(Thanks to Frontma for the editing. If a mistake was made it was done by me in transition)
(*In passion we see with our hearts not with our eyes*)
My name is Julian Winters and for most of my life I've been an egotistical jerk. I've had reason to be; I have dark good looks that speak of Spanish or maybe Italian descent, with thick black hair and a strong physique that comes with regular physical exercise. I don't have a twelve inch pole vault in my pants but I'm well-endowed (and did I mention egotistical?).
I've always thought of myself as an alpha male kind of guy until two months ago when my girlfriend of four years, Melody Ryan, left screaming at me in the midst of a nasty fight. I, of course, thought she'd be back in a day or two when she blew off some steam, but slowly word filtered back to me through a mutual friend that she was done with me and that was that.
At first I thought she was PMSing, and then I assumed she was cheating on me, and finally I accepted the fact that she was and had always been a closet lesbian so I arranged a confrontation to ring the truth out of her. When the time came She didn't run away or blow up or beg forgiveness;. She sat me down and tore my life apart. She loves me --; she just could no longer live with me. She kissed me, wished me all the best, and walked out of my life again.
I buried myself in a few one- night stands but all I ended up thinking at the end of the night was that I was twenty-eight years old and I was going to be doing the same thing when I was forty- eight if I didn't finds some center to my life. I had to learn how to give a crap for another person. Aand I knew that wasn't going to be easy.
(First Encounter)
Cut two months forward and I'm at a friend and co-worker Sandy Ingles' wedding. He and his wife have been on and off again friends since high school ten years earlier and I had fun telling Sandy he was tossing his freedom away. Somehow this got to the bride and she was less than friendly to me at the reception.
Most of the guests were co-workers of Sandy and his bride with a good sprinkling of family thrown in. I was involved with plenty of the action and was in general having a good time. I got a few looks from some girls that were definite 'maybes' but nothing I was exploring. In a way, I was feeling bored and alone.
Then the Bride's father introduced an old family tradition called the Ghost's Dance. First of all the men are blindfolded on one side of the hall and when the matriarch speaks, the women move across and to take the man they wants to dance with on to the floor and you have your dance. It sounds a bit awkward but it turned out to be a bit fun.
At the conclusion of the dance you are put back where you were found and in ten seconds you take off the blindfold so you don't know who you danced with --. As I said,; fun. Now it was the guy's turn. The girls blindfolded themselves and the guys began scoping out the girl they would dance with. When the patriarch called out several guys raced toward the favorite girl they would normally never dance with but I hung back.
Out of the corner of my eye I spotted a familiar form, that of my boss Roxanne Ferrier. Roxanne isn't bad to look at, -- she's a bit short --, but her manner is totally grating. She's abrasive, condescending, and often degrading. By the looks of things she'd already worked her magic on the gathering. Only peer pressure had made Sandy invite her in the first place.
I also realized that no one was angling toward her either to be her dance partner and somewhere in my deep, dark heart I felt I understood what it must be like to be sitting there in the dark and being forced to wait alone on the sidelines for the music to end to take off your blindfold. I found my feet leading me in her direction. Roxanne jumped when I put a hand on her shoulder.
"Sorry," I whispered in her ear, "I had to muscle several guys aside to get here first." It was a total lie but I was feeling magnanimous and figured 'what the hell.'
The music began and we took off. I found it really handy to have such a light woman to lead when she has no idea where she's going. I was able to steer us through the ordeal without too many crushed toes.
When we finished I led Roxanne back to where she started and she was laughing, babbling on, and generally having a good time. I could tell I had been right about her having been afraid of being left alone. She was nervous as hell.
"Come with me," I instructed her once we made the edge of the crowd.
She moved to take off the blindfold.
"Don't do that," I whispered, "or I'll have to go." She hesitated then puts her hands at her hips and lets me steer her outside. We ended up on the balcony overlooking the river with the beautiful view of the city at night. I pressed myself behind her and rested my hands on her shoulders.
"What do you think of the view?" I softly asked her, slightly bending my head so she could feel my breath in her ear.
"I don't know; I'm blindfolded," she responded snappishly.
"No; you are now, but I've seen you come out here several times tonight and you've looked out over the city. Now tell me what you see." I was guessing about her coming out but somehow it fit.
"The rippling of the water and how the lights from all the buildings play off of it," she recalled. The lights of the skyscrapers rising up to those blinking red lights that wards off the planes, and the lights of the planes flying so high up above. I love how the river flows into the city so in the night you can't tell where one ends and the other begins."
"You lied to me," I said softly.
"No, I can't see," she protested.
"But you told me you couldn't see the view," I countered, keeping my voice low in order to not be recognized.
"I ... -- no -- ... yes," she admitted.
"What should I do to you for lying to me?" I questioned. Right then that was sort of a fun thing to say.
"I don't know," she gulped.
"Give me your necklace," I told her.
"But it is expensive," she whined. I didn't say anything until she finally took it off and placed it in a hand I held over her chest. I took the chain and lowered it into the top of her strapless dark blue dress, slowly edging it into her left breast cup. Roxanne's breathe became more labored but she didn't stop me.
"Leave it there the rest of the night," I instructed her.
"But it is rubbing against my -- " she stopped herself from finishing telling me the word "'nipple"'.
"That's why it is called punishment," I answered. Roxanne nodded her acceptance. Now I decide to press things a little farther.
"Are you attractive, Roxanne?" I started.
"Not really," she confessed.
"You are lying to me again," I growled.
"No -- wait. ... I don't know what you mean. I don't know what to say," she babbled.
I took Roxanne's hand in each of my own and brought them gracefully up to her face. I rubbed then along her cheekbones.
"What are these?"
"They're my cheekbones," she murmured.
"No. , feel along the high, fine lines;, how delicate and smooth; feel how your cheeks flow down to your jawline, slender and precise, leading up to the small, defined point of your chin," I instructed her as I led her hands along. "Are these the features of a plain woman?"
"No," she whispered. I took her hands down her neck to her shoulders.
"You have small shoulders," I commented and Roxanne nodded.
"Are you a small woman?"
"Yes," she answered.
"Good girl," I rewarded her. I moved her hands in an arch over her chest to her hips. "Do you have perfectly tailored womanly hips for a lady of your proportions?" I thought so; Roxanne was barely five feet tall and maybe one hundred pounds but kept herself in good shape for an older woman. If her breasts were a bit smaller than I liked I could blame it on her elfin build.
"Yes," she whispered. I moved up to her waist which was definitely thinner than her hips.
"How is your waist not perfect;, your stomach not flat and shapely?" I hounded her.
"I -- no, ... you are right," she sighed. "I lied."
