And so, it begins...
"A road trip?"
"A road trip!"
The questioner was Marni, my neighbor and friend of a few years who lived directly above me, her loft a mirror image of mine, floor-plan wise.
The answerer was moi, Julie or 'Jules', a twenty-eight year-old, second-year attorney in one of the prestigious law firms of Portland.
It was the beginning of a long-overdue vacation for me and I really didn't want to do it alone. 'It' was a road trip I had been planning and looking forward to for several months, a reward for the ungodly hours of the past few months at the firm.
Marni was an Art Instructor at a local fine-arts school. She was on the last few weeks of a sabbatical she had taken from her duties to work on a privately-funded project for one of the older, 'old-money' couples of Portland's Social Set.
"To where?" Marni questioned, holding her glass for me to top off with the Merlot we had been drinking.
"Don't know yet," My reply obviously not what she was expecting judging by her scrunched-up, confused look, "the plan is simply no-plan, other than to tape a map of the country to a wall and to throw a dart at it."
"That's rather chancy, don't you think? What if your dart lands on Akron or Topeka, for God's sake?"
"Then I would call a fault and issue myself a re-throw," I replied with a smirk.
"Aaah, got it. Sooo, basically, you're going to pepper your wall with dart holes until you hit something you like," Marni correctly surmised.
"How long? She asked further.
"Three weeks, give or take...you in?"
"Only if I can have a throw if I don't like yours," She replied with a smirky smile.
"Done! Now, open up another bottle, fill us up while I tape up the map."
Marni smilingly stood from her seat on my couch, stretching as she did so which pulled her tee shirt tight across her smallish, but firm, breasts.
I noticed. Oh yes, I noticed.
I had not had a relationship, sexual or otherwise, for several months, not since I kicked my ex-fiance out of my apartment and, my life.
He said I was "over-reacting."
I said he should've thought of that possibility when he decided to fuck his secretary in my bed, in my apartment.
Over-reacting? Fucker's lucky I don't share my father's love of firearms.
I threw myself into my career, drawing notice from the senior partners with the billable hours and sucessful lawsuits I had rendered. I was rewarded with a very nice year-end bonus that allowed me to treat myself to a new ride, a BMW 700 Series, with all the bells and whistles.
I didn't miss the sex, at first. But as the weeks, then months rolled by, I began noticing that I was noticing things I hadn't before. I found myself sneaking peeks, as it were, at crotches, men's crotches. Then, I found myself admiring women, noticing their curves, their cleavages, and their asses. I became obsessed with other women's asses.
Strange, to say the least, because before this sexless period of my life, I had never, ever entertained the thought of a romp in the Land of Lesbos. I mean, seriously? I was all about guys and cocks.
No matter, I did nothing beyond masturbation for relief during my self-imposed period of doing without.
Marni was thirty-two, divorced, five-five'ish to my five-ten'ish, one-fifteen or so to my one-thirty'ish. We were both runners and had shared many a mile of huffing and puffing along Portland's jogger-friendly trails.
No boyfriends, or girlfriends, that she spoke of. In fact, for all I knew, she was asexual. Didn't really know her preference, sexually, but I have to admit that she was a star in quite a few of my porno-mind movies when I satisfied myself.
Did it bother me that I entertained Sapphic thoughts when getting myself off? Nope, for me, masturbation is all about the destination, and not so much about how you get there.
Did I ask her on this road trip in hopes of getting into her pants? Highly unlikely since I'd never had sex with another woman but, I don't know.
I do know that I had a 'fleeting thought' of the possibility of sex with her when the idea first popped up in my head. But, I rationialized, by that time in my period of abstinence, I was entertaining mind-fantasies of sexual interludes with almost anyone.
But, in the end, I adopted a "Ke Sera" attitude; I enjoyed Marni's company first and foremost, and if something happened between us? It wouldn't be the worse thing in the world...
"Gulf Shores, Alabama?" Marni announced when she peered at her dart-throw's results.
"Better than Minot, North Dakota (my first)," I chirped in.
"Or, Milford, Nebraska (my second)," Marni opined.
"Okay...Gulf Shores it is," I declared, "On the Gulf, has beaches, near Florida and New Orleans, not a bad choice at all."
"When do we leave Sherlock?" Marni asked, "I have to make a few calls to reschedule some shit."
"Day after tomorrow? Give you enough time?" I replied.
"Can I bring a few 'doobies'?"
Marnie liked her weed.
