Looking Back Now

"Dedicated to my special friend and co-conspirator Rebecca. Thanks for all the help editing and suggestions, my ToE girl."

My name is Jennifer and I should mention right off that I am a widow, which is part of the reason for my slightly above average lifestyle. Unfortunately, my nouveau prosperity came at the bittersweet loss of the love of my life, and subsequent inheritance of a generous life insurance policy distribution.

Since losing Ricky, I'd not done much thinking about the opposite sex. My high sex drive had slowly been coming back, but I wasn't too interested in facing the demons I'd squelched right after the funeral. End of story.

It's been a good several years since those tragic days. More recently, I feel pretty good about my stability and some of the new directions my life has taken. But let me digress to about a month and a half ago...

Looking back now, the story I'm about to reveal to you seemed like the beginning to an ordinary day.

I'd awakened at my usual early hour, taking my time with enjoying my coffee and setting the pace I would have to call "leisurely vanity". I don't like to rush my mornings, and I want to look my best when I'm all done. Sure, it means I have to get up sooner than I would have to otherwise, but I've never been the kind of free spirit who can hop out of bed, toss on jeans and a t-shirt, brush my teeth, and head out the door.

I'd be afraid to sum up all the hours I have lived my life, taking the necessary time it requires to be presentable and happily coifed and pampered each and every day. I guess I envy those who can get away with those minimal preparations. Ha!

I especially like to keep my nails nice, so I regularly visit the local spa for a mani and pedi. Just one of those necessary luxuries, you know. I'm an inveterate fan of my French look. I think the result is professional, laid back and very sexy, all at the same time, depending on the circumstances. Whether I'm wearing my favorite bikini or pinstripe suit, I love the sharp appeal of that pretty white stripe on the ends of my perfectly sculpted tips, fingers AND toes.

That's arguably one of the most fundamental, visual elements of the female mystique, in my opinion. Am I letting on about a bit of a fetish for you, my reader? I suppose I am, but you'll get to know that and more about me as you read further, and I hope we'll discover and build a certain relationship here together. I'm altogether cool with the idea of you falling for me. God, I'm such a flirt!

Maybe you're wondering more about the rest of the picture. OK, ok. I'm taller than your normal American girl, busting the average by several inches. Let's just say that I am one of those girls who captivate people's opinions wondering what it would be like to be entangled by "...those long legs of hers".

By the way, I'm so glad for the fashion shift this year in women's heels. I never liked those long, pointy elf-toe shoes that have been popular the past few years. I adore the newer round-nose shoes that have hit the stores this fall. That being said, the effect of me in my heels with my height make for quite a sexy presence, especially when I match an entire ensemble with say, a tasteful pencil skirt and crisply starched, classic blouse.

My long, curly, brunette hair still looks quite attractive on my slender, 28 year old frame. I'm not into being all buff, though I admire any woman, well any person, come to think of it who works to maintain at least some of that sexy body we were all born with. I prefer to maintain a nice overall tone.

My greatest insecurity is about how I come off with people. I really admire the softer touch so many of my female friends have which seems to allude me. That's the one major thing I'd like to trade in, if I had the choice. Somehow I seem powerless to override my instinct for having a much too sharp edge at times.

Folks where I work do seem to respect me for a good level of intellect. I'm fairly passionate about my profession, and I never allow the mixing of business and pleasure. I suppose I might come off cold that way, but my Daddy gave me succinct advice about that long ago which I've always managed to keep in the front of my work experience. It's paid off well for me, and I enjoy a comfortable lifestyle, shall we say, due to a good education and an even better work ethic.

Well, so as I started off telling you, it seemed like an ordinary day, as I pressed the button to open the garage door and started my shiny, little Nissan 370Z.

I love the feel of my leather seats that seem sculpted just for me. I exited my driveway, with the quiet but powerful feel of that little rice rocket moving me forward in a very satisfying manner, shifting through the gears with the leather knob in my right hand.

Within 5 minutes, as the sun began to break the horizon with its typical beautiful hues, I had arrived in the small town I live close to and I began to encounter the first few vehicles of others who were on their way to make it to their morning jobs.

I was soothed by the high quality sound system I had ordered my car to be equipped with. Although I like a large variety of diverse musical artists, from contemporary to classics, I was tuned to some relaxing, commercial-free piano, a Franz Schubert piece I think, thanks to my magical and mysterious satellite provider I sooo take for granted.

As I came to a rather halting stop for some unknown conflict ahead, I was suddenly bumped in my rear! Talk about being shocked out of my little slice of commuter heaven!

I could tell right away there wasn't too much damage, because the force of the impact was only minor. Nevertheless, I knew I was in for a pain-in-the-ass encounter with my assailant, and worse still, the INSURANCE company. Damn the shitty luck. I began to lay odds upon the likeliness that they were using their damn cell phone and not paying attention. Pet peeve city.

My ruminations quickly came to an abrupt end, when I saw in the side mirror a flash of brilliant color, as the driver who hit me climbed out of its car. Yes...ITS! Not his, not hers, but holy fucking...what was that? OMG! "What is that?", I mused, as I checked out the blob of color that was approaching my car in an animated way. A clown? A clown hit me!

You've got to be fucking kidding me! A short, unisex figure spilled out of their car, cell phone to their ear, as IT approached me. I had no idea what to make of the apparition enfolding before me. Was it a girl or a guy? I couldn't even tell, thanks to the goofy makeup and the fluorescent orange wig.

Imagine my thoughts upon the realization of such a strange situation. I mean really! Have you ever been in a collision with a clown? What an absurd situation. I almost expected 20 more to come tumbling out of the vehicle, with bicycle horns squeaking and jugglers juggling.

I tried to regain some composure, and hit the little button to drop my electric window downward. Her voice, so panicked, but reliably feminine, finally gave me the identity of her gender.

"Oh my god!" "I'm so sorry for bumping you." she said, as she closed her cell phone and bent down to apologize. Suddenly after being so consumed with part rage, part total vulnerability, there was this urge to just burst out laughing, as her bright purple, bobbing, round nose and exaggerated red mouth was right in my face.

I unfastened my seat belt and began to open my door. She sort of jumped back from the car as it opened. I climbed out, grabbing my wallet and registration card as I exited my personal space. Again, the girl who I made out to be younger than me, and shorter by the typical amount, began apologizing effusively, as we both went back to survey the damage.

Her non-flattering outfit, not the least bit fitted since it appeared to be derived from a bed sheet, did nothing to reveal anything but a reasonably respectful physique, no more, no less. The more I noticed, the more I realized she was quite a bit shorter than I was, like maybe just over 5 feet. She actually seemed sort of adorable, with a lost little puppy kind of personality, as she went on about this and that, revealing more and more of her quirky self.

In an effort to calm the situation down to a reasonably manageable level, and to try to restore an element of sanity to this crazy situation, I interrupted her and stuck out my hand, saying, "Hey, don't worry, this kind of thing happens all the time, and by the way, my name is Jennifer."

The clown introduced herself as "Vicki" and offered her small hand in a reserved and tender manner that struck me as very non-clownish. Maybe Vicki was a very sweet clown, instead of a typical boisterous and annoying one. Whatever! I knew my best bet was to try to apply a sensible scrutiny to the situation and an orderly exchange of information so we could both be on our way and not let this unwieldy situation require more effort than necessary.

Over the next many minutes, things calmed down and we swapped our information; details for the insurance companies to sort out. Other cars went by, gawking at the unusual, early morning spectacle taking place.

Soon, the lone cop car arrived, and the officer, once he got over the same initial shock I felt in the company of our colorful driver (who, as it turns out, was on her way to a paid gig), got us mercifully through the usual procedure. Before long, we all bid one another a kind enough thanks and goodbye. Of course, I knew I'd have a big hassle ahead, just to get the bit of damage Ms Vicki Clown had administered to the virgin derriere of my little car.

Well, that should have been the end of the story right? It's funny how the little incidents in life, as we cross paths with our fellow humans, can have such huge consequences in our destiny. Sometimes I think there's more to the "butterfly effect" than we wish to believe.

Fast-forward to this week.

Did I mention the small town I live in? I don't have much to do with the locals, because I like to keep my private life separate from the typical gossips that seem to migrate to these locales. I moved here for the quiet and the ability to get away from the city.

One of the small-town features I'd noticed at my local bank is a bulletin board outside in the entry foyer where people will post all manner of business cards and notes for others to see.

It had been over a month since my little fender-bender, and the repairs had all been taken care of. But as I entered the bank, I was struck by an especially colorful card with pretty, pastel balloons on it.

It read, "College Clowns, Sweet Treats with Flashy Flair".

In the lower corner were the obligatory identifiers, and as I looked closer, I saw not one, but two names.

"Give us a call, Vicki and Sherri", and listed their contact numbers. Without really thinking much about it, I grabbed one and stuck it in my purse as I entered the bank to take care of making a withdrawal. I ended up forgetting about the discovery until later that evening.

The striking bank teller I'd not noticed in my past visits, with her straight blond hair and unusually attractive smile, made my visit as painless as possible. I caught a bit of an undertone I wasn't certain about; maybe it was a feeling like she was giving me the elevator eyes as I filled out the withdrawal slip. She really caught my attention as she creased her lower lip with her manicured fingertip in a playful, flirtatious kind of way.

The way she then counted out several twenties with her lovely hands kind of made me a bit light-headed. Her distinct, nail color choice was an iridescent pinkish fuchsia that I'd seen on other women and absolutely thought looked ravishing!

I've always been attracted to pretty hands, which is why I give plenty of personal attention to mine. Before "Meredith" placed the bills in my hand, I noticed she rested her slightly extended pinkie finger on the edge of my hand as if to steady hers. The effect gave me a heady rush, as she softly counted out the bills, one by one.

As I exited the bank, my legs were a bit wobbly from the risqué edge I'd been skating on at Meredith's window. The distinct flavor of her pretty perfume remained fixed in my mind for quite a few minutes thereafter.

Was I interested in women; I asked myself, admitting the thought had crossed my mind before...

I wondered to myself, once I got back into my little car, "...how long HAS it been since the last time I stopped to pleasure myself?"

I'd been so busy lately that my usual sexual needs had taken a back seat to deadlines and working extra to meet them. I'd been exhausted Monday, Tuesday, AND Wednesday this week, with no time to spend except for the minimal requirements of eating the careful elements of my diet, sleeping 6 or 7 hours, and making the every other day trips to meet with my personal trainer, a Marine of a girl, if there ever was one.

Katy took more interest in keeping me fit than I did myself, it seemed, but I was always happy with the results, so I followed her strict guidance willingly so that I could continue to wear all the pleasant clothes, both professional and casual, that kept me feeling like I was in top shape. All the rest of my time had been work, work, work.

Mental note to self...Victoria's was having their annual sale this week, and I needed to get up to the mall to replace some of my undies that were a bit worn. Maybe I'd treat myself to something a bit frilly and special since I had a small performance bonus coming in this week's check. Perhaps I'd also drop by my favorite Italian restaurant to pick up their delicious mussels in marinara and pasta that I allowed myself on occasion.

Anyway, where was I? Oh yes, that noticeable warm buzz that was a reminder of my need to slow down for a bit of pampered Jennifer time, during which I promised myself to take care of the sexual business I'd suddenly become much more aware of.

Come to think of it, how had I let three days slip by without even thinking of my delicious little pussy and the huge appetite it normally had? Hmmm.

As I drove back to work to make the most of the next 4 hours of my afternoon schedule, I allowed myself a bit of leeway to consider what little thing from my favorite lingerie store might look appealing on me, also giving consideration for the rapidly increasing warmth between my thighs to build its sunny glow deep within. Sunny glow hell! I was getting downright horny with each passing moment.

I turned into my parking space and checked my lips and whitened teeth in the rearview once, ready to head back into my office to deal with my "other necessary life". Was that a bit of wetness I detected, as my legs came together exiting my car? There had been so many subtle cues to my recently denied sensuality during my lunch break, and Meredith's fragrance resurfaced in my mind. I took a quick sniff of my hand where she had touched me, hoping to find a trace of her scent, and cursed myself for absentmindedly using the antibacterial cleanser as I was prone to do on occasion during the day.

Another mental note...make a deposit of that paycheck inside the bank this Friday, not at the ATM, as is my customary habit. Again, the image of Meredith's sexy finger tracing a crease across her lower lip made one last visit to my frontal lobe, just as I opened the inner door of the office and once again resumed the role of Jennifer, superwoman of the computer, aeronautics CAD engineer for a biz-jet concern.

Finally, 5 o'clock came, but I had to run by the store to pick up a few things on the way home. On the way through the check-out line, I decided to pick up a glossy copy of the latest Cosmo.

Once I got home and had something yummy to eat, I kicked off my heels and moved up to the bedroom with my hedonistic girlie magazine, quickly changing into a sheer lace nightie, then flipping pages through this and that story which gave me all the details of other women's sordid, but enviable lives that I was missing out on.

As I was about to cast it aside so I could inhabit the sultry time I'd promised myself (where had the time gone...it was already getting close to 9) I noticed an ad about sexy videos made just for women. They claimed to have nice but naughty, high-quality DVDs which featured real dialogue and hot, carnal sex instead of the usual, poorly executed male-made class of porn that floods the market.

"Hmm, I thought to myself, I think I'll check this out."

So I hopped out of bed, plopped into my computer chair, and found the website, HotMoviesForHerdotCom. What started as an anonymous search suddenly came to a halt when I saw "Lesbian Film Reviews". Of course, I clicked on it, despite the huge smorgasbord of other choices, remembering back to the earlier encounters of the day. I suddenly felt the urge to explore more of my sense of where my new interests might lie, piqued especially by Meredith's undeniably sexy appeal.

As I panned through several different reviews, I finally found one which seemed to be quite highly rated, so in a quick fit of guilty pleasure, I opened the communication icon of my cell and dialed their customer service number. I heard the voice of a very pleasant-sounding agent come on the line, and I proceeded to give her my order and credit card information. Satisfied that I had taken a bold step into the unknown, I even decided to have her place a priority delivery service on my order.

Suddenly, the sensation to pursue my newfound lesbian fantasy took on quite an urgent appeal. When I hung up the phone, my attention went straight to my throbbing pussy, alert and ready for immediate action. I could actually feel the pulsed sensations within the folds of my moistened pussy lips, prompted by each beat of my heart. My heartbeat accelerated out of control as the sheer madness of my enterprise collected in an unknown voice in my ultra-horny brain and shouted out "...do me now!"

Right there in my computer chair, I hit the "Preview this Video" arrow for another illicit sampler I'd noticed, and I clicked the little corner icon to get the full-screen effect. As the cinema opened before me, my legs also opened and my fingers began probing my now sopping wet tangle of flesh and bone. I was raw with desire, being so suddenly and completely absorbed in what I was seeing. There were two modelesque girls with their legs scissored together, platinum blonde on blonde, facing each other, and rubbing their juices into one another, squeezing their nipples, moaning, and sharing the most delicious, passionate looks.

I licked my lips lasciviously and heard the very audible sounds of my pussy juices as my fingers stroked my clit and ran down the length of my swollen cunt. I felt a tremendous orgasm approaching very quickly, as I continued aggressively probing my wet flesh. I was so turned on from the earlier part of the day combined with this hot extravaganza I now saw before my very eyes, that before I knew what was coming, my hips were bucking and my eyes closed tightly shut, as I rode the crazy wave of my first orgasm.

The smaller pre-cursor orgasm was immediately followed by the huge crush of another. It reminded me of getting caught in a rogue wave at the beach; getting mauled by the force of all that water pushing and grinding and swallowing me whole, spitting me out on a glorious and serene, peaceful calm backside, the likes of which I'd not experienced in a long time. What bliss!

Finally, my eyes reopened, I noticed myself regaining my breath, and my ears heard the last fragments of the tail end of the video. With my sticky, moist fingertips purposefully held away, I managed to click the close box on the window of the site using my ring finger, and with wobbly legs, crawled into bed and fell fast and deeply asleep. Just before I totally passed out, the slightest little tickle of a memory occurred to me about the pretty, pastel balloon business card I'd forgotten all about...