The Seduction of Ay

This story is about a seduction, not about the sex that came after the seduction. If you're hoping for naked lesbians and screaming orgasms, you might wish to look elsewhere. Don't get me wrong, there were certainly some good orgasms the night this happened but I'm saving that part of the story for another time.

I was once asked to recount one of my experiences of seducing, or being seduced by, a woman. It was easy to write about. I’ve been there several times and had several options to choose from. This moment in my life was the simplest, most straightforward “seduction” experience I can remember. It also gives me a way of talking about my feelings about women.

A few years ago, I took business trip to another city where an old friend of ours lived. I’ll call her “Kay”. We knew her in college and had stayed good friends ever since. I hadn’t seen her in person in a couple of years but we had talked on the phone and shared lots of emails. Over the years, we’ve tried to visit whenever we could but we live far enough apart to make it practical.

Having a client who would pay the travel expenses made things a lot easier. The trip was in the fall, so hubby couldn’t go with me. Teachers can’t just take a week off when they feel like it.

I arranged the trip so that the client days were Monday through Wednesday. At the end of Wednesday, I could drive to Kay’s, about an hour or so, and then spend Thursday and Friday with her. If we wanted to, I could stay through Sunday, although that would mean a full week away from my husband and that’s not too easy on either of us.

Sunday afternoon I packed my clothes, including the obligatory cotton pajamas, sexy nightgown and satin pajamas. I always pack all three. The PJs are useful in case there is a hotel fire. The nightgown is there because I want to be ready for a mad passionate one-night stand with a guy I meet in the hotel bar. It hasn’t ever happened, but I’m ready. Besides, sometimes it’s fun to wear a babydoll in a hotel room and have an affair with myself.

At Kay’s, I figured I would be using the pajamas. I sleep naked at home and usually in a hotel room, but I need something decent when visiting a friend.

The night before my trip, hubby asked if I was going to finally put the moves on Kay. I smiled and told him, “yes”, spinning a tale of sordid lust that went well beyond anything I would ever do with anyone. The reality was that I had no hope of that. Kay had always been a man’s woman.

In fact, the past six months were the first time since high school that Kay had been without a guy in her life. Roger, her most recent lover, had been with her for four years. We had all thought he was “the one”, including both Roger and Kay, until they started falling out a year or so before my trip.

He left her. They had had to sell their house, so most of the physical ties with her previous relationship were severed.

It’s interesting that I can give you Roger’s real name but not Kay’s. Of course, Kay is an old friend. Roger was just a guy, especially after he dumped her.

Kay recovered, but she didn’t find a new man right away. That was unusual, but so was her love for Roger. They hadn’t been married but they had thought they would be, eventually. This one would take a while to heal. It had been six months and Kay was barely at the point of maybe getting back into the dating thing.

I flew out, did my consulting gig for three days and, at the end of Wednesday, drove off to Kay’s house. I didn’t need to change clothes. I was dressed in business casual, which in that instance meant a jacket a nice pullover, slacks and sensible shoes. My client was a distributor. Customers never visit their site and they're always casual.

So, my attire was comfortable, professional and feminine, but not overboard in any direction. I was dressed appropriately for anything from the office to shopping to a quiet dinner with a friend.

I don’t know why my clothes matter, but they do. What I’m wearing often puts me in a mood. This mood was transitional. Changing clothes would have encouraged me to shed my semi-formal business facade and let loose with my casual, relaxed, stay-up-till-dawn-with-a-girlfriend mood. As it was, I was more put together than I needed to be as I set out for her house.

It was a relaxing drive, giving me time to unwind. Somewhere along the way, I realized I was overdressed and ditched the jacket in the back seat. Eventually, I put business behind me and, before I knew it, I was there.

It was easy to find Kay’s house, tucked away in a quiet subdivision. It was kind of small but she lived alone, so small worked. She met me at the front doorstep and was dressed more casually than I was, but she had been home for half an hour already. She lives only five minutes from her office.

I set down my overnight bag and we immediately hugged. As I said, we hadn’t seen each other more than two years. Still, the hug lasted longer than I'd expected. Kay needed it. She needed a link to her roots and needed the comfort of an old friend. I understood and rubbed her back as I hugged her.

She groaned in pleasure and said, “You feel wonderful!”

Eventually, we went inside. Kay took my overnight bag and jacket while I went back to the car to get the other suitcase. Inside, I set the suitcase down and we had a repeat performance of the greeting hug. This time she cried a little. She seemed truly relieved that I was there.

We sat in the living room, Kay in an easy chair and me on the couch. We talked for maybe an hour but we didn’t need to catch up on much of anything. As I said, we’d been in contact the whole time so there wasn’t much news we didn’t already know. Mostly, we talked about her frustrations of living alone and not being ready to get back into the dating scene.

She was lonely and her loneliness seemed to be accentuated by the surroundings. The house was quiet. Part of that was the neighborhood and part of it was the absence of a man. I could hear the wall clock ticking from the other side of the room. She had to have been going stir-crazy.

I hadn’t realized how much she needed a friend to talk to in person. We had all night and the next two days, so I didn’t rush her.

Of course, we were hungry, having each spent a day at work. She had visited the grocery store the day before and picked up lots of stuff to make salads for dinner. It was typical women food: lots of vegetables to make you feel like you're eating right and lots of cheese, ham, turkey, eggs, and other stuff to make it taste good.

We joined forces in the kitchen getting out lettuce, onions, carrots, celery, radishes, bell peppers and half a dozen other things. She had two cutting boards and lots of knives, but not much kitchen space.

The kitchen wasn’t really designed for two people. Actually, it wasn’t designed well at all but that’s another matter. We ended up squeezing past each other, reaching across, brushing against each other and, in general, having a lot of physical contact. Being old friends, we weren’t uncomfortable.

In fact, at one point, she leaned on the counter and flexed her shoulders. I almost instinctively stepped behind her to give her a shoulder massage. I had given her back rubs on many occasions and it was natural.

As I touched her, it clicked in my head. Maybe hubby was right. Maybe it would be fun to get physical - not like he meant it but cuddly. Maybe Kay would like to have the touch of a friend holding her. Maybe she would want more.

At first, as I touched her shoulders, she relaxed with a sigh and a laugh. “Oh, it’s been a long time since I had one of your shoulder massages.”

I continued for a minute or two. We didn’t have anything cooking and there was no rush. She was enjoying it so I stepped around to her side and tapped the counter. Bending forward, she leaned over on her elbows and arms, giving me more of a surface to work with, kind of like an ironing board. I then gave her a full backrub, using the palms of my hands to made gentle, longs strokes.

Sensuality built up slowly between us. It isn’t automatic. I give backrubs to men and women all the time and it doesn’t become a sexual trigger for me unless something else is in the mix.

In this case, there

were

other things in the mix. We're old friends, we were alone, I had been away from hubby for three days, we had been bumping into each other, we’d been talking about guys and her lack of being with one for a while, hubby had planted the thought in my mind, and … on a more basic level … she’s my type: about my height, not as heavy but still soft with medium length golden blond hair and average boobs.

Most of all, as far as physical attributes go, she’s normal, neither a beauty queen nor homely. She’s cute but not threateningly cute. That matters. Sometimes it's intimidating when a woman is a lot more attractive than I think I am.

Relaxation set in and some hidden stress seemed to be dissipating. “It’s really been a while, hasn’t it?” I asked.

Looking over at me, “Yeah, I miss just being touched… I didn’t realize how lonely it was to be single when you’re not in college anymore. Besides, the last few months when we were together - I didn’t get much closeness then either.”

Her breathing was the only sound in the room as I stroked the back of her neck and shoulders. After another minute or so, she was clearly getting uncomfortable being on her feet. She stood up.

We went back to making dinner. Rather than being formal at the table, we ended up taking the mixing bowl and two salad bowls into the living room, along with a bottle of wine. We sat next to each other on the couch. She opened up more about her breakup and what it was like for her. She needed a shoulder to lean on.

My part was easy. I listened a lot and eventually put my arm around her, sort of stroking her back casually. She soaked it up like a dry sponge, arching her back and pressing into me. She put her arm around me and squeezed, touching me, wanting to keep her hands on me.

It was pretty clear that she wanted more. Her touch wasn’t invasive or sexual but it had a feeling of intimacy. It also seemed like she was afraid to make the first move. Unconsciously, so was I. The moment started to stagnate.

Women do that sometimes, especially women who are used to being with men. We each wait for the other and neither realizes that we’re both being deferential.

I recognized the feeling and realized that Kay wouldn’t. She had never been there before and wasn’t used to meeting halfway. I decided to break the ice. “Why don’t you lie down?” I said as I stood up.

She looked at me, apparently trying to make sure she wasn’t misunderstanding where this was leading and then stretched out on the couch. I sat on the floor by her side and started to give her a another real backrub, not the therapeutic muscle-relaxing kind but the sensual kind; the kind where the soft touch of a woman’s hand carries love and affection; the kind that arouses and stimulates.

I used my fingertips, tracing the lines of her features; communicating silently with her; telling her that she wasn’t alone in the world. She was loved.

At first, my hands stayed within the boundaries of her back, no venturing off to the sides or neck or waist. She stretched and relaxed more. I let my fingertips travel to the collar of her blouse, tracing the edge of her hairline and caressing her neck. That crossed the line. It was now abundantly clear that the sensuality was no accident.

She turned her face to look directly at mine as I sat next to her chest. “You’ve done this before...” she said. It wasn’t a question.

I smiled and said, “yes” as I gently returned my hand to her back. I traced the edges of her bra through the fabric.

She relaxed even more, “I’ve known – well, suspected – for a long time but never really wanted to ask. It didn’t much matter until now.”

“So how long have you known?” I asked.

She blushed and closed her eyes. She didn’t want to tell me, but she did, “Probably since the first time you touched me.” She paused for a moment, thinking. Then, “It isn’t about sex is it?”

“No… friendship, caring, fun, closeness,” I said, “but, for me, it’s not like getting fucked by a guy.”

She laughed and blushed again, briefly turning her face to the couch but then looking back to me. “I love it when you do that… You’re always this respectable, put-together woman but every once in a while, you… say something…”

“Raunchy?”

“Yeah, like you’re trying to embarrass the shit out of me.”

I raised an eyebrow.

“I knew it,” she said.

I wondered to myself if my clothes had had some kind of subtle effect on her. Did my softness combined with my “put together” look give her a feeling of security? Did I look strong but sensual? I don’t really know.

My hand slid down to her lower back, right at the point where it aches. I massaged a little, but then lightened up to a soft touch. This special place is always sensual, no matter how it's touched. She closed her eyes and tensed a little. I stayed there and didn’t venture further. She needed to get used to the sensuality of being touched by a woman before I moved on.

I was still in no hurry. We had all night and the next day and I didn’t really care if it didn’t go very far. I just wanted to enjoy being intimate with her.

“I’ve thought about doing this every once in a while,” she said. “I always thought it would be fun.”

“So I’m your first?” I asked, already knowing the answer.

“Oh yeah,” she said more emphatically than I’d expected. She looked nervous and looked like she was going to cry. “I don’t think I’d be comfortable with anyone else.” A tear rolled down her cheek. I was surprised. “Do you mind if I just… lay here?”

I smiled and transferred my hand to caress her face for a moment. “Just enjoy it, Kay, I don’t need anything.” I ran my hand up and down her back putting a little more pressure into it and turning sideways a little more. The ice was broken. Her barriers were down.

After a few times of long strokes from neck to waist, I kept my hand going and softly ran it over her bottom and down her thigh.

She tensed a little again and moaned.

“You OK?” I asked.

“Um hmm.” She said, a little horse. I brought my hand back to her bottom again and focused on it for a while. It was soft. To me, that’s what defines a woman, even more so than breasts: a soft, round bottom. I squeezed, rubbed, scritched and touched, expanding a little at a time into the more sensitive areas.

I kept my eyes on her face. She bit her lower lip and started to breathe deeply. I made a kissing sound with my lips. That drew her eyes to me. We traded smiles.

“It’s alright, Kay, it’s just you and me.”

She moved her legs apart just a little. I took my cue and ran my hand down to her thigh. I slid over on the floor so I could use both hands and massaged her upper thighs, paying attention to the inner areas. She opened up more and I ventured higher. I let my fingers go closer to her center but not close enough to leave the legs. I learned a long time ago not to touch a woman there until her clothes are off.

Almost on cue, she turned onto her side, facing me. I slid up toward her head. She looked at me, clearly trying to decide if she wanted me to kiss her. I put my arm on her side and softly slid it upward. Her breathing got rough in anticipation and I kept going, lightly touching the side of her breast.

It’s fun to watch someone go over a little edge like that. It wasn’t an orgasm or anything, more like a reaching a new level on the mountain. I made it firm so it wouldn’t tickle.

The seams of her bra were apparent. It’s another difference between men and women. You never quite know what you’re going to find under a woman’s blouse. It adds to the intimacy. There’s more to uncover, more “personality” to undressing a woman than undressing a man.

We hadn’t kissed yet and I wasn’t sure if we were going to. I slid my hand down her side and switched to long strokes from breast to hip. It let her cool down for a moment. She opened her eyes.

I told her, “I wasn’t stopping, just taking a little breather.”

She blushed again and said, “I was pretty easy to seduce, wasn’t I?”

Putting my arm around her reassured her. “You sent some pretty clear signals.” I said it without laughing or being silly. “It’s OK. You don’t have to pretend to be reluctant.” She needed to know that we didn’t have to play games. It was another moment of transition.

“What about Bill?” she asked. “Is this another one of those things you’re going to share with him?”

I smiled. She was making it easy but I still had to do most of the work. That was fine. “He’s OK with it… and he’ll get a full report when I get home.” She closed her eyes tight, sort of wincing.

“I knew that, but…” She took my hand and held it. “It’s kind of like being with both of you at the same time.”

I kissed her hand, not pushing, not withdrawing, but letting her decide. “There’s always a part of him with me. He’s part of who I am.”

We played with each other’s fingers, interlacing them in different patterns. After a while, she sat up. I stayed where I was. “Whatever you want,” I said as I brushed her hand with my lips. She had already decided but the kiss gave her some energy. She stood and helped me up.

We were face to face and she was nervous as Hell. The kissing thing was a real issue for her, almost as if it was a point of no return. She put her hand at my side at the small of my back and pulled me to her. We hugged cheek to cheek, still not kissing. I made it easier for her. I reached my lips down and kissed the nape of her neck.

She just about collapsed into my arms. I held her to me to give her support. We were just the right size where the boobs were getting in the way. She turned a little but the bras were like bumpers. We needed to get out of them. We couldn’t feel enough through them to make it good and we couldn’t get as close as we wanted with them on.

We backed up enough to look at each other really close. Her face was right there and it would have been really easy, but I didn't want to make that particular move for her.

She pulled back after a moment and swallowed. “Nightgown? Pajamas?”

I smiled broadly. “Jammies… Cotton jammies… Nice and soft.”

Her eyes lit up. “There’s a powder-room over by the guest room. Did you bring anything?”

I winked at her. “About ten minutes?”

She took a long breath and said. “My bedroom’s that way. If you get there first, maybe light a candle or two.” She started to pull away then came back. She brought her lips up to mine but I had to bridge the last little gap. I kissed her delicately. It was enough. She pulled back and paused for a moment, admiring my hair, then headed toward her bedroom.

I watched her go, smiling at her back and her round jiggly bottom. It isn’t very often that I get to be the strong one. Of course, that’s because most of the time I’m with my husband. With a woman, I can lead, follow or just share. That particular day, I took the lead.