I have always been known as outgoing. A woman who enjoyed meeting different people, so it shouldn't come as a surprise to know that that's what I ended up doing for a career. Although I had a variety of jobs when I was younger, I excelled at my position at our local Chamber Of Commerce. I was a doer and an organizer, and my outgoing personality made me the go to for people who needed help or assistance.
After working there for two years, I married my long term boyfriend and looked ahead to many years of marital bliss.
I was blessed with good genes. At twenty-four years of age, I was a healthy young woman with brown eyes and blonde hair. Five foot, two inches tall, nice hips and a 34B bust line.
My job needed me to dress appropriately, but that left things fairly wide open. I could do that, but still look a bit sexy; in a girl next door kinda way. You know, wholesome.
So, as you might expect, I was a target for men. At a distance, there were cat-calls and whistles, which although somewhat frowned upon, I secretly enjoyed. It's nice to be appreciated, and the construction workers on the building site down the street, never failed. They'd call out and I'd swing my hips and wave; it was harmless.
Then there were the variety of businessmen, owners and workers alike, who would often drop a nice comment about my appearance as I met them throughout my daily routine. Some were a bit more forward, risque, if you will, who seemed to be looking for more than I would offer, whether they were married or not. But if nothing else, they were persistent. Them, I had to watch and make sure I wasn't alone with them. I wasn't a prude, but I didn't want them to think they could get away with anything.
One older guy put his hand on my back as we were walking down the hall one day. It seemed innocent enough; like the way older men would guide a woman through a crowded room. When his hand slipped lower as we turned the corner, my alarm bells went off. I almost expected his next move by the way he was talking; all gentle and concerned about me.
Then he squeezed my ass! I mean, his hand clutched my right ass cheek! I turned quickly and slapped his face. HARD! And with a voice loud enough to be heard through the entire building, I said, 'Don't you ever touch me that way again! Get away from me!'
At first he looked angry. I assume he thought he'd get away with it. But when I raised my voice in alarm, he looked terrified. Like a three year old with his hand in the cookie jar; he slunk away with his tail between his legs, and word soon got around that I wouldn't put up with that sort of thing. The men knew where I stood. The women appreciated it too. I had set a standard, that shouldn't have needed to be set, but it was the eighties and attitudes toward women were slow to change.
There was however, one man who I could only describe as outstanding. He was a gentleman, through and through. Polite, genial, helpful and courteous. He always seemed to be the guy who'd hang around at the end of an event to help. While most executive members would wander off later for drinks in groups, he be there; finding left over agendas and other stray items and anything else he could find out of place. That's how we met, and that's when I started to get to know him better.
As time went on, I realized what a great guy he was. Always helpful, but not looking for recognition. He was twenty-eight, stood about five foot six, with brown hair and deep blue eyes. He had broad shoulders that tapered down to a slim waist, and a smile that could rip a girl's heart out. But, he seemed incredibly, almost painfully, shy.
There were some single girls in the office that were interested in him, but they didn't take the time to get past his shyness.
One night after a long event, I was just finishing things up when I noticed him again, doing what he always did. Helping; and in this case, helping me. Although it was late, I had a undeniable craving for a coffee and danish.
Meeting him at the door, I said,
'Well Neil, here you are again. I don't think you realize how helpful you are, do you?'
'Just helped a bit. Many hands, as they say.'
'I'm dying for a danish, care to join me?'
'Um, I ah, ah, no. I should get going.'
'But it's dark out. You wouldn't make me go alone, would you?
I'd feel much safer if you were with me.'
That was his trigger. I figured he'd help me, if he saw it that way.
'Okay Debbie. If you'd like me to.'
'Of course I would. Any woman in her right mind would love a man like you by her side, especially at night. So come on, I'm buying!'
And so it began.
One on one, late at night in a coffee shop, seemed relaxing for him. He actually opened up a bit, and I discovered the real man inside. Once relaxed and comfortable with me, he talked and talked, like I'd never seen before. I wondered how this guy could be a manager of a manufacturing firm. Then I found out they were mostly men. He moved here at the company's request to deal with some kinks in the processing.
He told me he'd dated before, but they were girls he'd known all his life. He was even engaged once, but she left him for another guy. Now, he was in a big town, miles away from where he grew up and he was overwhelmed.
At least, that's what I thought. Foolishly, I misread him. After that initial meeting I did some serious rethinking. He always blended in at the Chamber office. He was even gregarious at times! He knew everybody's names, always said hi, and he beamed self-confidence. He was good looking, too. What was I missing?
Then I remembered the girls in the office. They said he was shy. I guessed they were waiting for him to ask them out. But, a one on one interaction would only work by accident. Like the night I coerced him into going with me for coffee. Once alone with something to do as a distraction, like coffee, or lunch, he could relax. I didn't know if even he knew that about himself.
Once he got to know me, we'd go for lunch together. We didn't plan it at first, but soon we started to, for no other reason than we liked each others company. Sometimes, others would join us. There were times when my husband would. But he and I were the core of the group. There were also times when the weather was nice we'd have lunch down by the river. We both enjoyed that private time to talk about things that were bothering us, without anyone else listening. It was also when we first started to flirt, and although I didn't take it seriously at the time, it made we wonder.
I couldn't speak for him, but I was becoming closer to him. Others would call it, familiar. I admired him. He was attractive, and once past his sometimes awkward manner, he was very easy to talk with. I wasn't sure if he felt toward me in the same way, but there were times during a pause in conversation, I'd swear I saw a lustful gaze in his eyes; which literally made me tingle.
That's why, sometimes when alone at night, I'd let my imagination go crazy and think of him with me, somewhere with no one else around. There were times, when my husband was fucking me, my mind would drift away in a fantasy, where it was Neil between my legs. Those times, I'd explode with a climax more intense and vocal than most. My husband would say,
'Whoever he is, thank him for me!'
It was his little joke and he often said that when I came.
Months later, Neil was notified that his specialized talents at troubleshooting was rewarded with a promotion. As well, the local plant was going to expand, bringing more jobs to our city. He would become General Manager at the plant. with the added responsibility of troubleshooting at other plants as needed.
It was great news, and the Chamber had an event to mark the occasion, with him accepting a recognition award on behalf of the company. It was a Friday night, and Monday he was expected at a plant in Manitoba.
That night, after everyone had left, I noticed he'd left the framed award behind. I expected to see him as usual, helping out at the end, but he wasn't there. I tucked the award under my arm and walked out to my car. Alone.
I opened the door and set the award on the passenger seat. I closed my door, buckled up, and started the car and stared ahead into the dark night.
I don't know why, but I cried. I cried like a baby. I held my head down and sobbed; tears running down my cheeks and dripping on my blouse. My body was shaking with uncontrollable sorrow as I continued, pausing to hit the steering wheel and then finally grabbing it and telling myself to get a grip. "Stop it you fool! What's the matter with you?!"
Getting control back, I started driving home. Grumbling and muttering to myself. I was upset about him. I wanted to see him that night. He was leaving Monday. He might be gone for a year. I was going to miss him. So much!
Getting home to an empty house. Hubby was gone, too. Fishing for a week with my brothers. I saw the answering machine flashing. Six messages. Wait! Six messages!? Oh my God! What's wrong? Six messages isn't normal.
The first three messages were from my husband and brothers, telling me about their catch; obviously proud, and drunk as skunks.
The next three were from him. He too, had been drinking but not too much. The first message was for me to call him. Probably about his freakin' award. The next message was him apologizing for leaving without seeing me. The next message was a hangup.
Great, I thought. I went to the bathroom and washed the smeared makeup off my face. "Thank god I didn't stop somewhere!" I thought to myself. Then I poured a glass of wine, sat down and turned the TV on. I wasn't really watching anything; I was just feeling sorry for myself.
The phone rang. "Fuck it", I thought, let the machine get it. Machine picked up; it was him! I grabbed the phone quickly and said hello. I didn't want him to hang up.
'Oh, hi! You are home, I called before and--'
