Alluring

I've never considered myself particularly good looking. I certainly don't have DD boobs, a big round ass, ballerina legs, or hair lustrous enough for a shampoo commercial, and unlike Helen of Troy's my face wouldn't launch a thousand ships. Despite that I've had much more than my share of male attention over the years; maybe it's because I have an open and friendly face and am always nice to everyone. Regardless of the reason after I had a male call me "alluring," or some synonym thereof, about the fiftieth time I accepted that there was something about me that clicked with guys. That never went to my head, and I continued to be friendly and nice to everyone that I came into contact with, even some people who probably didn't observe it.

By the way my maiden name was Lizbeth Wharton, and at the start of the main part of my story my recently adopted married name was Lizbeth Tipton.

I got married when I was twenty three to Gary Tipton, a guy I met during my first year of law school when he was a graduate student in business school. Like many guys Gary thought that I was alluring, but never could tell me why. He is pleasant, almost never exhibits a bad temper even though he played hockey in college which is a rough sport, is nice looking, seemingly honest, and smart, and did very well in business school. He was more solicitous in pursuing me than others before him had been, and that may be why I fell in love with him.

At least, I thught that I fell in love with him.

I never had that flushed, preoccupied, intense feeling that some of my girlfriends did (or at least said they did) about their beaus, but I just chalked that up to my more serene personality.

Gary and I planned a ten day honeymoon to Hawaii. It was great the first seven days, lying around on the beach, going to dance clubs (we both loved to dance), drinking foo-foo drinks with umbrellas in them, and having leisurely sex.

The eighth day, we were in a "local" (i. e. non-touristy) part of Honolulu near a somewhat run down park. I don't even remember why we were there -- Gary was the one who suggested it despite the fact that I was apprehensive about it. While I was sitting on a park bench Gary went to get us some snow cones since it was a hot day. He had been gone only about a minute when I saw a couple of tough looking guys staring at me. I almost went after Gary, but decided that I was just being paranoid. I began to believe that my paranoia was justified when they started approaching me once Gary was out of sight.

I didn't see a third guy coming from the opposite direction of the first two until he grabbed me. Suddenly all three of them were dragging me toward a car with an open door; about the only thing they said was "Don't resist bitch or you'll get hurt," and at least one of them slapped me when I screamed. I was unsuccessfully trying to stop them from getting me into the back seat of the car when I heard a groan and a "crack," and one guy let go of me. Suddenly things got very violent and I felt my head get smacked into the car, and I collapsed on the ground in pain and bordering on delirium.

One of my eyes quickly swelled up, and I wasn't thinking straight, but as far as I could tell some big blond guy was fighting with two of the thugs while a third was motionless on the ground. One of the thugs ended up landing on me -- obviously out cold -- and I instinctively partially pushed him off of me just in time to see the big blond guy snap the neck of the third guy, who went completely limp as he slumped to the ground.

The big blond guy literally threw the thug that was lying on me off, then in a gentle voice asked "Are you OK?"

I guess my response was garbled because he got a concerned look on his face, then picked me up like I weighed nothing, and carried me to what turned out to be his car. He gently laid me in the front passenger's seat and buckled me in. He wet some sort of cloth with a bottle of water in his car and gently wiped my brow above my swollen eye and somehow came up with a bandage -- I guess from a first aid kit, although I didn't see one -- and put it over an apparent cut above my left eye.

He disappeared for a short time, plunked my purse on my lap, and said "I'm getting you to a hospital. I saw him playing with his phone, obviously getting directions to the nearest hospital, and then we were moving.

During the ride I phased in and out of consciousness. When I was lucid, I remember staring at his face and thinking "This is the best looking guy I've ever seen in my life," and I admired his broad shoulders and big biceps. He asked me lots of questions, obviously in an attempt to keep me lucid since I'd been told in High School health class that if someone has a head injury to try to keep them awake. About the only questions he asked that I remember were did my rings mean that I was married, where my husband was, and what he looked like? I think that I gave correct responses.

I could tell when he pulled up to a hospital emergency room. As he came around to get me out his car he said "I'd appreciate it if you didn't tell anyone that I killed two of the three guys who attacked you, and that you do tell them that you don't remember anything about me."

I'm sure that I slurred an "OK," and as he picked me up in his strong arms I buried my face -- fortunately the good eye side -- into his chest and clung on as tightly as I could.

There was lots of commotion in the Emergency Room, I noticed a staff member taking my purse, the big blond guy gently laying me on a gurney, and me reaching out my hand to him. "Thank you, I don't even know your name," I said as I grabbed his hand in a moment of lucidity.

"My name's not important," he smiled -- a smile that lit up the drab Emergency Room hallway light a million candlepower halogen light, "just call me 'Jude;' and it was my honor to help someone as alluring as you are."

"There's that word again," I thought to myself as I seemed to slip into unconsciousness as I felt the gurney move.

It ended up that I had a significant concussion as well as a swollen left eye and a cut above it that required a few stitches. Gary apparently arrived -- although I was in and out of consciousness so I was never sure -- about three hours after I did. His cellphone number was in the emergency contacts in my purse and the hospital called him.

When I first noticed that Gary was in my hospital room two other guys were with him. They identified themselves as Honolulu detectives and were in plain clothes. They asked me some questions. About all I was able to tell them was that three guys attacked me and hurt me, and that some big blond guy who told me to call him "Jude" recused me, but that I didn't know more than that. I described the three attackers as best I could -- which wasn't very good -- but I heard one of the detectives say to the other "Obviously the two dead guys and the hospitalized one we found by that open car door." After I heard that I begged off on further questioning, heard Gary tell them that if I remembered anything else that he'd call them, and then I drifted off into sleep, or unconsciousness, I don't know which.

I do remember when I was in whatever state of delirium that I was in that I had vivid dreams -- so vivid that when I snapped out if it I thought for a few seconds that they were real -- of the big blond handsome guy fucking me in every position and venue imaginable as I spasmed in ecstasy. His face and big shoulders and biceps were burned into my brain with brilliance I had never before experienced.

Because of my concussion Gary and I had to extend a day before the doctors would allow me to fly back to the mainland, and even then I could only with medication that made me drowsy. Gary and I talked about the incident. He told me that when he arrived back with the snow cones that I was gone and he saw the car with the three bodies next to it and called 911. The way that he said things, and some of the details, left me puzzled, as did his failure to look me in the eye for more than a second when talking to me about it, but I just chalked that up to my condition.

Before I checked out of the hospital -- while Gary was pulling our rental car around -- I saw two of the nurses who I thought that I recognized were there when I checked in. It turns out they were there and glad to see me improved. I questioned them about "Jude." Apparently the single one of the nurses tried her best to hit on him, but he politely turned her down. I pumped them for as much information as I could, but they didn't really know any more than I did; however they did confirm "That dude is a hunk and a half."

The married nurse chuckled as she whispered in my ear "I'd let him fuck my brains out and then plead temporary wet pussy syndrome to my husband."

**************

A month after I got back home I was almost completely normal, and was handling law school classes just as well as before "the incident," as I euphemistically called it. I did get lots of sympathy and concern from family and friends. Only to my best girlfriend did I describe what "Jude" looked like and the vivid realistic dreams that I had about him. She was a psychology major in college and identified it as "hero-worship complex." I didn't tell anyone that I still thought about him every day.

One remnant related to "the incident" was that it left a small scar about my left eyebrow. It was easily covered with makeup and completely unnoticeable at a distance or if I had sunglasses on. Whenever I noticed it in the mirror, however, instead of having a flashback to the bad part of the incident I thought of "Jude."

Gary got his Masters' degree, I got my law degree, and we both got good jobs, me with an intellectual property law firm, and he with a start-up Internet company. After roughly five years of marriage we were doing well in many ways, but on occasion I had a funny feeling of desolation. At that point I would call our marriage "comfortable," because we never fought, had many shared interests and a nice lifestyle, and a good collection of mutual friends. I did ultimately admit to myself, however, that I was not sexually satisfied and my normally once a fortnight vivid dream of "Jude" fucking my brains out both disturbed me greatly and made me wistful.

****************

I went with Frank Fitzsimmons, a partner in my law firm, to visit a new client in a city about 200 miles away. The new client was a relatively large engineering company called Kinetic Force LLC that had a couple of inventions that they wanted patented and questions about trademarks and copyrights.

The female receptionist led us into a spacious ornate conference room -- it was obvious that Kinetic Force was a very successful company -- and we were soon joined by Jim, the president of the company, and Kate, their in-house paralegal. After a few pleasantries Jim said "Our chief engineer, Dirk VanVleet, will be joining us shortly. Despite our success we're neophytes when it comes to intellectual property so while we're waiting why don't you give us a rundown of general information about trademarks and copyrights."

The partner in my firm deferred to me so in a controlled businesslike manner I started spouting out all sorts of general information, and answering questions from Kate and Jim as they came up. About fifteen minutes into my spiel the door opened and the guy I assume was Dirk walked in.

My spiel stopped.

My heart stopped.

My brain stopped functioning properly.

I think that I heard Jim say, "Oh Lizbeth and Frank, this is Dirk VanVleet, our chief engineer."

It was fucking "Jude!"

There was no mistake about it. His appearance had been burned into my brain. When I heard his voice all but a smidgen of doubt was removed. The look of recognition on his face when he shook my hand removed that smidgen, and when I touched his hand the electric shock that went from my brain, down my spinal cord, and to my pussy, was one of the most intense feelings of my life, so much so that I'm sure that I shivered.

Dirk/Jude recovered more quickly than I did and actually carried on a conversation with Frank for a few minutes while I looked on awestruck, hopefully without my mouth slobbering. When Frank asked me a technical question I finally snapped out of it and for the next twenty minutes or so carried on a halfway intelligent conversation. Then to both my delight and horror Jim said "Lizbeth, why don't you go with Dirk to the prototype floor and then to his office to discuss the mechanical device we're interested in patenting while Kate will take Frank to the lab to look at the electrical implements we're developing.

Dirk and I didn't really talk as we walked out to view the prototype he had designed. When we got there he explained it to me. It was relatively simple -- though ingenious -- and given my mechanical engineering degree I had no trouble comprehending it and took a few notes and photos and asked some questions. When we got done he said "I've got engineering drawings for it in my office."

As I followed him to his office we again spoke very little. When we got there and I closed the door behind me I started shaking. "You...you...you're...Jude," I stammered.

There was silence for a good minute as we stared at each other, me still shaking. "I've thought about you a lot over the last five years," he softly said. "You're the most alluring woman I've ever seen."

When he said that I was overcome by an emotion I had never experienced before. It likely was a combination of lust, passion, hunger, and -- insanity. I walked up to him pulled his head down to mine, and kissed him with a ferocity that both surprised and overwhelmed me. He responded in kind.

We ran each other's' hands over our bodies. With my hand I felt his hard phallus tenting his pants and pushed my crotch into contact with it, eliciting groans from each of us. In more trance than reality I felt his strong hands turn me around and push me so that my hands were on his desk. He lifted up my skirt, pulled down my panties, and with one hand started playing with my clit and pussy while at the same time kissing my neck, and with the other hand moving under my blouse and cupping my bra-covered left boob.

After I had one rip-roaring orgasm which caused me to shove my fist into my mouth so that I wouldn't scream his hands temporarily detached, I felt motion behind me, and soon a phallus was purposefully entering my vagina. I came again when it bottomed out, and after it had stroked in-an-out no more than a dozen times I came once more as Dirk grunted and spurts of seminal fluid filled my vagina at the velocity of a fire hose.

I temporarily lost consciousness. I came to as Dirk was turning me toward him while simultaneously lifting my panties back into place. After planting a few quick kisses on various parts of my neck and face he mumbled "I'm really sorry Lizbeth..."

I didn't let him finish when I replied "I'm not; I've been dreaming about that for five years, only to find that the reality is even better than the fantasy."

"We have to pull ourselves together before we see anyone else," he said, "but all I want to do is to make love to you."

He didn't say "Fuck you;" he said "Make love to you." I would have been happy with either.

Over the next fifteen minutes we regained our composure the best that we were going to and worked out a plan where Frank would go back that night and I had to stay overnight -- obviously at Dirk's house. I found out that his wife had died two years ago from a brain aneurism. He sheepishly asked "Are you concerned about your husband."

I think that my reply shocked him. "Right now I'm incapable of thinking about anything aside from you screwing my brains out. I've never cheated before but I can't ignore what I feel for you, and have for the last five years."

I didn't lie to Gary when I called him to tell him that I was staying over that night. I told him "I am discussing a number of things with the inventor of a device that I came here to patent," all absolutely true. I think that Gary sensed something was wrong, but he didn't inquire further, and there was no expression of endearment when I signed off.

****************

The night at Dirk's house was the best of my life. There seemed to be some higher plane that we connected on; I felt more comfortable with him after actually being in contact with him -- considering our first meeting and then the one at Kinetic Force -- less than ten hours than I did with anyone else in my life except for my parents and siblings. Our all night bacchanal was beyond my wildest dreams. I was in a constant state of euphoria for the better part of twelve hours and I had feelings more intense than any I had felt for Gary. About halfway through the night I realized that while I had always been comfortable with Gary I didn't love him -- because I didn't know what love was until my intercourse with Dirk.

After the night I spent with Dirk my marriage was over. While it wasn't a difficult decision to begin with, what made it easier was what Dirk told me about Gary at the time of my attempted abduction. Dirk said that he observed Gary coming around the corner of a building with two snow cones while the three guys were attacking me -- and then dropping them and running away. At first I couldn't believe it although Dirk had no reason to lie -- I was clearly already his if he wanted me. Then I thought back upon Gary's odd discussions with me about the attempted abduction and realized that he was feeling guilt when he talked to me about it which is why he couldn't look me in the eye, why his story often changed in minor details when he was relating it to others, and why some of the things that he said never rang true.

When I got back home after my night at Dirk's house I first asked Gary about the particulars of "the incident." From his discomfort in talking about it -- including downright dismissal after a couple of minutes -- I knew that Dirk was telling the truth.

I didn't tell Gary who I was leaving him for -- I never mentioned "Jude" or anything about Hawaii after my initial questions about it, but two days after I got back -- and after several hours long phone calls with Dirk -- I sat Gary down after we both got home from work. I didn't use the cliché "We have to talk," especially because there wasn't going to be any discussion which "we have to talk" would imply. I came right out with it.

"Gary, in the last few days I realized for the first time that I've never been in love with you the way that a woman should be with her husband. I would apologize for that except that I only realized what love is in the last few days. I'm filing for divorce before the end of the week because I am in love with someone for the first time," was my blunt expression.

Gary tried to talk me out of it; he got frustrated by my unwillingness to share details. He got angry when I told him that the night that I stayed over was the first time that I had ever cheated on him but that I didn't regret it in the slightest. He called me names that at one time in my life would have really hurt, but at the present didn't mean shit to me. I went and stayed in a hotel that very night.

By the end of the week I had removed the only things that I wanted from our house and either shipped them to Dirk's house or put them in my car; had filed for divorce and had Gary served; had told all family members that I was divorcing Gary because I had fallen in love with someone else; and had made an arrangement with my law firm that I could work remotely -- coming into the office only once a month -- for the next six months at which point they could either fire me or I would resign if the arrangement was not working out and that once we parted ways I would not solicit any of their clients -- except for Kinetic Force, which would be a client of mine.