A Lifetime of Adventures - Ch. 04
By Ghostwalker
(With input by
TheIrishLass)
"
I can't believe it,
" I told myself as I watched my friends moving the few things I owned into Naomi's apartment, or rather OUR apartment. She and I had met just a few weeks before when her younger sister, Jennifer, aka Jen, had backed out of a weekend get-away with me and asked Naomi to take her place. One thing had led to another, and another, and WHAM here I was.
"Hey, Dan. Does Naomi have any girlfriends that might be interested in a bunch of nerds like us?" one of my friends asked.
"
It's no wonder they'd ask,
" I though to myself.
At 32 years old, Naomi was six years older than me and FAR more experienced in 'worldly' things. Though only 5-foot, 9-inches tall, in stocking feet, she seemed to tower over everyone as she directed us where to take each item as we brought it into the apartment.
Her raven-black hair was tied back into a ponytail that hung down to the crease just above her beautifully curved ass and seemed to shimmer with blue streaks when the sun reflected off of it.
At the same time, her blue-green eyes sparkled when she got excited, like now, and her tanned skin was the color of light honey without the slightest hint of any tan lines. All of which were part of a 36D-28-37-inch figure mounted on top of long, toned legs.
"You'd have to ask her," I yelled back.
"WELL?" my friend, Frank, called out loud enough for Naomi to hear.
She glanced at me and I shrugged. "Actually, I do have one or two girlfriends who might be interested," she replied as she looked at several of her friends that were also here to help.
A few of them giggled, while a few others blushed, and one even gave my friend, Frank, the 'once over' before smiling at Naomi and giving a slight nod.
After our friends had left, she and I moved a few things around to make more space and headed to a trendy furniture store to pick-up a dresser and a few other pieces of furniture that I'd need.
"You really did live like a vagabond," she murmured as we looked at a 5-drawer dresser.
"What do you mean?"
"I don't think I've ever seen an apartment furnished like yours was," she chuckled.
"Hey!! It lasted me almost 4 years."
"I know, sweetie, but a dresser, if that's what you wanna call it, made boxes stacked on their side, a bed made with bricks for legs and a piece of plywood as the support for your mattress..."
"At least it was a good mattress," I replied half-heartedly.
She raised her eyebrow, questioningly. "If you say so... and chairs made of overturned milk crates?"
I shrugged. "Told ya I was a poor student."
"Luckily, I didn't fall in love with you for your money," she snickered as she lightly brushed her fingertips across the front on my pants.
As my body began to respond to her touch my mind reeled off in a totally different direction. "
Love.
" The word still made me feel giddy every time I heard her say it. "
How could a guy like me get a woman as beautiful, mature, and intelligent as her... who also happened to be a multi-millionairess?
" I asked myself over and over.
"Earth to Dan... Hellooooooo."
"Wha...? I'm sorry, just day dreaming."
"Hopefully, about me."
"Well, to be honest..." I started to say, only to be interrupted by her cellphone ringing.
"Hello?... Hey, girl. What's up?... Yeah, I remember her... she wants what?... When?... You've gotta be kidding... There's no wa... She's willing to pay HOW much?... Hold on... let me see."
I stood there listening to the one-sided conversation, until she placed her hand over the mouth piece while looking at me.
"Sweetheart, something REALLY important just came up. Is there any way you can make arrangements to have this stuff delivered to our apartment?"
The word OUR still made me shiver. "I guess so. Is everything okay?"
She returned to the phone without answering me. "Yeah, Steph. I can start working on it in... mmmmm..." she paused to look at her watch. "Say, half an hour. I can probably have a rough-draft done by tomorrow and then we can show the design to her on Monday morning. That will still give the dressmaker a week to get everything done in time for the event."
Now that I understood what was going on, I leaned over and lightly kissed her cheek, before whispering, "Take the car. I'll grab a bus and meet you at home."
She smiled, blew me a kiss, and headed for the exit faster than I though possible.
I made the arrangements needed and decided to walk back to the apartment instead of taking the bus since it was such a warm, sunny day. When I got there, forty-five minutes later, it was quiet as a church. I tip-toed down the hallway to her work room and slowly opened the door only to be met by a barrage of wadded paper being thrown at me followed by, "Out, out, out!"
So I spent the rest of the day rearranging things in the apartment as we'd agreed and then made a dinner of baked salmon, seared asparagus, pasta, and a small bottle of white wine. She joined me just long enough to wolf down the food and disappear back into her office. That night, I slept alone and I barely saw her the next day, though I did hear her yelling and throwing things around in her room more than once.
It wasn't until almost 10 o'clock that night that she finally came out of her 'dungeon' as she liked to call it. I couldn't help but laugh.
Her hair was tied back by a bandanna, and she was wearing an old, powder-blue, scrub top. Her legs were bare and she had on a pair of old, scruffy, 'bunny-rabbit' slippers. But what made me laugh was the different colors of designer's chalk streaked across her face.
"What's so funny?" she asked, placing her hands of her hips.
"Come here," I said, as I took a wash cloth and moistened it.
"What's that for?"
I answered by gently wiping the wash cloth across her cheek. "Here," I replied holding it up for her to see all the different colors and hues covering it.
"Ohmigod," she yelped, as she spun around and bounded up the stairs, her bare ass exposed with every step.
About 30 minutes later, she came back downstairs. It was obvious she's taken a shower since she was now dressed in a pair of straight-leg jeans and a white blouse that she'd tied under her breasts.
"Not so funny now, am I?"
"You're absolutely gorgeous."
"Still a flatterer."
"I try my best, ma'am," I replied in my best Southern gentleman accent.
"Well, I do declare," she replied in an equally fake Southern belle tone.
We started laughing as she slid into my outstretched arms.
"I found something out last night," I whispered into her ear.
"What's that?"