myself and smile. The hot mess that is my reflection looks forced and awkward smiling back. The clock on the wall behind me gets my attention. Uh-oh, I'm gonna be late for work.

I grab my black slacks, red shirt, a fresh pair of granny panties, and name tag and attempt to simultaneously dress while brushing my teeth and my hair, almost falling over twice in the process. On my way out the door I snag my keys off my tiny coffee table in front of my tiny couch which takes up most of my tiny living room. My feet find their way into my non-slip shoes by the door and I'm off.

I can't imagine why I'm in such a hurry to get to a job I hate, then I remember. Oh yeah, it's because I'm broke as hell. Randal's little bit of alimony only helps a little.

Three hours later, I'm halfway through the lunch shift trying to convince myself that being a waitress is at least marginally better than being Randal's little housewife. At least I'm getting paid for this. At table twelve I notice a nice-looking thirty-ish couple. They're leaned in close to each other talking softly when I walk up to get their drink order. I don't want to interrupt, but the woman stops mid-sentence and looks straight at me as if I'd said, "Hey You!"

I stammer a little, clearly caught off guard, while I ask for their drink order. The woman in front of me has shoulder length brown hair, and a cute, somewhat roundish face. Her eyes are an incredible shade of green and look right into mine, holding me like a magnet. I didn't realize how seldom people make actual eye contact until this very moment.

I pull my eyes from hers to write down their drink order. When my pen touches the pad, I realize I have no idea what they asked for. "I'm sorry", I say looking into her eyes once more. "I uh..what were your drinks again?"

"I'll have unsweetened tea and he'll have a coke," her voice is sweet with a hint of amusement. She smiles and nods toward the man sitting across from her. I haven't looked at him once since walking up to the table. Blushing, I force my eyes from hers to his. He is also a fan of direct eye contact, but his blues don't hold a candle to her greens.

"It's OK," he says. "She has disarming eyes." I quickly jot down their drink order and look back to her, "I'll be right back with your drinks."

"Thank you, Meredith," she responds. It looks like she's trying not to smile. Huh?..oh yeah, name tag, Duh.

I turn away, and head for the drink station. I look back and she is still looking my way. Her eyes pop up when I turn because she is apparently looking at my ass. Of course, I think. It is hard not to miss. I should put "This space for rent, call 1-800-billboard" across it.

After I go back to their table, drinks in hand. I fumble my way through their food order and take their menus. Her fingers brush mine as I do so. I have never been more aware of an accidental touch with another human being as I am of this brief, electric encounter. I have no idea why.

Twenty minutes later I deliver their food. A Bombay burger for him and a chicken salad, ranch dressing on the side for her. A loud throat clearing reminds me I have two other tables. "Excuse me for a moment," I say and turn to spend some time on them.

It's hard to keep my mind on the customers in front of me rather than on those electric green eyes a few booths away. I keep glancing back toward them. More than once those eyes meet mine with a smile.

After what seems like a very long time, I'm back at their table asking how everything is. "Fine," she says. "Tasty," is her man's answer, spoken with barely veiled innuendo. She smiles again, looking at me as she lightly kicks him under the table. "Is this your first time here?" I ask, eager to make small talk because I'm actually interested, for a change. The diners here are usually just potential tips to me and nothing more, but something about her captivates me.

"We come here a few times a year. You haven't been working here long...I'd remember," she says.

"About four months. I just moved here after my divorce." Shit, did I say that? Every time I tell someone that they respond with "Ooh I'm so sorry" or some other crap, like it must be a bad thing and that I'm despondent or something.

Green eyes, however, merely raises an eyebrow. "Oh, devastating or liberating?"

"The latter," I reply with deliberate calm, "very much so."

"Then I'm happy for you," she says, smiling, "very much so." I smile back, relieved. "My name is Lisa," she says, holding out her hand, "and his name is Mike." I shake her hand, not wanting to let go. It might be wishful thinking, but she seems reluctant to let go as well. I nod toward Mike and shake his hand also. They glance at each other, and I can't help but think there's some inside joke I'm not in on. Maybe it's just my imagination.

"How old are you?", she asks boldly.

"I'll be twenty-five on Friday, but I have to work so hooray for me." I like her blunt to-the-point approach.

"That is a shame." Her green eyes sparkle. She pauses, "you never know. It might be a better day than you think."

Before I can stop myself, I blurt out, "why, are you going to be here for dinner again?"

Oh my gawd. I can't believe I just said that. What is this woman doing to me? My 'what the fuck did I just say' expression fills an awkward second.

She raises that eyebrow again. "Maybe I will. Promise you won't call in sick or something?"

Relieved I say, "Oh, I'll be here." I flash her a nervous smile. "Assuming my car doesn't get eaten by a hoard of angry locusts or something." She laughs. I melt.

During the rest of their meal, I check up on them more often than needed and attempt more small talk. I find myself listening intently to every word that comes through her lips. Something about her, hell everything about her, especially her cool, confident demeanor is awakening in me an arousal I thought had been dead for a long, long time. I want her, badly.

When they are about to leave, I take her hand as she stands up to near my height. "I hope you enjoyed your meal," I say. It's what I'm supposed to say to everyone that eats here. I want to say many things; Will I see you again? Do you want me as much as I want you? Do your lips taste as yummy as they look?...etc..etc.

Mike helps her put her short jacket on over her light blue v neck T-shirt which stops just above her blue jean Capri pants. I had spent so much time looking into her eyes I hadn't noticed what she was wearing until she was on her feet. I take a deep breath. "I'll see you Friday then?" I ask. She pauses, for dramatic effect I think, "you will."

I watch them walk to the door, grinning like a moron. Her body is very decent. No super-skinny stick-figure girl she is. She has some very nice curves. Especially around her butt, which she catches me staring at when she turns to wave goodbye. I feel myself blush as she smiles and bites her lip. As she turns to walk out the door behind Mike, she shifts her ass from left to right just for me.

Whistling under my breath, I turn to fumble through the rest of my shift. I screw up two orders and almost spill a beer on a guest because I can't think straight with images of green eyes and her ass dancing through my head.

While I continue to wait tables badly, I go everything I had learned during our small talk. Her and Mike have been together for about seven years and have two children under the age of six. She has lived here all her life but met Mike on a weekend trip to Florida to visit her aunt in Boynton Beach. He moved up here to be with her. Can't say that I blame him. It must be those eyes.

He seems very secure in the relationship. He didn't even seem to mind that I was flirting with his wife.

That's when it hits me. I stop dead in my tracks with an undercooked steak in my hands on its way back to the kitchen when it slaps me in the face. It felt so natural, so right, I didn't even think to question it. I am absolutely, positively, no doubt about it attracted to another woman.

Where the hell did this come from? I've never even experimented with girls. The closest I ever came to that was watching my eighth-grade friends Marla and Simone make out at a slumber party. Although, I did masturbate furiously after everyone else went to sleep while thinking about it. I do remember wanting to join in, but I was too shy to say anything. I thought later that it was just teenage hormones.

I continue toward the kitchen lost in thought.

Me, a girl, wanting another girl. Yep, that's what's going on Meredith. Get a grip. But I like guys. I still find them attractive. Right? Yeah sure, but you've only been with one guy, and he didn't have a clue in or out of the bed. Maybe that's it. Maybe your piss-poor experience with the opposite sex is subconsciously pushing you toward hot, green-eyed women.

"Hey Carl", I yell at the cook. "This was supposed to be medium well, not bleeding. Can you fix it?". Carl looks at me with his bored, somehow sweaty expression, wipes one hand on the apron he wears cinched up around his ample gut, grunts, and points to an empty spot on the pass-through. Well Mel, there's a hunk-O-man. You attracted to him?

I stifle a laugh. I really don't think people turn suddenly gay or anything. It's just her, that calm, confident demeanor, cute and sexy at the same time, all that and a great body. Maybe she brought something to the surface that was always there.

Face it girl, You like her. She turned you on in five minutes like your ex never had in five years. You want her, yes you do. She might want you too.

My poor self-esteem chimes in at this point, and for a minute I can't fathom what she could possibly see in me. Then, from somewhere deep within, that other voice tells my poor self-esteem to shut the fuck up.

Logically I know that the way I feel about myself is really due to Randal's total indifference toward me over the course of our five-year marriage, or it's the stock I mistakenly put in his opinion of me. I've recently read enough self-help, 'feel better about yourself in ninety days or less!' bullshit books to get this on an intellectual level, even if I don't always believe the hype.

He really was an emotional idiot, devoid of arousal, lust, or love. Who the hell was he to tell me how I should feel about myself. I should pity him I realize. He has no business defining how attractive I think I am. He wouldn't know what real attraction was if it fell in his lap.

I leave work feeling better than I have in a long time. I drive home on autopilot with a grin on my face, thinking about green eyes. I replayed every glance, smile, spoken word, and touch that transpired between us. As I do so, I become more and more aroused. There's a wet spot on my panties to go with the smile on my face by the time I get home.

I cross my threshold with nipples harder than they've ever been leading the way, and a wetter pussy than I can ever remember having. My trail of clothes starts at the door and by the time I climb on my bed I'm stark naked.

I get on my knees in the center of the bed. My head is tilted back with my thighs apart, and my arms dangling, fingertips lightly caressing my calves. I stay like this for a minute, eyes closed, enjoying the sensation of pure arousal. lust this strong is a very new sensation for me and I want to enjoy it.

I Imagine Lisa there on the bed in front of me, as naked as I am. She is on her knees like I am. As I caress my neck, I am caressing hers in my mind. I lightly run my fingertips across my belly, up my side, and under my breasts. My fingertips are her fingertips. She cups one of my breasts and I find myself doing the same. She pulls at my nipple, twisting lightly.

I'm very moist. I can smell my own pussy, but I imagine it's hers I'm smelling and breath deep. Imaginary Lisa leans in to run her lips up my neck, around my chin. Then she kisses me, lips parting to dart her tongue into my eager mouth. Her tongue meets mine, and dances with it.

My hand, (her hand), hand finds its way between my legs, and I imagine her fingers parting my pussy lips as her tongue parts the lips of my mouth to slide in and out. Her fingers take turns rubbing my clit and sliding inside me. First one, then two, then more. Her other hand rubs each breast in turn, tweaking my nipples while she works over my pussy.

With her (my) fingers deep inside me I sit my ass fully on the bed, trapping her hand there and I begin to grind my pussy onto her fingers. She, (I), hooks them forward and rubs my G-spot. Every thrust of my hips brings me closer to orgasm. Her other hand leaves my breasts and expertly begins rubbing my clit in time to the deep thrusts of her fingers inside me.

I realize I am moaning loudly, something I've never done. In the past I was always a quiet rug-rubber. That was what my prudish high school friend Emily used to call a girl who masturbated. I could never bring myself to tell her I did it all the time back then, but never like this. Never with so much wild abandon. Never with so much lust and gusto, and definitely never ever with the fantasy of another woman kissing me deeply and fucking me silly with her fingers in my mind. Oh, if Emily could see me now.

I laugh out loud at the thought of that poor girl huddled in the corner of my room, watching while I masturbate my ass off in all my hot sweaty glory. My orgasm builds more and more until after a moment I hear myself scream out as the best orgasm I have ever had washes over me in wave after wave of full body spasms. With each one my pussy gets more and more wet, girl cum oozing out between my buried fingers to soak my bedspread.

Back in my mind Lisa holds her fingers there inside me as my body slowly calms down, kissing my lips, my neck, caressing me with her free hand. Then she does something so daring it hardly seems I would imagine it. She pulls her fingers out of my soaked pussy and licks them, putting them in her mouth and sucking them clean. I am a little surprised to find my own fingers in my mouth. I run my tongue across and between them, savoring the flavor. I've never dared to taste myself before. It is sweet and salty and delicious, flavored by horniness I suppose.

I'm sucking my fingers in earnest, flipping my hand over to lick it all off, not wanting to miss a drop, just as Lisa is doing in my dirty dirty mind.

I open my eyes, which have been closed since I got on the bed to better imagine my fantasy Lisa, and I see through my wide-open curtains and straight into the even wider open eyes of my ninety-one-year-old neighbor, Mr. Kawalski, standing in his yard, oxygen cart behind him, mask pressed to his face, leaning against his house and struggling to breathe.

I combat roll off the bed pulling my comforter with me. In all my horny haste to get home and get off, I didn't realize the curtains were open. With the nightstand lamp still on from this morning, I must have been framed nicely in the center of the window. Fuck.

My face is surely as red as it feels. I wrap myself up in the blanket and stand to close the curtains. He could turn away and pretend not to have noticed, but to my utter shame he drops his oxygen mask long enough to flash me two thumbs up just before the curtains close.

Oh my gawd. I remember helping him with his groceries last week, and making small talk about his cat whom he loves but whose name he can't remember. Jesus, I could have given him a heart attack. Jesus, he will never look at me the same.

After I get over my embarrassment, still too horny to let that totally derail me, I play out another fantasy in my mind, and masturbate again. Lisa has her head between my legs this time. I imagine the sight of her incredible green eyes looking up at me from just above my pussy while her tongue works its wonders, myfingers flicking my clit back and forth or sliding inside me as far as they will go. I come again.

Next, even more daring, I return the favor. I imagine putting my head between her legs, spreading them wide, and diving into her pussy like a woman possessed. I come again and again, finally I fall to sleep in the wee hours of the morning thinking this is the best Saturday night I've had in a while. I Can't wait till Friday to see the real Lisa, my green-eyed beauty again.