Later Abbie would consider how the timing of his call could not have been better. Everything was geared to happen the way it did, otherwise she would have slammed the door on his suggestion and thought no more about it. But, as she was to find, everything in his appeal was, timewise, set just right.
First, Abbie hadn't had a man for just over a year, when her husband, Vic, had gone off with a young bimbo, just over half her own age of 38.
No hand, other than her own had stroked between her thighs for too long.
She'd had dates with three very different men, but none had aroused her enough to allow them any liberties with her body.
Sexual frustration, was not infrequent, but seemed to come in waves, and on that particular evening it was on a very high wave. She had languished in a hot bath, deliciously squeezing the wet sponge between her thighs. Wishing that the cosy sensation was treatable, she climbed out of the bath and rubbed herself dry.
Clean and refreshed, but not relieved, Abbie had donned her thin silken gown, so sensuous against her bare skin, picked up her book, poured herself a liberal white wine, and settled on the sofa. She'd taken just two sips of wine when the door-bell rang. Five past eight on a rapidly darkening September evening, and she had to wonder who could be calling at this time. She knew her best friend Joy, was in London with her husband, so it couldn't be her.
Just a little nervous, she went out into the hall, and saw through the frosted glass of the front door, the unmistakable shape of a tall man. Her nervousness hadn't lessened but her curiosity was wearing it away.
She switched on the porch light before slowly, cautiously opening the door, even while her eyes were trying to identify him, he, in a deep brown voice, told her, "Yes, please keep the door fastened on the chain until I've said what I have to say. And, of course, you have the option to close it at any time."
What the hell could he be selling at this time of night? As he made this strange sales pitch, Abbie's eyes viewed his muscular looking frame, covered in a light weight jacket, and thin fawn cotton pants. But his face, she knew from somewhere. There was something familiar about the depth of the blue eyes, set in a strong handsome face, something that had caught her attention somewhere.
Clutching her robe tight to her neck she asked, "What can I do for you?" That was a crazy question to ask a stranger at your door, even if his smile was warm, and already she was warning herself to be cautious. His answer to her question was not one she had expected.
"I suppose you could say, in one sense, I've been stalking you."
"Stalking me?" She should be scared, shouldn't she? So, why wasn't she?
"On another level, I would suggest that my only wish is to pleasure you."
Oh, that was it! Just as she'd feared. No thanks, and she began to close the door.
He leaned forward and the light reflected in those eyes, "Please, hear me out, and if you aren't interested then I'll just leave. And no hard feelings. Okay?"
She allowed the door to reopen to the extent of the chain, "Go on," she said, something had opened in the back of her mind, a recall of eyes meeting.
"From the moment I first saw you I have been -well--enchanted by the sight of you."
Oh, God, with words like that, 'enchanted'? By her?
He went on, "I know it sounds corny but the first time you were in a pale lavender summer dress. It was in the library, and I forgot about the book I was reading. Your face, that tawny hair framing it, well it stopped my breath. And then you were gone. I was telling myself to forget it, when, in the supermarket the next day, there you were, and my breath was gone again."
Ah, yes, the supermarket, that was where she'd become aware of those blue eyes. She couldn't know how long he'd been watching her, but she did recall that moment when their eyes met, across the bakery counter, and she'd experienced a strange tremor deep down inside her. Of course, she had ignored it, hadn't she? Yet it had happened again on some later date.
His voice came to her again, gentle, and, it seemed, very genuine, "Please, don't misunderstand what I'm going to say. I started going to the supermarket at times I had learned you could be there." He paused here, and she became aware of him taking in a deep breath. "Now, as I said, I was drawn by your face--your beauty."
"Flattery will get you anything," she laughed. Another stupid thing to say.
"We'll see. But soon, as I watched you, I was admiring other parts. Your breasts looked so good and their curve matched the curve of your waist and hips. In other words, so shapely. Came the day when I was sitting in my car watching the supermarket exit. There was a strong wind, and you came through the exit wearing your standard summer dress, and carrying a heavy bag in each hand. Immediately the wind caught the hem of your dress and it was lifted to reveal an attractive length of bare thigh as you struggled to keep covered. Then you turned directly into the wind, and your dress was pressed against your breasts, your belly and between your thighs so that magic upside-down V was like seeing you naked." He stopped here to give her what was almost a shy smile, before he added, "At that moment, sitting in my car I found myself becoming incredibly hard—you know what I mean?"
Shut the door right now, one half of her brain was screaming. But the other half was drawing her attention to an almost forgotten moistening between her thighs, as his words worked on her libido. And those words went on to a most telling revelation. "Since that incident, every time I saw you, no matter where or when, I had a very definite hardening."
She took him at his word. He was there in front of her, looking into her face, and she just could not resist, glancing down towards his crotch. Oh, God, he wasn't lying. There was no denying the extent of the bulge in the front of his pants. Was she in danger? But if she was—his words, that bulge, his honesty, and that moistness, the throbbing in her lower body, the quickening of her breath,--questioned that. She longed to drop her hand to finger herself. How long since she had felt this way?
He spoke again, and where this was going became vividly clear, "I began following you. You weren't aware?"
"No, I wasn't," And her voice sounded so strained, so breathless.
"I knew it was a kind of stalking and against the law, but I had to know where you lived. So many needs were building inside me. I was longing to pleasure you. You have listened to me without closing the door, and that is such a relief." His eyes held hers as he went on, "Now I have only one request, and you don't need to take off the chain."
