Emily was divorced. This clearly was her first attempt at dating. She didn't talk about her divorce or her loneliness. Those were subjects she just avoided. She was so ashamed of the divorce that she wished she avoided the subject of marriage/divorce completely.
We met through mutual acquaintances. They weren't even friends. I barely knew Ted from the Rotary Club and Emily worked with Gladys but wasn't close to her. To this day I can't imagine why we met. But, we did.
I called her on Ted's urging. She answered the phone and was clearly busy. I had called at the wrong time. More than a few awkward pauses and interruptions, we finally got into the swing of things and began to have a normal conversation. We agreed to lunch ("What's the harm in that?").
The first time she arrived in a very conservative dress that ended at her knee. Not very revealing but I saw through it. She was pretty. I looked below the knee and saw a calf that was fit and muscular. She didn't have a fat ass and her sleeveless sweater showed arms that had a subtle line of muscle: Just right. Her pretty brown hair ended just at her shoulders. Shorter than I preferred then. It smelled wonderfully.
Several more lunches and soon I realized that I thoroughly enjoyed her company. She knew enough about sports and I knew enough about Shakespeare that we could spend time together without driving each other crazy. On one of the lunches she wore a tight top under her conservative business coat. I got just enough of a peek at her sweater kittens to know that I REALLY NEEDED to know what was under those clothes!
Finally she agreed to a date. A REAL date not just lunch. I went to her house to pick her up. Up to that point she'd only seen me in my truck. That was the most practical way of getting into town. I always stopped off at the hardware store on the way home. For our date I got the Corvette detailed. It looked fast. It was ready to impress.
I arrived at her house just on time. When I rang the door bell she was ready and had her coat already on. I couldn't tell what she was wearing but she had some nice, high-healed shoes and dark hose that were almost fishnets.
"Oh, you have a sports car," she said as we walked to the car. She seemed surprised and not too pleased about getting into a car that was six inches off the ground in her dress. How she was going to get out concerned her even more.
I decided to go someplace special and splurged on a new, French restaurant down town. We made pleasant but uncomfortable small talk at first. As we entered the freeway the rush hour traffic became the Friday-night-going-out traffic. The onramp descended down onto the highway in a straight line. As we approached the road I saw a space well in front of us. A quick check of the side mirror and it became obvious that the only way into traffic was to step on it ('stomp' on it was more like it). The 330 horses came to immediate life. The car couldn't WAIT to go faster. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Emily's head snap back as the g's pushed us against our seats. She let out a surprised squeal and then happy laughter like she was on an exciting amusement ride.
"Sometimes going faster is the best thing to do," I blurted out trying to excuse my aggressive driving.
"Hmmm. I agree," she purred.
I wasn't sure what to make of that so I awkwardly changed the subject and moved on in the conversation. The traffic lights conspired against us. We hit every red light between the freeway and the restaurant. She didn't seem to mind and we chatted about her job in the insurance industry. It's hard to believe that line of work would be interesting but she spoke as if she enjoyed it. She had made good friends there and they supported her through the tough times.
We arrived at the restaurant and the hostess offered to take her coat. I was looking out into the restaurant at the time and didn't notice her slip out of her coat. When I glanced back I did a gigantic double-take and flashed a quick, nervous smile to try to hide my amazement. Emily caught it and gave me a sly look in return.
She gave up on dressing conservatively that night. She had a black cocktail dress on that showed a good amount of cleavage. The dress ended well above her knee showing off her gorgeous legs. Her hair ended just at the base of her lovely neck. I couldn't help but think it would be nice to dine on the nape of that neck.
When she was standing next to me I couldn't help but look down the front of her dress. Her breasts were clearly very large, very real, and quite spectacular. We stood there for several minutes and it wasn't lost on me that everyone in the room was looking at Emily (and wondering what the hell she was doing with me).
We were seated and continued chatting. I had to force myself to avoid looking at her tits. It was all I could do to keep from clearing the table by pushing everything off with both arms and doing her right then and there!
We laughed a lot and things took a turn from good to better when she offered to feed me some of her dessert. I happily accepted a piece of her chocolate cake and we giggled. I realized the wine was starting to go to her head when she leaned forward to speak in conspiratorial tones to me.
"Do you like my dress," Emily asked with a slightly tipsy slur.
"I think you make that dress look beautiful," I replied. I thought I was clever.
"I bought this low-cut cocktail dress just for you. I'm surprised that I haven't caught you looking down my cleavage once tonight."
"All I've thought all night was 'Look in her eyes. Look in her eyes,'" I pleaded helplessly.
She smiled for a moment then said, "You can look if you'd like."
I eyed Emily up carefully concerned that I might be falling into a trap. Finally I let my eyes drop to the top of her sexy garment.
"Mmm," I said, "I bet it's just heaven in there."
Her eyes got large and she reached out to pet my face and in an exaggerated way said, "Check, please!" We laughed. I made sure the waiter did not pass us without knowing that I wanted the check.
As we departed she took my arm. We made our way to the gardens surrounding the building and enjoyed the cool, crisp evening air. Just as we reached the ornate fountain I decided to make my move. I wheeled her around and slipped my other arm around her waist. Apparently she had the same plan because she was ready for my advance.
Like two soldiers ready for battle our lips met and engaged in a fierce struggle. Damn, they were soft. Her kisses overwhelmed me and I let my guard down. Her initial attack was quickly followed by a tongue that slipped between my lips. There was no stopping her. We squeezed each other as if in synchronized death grips. Finally after breaking free and looking furtively around to see if we had any gawkers, I suggested, "Let's get you home."
Realizing what I really meant, she just nodded her head and grabbed my hand.
This time the traffic lights were on our side. As if willing us toward hot, monkey love, they turned green just as my car approached them. Emily told me later that the Corvette's throaty growl gave her just the right vibrations. Soon we were in front of her house. I parallel parked and turned off the car.
"Well. Here we are," she said matter-of-factly.
"Here we are," I countered nonchalantly.
"It seems awfully early." More matter-of-fact chat.
"Yes it does." Long pause.
The we both started together: "Perhaps we could." "Oh. You first."
More awkward pauses then she said, "You're welcome to come in for a nightcap if you'd like."
"I'd like that," I said, comfortably.
I got out, walked around and opened her door. She waited for me and let me help he out. We silently walked to her door at a comfortable pace arm-in-arm. She opened her door and heard the horn of my car honk signaling to the neighborhood that I wouldn't be coming back to it this evening.
Once inside she offered beer or wine. "Just water, please," I said.
"Water?"
"Yeah, I'm thirsty. A cold glass of water would be just right."
She poured two glasses of water and joined me on the couch.
"Water for you too?"
"You got me wanting some water."
