Jillian

August

1980

I hated job searching in the summer. Shoulda gotten this done last spring, I kept telling myself. Then I could have wrapped up my final credits in summer school and played in the sun until classes ended, and...

But I didn't. So no shit, there I was, missing class on a Friday to drive all the way across the state on sticky vinyl seats in a '74 Pinto to Ridgeland, guaranteed to be twenty degrees hotter than home. All on the off chance the sales manager would hire me if I could just maintain the right air of cocky confidence after sweating my ass, literally, on a five hour drive.

Thank God for Jillian and Benny. Our best friends all through college, they'd gotten married after Junior year just like Gret and I did. And they were both on the ball enough to get jobs in Ridgeland that June. Exactly where I was headed.

When I called and said I was coming over for an interview, Jillian squealed her excitement and said they'd love to see me. They'd both be working that day, but she said she'd leave the key under the mat so I should shower and change into my interview suit right there, then come over for a bite to eat with them after. Then I could change back into my driving clothes and go home at night when it was cooler.

The interview went OK but it took forever. I had to meet everyone. The manager was impressed that I'd be so put together after a long drive. I let him think I was James Fucking Bond or something. A little too taken with my six-and-a-half foot frame and thick pecs under the suit jacket, he offered me the job. It seemed too easy. I told him I'd think about it. He knew what I meant, that I had to talk to Gret about moving to his piece of shit town. But we played the game. He knew I knew, and vice versa. I knew I'd call Monday and turn him down. So did he, and he'd suddenly have another few thousand a year to offer. It was a dance I'd see a thousand times in the next thirty-five years, from both sides of the recruiting desk.

Right then all I wanted was to get the hell out of that choking stiff suit and tie. Chest out, I thanked the receptionist as I left. I kept on strutting right around the corner to the 7-11. I'd parked the Pinto there, out of sight. It would have ruined the whole Bond thing.

I rounded the last turn to Jillian and Benny's house and there she was. Barefoot in the garden, Jillian wore a loose black spaghetti-string top and a pair of silky green running shorts, her back to me as I cruised to a stop. A pink rose surrendered to her clippers, then a couple more. She had the stereo on indoors, windows thrown open to the breeze, and she swayed to Earth, Wind, and Fire.

I enjoyed the view for a minute, smirking. I never really liked those guys, but Jillian was a regular disco queen. I wondered how her new neighbors dug it.

She didn't notice me until I slammed the car door and stood there at the curb. She spun, dropping her roses and pruners.

"Scotty!"

She shrieked and was on me in three long strides across the lawn. The gymnast's speed was still there, just a few months since her final competition. I was ready for a hug. What I got was a lithe, delicious body full of flying Jillian, arms around my neck, legs around my waist, crotch grinding against mine like it happened every day right there in every neighborhood in Ridgeland whenever some random old friend showed up.

The girl always was a free spirit.

"Holy hell Scotty, you look hot in that suit!" She laughed in my ear, her dishwater Dorothy Hamill haircut pressed to my cheek.

"Yeah, it's like a hundred degrees and I've had it on for- "I put her down and wiped the sweat off my face - "five hours!"

"You sweet boy, that's not what I mean." She stood close, grabbed my shoulders and went back on tiptoes for a kiss. Right up there, full lips and the tip of her tongue.

We liplocked a couple seconds too long. All good friends do that, making out in the front yard, with the neighbors watching, right? Arms around her, I felt her braless steel nipples against me, even through my suit jacket. As she backed away again, she followed my eyes down.

"Oh my goodness!" She covered up with her hands, giggling. "Come on in, Scotty. I cut some roses for the dinner table." A quick pivot and a bend to retrieve the flowers and clippers, and she was at the door staring at me.

"Well come on, what are you waiting for?"

It was my turn to cover up, that's what I was waiting for. Ten hours of sterility and formality had broken into sixty seconds of relief, touching, hugging, kissing, and sweet desire. Totally fucking wrong desire and a growing hardon for my buddy's wife.

"I'll get my extra clothes and be right in."

Jillian and Gret were gym teammates for four years. They were best friends and polar opposites. Gret took everything way too serious, worked harder than anyone on the team, and boy oh boy she was all curves, lovely round boobs, six pack abs, strong wide hips and muscly legs. She was wired for intensity and built for the power events, exploding through her vaults and floor routines.

Jillian, four inches taller, got all the natural talent, all the fluid moves with so much less effort, partied way harder, and her teammates said she had the body of a teenage boy. But her long lines were natural on the beam and the bars. Jillian was hot. Nobody I'd ever met had eyes like hers, so dark and deep and open you could damn near read every joy and tragedy in her life. Yeah, she was pretty straight up and down, but no teenage boy ever stuck me in the chest with his nipples. And that insane, cute little round ass was all woman.

She laughed again and shook it at me as she disappeared into the house.

Bag in hand, I squeaked through the screen door and caught some lemony chicken scent coming from the kitchen. The place was big and bright inside, back door open to catch a whiff of wind from green lawn and woods. Little towns and low housing prices leave young DINKs with pretty good options. Not bad for two newlyweds just out of school.

"Where's Benny?" I dropped my bag and my suit hanger next to the couch. "Damn, I can't wait to get this thing off."

"Um, well, I know this sucks, Scotty, but Benny had to go to Denver. They've been doing this shit to him for a couple months, ever since he started this job. Some guy at the paper got sick, so they told him at 2pm today he had to pack his shit, get on a little piece of tin commuter plane and go cover the story. Reagan's coming. Think about that, he might even be interviewing our next president. But you'll miss him."

"Aw that's pretty cool! Sucks I won't see him, but cool for Benny. Well hell Jillian, then I should just change these clothes real quick and get outta your hair."

"Don't you dare. I've got dinner ready, roses on the table and a bottle of wine." Her fingers played with my lapel. "And leave this on. Makes a girl feel damn special, having dinner with a man all dressed up like this."

Go with the flow, Scotty. That must have been my cock talking to me.

My hand wrapped around hers, holding it over my heart. With the other, I reached to cup her cheek. The darkest brown eyes I'd ever seen were smoldering.

"Jillian, are you flirting with me?"

"Well ah do declare!" It was her best Scarlett O'Hara. "Just trying to be friendly, Sir."

"Well OK then. I like it."

"Now have a seat, I'll pour you a glass, and let's catch up."

It was mundane stuff as we polished off a few drumsticks and a salad. About who moved where to take what job. About a couple of Benny's football teammates, hanging on with a scout team somewhere. About my shot put training partner who was throwing at Worlds that very day.

"Another glass, Scotty?"

"I'd love to, but I gotta drive five hours. Thanks for dinner. After a long day it was just right."

I swear her eyes begged me. Don't miss out on something good.

"Wish you would. But even if you don't, I'm having another anyway. We can talk a little longer, then if you really have to leave..."

Jillian wouldn't let my eyes go as she poured, set the bottle down, wiped a drip from the bottle and touched her finger to her tongue.

"Sure you don't want just another... little... taste? Mmm?" The wet finger tilted my way, pausing at my lips.

"Well, you're the hostess."

"That's right."

"And if you insist."

"I do."

"And you're just being friendly."

"I am."

I took her palm in mine, parted my lips, and pulled her finger into my mouth with the curve of my tongue.

The crisp Pinot Gris was barely there. Jillian sighed, her face coloring pink.

When I'd licked the last of the wine away, I moved her hand back to the table and covered it with mine.

"So, Jillian, what are you doing to earn your keep with Benny getting these big writing gigs? You're running the show down at the oil company, right?"

"Sure, man. I'll be President in a year."

"They'll be stupid if they don't put you in charge. I mean look at you. Smart, honest, fucking drop dead gorgeous, and you take no shit from anybody. And if it comes down to it you can just kick some serious ass."

"Gorgeous? You think I'm pretty, Scotty?"

"Jesus, doesn't everyone?"

"They don't even pay attention to me at work. I'm still in pretty good shape, and I run most days when I come home, but I've got no curves, I mean look at me. And down at the office I just sit there. Reading reports, filing, copying, making sure all this shit's alphachrononumerical or what the fuck."

Jillian was gulping the wine now.

"So I just sit there, and I come home stiff and sore like I've spent eight hours on the balance beam but all I've done is sit there on my ass. And it hurts."

"Hurts like you're sad, Jill? I'm sorry."

"No, dummy, it hurts here. I'm so fucking tight."

She rubbed the back of her neck, down across her shoulders to the top of her chest.

I stood. "Maybe I can help."

"Lord, would you? I'd be mos' grateful, Sir." Scarlett was back. Scarlett was slightly tipsy.

I stepped behind Jillian's chair and caressed her hair out of the way. My thick shot putter fingertips kneaded her neck just where it met the base of her skull. That earned another sigh, and I could feel - and see - her whole body relax.

"Mmmmmmmmmm..."

Through muscle pulls, bruises, and rehab after one minor surgery, I'd spent ample time in the trainer's room to know enough about massage points. I was no pro, but it was working fine on Jillian.

"My god, Scotty, that's nice." I worked down the sides of her neck, taking my time. My thumbs found the base of her trapezius, so tight from days at a desk, and she groaned in mixed pain and pleasure.

"Yeah, oh Jesus, right there. You're making me all tingly."

I bent close to her ear, "Tingly isn't what we're after, Jillian. You just need to relax. Damn, you are a strong girl, but all these muscles are way too wound up."

I worked her traps, from the outside by the points of her shoulders all the way in to her spine, for a good ten minutes. She got less vocal as I went on, just lolling her head left, right, forward, back, letting me work, reduced to peeps of "eee" and "nnn" when I hit the best places.

I slid my fingertips forward from her shoulders, working the top of the pec muscles. With a long exhale, she reached to slip those strings aside, leaving full access to her upper chest.

"God, Scotty, you wanna feel my boobs or something? 'Cause, right now, I'd let you have me any way you want me."

"Might not be right. Benny wouldn't like it."

Not that I hadn't thought about it. Not much filled the front of that black top, except a couple compact mounds and those fabulous nipples. The nipples standing proud again, the only things holding up the featherweight top, as she did nothing else to cover them. But yeah. I'd thought about it.

"Scotty. Look around. Do you see Benny anywhere?"

She was right. Her husband, my good buddy Benny... Was nowhere to be seen.

Jillian turned in the chair, grabbed my tie and pulled us face to face.

"Do I have to spell it out for you? I'm so fucking wet. Scotty, I need you..."

I felt her hot breath on my face, her wine wafting to my nose. And she could have done pull ups on my hardon if she'd just reach for it...

"...to do my back. And, God, my hamstrings kill me every day after eight hours in that damn chair. Let's go out to the living room."

Everything good and right in the world said go ahead and rub her back, and get the hell home.

"I can do that for you, Jillian. But I'm still wearing this damn fancy outfit and I gotta put some shorts on before I choke and sweat to death. I'll meet you out there."

I didn't wait for her to tell me again about her fixation with my suit. I headed for the bathroom, took it off, and stood there at the toilet waiting for the erection to ease off so I could pee.

Relaxed at last in my tee shirt and shorts, I found Jillian in the living room, stretched out on the floor with her face buried on a pillow. She'd shucked her string top. Below the mile of creamy skin on her back, and above those smooth, toned legs that went forever, her little butt rose up in her silky shorts like a mint-covered glazed donut. Round. Tasty.

"Don' worry Scotty, I'm decent." She rose up to show me her skimpy black top, pressed between her palms and her chest. A third glass of wine, half gone already, stood on the coffee table.

Knees astride her head, I leaned to my work. Thumbs followed down, beside her spine. Fingers rolled tense muscles across her back. My strong hands covered her easily, reaching out to work the lats from her armpits to her ribs.

My cock grew again, less confined in my shorts. If Jillian raised her head to look, she'd get an eyeful. As it was, I had to raise my hips up every time I reached to her lower back. I didn't want to smack her on the back of the head with it.

Jillian's breathing calmed, slowed.

"Legs now?" I thought she might actually be asleep.

"Nnn... K."

Yeah. Perfect. She was drifting off. All this shit was about to end, and I could go home to Gret.

I moved to her legs, kneeling along her left side and facing back toward her head. Both hands around her knee, I followed the same pattern I'd done on her back. Thumbs pressing along the middle, working up toward the left cheek. Fingers caressing, then digging in at the tight spots.

Jillian came awake. I could tell by the whimpers coming from her pillow.

My thumbs worked just under her the edge of her shorts, where the rise of that round ass began. I knew, from personal experience, that connection between hamstring and glute can get pretty stiff. And a solid dig with both thumbs just feels amazing.

I had to grip a little tighter with both hands to get that push. And as I did, the top finger on my right brushed Jillian's crotch. Her steaming hot -

"Unnngh!" Jillian let loose, bursting from her dream state. Her hips bucked back at me, seeking more contact and finding none. I'd already panicked and jerked both hands away.

"God! Jillian! I am so sorry! I didn't mean to do that!"

She took a breath and pushed out an exasperated sigh. Her head turned to face me.

"Yeah right. See how pissed off I am? Scotty, I'm gonna give you, like, two hours to knock that shit off." She put her head back on the pillow. "Now do the other leg, will ya?"

Oh boy. I was too deep to turn back.

I lifted a knee to move over to her right side, but she parted her legs so I came down right between her knees.

My hands wrapped around her right knee and started again, working her wiry hamstring, drawn upward to that beckoning curve. Jillian rolled her hips with each kneading stroke, her breathy crescendo telling me not to stop.

With her legs apart, I watched a damp spot form in the tiny shorts, and on my next inhale I got a whiff of her musk. It was heaven.

I wasn't so shy when I got to the silk hem this time, pushing it up, raising the edge of her panties so my thumbs could get at her right cheek. When my left hand grazed her fiery center, my finger slipped under her shorts and snuck inside her panties. I let her work herself on it, humping the floor with my finger nested between her soaking lips.

"Oh fuck, Scotty. Oh fuck, oh fuuuuuuuck."

I pretended to focus on that hamstring connection.

"Long day at the office, ma'am? You just needed a nice massage. Seems like you're enjoying it."

"Oh God... Uhnnn... Put it... Oh fuck... Put it in me!"

I flipped my hand palm down and worked two fingers in.

"That OK?"

"Nnnnnn"

She was biting the pillow.

I stroked twice, bent my fingertips to her g spot, and kept up the in and out as I pressed my thumb to her clit.

"Ahhhhh yeah!" Her whole body went rigid and she quit breathing, fighting it, loving it, prolonging it. I kept my fingers grinding, only stopping when she clamped down so hard they couldn't move anymore.

She slapped her palms on the carpet and her mint-glazed donut butt quivered like it was electrified.

"Ah fuck Scotty. I've never... never... I swear I've never cum like that, oh fuck oh fuck..."

I ignored the iron rod in my shorts, moving out from between her knees. I lifted her hip to roll her on her side, and she just let me prop her up there.

"Maybe your masseur should do some work on the IT band," I suggested, knuckles dug in on her hip joint. It's one of the best relaxation moves in massage. I wanted her to forget what just happened so I could get out of there, go home and fuck my wife silly.

That idea lasted about thirty seconds. Lying on her side, Jillian finally opened her eyes. They went big as saucers at the sight of my old grey cutoff sweat shorts. Not only was my cock stretching them eight inches from my crotch, there was a dark spot of precum the size of a half dollar. And it was within her reach.

"Damn, Scotty. I knew it. Fuck any more massage, I want some of this."

She tossed her little black top aside, fell onto her back, grabbed my cock and pulled me down into the hottest kiss I'd ever had.

I felt a tap on my shoulder.

"Hey man, remember I told you how much she likes her nipples sucked."

I freaked out. "Benny! Oh shit!"

Jillian pulled me back in."Would you stop worrying about him? He's not fucking here. Right now I need you, Scotty!"

Hallucinating... damn. But Benny did tell me that once.

I pushed out of our kiss, moving my lips down her neck to those sensitive, gorgeous nipples. It just set her off again. After only a minute of it, she couldn't take any more.

"Jesus, Scotty. I need you inside me. I gotta cum again. That first one just got me so wound up. Come on!"

She pushed me off, crawled to the couch in front of the window, the front window with the street just twenty feet away in the fading daylight. Her shorts came off and she laid her head on the armrest, naked, one bare foot on the floor.

I was back on my knees on her living room rug, my buddy Benny's rug, like an idiot waiting for instructions with a raging hardon soaked in precum.

Jillian's voice dropped to a desperate whisper.

"Get over here. Get those shorts off."

I tried to be cool, pushing the shorts down part way and waddling to the couch. They gathered around my knees and I tipped forward, my face landing just inches from her dripping pussy.

It was the comic relief we needed. We both giggled like little school kids, guilty little school kids caught thumbtacking the teacher's chair. It was all grins and laughs until I took one of her pussy lips in my mouth and sucked.

"Oh yeah. Oh yeah. Do that, yeah..."

I worked two fingers in again, raising her pitch, sucked in the other lip for another minute, and moved in for the kill as I clamped my lips around her clit. I let her get close, took my head away, leaned over her and brought my fingers to our lips.

"Just returning the favor from earlier. You want to share a little taste?"