Charlotte Sometimes Pt 01

Caveat emptor: If you don't like this kind of stuff, don't read it.

College just wasn't working out for me. So, on the eve of Ronald Reagan's election in 1980, I took a semester off and started working at a bookstore downtown. One semester stretched into two, and I was still discovering how much fun the big city could be - - punk rock gigs in dive bars, crazy bohemian girls all over the Village, rep house runs of foreign and American B-movies.

When I'd given up on college, I'd also given up on a promising collegiate career in swimming. But, I hadn't given up on working out. My friend, Fuzzy, had set up a complete weight room in back of his tenement building on Avenue B. We spent cold, dark evenings and hot, summer days pumping iron to the sound of The Clash and The Dolls.

I was fitter, more relaxed, and happier than I'd ever been.

One bright April morning, I hiked over to work and started shelving the latest art books to arrive at the loading docks. My co-worker, Giselle, gestured toward me from the history shelves.

I ambled over.

"What's up, Giselle?" I asked.

Giselle ducked her head back and forth. "Did that lady get in touch with you?"

I shrugged. "What lady?"

"Some old lady," Giselle said, wiping her nose against her sleeve. "She came in yesterday when you were off. Asked for you by name."

I shrugged again. "Okay. Maybe she works for the IRS or something."

Giselle giggled. "Yeah. If the IRS hires old bags with pearls and high heels."

I got back to shelving. Around one in the afternoon, I took a break for lunch. When I returned to the floor, I started in on the Music section - - adding and sorting books. As I worked my way down the aisle, I noticed an older gal studying the over-sized books. She was maybe in her fifties but pretty well put together, wearing high heels, a short black skirt, and a white turtleneck. Her tight buttoned tunic coat emphasized her monumental bosom.

She glanced over at me and smiled. I smiled back.

Hmm, I thought to myself, kinda looks like an older Catherine Deneuve, the French actress. High cheekbones, big brown eyes, full lips with her blondish hair piled on top of her head. Her face was lined but still attractive.

I returned to my work until a cloud of perfume gusted across my nose. Looking up, Catherine Deneuve's mother stood only a foot or two away from me. She smiled again, shyly.

"Can I help you?" I asked.

"Oh," the woman said in a surprised voice. "I was wondering if you had any Charles Demuth books."

Though Demuth was a favorite painter of mine, this was a rare request. He was hardly known beyond a small circle of aficionados. Color me impressed.

"Yeah," I answered. "I think I saw a couple over here."

I motioned over my back and led the older woman to the Art section and the several Demuth books. I suggested one and pulled it off the shelf.

"Thanks," the woman said. "Oh my, it's quite heavy."

I laughed. "No problem. I'm here to help."

I opened the book and together we paged through the big color plates, chatting about which we liked and why as we hunched together. I'll admit, there was something attractive about this woman - - she was gentle but also lively and even a little assertive. Her rich, sweet perfume flooded my senses. After we'd stood together for fifteen minutes or so, she suddenly stuck her hand out.

"I'm Charlotte," she said, smiling.

"Robert," I replied, cradling the book in one hand and grasping her small soft hand in the other.

"Robert,' she repeated. "Pleased to meet you."

We talked some more. She was a widow who lived on the Upper West Side. She'd worked the perfume counter at Bloomies for a couple of decades. We talked about our favorite parks and about the state of the city - - graffiti, crime, crummy mayors. She was a great conversationalist. I'd never really talked to a woman like this - - cultured, mature, pleasant. Compared to the new wave and punk girls I hung out with, it was a really relaxing, fun experience.

Finally, after about a half hour, she pushed her hand toward me.

"I really should let you get back to work, Robert," Charlotte said, smiling. "It was such a pleasure to meet you."

"The pleasure is mutual," I answered, gently squeezing her hand. "We should do it again."

Charlotte blushed a little and nodded. She spun on her heels and tip-tapped away from me. As soon as she did, Giselle rushed over.

"That was her," Giselle said.

"Who?"

"The lady who asked for you the other day." Giselle tracked Charlotte as she left the store. "What did she want?"

"Dunno," I answered. "Weird."

"Yeah," Giselle said. "Very weird. You better be careful. She could be a serial killer or something."

I laughed. "A serial killer in pearls and heels who collects social security."

Giselle laughed and we got back to work.

------------

Things, however, got even weirder in the following weeks.

Every Tuesday at exactly one in the afternoon, Charlotte showed up in the book store. I'd be shelving or stacking or unloading, and I'd get a whiff of her perfume. I'd turn and there she'd be, smiling at me.

I didn't mind it. In fact, I kind of started looking forward to it. Eventually, I told her it might be easier if we met outside the store for coffee. And so, our weekly date changed to the coffee shop around the corner, where we'd sit for an hour or so catching up, making each other laugh, talking about ourselves.

One Friday, my day off, I found myself in midtown and, remembering that Charlotte worked at Bloomingdales, I thought I'd turn the tables a bit and stop by her place of work. Bloomies wasn't a place I visited often, or at all. As I pushed through the front doors, I felt a brief wave of anxiety and resentment. All these rich people spending their ill-gotten gains to buy things I could never afford. I squared my shoulders and navigated toward the perfume section.

I spotted Charlotte, who was chatting with an ancient, withered old woman. Pretending to browse the men's colognes, I watched her. Her kind smile seemed to warm the older woman and Charlotte would reach out occasionally to tap her on the hand. As she spritzed perfume, she'd lean in to listen to the old gal's mutterings. A couple of minutes of this and the woman departed with a small package.

I walked slowly to the counter. Charlotte was busy putting away boxes and rearranging bottles on the counter.

"Excuse me, miss," I said.

Charlotte looked up with a smile.

"Oh my goodness, Robert!" She gushed.

I smiled back. "Thought I'd return the favor and visit your workplace."

I have to admit, Charlotte looked fantastic. Perfect make-up and dark red lipstick. Her hair flowing down her back in a long braid. She wore a white blouse and black vest, buttoned at the waist, that showed off her big breasts. Her brown eyes practically glowed.

Whoa, I said to myself, recognizing a secret I'd been too nervous to admit. This was one sexy lady. A warmth pulsed through my body. But, I told myself, she's gotta be thirty, thirty-five years older than me. Maybe more. I shook my head. There was no denying what my body was telling me. I wanted her.

Charlotte laughed and extended her hand. I took her fingers in mine and studied her small, delicate hand. Glittering rings on her fingers. Her nails perfectly lacquered in red.

She was elegant, I thought to myself. Probably the most elegant woman I'd ever encountered.

"Time for coffee?" I asked.

Charlotte glanced around and her smile faded.

"Oh, honey," she said. "I can't. I'm the only one on this counter until tonight."

I was disappointed but recovered quickly. "What time tonight?" I asked.

Charlotte raised an eyebrow. "The new girl comes on at five."

I nodded. "Great. We'll have dinner together. I know a place on 45th."

Charlotte blushed and pulled her hand from mine. She dropped her eyes for a minute and raised them to look over my shoulder. I twisted my head to follow her gaze. Another woman, about the same age as Charlotte, was arching her eyebrows at Charlotte and nodding. The other woman made her way briskly from behind the counter to my side.

"Oh lord, Charlotte," the woman said, running her eyes up and down me. "Who's your boyfriend?"

Charlotte blushed even more deeply. "Stop, Martha."

Martha laughed. "If you're not gonna take him, dear, I sure will. What a hunk!"

Now, it was my turn to blush.

Martha raised a hand to squeeze my shoulder.

"Hmmmm," she continued. "There's nothing like the attention of a younger man."

Charlotte rolled her eyes but I could tell she was flattered.

"We make a nice couple," I said, impishly. "Don't we, Martha?"

Martha practically cackled in delight. "Honey," she said. "I think we'd make a great couple. But first I'd have to dump my husband."

Charlotte waved her hand at Martha. "You've got a customer, Martha."

The other woman squeezed my shoulder again and hustled back behind her counter.

I laughed.

"So... dinner?" I asked.

Charlotte returned her eyes to me. She paused and pursed her lips.

"Yes," she answered. "But..."

I leaned forward, grinning.

She hesitated again then lowered her eyes to the counter top.

"Let's have dinner at my place," she murmured. "It will be easier and quieter."

Holy moly, I practically shouted to myself.

"Sure. Sounds good."

Charlotte pulled a pad from her vest and scribbled something.

"Six thirty," she said, passing me a slip of paper.

I nodded and stuffed the paper into my pocket.

"It's a date," I said.

Charlotte smiled and I turned to go.

"Wait," she blurted, pushing her hand toward me.

When I turned back to her, she grabbed my hand and pulled me toward the counter. She leaned toward me and I leaned toward her. Charlotte brushed her lips against my cheek.

"See you at six, handsome" she whispered.

A little stunned, I barely eked out a nod and a grin. As I spun to find the front doors, I saw Martha standing at attention behind her counter. She flashed me a thumbs up and blew me a kiss.

I had plenty of time until dinner, so I headed back downtown to my apartment to shower and change. By five, I was back on the subway and a little before six I was standing in front of Charlotte's building on the Upper West Side. I whistled as I gazed up. It was one of those old pre-war buildings - - stately and built out of stone. Not the kind of place I usually visited.

Charlotte buzzed me in and I rode the elevator to her floor. I rolled my shoulders and knocked on her door. She opened it with a smile and my jaw almost dropped to the floor. Charlotte had changed from her work clothes into a short, silky dress that showed off her thick but shapely legs and her full thighs. The dress stretched taught over her big breasts. She wore a pearl necklace and bracelets jangled on her wrists. She'd kept her bright red lipstick.

I made to shake her hand, but Charlotte took a step toward me and wrapped her arms around my neck, hugging her cheek to mine and pressing her body against me.

"Oh, Robert," she whispered in my ear. "It's so good to see you."

Her warm breath breezed against my ear lobe and I looped my arms around her waist and pulled her closer. She sighed.

"You look incredible," I whispered back.

She sighed again and we stood there for a minute or two clutching each other.

Finally, Charlotte unwound her arms from my neck and pulled me into the apartment.

"Wow," I said, surveying her place. "This is a fantastic apartment."

It was big. We stood in the foyer, the high-ceilinged living room in front of us. A long velvet couch stretched across the room flanked by two armchairs. A pair of table lamps cast the room into warm, yellow light and dark shadows. The furniture was modern and clearly high-end. On the other side of the living room was a dining room backed by tall glass windows.

"Come," she said, pulling me deeper into the apartment. "Let me show you the view."

Charlotte led me to the dining room windows. Below us were a couple of smaller buildings and then the Hudon river - - an inky ribbon with a few boat lights floating on it. To the right, apartment buildings marched uptown. To the left, midtown glowed.

"Wow," I said. "Perfume pays a lot better than books."

Charlotte laughed and slid her arm through mine.

"No," she said. "Marty, my husband, was the one who made the money. I just enjoy it."

Charlotte had told me about Marty. That he was a couple of decades older than her and had owned a wholesale joint in the garment district. He'd only been dead for a year or so.

I nodded. "Thank you, Marty."

Charlotte smiled and unhooked her arm from mine.

"Let me look at you," she said, turning to face me and taking my hands in hers.

She took her time as her eyes traveled up and down my body and lingered on my face. She sighed and her breasts heaved up and down.

"You're such a good looking boy," she said in a quiet voice.

"Man," I corrected. "Not a boy anymore."

Charlotte sighed again. "Yes, man. Once a boy but now a man." She laughed nervously.

Her eyes lost focus for a minute but she quickly snapped back.

"Wine?" She asked brightly.

"Definitely," I replied.

I needed something to relax or, more realistically, to quiet the excitement that was radiating across my shoulders and my stomach. It was like a switch had been flipped when I saw Charlotte at the door. I was horny as hell. My cock twitched and a familiar energy was building in my crotch. As I watched Charlotte's ample ass roll away from me toward the kitchen, I stopped myself from reaching down to adjust my pants.

We stood next to the kitchen counter and drank wine and chatted. The whole time, Charlotte's hands fluttered against my arms and patted my chest and squeezed my wrists. It was pretty clear that she was excited too. Within fifteen minutes, we both knew where this was going, so there was little surprise when I ran my arm around her back and pulled her close to me.

She was breathing heavily.

"Oh," she said, gulping and putting her wine glass on the counter. She rested her palms on my chest.

"I'm going to be honest," I said to her in a low voice. "I've never met a woman as sexy and beautiful as you, Charlotte."

She gulped and her eyes darted away from mine. I leaned my head down but she stopped me with her hands on my chest.

"Oh, Robert," she gasped. "Don't say that. Please."

"It's true," I answered, pressing myself closer to her.

Charlotte pushed harder against my chest.

"I can't," she said in a choked voice. "I just can't."

"You can," I said. "You know you can."

I cupped her jaw in my hand, gently squeezing her soft skin. I held her head in place as I leaned down and planted my lips on hers. Something gurgled in her throat and her hands stopped pushing me. She opened her mouth and my tongue slid against hers.

Suddenly, she wrapped her arms around my neck and she pulled our mouths tighter together. Her tongue lashed against mine and I squeezed her to me, her big tits mashed against my lower chest.

The rest happened in a mad frenzy. I pulled Charlotte's skirt above her hips and raised her onto the kitchen counter, our mouths still locked together. I yanked her panties down over her thighs and pushed them down over her knees. Our tongues still writhing together, I reached down and unzipped my pants, scrabbling to maneuver my hard cock through my fly.

Charlotte pulled her mouth from mine. Panting, she put a hand on each of my cheeks and stared at me. I grinned at her and she plunged her mouth hard against mine. My cock was free and I spread her legs. She scooted to the edge of the counter and I maneuvered my dick to her already-wet pussy lips. Her hands dropped to my ass and pulled me hard against her. My cock squeezed into her and she gasped.

I pumped my hips and we started fucking. At first, our pace was slow but Charlotte's hands on my ass urged me forward and, quickly, I was jackhammering my cock in and out of her warm, tight pussy. She moaned and I raised my hands to her big tits and squeezed. She groaned again and I found her big, stiff nipples beneath the silky fabric of her dress. I pinched and twisted her nipples as we humped each other furiously.

Charlotte pulled her mouth from mine and raised her face to the ceiling, mouth gaping open. Her sharp fingernails dug into my shoulders and she moaned skyward.

"Baby," she grunted, shifting her hands to my hair and clutching my head. "Yes. Baby. Oh, yes."

With a deep, deep groan, she pulled my face to her neck. Her pussy vibrated around my hard cock. Her whole body trembled and her groan turned into a series of short, quick whimpers. My balls tightened and my cock exploded deep inside her. Jerking and twitching, I emptied myself into her quivering pussy. We clutched each other like drowning sailors as our bodies shook together.

I squeezed my eyes shut as waves of pleasure swept across my body, from my toes to my neck to my scalp. I felt Charlotte let go of me and flop backward onto the kitchen counter, desperately trying to catch her breath. My cock emptied itself with a few last jerks. I opened my eyes to find Charlotte heaving beneath me.

As we returned to earth, my cock slid out of her and I rested my elbows on either side of her flushed cheeks. I kissed her gently, quietly undid my belt, and stepped out of my jeans. My damp cock flapped against my thighs. I scooped Charlotte up and turned away from the kitchen.

"Which way to the bedroom?" I asked, still panting.

She smiled and opened her eyes. She raised an arm and pointed across the living room. I carried her limp body through the apartment and down a hallway. Charlotte pointed at a door and I shouldered it open. The room was lit by a single lamp on a bedside table. I laid her gently on the bed and unbuttoned my shirt. She gazed up at me with dreamy eyes.

Naked, I settled on the bed next to her.

"Here," I said. "Let me help you."

I unzipped her dress and pulled it off her shoulders. When I struggled to pull it over her tits, she giggled and sat up, shrugging it over the lacy white bra that restrained her massive bosom. I yanked the dress over her hips and down her stockinged legs. As I did, Charlotte unhooked her bra and two beautiful snowy mountains sprang into the dim light. I hummed in appreciation. Quickly we were both naked except for Charlotte's nylons which were too tricky to remove.

We kissed and I ran my hand up and down her body, cupping her big tits in my hands, rubbing her nipples between my fingers, trailing my hand along her stomach, and finally pushing my middle finger into her pussy. She moaned as I played with her and I pulled my lips from hers and started kissing and sucking her tits. They were incredible - - big, soft, and warm. Her nipples were hard and thick as corks.

As I worshipped her tits, Charlotte's hand crept down across my abs and wrapped itself around my cock. Her fingers squeezed and stroked while I slid another finger into her pussy. Soon, we were stroking each other frentetically, moaning together. I rolled onto her and she guided my cock into her pussy. Now it was my turn to groan as her warm, wet pussy welcomed my fat, rock hard cock.

We pumped and humped up and down on the bed. Charlotte's big tits rolled back and forth and her hands clamped onto my ass, pulling and pushing my hips against her crotch. I grunted and pushed my arms under her knees, raising her hips upward and driving my cock deeper and harder into her. Her ass bounced up and down on my knees and her sighs and gasps shifted into deep guttural grunts. With a muffled shriek, Charlotte flung her arms back over her head and clutched the pillows above her. I thrust my cock deep inside her and climaxed for the second time that night. Grinding against her as I came, Charlotte humped her pussy tight onto my cock as if to milk me for all I was worth.