My Path

Nine months later I found myself doing another internship at Peabody. I had kept exercising and even did intramural sports. I was still a virgin.

I was in the same office, but given a different supervisor which bummed me out. Moira had moved up the ladder. She now had several offices under her. I sought her out still trying to figure out exactly how she saw me.

She was very friendly and because her new office offered privacy she greeted me with a very strong hug instead of a handshake. She pressed my head against her large breasts and said she had been counting the days since she saw my name on the list of interns. I congratulated her on the promotion and told her I had been thinking of her. I didn't know how she would take it, but I decided I needed to say it.

She said she had been thinking of me too. She then asked me, "Are you still innocent?"

Her question caught me off guard because I didn't know how she meant it.

I stuttered, "I think so."

She wasn't smiling and her tone was serious when she asked, "Pet, there's no middle ground. Either you are or you aren't. I won't be mad, but I need to know the truth."

I looked her in the eye and without hesitation because I knew exactly what she meant said, "Moira, I'm still innocent."

She looked relieved, "I'm so glad. It would be awkward and disappointing if you weren't. I have big plans for you, for us."

I started to say something, but she cut me off. She instead told me to write down her address and to come by. She also whispered to me, "Not a word to anyone else."

I assured her I would keep quiet. I knew company policy forbid employees from dating each other.

I showed up at her house that evening. It was a very nice house, the yard beautifully landscaped, the interior designed by a professional. I wore a suit because I figured that's what Peabody men did. I chose well because she was in a dress, wearing heels which made her even taller, and wearing a pearl necklace. Her dress was navy blue, conservative like our employer, her shoes black, the heels not too high, her hose black. Her makeup was minimal. Her earrings were also pearls.

She asked if I knew how to cook. I told her I didn't. She laughed and said I would learn because she really wasn't into cooking. She asked if I was hungry and I told her I was famished. She suggested we go out. She had a place in mind. She said she would drive.

I had been in her car one other time, but this car wasn't the same one. It was even nicer than the other one. I went to the front passenger seat. She stood at the driver's door. I got the hint. I came around, opened the door. She got in. I closed the door, then walked around to my side and got in.

She looked a bit disappointed in me, "You really haven't done much dating have you?"

I apologized and out of habit didn't answer with Moira, but with Ma'am.

Not wanting to blow it I answered, "No ma'am, I haven't. I'm sorry. I promise I'll do better."

She grabbed my hand, "Don't worry. I'm not upset. I know you weren't purposely being rude. This is all new for you. You just need some training."

On the way to the restaurant she held my hand, interlacing her fingers with mine.

"Pet, I have some ground rules. In public, no displays of affection. No one can think our relationship is anything but professional. You will call me Ma'am and I will call you Pat. I will introduce you as one of my interns. You will call me Ms. McGillicutty. Am I making myself clear? I have a lot to lose as do you."

I answered, "Yes ma'am. I don't know if I can do this, but I'm going to try."

She answered, "I'm confident you can, but thank you for being honest."

Dinner was great once we got past the maitre'd. The restaurant was beautiful, the staff attentive. She was obviously a regular. The maitre'd asked if I was her younger brother or a relative. She laughed and said, "No, one of my interns."

He joked, "I thought you might be one of those women robbing the cradle. He's very different from the men I normally see you with."

She replied, "I didn't know you were keeping track of my dates. What kind of man do I date?"

He stuttered, "My apologies. I wasn't trying to be rude or snoopy, just making conversation."

Moira answered, "Apology accepted, but you still haven't answered my question. What kind of man do I date?"

He answered looking me up and down as he answered her, "Tall, like you. More athletic looking. Not so pretty. Older. At least your date, I mean intern, knows how to dress."

I could have crawled under a rock. I had been called youthful, baby faced, boy wonder, even referred to by one professor as a child, but no one had ever referred to me as pretty. My face turned red.

Moira said, "Yes, he does. Thanks to me. He's a diamond in the rough. You should have seen him last summer, unkempt hair, cheap, ill fitted suit. He's a genius."

The maitre'd whistled, "I'm impressed. I've never met a genius before."

I smiled at Moira's description and what I perceived admiration of me.

Moira picked up on the same vibe as I. The maitre'd had sounded both skeptical and sarcastic. She decided he needed to be taught his place.

She ended the conversation, "Now you have. Our table, please."

He said, "Let me get one of the waiters."

Moira said, "I'm afraid that won't do. Our reservations were for seven, not seven o'five. You held us up so you can seat us."

He protested, "But, ma'am."

She said, "Do I need to talk to Mr. Hardaway? He and I are very, very good friends."

The maitre'd gave up, defeated. Mr. Hardaway was the restaurant's owner and the maitre'd knew just how close Mr. Hardaway and Ms. McGillicutty were.

He sat us, apologizing again for causing us to be late. I almost felt sorry for him, but his comment continued to rankle me.

Moira noticed my irritation and reminded me the maitre'd had been taken care of.

I thanked her, but said, "I should have said something."

"Pet, that would have been foolish."

"Moira, I mean Ms. McGillicutty, you're right."

She looked at me, "Of course, I'm right. Now let's look at the wine list."

We had a couple of glasses of wine with our dinner and kept the conversation focused on the office and my internship. There was no handholding, toasts, gazing into each other's eyes. I wanted to kiss her so bad.

After dessert and a cup of coffee, she paid the bill and we headed towards her car. This time I opened the door for her. She got in and said, "You are a quick leaner, Pet."

I loved hearing her call me by my nickname. It just felt so much more intimate.

I didn't answer her with Moira, but with, Ma'am, thank you."

The ride to her house wasn't long. I wondered if she would invite me in. Would we make out? I was nervous and excited at the prospect of kissing her. We arrived at her house. I got out of the car, ran around to her side of the car, and opened the door for. She exited the car. I closed the door behind her.

I was really trying to make a good impression. She didn't invite me in, but yawned saying the evening had been enjoyable, asking me if I felt the same way. I assured her I had.

No hug, no kiss, just a handshake.

I know I looked both confused and disappointed, even rejected.

She noticed it too and assured me, "Pat, I'm an old fashioned woman and a careful one. Don't interpret my distance as a sign I'm not interested because it's just the opposite. Tomorrow night. Seven o'clock. Casual dress. We're staying in. I hope you like board games."

I didn't see Moira at work the next day, but I showed up at her house at seven. Her smile upon seeing me washed away my unease. I had a nice time. She ordered a pizza. We drank a couple of glasses of wine. We played board games. We did a lot of talking. When the evening news came on she yawned and said it was time for me to go home. At the door she extended her hand. We again shook hands. I thought about pursuing a kiss, but her body language told me not to try. I had never dated someone so much taller than me. It was rather intimidating to put a move on her. Unless she lowered her mouth to mine a kiss would be awkward.

The next two weeks were repeats of our first two dates. Some nights we went out and some nights we stayed in. She asked if I was interested in learning to cook and whether I enjoyed yard work and gardening. She was curious to know if I kept my apartment as clean as she kept her house.

We learned a lot about each other in those two weeks, our families, our beliefs, our dreams. I showed up one evening to discover she had hired someone to teach me how to cook. It was enjoyable, but weird having her observe as Chef Paul taught me how to cook a few dishes. Four or five evenings under Chef Paul's wing Moira suggested I cook a meal for her. On the weekends at her house she had me cut the lawn, trim the bushes, edge. She then joined me to work in her garden.

I wondered when the thaw would melt. I wasn't running out of patience because I really did enjoy spending time with her and doing things for her. I just couldn't figure out why she was so standoffish. I had seen her at company picnics displaying more affection with her dates than she had with me. I didn't think she was playing me, but it did cross my mind. I hoped I wasn't part of some sick office humor. I had told no one about Moira and I seeing each other.

At work she interacted with me like she always had, professionally. She was formal with me and I behaved like a subordinate should. I had no problem keeping our professional and personal lives separate. I knew the risks.

Two weeks into our seeing each other as I cooked a meal for her the thaw ended.

We were drinking wine. I was rolling out potato dumplings to make gnocchi. She came up behind me and put her hand on my bum.

She whispered in my ear, "You have a cute tush."

I turned to her and she pressed her mouth to mine. No tongue, just lip to lip, her left hand caressing my face.

She said afterwards, "I've been wanting to do that for a very, very long time."

I told her, "I've been hoping you would for a very, very long time, but I understand you want to take things slow."

I finished cooking. We ate our meal, but this time she would caress one of my hands or rub her feet against mine.

Dinner ended. She announced, "You can clean up the kitchen later, but right now I want to make out with you."

She suggested we move to the couch. I hadn't done that much dating and I had always dated women my height or shorter. Instead of me assuming a more dominant position and taking the lead, she did.

I was against the back of the couch and she was the one who turned her body and assumed a more dominant role.

She looked at me, "Before we start, do you think I'm pretty?"

"Moira, I think you're beautiful. You're so elegant. You have the prettiest eyes."

She pressed her lips to mine. Soft kisses. No tongue. I wondered if she was as inexperienced as me, but I knew that wasn't true. I had seen her more than once in a very heated embrace, open mouthed kiss, with other men. The kisses were nice, but they left me wanting a great deal more.

My sixth sense told me to keep my hands away from anywhere erogenous. My intuition was on target. A half hour of lip to lip kisses, hugs, more wine, and her frank admission, "Pat, i like you a lot," and we went from G to R.

She straddled my waist. Her breasts were pressed against my face. I tilted my head further back. She pressed her mouth to mine, but this time, she opened her mouth and extended her tongue. I had french kissed before, but that kiss was the ultimate french kiss.

We could feel each other's excitement. My penis was painfully hard. She ground her crotch against my erection. It simply felt too good. I climaxed and from the feel of it, knew I had climaxed a lot.

She knew it too, her splayed vulva gliding up and down the length of my manhood, coaxing out all my seed.

I was embarrassed at climaxing so quickly. It illustrated not just our difference in ages, but experiences. She was I thought so worldly.

She stopped and broke from our kiss asked, "All finished?"

I said feeling very much like a deer caught in the headlights of a car, 'Huh huh."

She kissed the bridge of my nose while looking me in the eye, "You can do better than huh huh. How about yes, Ms. McGillicutty I finished climaxing or no, Ms. McGillicutty, I wasn't done."

She damn well knew I was done because she had continued rubbing her sex against mine until I was limp.

I looked up at her, "Yes, Ms. McGillicutty, I finished climaxing. I wasn't expecting you to do that. Thank you. I'm sorry."

"Sorry for what pet? Climaxing so soon? Leaving me all worked up? Making a mess inside your pants?" She yawned before continuing, "It's getting late. We both have to be at work early."

She hustled me out of the house, telling me the dishes would be waiting for me when I returned the next evening.

I got in my car and drove back to my apartment. I was so out of my league with her. I felt bad because she obviously looked disappointed. I then wondered if I was overreacting reminding myself she did say she would see me the next day.

I got home and in bed replayed the evening. I ended up masturbating thinking about our kisses and the wonderful feel of her pussy rubbing against my erection.

I dwelled on the prior evening all day at work which was completely out of character. I felt bad, but couldn't pin down why. She had given me no signs she wanted me to reciprocate. Maybe I was being too much of a gentleman.

I bought roses and a card. My card was an apology. I showed up at her house. She opened the door. She didn't look surprised at the roses or card. She instead pointed me to the kitchen.

"The dishes are in the sink. They've been soaking since yesterday so your job will be easier."

My back was to her. She opened the card. A minute later she came up behind me and whispered into my ear, "Pet, apology accepted."

I started to say something, but she cut me off, "Just focus on the dishes. Afterwards you can grill the steaks. I have potatoes baking and a salad. Why don't I open us a bottle of wine?"

Before sitting down to eat, she stood in front of her chair. I got the hint and pulled her chair out. She sat down. Before I sat down she said, "Pet, the steaks look fabulous. Would you prepare my plate?"

It was I thought a strange request, but I happily obliged.

We began eating.

She asked me, "So tell me about your day."

I told her about my work day.

"Any interesting conversations?"

I caught her up on the latest office gossip. I then told her I had been thinking about her and the prior evening and how wonderful it had been. I don't know why but I made it a point to mention it had been great not just because of our make out session, but because of the time spent together.

"I don't know if I should be offended or pleased. I'm glad you enjoy spending time with me, but I would have thought the most memorable and best feeling moment of last night was when you came in your pants courtesy of me."

"I'm sorry, Moira. You're right. It was the greatest. I just didn't want to give you the impression I'm only interested in you physically."

She smiled, "I want you to be physically and emotionally interested in me. It means we're connecting. Did you masturbate later thinking about me?"

I had never discussed masturbating with anyone, male or female, my entire life.

Her frankness shouldn't have surprised me; after all this was Moira, the woman who told me on day one I needed to look the part if I was going to work at Peabody Limited Liability Corporation.

I answered a bit too softly, "Yes, Moira, I did."

"I didn't hear you, Pet. Don't be shy. Repeat what you just said, but louder."

I thought about shouting out my answer as I felt more like a basic trainee being grilled by his drill instructor, but wisely didn't.

I instead answered like a Peabody man or woman would, with confidence and a voice for the boardroom, not the library.

"Yes ma'am, I did masturbate last night. In fact, I've been masturbating for a year while thinking about you."

We locked eyes. I wasn't trying to be defiant, but honest.

She had a piece of steak on her fork and her steak knife in her other hand. She pointed the knife at me as she replied, "Good answer, Pet. A year. I must have made quite an impression if you've been climaxing to thoughts of me."

She put the piece of steak into her mouth and slowly chewed. She swallowed and after taking a sip from her drink asked, "And what were we doing when you masturbated? You've never even kissed me until last night or touched my breasts, ass, or even seen me naked."

She demanded honesty so I gave it to her holding nothing back.

"I imagined what you looked like without clothes on. I pictured myself being inside you. I fantasized about sucking those perfect breasts of yours. I've never eaten a woman and have only gotten to third base a few times, but I imagined my fingers and mouth making you orgasm."

I was on a roll and not holding back, "Mainly I fantasized about all the men I saw you with last summer. I was so jealous watching you hold their hands, your arm around their waist, their arms around yours, you exchanging kisses with them. I wished I was those men. I imagined you having really, really good sex with them. After all, they were tall, handsome, strong and you are tall, beautiful, and strong, womanly. I pictured them as being very virile, dominating you, thawing you, making you beg for more."

She arched her eyebrows when she answered me, "Wow. You have been thinking about me a lot. You've provided me more detail than I expected, but it's a good thing. I always enjoy a good fantasy and I have a few of my own."

After we ate she told me to join her in the bedroom after I finished cleaning up the kitchen.

"And bring another bottle of wine, a bucket of ice, and an open mind."

I did, along with two glasses she hadn't mentioned.