She Said I Was The One Ch 02

Part 2: Denise's Story

Copyright 2009, All Rights Reserved

Author's note:

I was overwhelmed by all the kind words shared in feedback. Though, I hadn't planned to do it, I offer this story as a result of "popular demand". I do enjoy a good sex story as much as this next guy, but this isn't it. Those looking for sex...or revenge, for that matter...won't likely enjoy this story.

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Hello. My name is Denise as I'm sure you already know. Mark is....was?....my husband. He was my world from the day we met. Let me tell you a little about me and about how this mess came to be.

I guess I should first describe myself to you. I am 5'10" and weigh 148. I have dark blonde hair and green eyes. My breasts are 36B, which I guess is not noteworthy one way or the other, though I'm certainly satisfied with them. My legs seem to get the most attention, particularly from those that are fans of legs.

One of the things that I have taken the time to learn to do is to walk well in heels. I know a lot of ladies think they can walk in heels, but very few look truly comfortable and confident doing so. It truly presents a markedly different picture of oneself, in my opinion, but I digress.

I have always been confident, but not arrogant, and have been fortunate enough to not get tangled up in some of the more shallow and petty issues that are so prevalent, particularly with younger people. I'm smart and reasonably articulate, but also down-to-earth, and approachable. I think most men that have a reasonable level of confidence would feel comfortable approaching me and having a conversation and would enjoy it.

Obviously, being tall and attractive, there are many that would assume I'm "out of their league" and choose not to approach me. On one hand, that doesn't bother me, since I don't seem to have any problem making friends and finding interested and willing men to date. On the other, I wish it were not so because I don't like to think of myself as shallow and it would disappoint me to know that someone else might without giving themselves a chance to know otherwise.

I never really knew my biological dad...or "sperm donor" as my brother, Jeff, and I like to refer to him. We grew up on the outer edges of Tucson. My mom went through a series of husbands, none of which were remotely close to filling the role of a father to Jeff and me.

You may get the wrong impression about my mom. She had a very hard time holding a relationship together, but she was and is my absolute best friend. She is one of the smartest and most articulate ladies I've known. I love having a discussion over a cup of coffee with her. Unfortunately, she has never had a lot of ambition in terms of her career or the standards she sets for herself in men.

I had a normal social life in school. I wasn't one of the "popular crowd" in high school, but probably could have been if that kind of thing interested me. I think I was lucky to have been "mature" enough at that time that I allowed myself to be young and felt that boys and relationships could wait until later. I wasn't Uninterested in them. They just weren't my priority. I had what seemed to be a normal amount of interest from boys, though my friends told me that I had more than my share.

Like many teenage girls, I lost my virginity to a boy who was a year ahead of me in school and had neither the knowledge nor interest in making the experience pleasurable for me. I finally started to understand that boys were particularly interested in me my last year or so of high school. Being pretty tall, I guess I stood out, and maybe the boys started to have a chance to catch up to my height by that time.

Though, I didn't and still don't consider myself "high maintenance", I did take the time to dress nicely as well as wear a flattering hair style and use cosmetics in a tasteful manner. All in all, I guess you'd say that I didn't have the easiest childhood, but there were many that had it worse. I'd rank myself highly in terms of how I looked, intelligence, and self-confidence if I can say so without seeming arrogant.

I attended college at the University of Arizona (who could have seen that one coming), majoring in Spanish and doing reasonably well with grades, though not well enough to graduate with honors. I graduated in the requisite 4 years without any real idea what I wanted to be when I grew up.

Though I dated and had a couple of long term relationships, no guy came along that was a priority for me. Thankfully, I found that sex was, in fact, a pleasurable experience since a couple of my boyfriends were considerate lovers.

You may have noticed I use the term pleasurable rather than comparing it to fireworks or anything of the like. I definitely enjoyed it and wanted it to be part of my dating relationships...and even wanted it in general, but still hadn't met anyone with whom I really felt the "fireworks" type of chemistry.

It was frustrating not to know what I wanted to do for a career. So many others seemed to have everything all neatly planned out, but I just couldn't settle on what would interest me on a daily basis. I took pride in my appearance and was definitely good with people. I felt like I was reasonably smart, but didn't feel like I had any particular talent or interest.

A couple of my girlfriends, Laura and Maggie, and I decided to take a trip to a city which we had never visited before after graduation to celebrate. Maggie wanted to go to San Francisco, Laura wanted to go to Chicago, and I couldn't decide. Both cities had great museums, great food, and of course, great night life. In the end, we decided on San Francisco, since we figured there was more of a chance any or all of us could visit Chicago sometime in the future.

We had a great time planning our trip and researching flights and all the things that go with taking a vacation with friends. Time seemed to pass so slowly those last few weeks of school, but eventually we graduated and the time for our trip arrived!

I hadn't been on a plane in so long that I remembered very little about the experience. I find that interesting now because I had the time of my life...and all before we landed in San Francisco. Maybe I'm like a little kid, but that simple flight was great fun for me and the crew on the aircraft was so nice and so professional that I was inspired.

So much so that now I knew what I wanted to do for a career! We had a wonderful time in San Francisco, but I wasn't able to enjoy it as fully as I would have liked because I was anxious to find out how I could apply for a flight attendant position as soon as I got back.

I know it probably seems silly for those with high powered careers, particularly if you have to travel for your job and look at it as a chore, but different strokes as they say.

I unpacked when we got back and threw my dirty laundry in the general direction of the washing machine, then immediately got online and started to find the web site of each airline that I could think of and started to apply. As it happens, having a college degree, while not making me an "automatic" certainly made me very competitive.

Being fluent in Spanish also gave me an edge. Between those two, my application got the attention of the flight attendant recruiters at three of the airlines which I applied and I had a phone interview with each of them!

The first occurred within a couple of days of applying and the next two were scheduled the following week. I'm sure glad it turned out that way because I was completely unprepared for the first interview. I had confidence in myself and was just convinced that I would do a great job if they just gave me the chance and told the interviewer as much.

It's an interesting thing, though. Can you believe that every other person they interviewed felt the very same way and told him something very similar? I guess my looks wouldn't help me any in a phone interview. Yes....I was now very much aware that I could use my looks to my advantage if I chose to do so. I never made a point to do it, but if that helped me and all other things were reasonably equal, who was I to complain?

Armed with my newly and painfully acquired interview experience as well as the memory of questions I thought the other recruiters were likely to ask, I started doing "homework". I now knew that most of my interview questions were likely to start with, "Tell me about a time when...., or "Give me an example of....," so I was in fairly good shape to prepare and didn't take anything for granted.

After a number of hours practice, I felt like I was in better shape for the next two phone interviews. Apparently, I was right because I did very well on both! I was invited in for in-person interviews with both airlines.

As you have likely concluded, I did get at least one offer. Actually, I got two and chose the one that seemed to allow me to interact with Spanish speaking passengers a little more often, thus giving me the feeling that my years in college were worthwhile and my degree was being used. Everything is seniority-based with airlines, so those of us from the most recent training class got our choice of those bases that others had left for more desirable locations.

We were all excited just to be going to work and even the "undesirable" locations were major cities and great as far as we were concerned. Since I finished near the top of my training class, I got my choice of Denver and Cincinnati and chose Denver.

If you're not familiar with how things work with flight attendants and living arrangements, usually several get together to rent an apartment or house which is referred to as a "crash pad". There are usually postings for openings in crash pads to be found in the crew lounges in the cities where appropriate.

A two bedroom apartment might be shared by 4 flight attendants because there are seldom more than 2 there at a time. Obviously that means you only get ½ the dresser drawers, closest space, etc and have to pull your bedding off if you're going to be gone over night. It also means that there are occasions when you have to sleep on the couch. Overall, though, it works very well and it saves a lot of money.

I was lucky enough to see a posting for a nice house. While there were more roommates, there were still some nice things like a private back yard, more bathrooms, etc that made it a little nicer than an apartment would have been.

Work was as fun as I had hoped it would be! Sure...I WAS working, but for some reason, it was still fun flying. Obviously, I didn't get to see any of the cities to which we flew most of the time, but there were occasions when we had longer layovers and the airline would put us up in areas that allowed us to take advantage of the locale in those situations.

I met a lot of really nice people. Of course, there were certainly plenty of passengers that were difficult for one reason or the other. As you can probably guess, men tried their luck with me quite often. Most of the time, I just rolled my eyes when I was sure they wouldn't see me.

I had to treat it as a joke while in front of them unless they became truly obscene, which was seldom. It never ceases to amaze me why men think women will respond to some of their absurd pick-up lines. Do they really think we're not smarter than that?

There were some men that I dated, and even had one relationship that lasted several months. His name was Simon and had recently moved from Australia to Denver to start a new division for his company there. On paper, he SHOULD have been the one. We had great sex. In fact, to this day, he may be the one man, who has excited me more than any other from a purely physical perspective. He was smart, good looking, treated me well...pretty much the whole package.

I don't know what it was that was missing, but he must have felt it, too. After a few months, we started to drift slowly apart and neither of us seemed to mind or make any effort to stop it. A "girls night out" would become a higher priority for me. A work project that could have been put on the back burner for one evening would tie him up.

Finally, I saw him with another woman on one of our girls' nights out as we sat at our favorite restaurant/bar having the requisite margaritas and discussing the latest gossip about who was sleeping with what pilot now. Two things immediately struck me. Even though we hadn't officially committed to exclusivity with one another, I hadn't been dating other men and was put off that he would date other women.

And...in seeming direct conflict with that mentality, it struck me that I really didn't even care. I know that probably doesn't make sense. It was like I should have been outraged, so I was intellectually, but not emotionally.

I made it a point to go up and say hello and he had the good grace to act mildly embarrassed. I think we both walked away from that exchange with the understanding that we were over. I didn't hear from him again and didn't expect to. Neither did I call him thereafter.

As I have alluded, I was never "looking" for someone since I just assumed it would happen when it happened and I was enjoying my life as an attractive, single lady. When I first saw Mark, I simply melted. I know that sounds trite, but I truly did. I don't know what it was about him to be honest.

You know how there is "just something about" someone? You can't put your finger on it, but they just hit you like a ton of bricks. Well, that's what happened to me when I met Mark. I guess many women would "rank" him as a 6. He was a little more attractive than the average guy, but not to a degree that every woman in the place would turn their head. I say this in an attempt to be objective because my heart immediately started to pound.

I'm sure you read how we actually met in Mark's story and that's pretty much how it happened. I remember being very nervous for the first time ever when I called him. I almost chickened out, but after telling my mom about him and what happened on the phone that evening, she encouraged me to do it.

Her reasoning was if I had the nerve to make that comment to him on the plane, then calling shouldn't be any scarier. She was right as it turns out. We both stumbled a bit here and there as we "felt one another out" on that first phone call, but as we continued to talk, Mark made comments here and there that were just hilarious. I know some people may not have understood his jokes because his sense of humor was pretty dry, but I "got" him and we had a great time talking!

The one issue that was a little bit of a challenge as we developed our relationship was that Mark was concerned that I might eventually "figure out that I could do better". I was really surprised and impressed...if that's an appropriate characterization of it...that he could express that concern and yet, not seem to be in any way insecure.

You already know that I'm tall for a lady and many consider me to be especially attractive while Mark was somewhat on the short side and though incredibly attractive to me, maybe closer to average for some. He was clearly very secure in himself, yet quickly acknowledged that he felt most women preferred men taller than he was. Though I guess that's true, it was never a big deal to me.

Whether because of how I acted around him or simply because of spending enough time together, I guess Mark eventually felt more comfortable that my feelings for him were genuine. I was VERY in love with him. You're probably curious about how the sex was and I'll answer that this way. Though I'd had my share of partners by this time and a few were skilled and attentive lovers, no one....and I mean NO ONE had come close to making me feel the way Mark did.

Oh...his cock wasn't any bigger than average at most. He didn't have any special technique. He, himself would point these kinds of things out to me on occasion. What he DID have...or maybe I should say....WE had together, was an unbelievable mental and emotional connection. Mark commented from time-to-time that 90% of sex occurred in the head and that, if partners had good chemistry and were mentally and emotionally in tune; the remaining 10% couldn't help but be fantastic.

That makes sense, but I'm not sure I'd have bought it unless I had experienced making love with him. I know it sounds cliché, but that's exactly what it was...making love. As I'm thinking about it, I'm suddenly struck by that thing that was always there with Mark, but I couldn't put my finger on until now. It was the look in his eyes when he was making love with me, and especially when he came inside of me.

The eye contact communicated with me at a level I just can't explain. Interesting how I enjoyed it all those years and just now can put my finger on that one specific special part of our experience together. Don't misunderstand...it was ALL special, but that one "ingredient" may what be brought it all together for me.

Since I know you're wondering, we enjoyed a wide range of sexual activities together. We experimented quite a bit, but settled on mostly pretty "vanilla" kinds of activities as those we both enjoyed most. I can't think of anything I would NOT want to do with and for Mark. Certainly, there was nothing that was of any interest to him that I wouldn't do and he was very pro-active about making sure that we explored anything I might want to try as well.

For example, I thought I'd enjoy role playing, so we experimented with that a little bit. It turned out to be ok, but definitely nothing I enjoyed any more than our other activities. Mark loved to see me in heels and thigh highs. He said he loved my sexy legs and couldn't get enough of me showing them off for him, which I was very glad to do.

Mark finally felt comfortable enough that he was "the one" for me after almost 2 years of dating, that he asked me to marry him. Of course, I immediately said yes! Other men had never really been especially important to me and more or less ceased to exist all together once I met Mark.

He lived in the Chicago suburbs and, of course, we moved there since, I could commute to Denver for work. Being a flight attendant certainly has its advantages. I was gone over night between 1 and 4 nights a week, and we missed one another terribly on those nights, especially after we got married. He didn't make enough money for me to quit work, however, and I couldn't think of anything I'd rather do.

Flight attendants make very little money, of course, but it was enough to contribute sufficiently to the household expenses and we certainly enjoyed being able to travel together as a result of my job.

All in all, we had a fantastic life. We had a nice little home. We both felt like we eventually wanted kids, but neither had a great deal of urgency about it. Of course, we had disagreements on occasion and were both guilty of taking the other for granted once in a while, but I never felt genuinely unsatisfied and neither did he as far as I know.

One of the things that was very special for us was drinking a latte together at Starbucks. It seemed like that was "our" special time when we did that. If we had something we needed to discuss, we'd go to Starbucks and find that corner space with the two armchairs side by side and an end table between. You know the spot I'm talking about. Mark would prop his feet up on the stool and we'd work through whatever we needed to. It was like Starbucks gave us clarity.

Yes...I continued to draw attention from other men, and frankly, occasionally other women, but would politely let them know that I'm sure they noticed that I was married. And further that the 60s stereotype of the stewardess didn't really apply anymore, and then to cover all my bases, that I was VERY happy with my man.

I really can't tell you when things started changing...if you can call it that. I suppose every committed couple that stay together long enough eventually get "used" to one another, don't they? It's not fair and in NO way accurate to say I got bored with Mark or with my relationship. I don't think it's even fair to say that I started to take him for granted. I think the best way to say it is that I felt comfortable....too comfortable. The reality is that I only know it now because of my ad nauseam self-analysis that occurred too late.