She was sitting in a booth, facing the front door. I walked up to her and smiled. She was still beautiful, maybe even more so. Her hair was not as long as she wore it when she was a young woman; now it was just above her shoulders in a very chic, professional cut. She had a few lines around her pretty eyes, making her look like a woman who has experienced life. She smiled at me and stood to greet me. I came to her and we embraced. Her soft scent perfumed the air around her and I was instantly overcome with a sense of familiarity and comfort; the memories of our friendship flooding my thoughts. We parted and our eyes met. We both had tears.
The waitress came over and we ordered our lunch. While we waited she caught me up on her life. She had gone to University and studied Philosophy and English and had succeeded in getting her Masters degree. She was now teaching. I told her that, along with being a mother of twin 8 year old girls, I was a psychologist and worked mainly with children and teens. She told me she had never married but did live with her partner for 10 years before he left her for a new relationship, only a few months before. She said that although it was a sad time, she realized after he left that it was for the best. They did love and respect each other, but there had been no passion, never had been. She was grateful that he had the courage to move on. I told her that I was married and that my husband and I had been together for 13 years. We had met in University and we married 2 years after we had finished our degrees. He had his Master of Architectural Degree I told her. He traveled around the world; in fact he was currently working in Dubai.
Our meals came and we ate and talked and laughed and reminisced. It was as though no time had passed, that we were able to pick up where we left off, as if our souls had never parted way. Although our conversation had been natural and comfortable, I could not help but wonder if she remembered that night we had spent together when we were teenagers. I had never forgotten it. It was one of the moments in my life that molded me into the woman I became. On many occasions, it was her I thought of us my husband was making love to me. It was her mouth that was kissing down my body; her tongue parting my folds and teasing my clit. It was her I thought of as he brought me to orgasm. I had never been with another woman after Rowan, but I often fantasized about it. I definitely had a desire for the softness of the female body. My husband knew that I fantasized about being with women; in fact it was often part of our bedroom talk. He would whisper all kinds of naughty things about women in my ears during foreplay; things that would heat me up faster than anything else would. He loved that I was turned on by the thought of fucking females. What my husband did not know, was that I had been with a woman; that I had lost my virginity to Rowan. I never told him. It was not that I was being discreet about it; I simply wanted to keep it for myself. It was mine.
Rowan stopped talking for a moment and held my gaze. She had just a slight smile on her pretty face. I knew then that she was thinking of that night. I felt a flush rise up to my face and suddenly felt very warm. She reached across the table and put her hand over mine. She told me that she owed me an apology. She said that she always regretted how she handled things; that she had been young and inexperienced. She had so many mixed emotions after that night and she did not know how to cope with them. She had felt so connected with me, in every way and that making love to me that night really confused her. I told her that I understood. My feelings had confused me too. I felt remorseful that we had grown apart but I never, ever regretted that night, I explained. She smiled at me and her green eyes lit up with joy. She told me that she was glad to hear me say that.
We left the restaurant and stepped out onto the street. After an awkward silence she asked me if I would like to spend more time with her. I told her that nothing would make me happier and asked her to come to my home for coffee. As she had taken a taxi to meet me; we drove home together in my silver Mercedes 500 convertible, our hair blowing untamed in the wind. I felt a growing sense of excitement as I anticipated how the afternoon might unfold.
