My closest girlfriend — the only person besides myself who knew some of the surreptitious details — asked me what possible reason I had in seeing a married man.
"You're playing with fire, girl," said Stephanie, a woman I met in high school and whose friendship I treasure years later. "It can only lead to trouble! Trouble, with a Capital T."
Steph didn't know all the details of my relationship with K. Linford Little. Heck, she didn't even know about my clandestine relationship with my former boss until after I had broken up with the man. It was in the weeks following the breakup where I revealed to the woman how I had been seeing my former boss for several years, how I fell in love with him, and how I broke things off when I finally came to the realization that my objective and his weren't in tandem.
I had wanted something long term, while he was using me for a fling, and that was that.
Stephanie was understanding and supportive at the time. But, months later, when I resumed my relationship with Mr. Little, she was anything but. She emphatically told me that being with a married man who had no desire for anything other than "secretive companionship" was a prelude to disaster.
I, on the other hand, looked at it in a different way. Unlike the old days when I really thought I'd one day become Mrs. Little number two, the new me and the new relationship with the man was completely different. We were, well, play toys for each other, getting together for friendship, companionship and, yes, sex. With no strings attached.
Mr. Little remained married to wife number one and only, I dated several guys before hooking up with and eventually moving in with a great guy, and from time to time my former boss and I would secretively get together for some secluded rendevous.
It's not easy to explain my need to see Mr. Little or his need to see me. Sure, our brief time together normally ended in a sexual situation, but that's not the only reason for our serendipity. The sex was great, satisfying and wonderful, but the time together was too. We liked very much our time together. For me, I went home with my head held high and with great memories after each meeting.
Well, at least most of the time. Sometimes, though, I sensed my good friend Stephanie might have been a little bit more than correct in her assessment of my walking the tightrope of danger and trouble my having an affair with a married man. Especially given some of the settings for our meetings.
As mentioned in prior stories, Mr. Little and I agreed early in our relationship that his office was not the appropriate place for us to, uh, frolic. That is where it all began, of course, back in the days when I worked for the man years my senior. But we quickly realized that the danger of being caught in the act in his office was something that would not be career enhancing to either of us. So we took our show on the road, so to speak, meeting in mall parking lots, no-tell motels, parks, recreation centers. Of course we found many ways to mess around in his car, getting into all kinds of compromising positions, acting like horny teenagers. I think the car and sex go together, always have, as just the naughtiness of being in a semi-public location with the threat of being caught sends good shivers up my spine and excites my love buds.
I've chronicled a number of these activities and locations, but what happened Saturday was an outright doozy of a situation. It's one that still gives me chills and, of course, brings Stephanie to mind, lecturing me on being stupid.
At 9 a.m. my cell phone rang, and Mr. Little asked if I could talk. "Hi sweetie, can you talk?"
I was on my way to a hair appointment, and hearing his voice made me smile. It had been a week since we had been together, and while we had talked a couple times I longed for a little more. Soon I realized I could have it, as his wife had taken the kids to a friends for the day and he would be able to slip away. Could I?
"Of course, honey...when...where?"
We agreed to meet at a train station parking lot near a local park. It was one of our usual meeting places, and we would move from there and take one car to the park, allowing us to keep our two vehicles away from each other as not to draw the suspicion of people who knew me since it was dangerously close to my house while being a decent distance away from his.
Mr. Little arrived first, and I slid to a stop in the space next to his apparently minutes behind his arrival. Entering his car, we embraced and quickly began making out like long-separated lovers. No pleasantries this day, just kissy face, hands feeling and heavy breathing. When we finally came up for air we moved apart a bit an talked about what had been going on in our respective lives — nothing too new nor different, but interesting conversation. All the while Mr. Little stroked my thigh, not in a sexual way but more in a pleasant, warm way.
Normally after a bit of conversation we'd drive over to the park, a secluded spot, or our favorite walking path. This day Mr. Little had no interest in moving, and we continued our conversation interspersed with a few kisses and an occasional hug.
The still of the morning, complete with its birds chirping broken up when in the distance I heard the sound of an approaching train. I couldn't tell if it was a freight train or a passenger train, but it didn't matter to Mr. Little. He had this thing about trains.
You might remember my story about us embracing on a bike path not far from where we were parked this Saturday. That's the time when I felt a breeze on my backside while kissing the man. A passenger train was chugging past before I realized the little rascal had lifted my skirt, bearing my behind to startled (I suspected) passengers on the left side of the train. On another occasion Mr. Little had me go down on him along that same path when a train went by...but at least on that occasion we really weren't in plain view. We might have been caught by spying eyes, but it was unlikely, and we quickly moved to safer surroundings once the train had past.
Now, you must understand that I am not an exhibitionist by rule. Yes, we've had our little sexual escapades in semi-public locations, but always with an eye toward safety. And while we had been observed on a couple occasions by the spying eyes of accidental voyeurs, we did make an attempt to stay in the background and not openly get caught doing the nasty.
Mr. Little asked me to go down on him in a hurry before the train came past. It didn't take time for me to deliberate, it actually sounded fun. Heck, nobody would probably see me in his lap anyway and the thought of giving a passenger a chance quick thrill was too much to decline. I looked around, calculated that nobody was in our general vicinity and that the nearest passing cars would be more than 50 yards away. I guessed this little escapade would only last a couple minutes before we moved to a less visible location, and besides, if a car turned in or if by chance someone walked or rode their bike into the parking lot my observant boss would alert me before we were caught.
