I saw Cele Choi the day she started working for my company. I knew that she was good at what she did, and that she had transferred from one of our competitors to get higher pay. What mattered more to me, though, was that she was witty, pleasant, and pretty. I took two weeks to get reassurances from another girl in the office that she was not engaged or involved, and then I asked her for a date. I was more formal on the date than usual because I did not want to ruin my chances with her. She liked that.
I talked to a woman Cele ate lunch with for information about her taste in music, and lucked into a concert by a favorite of hers that weekend. I really wanted to see Cele again, and she instantly said yes to another date with me. That was the good news.
The bad news was that I had asked for Friday, already sold out. Saturday was more expensive but available. As was Cele, to my surprise and relief. I maybe pushed my luck a bit by suggesting a movie for Friday -- she might have wanted something more special this early in the game. I was surprised that this prize was not booked up, or long married really. I wondered if there was some fatal flaw I had not seen yet. Was she an iron- pants virgin? I could live with that, for a while. She seemed the sort I might propose to, depending on how things went.
The movie was good, and the company better. I did not push her beyond a kiss goodnight at her door, but she was very good at that and the feel of her body in my arms made me want to be in her. That would be a very good night! But it would be more likely with a slower pace.
The singer on Saturday was someone I frankly had never heard of, but she was good, given to soft dreamy ballads. Cele was mesmerized by the end of the concert, and I had a strong temptation to see if that mood would extend to physical activity with me. It is not uncommon to begin sex on the third date, but I decided to hold back. As it was, we shared a number of kisses that night. As I was driving her to her apartment I asked her about going to a museum lecture on the next Saturday. While she hesitated, she seemed less reluctant than still wrapped up in the concert. She did not hesitate to invite me in. We sat drinking coffee and talking until midnight, and when I left the kiss she gave me was a nice surprise. Her tongue crept shyly into my mouth and wriggled nicely. So it was plain that she was amenable to going further than we had. God, she felt good to hold!
She visited my place for the first time next Saturday afternoon, and we went from there to a restaurant for dinner and on to the slide-lecture. And we returned to my couch at the end of the day where we spent a happy hour or so in kissing and cuddling and something skirting the edge of fondling. She drove home alone, but I like to think she sort of wished she hadn't.
Cele was in my dreams by them, and even more in my daydreams and fantasies. I imagined slowly undressing her, fondling her, laying her down, entering her, bringing her to ecstacy over and over... And I wondered if I ever would and what would be the circumstances. Well, I could certainly dream, and I did.
We spent both evenings together the next weekend. The dinner part of the dinner theatre on Friday was very good; the play was badly done. But the evening was excellent, with a session at her apartment door for over an hour in close quarters. We never went in. Perhaps it was best in a way.
I would have had trouble not pressing to be all the way in, I fear, and I felt that Cele was a golden-skinned treasure who should be captured slowly and with care if at all.
After the movie on Saturday, we sat and talked in my apartment. Just before she left, I told a story about a computer analyst who had left our company before Cele Choi came on board. She said she had heard it from him.
"You know him?" I asked.
"I dated him. A couple of years ago I thought about living with him," she said.
I was startled, of course. This put a whole new perspective on my chances and methods with Cele.
I could only wish that I had told that story earlier. Perhaps Cele would not have gone home that night at all.
Our seventh date began when I knocked on her door at ten on Saturday morning and she greeted me with a very warm kiss.
Cele was wearing a pale blue dress with a little lace at the sleeves, and she filled it very well. But as I ran my eyes over it, I thought more of how she could fill my arms while out of it, and of how it would feel to fill her, to stuff her as much as I could.
A buffet lunch at a restaurant to begin. I did not pay as much attention to the food as I perhaps should have; I was thinking too much of Cele. I suddenly wondered how she tasted -- between the legs I mean. I wondered if she liked that. I hoped so, since there are few things I like better than watching a woman build slowly to a climax that way. If she had never tried it, I would certainly love to introduce her to it... But I stopped daydreaming; time was passing.
A movie matinee next. We held hands, and our hands at first were on my thigh. At some point (perhaps at my unconscious urging) they drifted to my lap. The touch of her hand there, or the thought of her, gave me an erection, and while she must have felt it she clearly did not mind. In fact she pressed down, as if tempted to reverse her palm and grasp my hard shaft. Though that may have been wishful thinking.
We still held hands when we left the theatre. We looked into store windows as we walked on the street, and I imagined Cele in each outfit that she studied. I also, however, imagined Cele stripped of every cloth and standing with her arms opened in welcome for me. I was sure her birthday suit was lovely.
