Gene and Ay Together Again

This is the beginning of our story.

I turned the corner around the potato chip display across from the meat counter in the supermarket and nearly crashed my cart into a young woman turning out of the next aisle away from me. In fact, I did clip her heel. It was my fault. I wasn't watching where I was going, but was staring at the t-bone display wondering whether I should grab one to grill on Saturday. I pulled up short and she grabbed her foot, and started to hobble away on one foot while leaning on her cart with a sound of what could have been a string of epithets released at the asshole behind her. She didn't even look around.

"Oh, jeez, I'm sorry," I called after her, but she was already around the next corner out of site. I was too embarrassed to try to run after her and she was clearly not interested in hearing any more apologies.

I finished filling my shopping list at the dairy aisle and headed to the check-out counter. Lane 10 looked like it had the potential to move the fastest based on the relative fullness of the carts lined up and the fewest kids hanging around their mothers. But, I am never good at that and sometimes wonder if I shouldn't take the contrary approach and go to the longest line, because it always seems to be the faster moving line compared to the one I had picked. So, I fall into line and then notice that my earlier victim is the woman directly in front of me in the line – I could tell because she was still feeling her heel with a grimace.

I stepped from behind my cart to her side and said, "I'm not sure you heard me back there, but I really am sorry for running into you. Is your foot okay?"

After an uncomfortably long blank stare right into my eyes, she said, "No, I didn't hear you, and no, my foot is not okay."

"I really am sorry that I wasn't watching where I was going. Is there anything I can do?"

Her blank stare slowly turned into a quizzical look with arched eyebrows and then, "Gene?"

Now it was my turn to turn quizzical and to stare back blankly wondering how this woman would know my name. And, then it hit me. "Kay?"

"Wow, it has been a long time."

"It sure has. Do you live here?"

"I just moved here a couple of months ago. How long have you lived here?"

"Two years."

By then, the line had cleared in front of Kay and I heard an "ahem" from behind me and I saw that the check-out clerk looked annoyed. I motioned to Kay and she hurried over to empty her cart on the counter. It was then that I actually had a chance to look at Kay. The old memories flooded back in a torrent. It was the same gorgeous Kay, the light brown hair and the body; slim waist, tight legs, and breasts just a little fuller than what I remembered from the last time I saw her. I had a lovely few minutes watching her concentrate on removing all of the items from her cart, especially when she bent over to remove the last items and her butt was raised in display in her tight little shorts. It was as if she had forgotten that I was there until she stood facing the clerk to swipe her credit card and then looked back at me smiled. My heart melted and my cock twitched at that old familiar smile.

Kay loaded her bags into the cart and it was my turn to unload, but it was done a little clumsily as I nervously hurried to finish, hoping that she wouldn't get away. But, when I looked up, she was standing there watching me, and still smiling.

I hadn't seen Kay for ten years. We had grown up together as part of a foster family. Well, we had lived in the same house for several years. I was there from when I was 6 until I left to go to college when I was 18. She lived there from when she was 9 until she was 17. She was two years younger than I was and I left a year before she did. Although I went back to see our "parents" a couple of times after I left for college, she was never there and soon left anyway. I had asked about her, but she had sort of disappeared from the radar, as often happens in foster families when one of the kids leave under less than ideal circumstances, which happened in her case, but I never really learned what the circumstances were.

Sam and Mary, the foster parents, were good people and provided a stable and loving home. I had lost my parents in an automobile accident and had no other relatives that would take me in. I don't remember much of my real parents. But, going into foster care can be a real bitch – getting thrown into a home with a bunch of strangers, particularly with other kids who are kind of fucked up because of their past experiences and why they ended up there in the first place. But, I eventually found a way to carve out my niche in the household and didn't really notice much when Kay joined our "happy" family a few years later. Kay wasn't one of the "fucked up ones", fortunately for her. Over time we developed a kind of comradeship that was based partly on our common "condition" and partly on a kind of attraction as if we really were brother and sister. In fact, she started telling people we were brother and sister if they didn't know that we were really a couple of unlucky foster kids with no real family.

It was when I was between 13 and 14 after I started noticing girls that I first started noticing Kay as a girl, especially as I noticed that the shape of her swimsuit started to change shape in places a growing girl's swimsuit should change. Okay, don't get the wrong idea here. This is not a tale about kiddie-porn. Yes, I did have my fantasies as probably any kid might have.

In high school Kay and I were best friends at home. We didn't hang out together outside the house at all, but would spend hours in the family room just talking into the night about what was going on in school and eventually about our respective boy and girl friends. I was her big brother, without all the sibling rivalry bullshit. She was my little sister. I was the first one to know when she lost her virginity and the one to threaten to beat the shit out of the guy who did it. Of course I was jealous for her to go out with any boy and it made my heart ache whenever she told me about some guy and whether she liked him, etc., etc. I did notice she would get a little pouty whenever I would tell her about my latest chick, but I was pretty clueless at the time as to what that meant. I could never get really serious about any one girl, at least after I got into her pants or came to the conclusion that I never would. Hey, I was a hormonally trapped teenager.

In my senior year of high school I learned that I was going to be awarded a full scholarship to Stanford and I could get my high school diploma in Spring and start at Stanford in April. Alright, so I was a horny teenager, but I didn't always think with my dick. So, there was a huge flurry of activity for a month or two and I was summarily shipped off to the University in great fanfare. I remembered walking through the airport with our "parents" on the way to the plane with Kay walking a few steps behind and starting to get this strange feeling about her and wondering why she was so quiet and despondent appearing. But, the press was on for me to get to the plane and my last contact with her was a hug and a good luck goodbye, and I was on the plane.

I remember on the plane having this sudden empty and sad feeling and it wasn't about leaving home, it was about leaving Kay and thinking that I had lost something important and hadn't taken the time to realize it. And, I didn't see her again and thought I never would and so, I forgot about her.

I was flustered as I tried to finishing checking out my groceries and entered the wrong PIN for my debit card twice. Kay remained standing, leaning on her cart, smiling at me the whole time, not saying a word. As I finished loading my bags into my cart and pushed it towards her, she just smiled, turned and headed to the door with the obvious expectation that I would follow.

Following her, I could not help but notice her beautiful bare legs and shorts stretched across a firm appearing butt. How could have I forgotten the butt that I had admired so often years ago.

Outside the store she stopped and turned around. "I have ice cream in my bag and it is probably already melting. I need to take it home to the freezer and put the rest of my groceries away. Do you want to meet later?"

"Absolutely," I said and scribbled my cell phone number on a scrap of paper I tore from one my bags. "Call me when you are ready." I handed her the scrap and our hands briefly, but intentionally touched.

And, that was it. I had no idea whether she would call me or whether I would ever see her again. We went off to our separate cars in opposite directions and I didn't see her leave the lot.

The drive home was interesting and exasperating as memories and regrets and hope tangled up with each as I thought about having seen Kay again after all of these years. I realized that I knew nothing about her now: why she had moved to town, where she had been, whether she was married, had a boyfriend, kids, job ... nothing.

I realized that I didn't really know what to expect now about meeting Kay. As I said, we had lived together as kids and had a very close relationship, but I was now feeling a little awkward because as close as it had been, I basically dumped her when I went off to school without a 'hello, how are you doing?' ever since.

It was 6:30 before my cell rang. It was not a local number and I didn't recognize it and almost didn't answer it until I realized that it was probably her; she probably still had her old number from wherever she had moved.

"Hello?"

"Hi, sorry it took so long for me to get back to you. I met a neighbor on my way into my apartment and she was very chatty and just wouldn't leave. I finally had to tell her that I had a dinner date to get ready for."

"That's OK," I answered. "Was your ice cream melted?"

"No, it was soft, but it'll be alright. Well, what a surprise to run into you today."

"I think it was me who ran into you – and again, I am so sorry. I really need to pay more attention to where I am pushing that cart."

"It is fine. So, are you still up for getting together? I would love to find out what has been going on for the last 10 years."

Of course I said yes, and invited her to dinner, my treat, as recompense for nearly destroying her foot with my cart. We agreed that we would meet at 7:30 at a brew pub near her apartment, and which was only about 10 minutes from where I live. So, no mention of any complicating "others" we needed to involve in our getting together, which was a big relief right off.

I arrived at the pub and after determining that she was not already inside, I waited on a bench in front of the door that was used for overflow of people waiting to be seated on busy nights, or for smokers. It wasn't long before I saw her walking up the sidewalk and I just watched what seemed like a vision. She had changed into a summer dress, periwinkle blue, soft flowing fabric, hem at mid-thigh, neckline plunging down to between her breasts showing a pleasant amount of cleavage. I had the urge to run up to her, grab her around the waist and twirl in her the air. But, I just stood, strode toward her, and did a cheek-to-cheek and said hello. She looked and smelled delicious.

We drank, we ate, we drank some more, all the while talking through the awkward stuff – "why did you leave without talking to me – we were best friends?" and "what happened and why did you leave before you finished high school?" It was a comfortable conversation, just like we used to have lasting well into the night on the couch in the family room. No blames, just regrets that we had not seen or talked to each other for so long. Then, we moved on to start to talk about schools and jobs and such. Before we got to talk about the next topic, why we were here together alone without any significant "others", we realized that it was 10 o'clock and the restaurant was emptying out and the wait staff was kind of just hanging around waiting for us to leave. The table was cleared, the check was paid, and we were still there.

I didn't want the evening to ever end. So, I said it, "I don't want the evening to end. I had forgotten, or had suppressed the memory of how nice it was to be with you. But, we need to get out of here before they kick us out on the street."

"Come to my place. I don't have it completely put together yet, but I have a couch in the living room and I got a couple of bottles of wine today at the store. Or, we could grab a growler here before we go – I really did like that IPA we had."

"The wine will be fine, as long as it is not in a box or gallon jug."

She laughed and said that it was definitely not in a box. So, we left and I followed her to her apartment complex a few minutes away. The story she had told me about college and law school and her first job at a local law firm as a junior associate handling civil suits explained why she was living in this upscale complex. My job at a local biotech company was great, but I couldn't afford a place like this.

We settled in to her sparsely decorated, but comfortable, living room and chatted about relationships gained and lost, but in the end we both confessed that we had not found a relationship that was really satisfying and neither of us had found anyone that we thought was even close to a "soul mate," whatever the fuck that is. I realized that what I missed from all of the women I had known, had dated and fucked over the years, was this – sitting and talking from the heart about stuff that I cared about.

Soon I noticed it was 3 AM and I had to go to work in a few hours. Surprisingly, I had been so engrossed in the conversation that I hadn't even finished the glass of wine, so I was good with driving. I explained that I needed to be up to work as we had a potential collaboration partner coming in for a meeting and I needed to get at least a couple of hours of sleep. I stood, and she stood, and after a couple of moments of hesitation, we wrapped our arms around each other for a hug and she kissed me – a direct, friendly, not overly sexual, but intimate kiss on the lips. It felt good. It felt right. And my dick agreed.

We vowed to be in touch the next evening and I left – after one more kiss. The kiss was a little more intense. It was confusing and I spent the drive home trying to understand what I was feeling with that.

Friday evening I called and Kay invited me to her place Saturday afternoon for a pool party her complex was having. It was going to be a hot summer afternoon and they were doing a barbecue with drinks – all part of the association fees for their quarterly complex party. It seemed that because of the location and the price point for the apartments that the population was mostly young professionals and they did like to party. I was a little apprehensive, since I am not really a party guy, but if it meant spending some more time with Kay as I tried to figure out what I was feeling, then it could be good. Kay and I would either find that we had something together, or I would maybe hook up with one of her neighbors and we could go back to the old days of sharing who we were banging that week.

So, it was on Saturday afternoon that I showed up at Kay's apartment with a bag containing my swimsuit, towel and sunscreen. She met me at the door wearing a light beach wrap and steered me to the bedroom so that I could change. I slipped into my swimsuit and looked at myself in the mirror. I didn't sport any "six-pack abs" but kept in shape and my swimsuit contained a respectable package. For some reason I thought "if Kay liked my body ten years ago, or ever even thought about it, she won't be disappointed now."

The party was underway when we arrived at the pool, but we found a couple of lounge chairs off to the back of the deck surround and claimed our space. We decided to grab a couple of beers from the keg, which was from a local micro-brewery. Back at our lounges Kay slipped out of her wrap and I got my first glimpse of her body as a grown up ... now in a blue, quite revealing two-piece suit. I was taken aback for a second and my first reaction was thinking that nothing had changed from ten years ago. Neither of us, as it turned out, had anything to be disappointed about.

I couldn't help myself from saying "Wow! You are still looking mighty fine."

She blushed and responded, "So are you brother dear."

Brother dear. That was a surprise, and I wasn't sure how to take it. Was this going to be back to a brother-sister thing from childhood? That made me cringe that she might be thinking of us in that way and that what I was thinking of, or hoping for, was in the same category as "incest"? At least in the way she was thinking about our relationship. Yikes. But, I decided not to freak out just yet.

We settled onto our lounges and each started applying our sunscreen to our arms and legs and chest. I couldn't help staring as covertly as possible as she started applying the creamy lotion to herself as she neared the far reaches of her upper thighs and her fingers slipped under the edges of her bikini bottoms. They were not thongs, but there was not a lot of material and she at one point got very close to her intimate spot. Then it was on to her chest and I was mesmerized as her lotion slickened fingers dipped down into the valley between her breasts.

Then, to my surprise and delight, Kay asked "Will you put some on my back?" She handed me the bottle of sunscreen, flipped over on her belly on the chaise, and then reached back to undo the catch of her top to "let me apply the stuff all over without any obstacles," as she put it.

I touched her, really touched her, for the first time in my life in the way that I realized that I had always wanted to. I took my time, squirting too much lotion from the bottle, much more than needed, so that it would take a long time for it all to be absorbed. Slowly I moved my hands up and down her spine from between her shoulder blades down to the edge of her bikini bottom, one time my full flat hand firmly on her skin, another time with just my finger tips feeling the softness of her skin and pressing into firm musculature of her finely toned body. Then, spreading out from the center in a circular, massaging motion, I dipped down over her sides, a little further each time until I touched along the sides of her breasts that were exposed as she lay face down on the lounger. As I did, she had a short intake of breath and uttered a soft, short, almost imperceptible moan.

"Do the back of my thighs too, please."

Happily I scooted down on the chaise and squirted the lotion onto each thigh and started rubbing it in. As my hands dipped down onto her inner thighs she spread her legs slightly and I took that offered opportunity to apply the lotion up over her thighs and up the rise of her buttocks to the very edge of her bikini bottom, feeling her muscles clench slightly under my touch and press up against the touch. I was there rubbing her creamy skin much longer than I needed to be to apply sunscreen, but she didn't seem to mind in the slightest. Finally, in the interest of propriety and in deference the crowd around us, I gave her thigh a little squeeze and said, "There, I think that is enough for now." I suspected that I saw a wet spot starting to spread on the crotch of her bikini bottom.

She didn't move for a few seconds, but sighed "That felt very good." Momentarily she reached back to reattach her top and turned over. "May I return the favor?"

"You may," I said. I was only too happy to quickly turn over onto my lounger to hide the erection that I had just become aware of tenting my swimming suit. It was clear that I was going to have to either jump in the pool straight-away, or grab a towel.

What followed was the best massage of my back and thighs I have ever had in its tenderness and sensuality. She also was not shy about how far her fingers went up the back of my thighs and I soon was laying on another hardon that screamed for freedom.