Leah

Her real name was Ophelia, but there was no way in the world any of these people were ever going to know that. Leah is a marvelous name, and it's not a total bastardization of her given name, so she gets to have her cake (not being called Ophelia) and eat it too (not having parents that hand out guilt trips left and right about something as simple as a name). Leah, right now, was sitting on a bar stool. At a bar. A dirty one, actually, she thought as she sneered down at the counter. Running her finger along the edge brought up a rather slimy layer of spilled booze mixed with cigarette ashes, crumbs from pretzels and topped with the oil of desperation that coats this place.

"Ugh," she says out loud to herself, "I hate bars."

"Yeah, so do I" says a masculine voice from her right. She hadn't noticed him standing there, but that was all right. Getting a good look at him now was a treat to make up for the little start she had experienced when she realized that there was someone reacting to her mumblings. He was tall, sort of, taller than her anyway, and fit though not muscular. She could see that he took care of himself without being crazy about it or refraining from some of the finer things in life. She tried to look at his hands, but they were in his jeans pockets.

Her gaze found its way up to his face and found a little smirk waiting for her there in a very handsome face. Not really strong-jawed, but a softer kind of masculine that promised cuddles and long walks and talks after dinner.

"You like what you see?" He chuckled.

She blushed profusely, "I was trying to get a look at your hands, but they're in your pockets."

He raised an eyebrow and asked, "Hands are that important to you? Here, then." He pulled them out of his jeans and stood closer to her, just within reach so she could examine them.

"Are you right or left handed?" She asked him.

"Right." He was following her lead, treating this with the same level of seriousness that she did.

She took his left hand in both of hers, noticing the size, texture of the skin on his fingertips, examined for dirt, calluses, cuticle irregularities, broken or chipped nails.

"You've never had a manicure..." she mumbled, "but you take care of the basics."

She dropped his hand and looked him in the eyes for the first time. They were brown, but not the dark and drab and common brown you normally see around these parts. It was more like one of his parents had brown eyes and the other blue and the two colors offset each other in a very pleasant way.

"Did I pass?" he asked.

"So far, so good. No hangnails and your fingers are strong. Did you want to join me here at the bar?"

He looked at the bar with the same kind of expression she had on her face earlier. "Not really, but you can join me for dinner if you're hungry and would like at least a clean surface to lean on."

Leah smiled and stood up, extending her left hand in greeting, "My name is Leah, and I would love to grab some dinner with you."

He did not shake her hand; instead he offered her the crook of his elbow. She took his arm when he said "Good to meet you Leah, my name is Dave."

They walked together for a time, the conversation starting with the horrid conditions of the various bars in the area, the slightly less horrid conditions of the streets and finally were discussing the nicer conditions in some of their favorite places when they came to the restaurant that Dave had been leading them to, in a very roundabout way, the whole time. Leah noticed that although they had been talking for an hour, they were really only 10 minutes away from the bar they started in. Oh, he was smooooooth. He held the door open and they entered together.

It wasn't a fancy place, neither of them was dressed for fancy and besides -- they'd only just met! But it wasn't fast food either. It was a proper, sit down diner. Clean, friendly service even after the dinner rush, portions enough to make you full and less greasy than any pizza or burger would be. And a milkshake for dessert! While at the same time not being overly expensive and carrying no obligations with it ... this was just a meal, together with someone that he met and got along with. "What a nice change of pace," thought Leah "maybe he's better than I set out to snag tonight..."

Her chicken fingers and fries came, and Leah began to eat with her knife and fork. After a moment of silence she looked up and saw Dave looking at her with a bemused expression on his face. "They're called chicken fingers for a reason, darling." She glared at him, mostly light-heartedly, and he beamed a smile at her. Dave looked down at his plate and was fairly obviously trying to figure out how to eat his dinner ... not everyone can dip steak fries into ketchup with a fork. Leah waited, chewing slowly, wondering what he would do. She smiled to herself and continued to eat after he picked up his utensils and started cutting into his burger.

"Diner burgers can be considered a more advanced course, if you'd like to start with the basics instead..." Leah teased.

Dave was concentrating. "No, I got it, I'm good. What's the deal with you and hands anyway?"

"Well," Leah began, she'd never really thought about it enough to get to the core of her thought process. "I guess it had to do with my dad, he was a mechanic and his hands were filthy, torn and battered. It's manly and all that to work on cars, but wincing in pain every time you put on your shirt cause of the cuts and hangnails is not." She paused a moment, using her drink as an excuse. "Besides, hands are contact points. We touch things with our hands, touch others with them, they are -- in effect -- our first impression on every aspect of life we meet. Why let a person touch me who obviously doesn't care about himself?"

"You've rejected men because of their hands, haven't you?"

"Well, it's not just men, but women and children too. In every relationship, be it friend or family or romance, taking care of your hands is essential. I'm not going to let a child come and rub his hands all over my face if the fingers are coated in boogers and dirt and old food, I'm not going to hold hands with my best friend while we walk through the shopping malls if she's got uneven, jagged nails and overgrown, infected cuticles, and I'm not going to let a man touch my body with his hands if they are not clean and well cared for." She pulled out a package of wet wipes from her purse and smiled sheepishly at him. "I do understand that I'm one of the few that's so careful, however, so there's always backup to be had nearby."

Dave laughed and they continued their meal. Talking, eating, laughing, they had a wonderful time. They had milkshakes for dessert, just like she'd hoped for when they first walked in, and when they left there was no dilemma over who was paying -- Dave jumped up and wouldn't hear of her opening her purse. She excused herself to the WC while he was in line to pay.

What a gentleman! Holding open doors, picking up the tab, fun to talk with and she didn't feel at all judged or misunderstood. Dave didn't make her feel inferior like most men did when they went through a chivalry farce; he made her feel like he would be a good partner in life. It would take a while longer to even approach the subject, but could he be Mr. Right?

As they left the restaurant he offered her his arm again and she took it with a beaming smile. They walked aimlessly for a while in silence, able to enjoy the time together in peace. Leah looked up at Dave and asked, "Why were you in the bar tonight? Is it really that difficult for you to find someone to be with?"

Dave laughed. "I could ask you the same question." He smiled at her, and Leah thought there could be some sadness there to discover with time. "Truth be told, I've had a number of ... poor matchings in the last few years. I thought it might be time to try a different route. This was my first night 'bar-hopping' for a date. Seems like I did fairly well!"

Leah slowed, pulling them both to a stop. Looking up at Dave, into those dancing eyes and holding his strong hand, she couldn't help herself. A simple kiss, lips touching one another, from a woman to a man. "It's getting late," she said, "care to walk me home?"

"I would love to!" Dave said, probably still a bit shocked by the unexpectedness of the gentle kiss.

"This way then." They walked together still, arm in arm, talking pleasantly and comfortably. The long way home took them a while, and when they got to her doorstep he made no move to ask her if he could come in. Such a nice guy! Why don't... yes.

"Come in with me, Dave. A cup of coffee or a nightcap?"

"Of course, Leah, if you are certain."

"I'm sure. Come." She led him through her door by the hand and once the door was closed he wrapped his arm around her waist and kissed her. This time the kiss was full and almost intense. He pulled her close to him and she did not resist. In fact, she wrapped her arms around his neck and leaned into the kiss just as fully as he did. His hands rubbed her back as her fingers threaded their way through his hair, their bodies in full contact from chest to thigh. They broke off to catch their breath after a minute or three.

"How about that coffee?" She giggled.

"I think I'd prefer something a bit stronger." He pulled her in for another kiss and started walking her slowly to the couch. She kept her home as clean as her hands, so they made it from the front door to the couch without incident and managed to keep the kiss unbroken as they removed their jackets and lay down on the couch. Leah stopped their progress reluctantly, but she had a mission -- shoes needed removing and coats should not be on the floor. She managed it within a quick moment and leapt back into his arms, straddling his sitting form as he was still looking amused with her "antics". Their kisses became more intense, more passionate as they sat entwined. Finally she could stand it no more and moved his hands from her back to her front, encouraging him towards her breasts. When he changed his grip to be firm and kneading she moaned into his mouth.

Dave stood up, picking her up so he could turn around and lay her down on the couch. His hands explored her body as their lips and tongues explored each others'. He unbuttoned her pants, and when she did not resist he pulled them down over the curve of her ass and expertly pulled them off. Her hands had not been idle through their kiss either, she had managed to unbutton his shirt and was caressing the bear skin of his chest, playing with his chest hair and gently pinching and flicking his nipples. Every now and then she drew a shiver out of him, and once he got her bra off (she was still even wearing her shirt!) he did the same to her.

Their breathing was uneven now; there was no question of what was to come. Leah was surprised; she never thought that she'd have any luck in a bar! Of course, their time in the bar was short, but that's where it all started. She'd never forget the feel of that stupid bar's counter under her finger, the smell of the diner's food or the heat that was travelling between her and Dave right now. What a series of memories!

Leah undid the button on Dave's jeans, and they finally broke their kiss as he pulled down his own pants and she nearly tore her panties in her rush to get them off. He pulled down his underwear and looked down at her. He was a wonderful specimen of a man, she thought. Her earlier thoughts were spot on. He was indeed muscular and strong, but he had a softness about him, a curve of a belly, that made him seem not intimidating but masculine and supportive. She hoped he was as pleased with her shape as she was with his. Looking down from his chest to his erect member she could tell that he was.

He knelt down on the couch, one of his legs between hers with the other on the floor, and kissed the curve of her skin right where her neck met her collar bone. He traced a line that only he could see down the front of her shirt, stopping to suck on her nipples through the fabric. Leah gasped, she had never felt the kind of friction against her sensitive skin that it inspired. He nibbled his way down her stomach and when his hand reached between her legs it was soft and warm and strong. He lifted her shirt just enough to reveal her navel and his tongue touched her there at the same moment as his finger ran along her opening for the first time. Leah moaned. Dave licked her belly button and rubbed his fingers up and down and around until he drove out every other thought from her mind. All that existed was this moment, right here and right now, on her couch with a handsome man who wanted to pay the most wonderful attention to her that she could imagine.

Dave slowly inserted one finger into her, followed by a second. His hand was moving slowly back and forth, massaging her insides while his thumb circled oh so lightly on her clit. He shifted upwards so he could gently bite and suck on her breasts through her shirt as he did so. Leah's hands were in his hair, running over his shoulders and down his arms. She was trying to keep her hips from rising to meet his hand but she was pretty much failing miserably. Her body wanted to be sated and her mind was in no mood to stop the desire. Dave slid a third finger in as she was wet and getting wetter, her body reacting to his touch in delightful ways. He leaned up further to kiss her one more time, or so she thought... he actually just licked along the bottom line of her lips, along her jaw, and rested his head right next to hers so his mouth was directly beside her ear.

"What do you want, Leah?" He asked, almost breathlessly.

"Let me feel you Dave." She dove into their kiss again. Dave traced the curve of her brow with his free hand, then slowly pulled his fingers from her. He did not need to look, he knew where she was, and penetrated her without issue. Slowly, slowly, deeper until he was buried inside her. Leah had started with a mmmmmmoan and didn't stop making noises until he was all the way in. Dave held the position, pelvises touching, and kissed her very thoroughly. Leah wrapped her legs around his waist, her arms around his neck and felt herself embraced in return. She was warm, safe, full and very, very happy!

Dave moved inside her, slowly at first but working up to a comfortable rhythm that allowed them to explore each others' bodies. Mouths and fingers covered every inch of face and torso. The end was frantic, passionate, wonderful. As they were curled together in the afterglow Leah said

"I have a confession to make to you."

"Oh?" laughed Dave. "What would that be?"

"Leah is a nickname."

"What's your real name then?"

"Ophelia."

"I have a secret too," he said "my first name is Vernon."