Now Bowen had gotten used to my excursions. He knew they were about sex--sex with a woman, that is. He had ceased mentioning it and I had ceased talking about it, that is, unless.... I felt he had a need to know. In this instance, there was every reason for him to know but I kept quiet about my session with Deborah. There might be a time when it would be good for him to know but that was going to have to be in the future--perhaps the distant future.
I contacted my "Platinum" lesbian dating site by e-mail and suggested that, while they did have a NDA in their terms of serve, it might be useful for them to have a form that parties could use with each other--or others, plural as the case may be--that would contain language to allay the possible fears of potentially being "outed" for participating in the face-to face (well that's one position) involvement with another member(s). They, themselves, did not use a form like that, nor have they suggested in the past that such a thing be utilized. They said they would look into. Being a paid up, satisfied customer of their service, they got back to me in a few days. They said two things: a) that they would add a suggestion to their web page that participating parties consider an NDA, and b) they would post a specimen copy an NDA on their website with a clear disclaimer they may wish to use. This is a suggestion only, they were not lawyers, and the displayed form may not be valid or enforceable in any jurisdiction. If it added confidence to the parties, so much the better. That disclaimer was printed on the form.
So, now what was my situation? I think I have fallen in love with an attractive, powerful, passionate, intensely satisfying woman who just the day before I would have called "The Queen of the Night". One night together could do this? I am not going to suggest that women are the only gender who can fall in love at first sight; but I am just as certain about my feelings for Deborah as I was for my feelings for Bowen when I first met him--the same feelings I have for him now--love! What to do, what to do?
With all of this going on, my involvement with Deborah and, well yes, my dalliances with Livinia and Debra thrown in, one would think that my attention to Bowen would flag. Not in the least. If anything, I found myself more attentive to Bowen, though in all honesty he seemed less attentive to me. There was something going on at the university that was causing him a problem and he couldn't see his way to go into it with me. I fished around to see if I could get an inkling of the problem but couldn't divine what it might be. I wasn't going to press him. I concluded that when he was ready to tell me he would.
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It turned out that Deborah's availability was less that I thought and definitely less that I would have liked. She was a very busy woman and in high demand. She was everywhere, New York, Chicago, Los Angeles, San Francisco, Seattle, Atlanta, St. Louis. You name it. I just wish I had a way in sharing her frequent flier miles with. We did meet, though, whenever she had time. There were times when she didn't really have time but she made time, anyway.
We communicated via the dating site personal message page, private and secure. It made setting up our liaisons more complicated but, once we got used to it, the result was the same....and it was private. I thought of "burner phones" but Deborah didn't want to do that. She still had a lot doubts regarding security. She really wanted to keep things under wraps.
We always met in Room 1414 at the "Big City Grand Palace East Hotel", except one time. Ultra mindful of security, Deborah insisted that I observe the same elevator changing protocol for our visits. I accommodated her on that one. Our get-togethers were gloriously sex filled but always with a room-service meal to start. Why break with tradition? We always parted in the morning with a kiss and a promise to be together whenever we could.
The one exception was the weekend we spent in an upstate cabin. She was delivering a Monday to Thursday series of lectures at the branch of the State University in a nearby city. She talked her way into using a resort cabin, not too far away in the woods, for a Friday/Saturday break. She explained that she wanted to be incommunicado and, hopefully, incognito. Her excuse was that she needed to decompress from her back breaking schedule. I had some notice and worked out to spend the time with her.
I explained truthfully to Bowen that I was going to spend a couple of days my a girlfriend, nothing more than that. He was free to draw his own conclusions about what I was up to. I have no doubt he was right for some of it, a weekend of sex, but I'm all but positive that he had no idea with whom I would be having sex with.
I'm sure you're familiar with the expression, "Unforgettable Weekend; it's a cliche' that's thrown about all too frequently, mostly my travel and tourist agencies--hence, a cliche'. But the weekend I spent with Deborah was precisely that, in spades.
She got there ahead of me and had the cabin set up for a late lunch/early supper. Since we'd only had hotel room-service meals together previously, I was more than impressed with her culinary artistry. She is an exceptional cook, pardon me, Chef de Cuisine! I won't go into the entire menu but It was one that a 5 Star restaurant would envy. Being uncharacteristically humble, she merely said, "I planned!"
I imagine I don't need to say that the sex we had together was fantastic; sex with Deborah is always fantastic. She added a couple of wrinkles, though. First, she brought along some costumes. She was the French Maid and I was the hotel guest; I was the Mountie and she was the damsel in distress; she was the evil princess and I was the poor peasant girl. All of this was great fun. I wish I had a video of it but, of course, videos were verboten.
She added some "toys", too. The strap-on had us hilarious. It is hard to believe that, though I certainly had seen one before--porn films, you know--I had never actually used one; and neither had she. Vibrators are another matter. Both she and I were fervent believers in those electronic marvels and used them often. The strap-on was a different matter. We discovered that the dildo "schlong" was too big for Debora's vagina but my pussy accommodated it comfortably. The result was that Deborah got to be "the guy" and I got to be the girl. Deborah loved that and was vigorous in her exertions. Since I normally have a naturally well lubricated vagina, there was no trouble at all in employing it to get me to an orgasm. Playfully, afterward, Deborah got me to lick my own cum off the shaft and I demonstrated how to "deep-throat" a cock. Interestingly, while Deborah knew what deep-throat was, she had never done it or even tried it. Her mouth was tiny as was her vagina. Big cocks were as off limits to her as deep-throat was.
But there is something else. D
eborah also had a philosophical and political view of "Deep Throat", it being a porno movie from the 60's that many women's rights factions vehemently objected to as being female exploitation. We both agreed, though, that actually nothing wrong doing deep-throat as long as it wasn't forced on the woman. Deborah understood that my being actually bi-sexual, I had given maybe more than my share of blowjobs. I assured her that, while I had done deep-throat, and frankly a lot of it, nobody had ever forced it on me--ever. As previously referenced, I expressed to Deborah my love of blowjobs and swallowing the results. Her response was a simple, "There's no accounting for taste", a play on words that we laughed heartily over.
With Deborah, while it was a lot about the sex, it wasn't just about the sex. I surprised myself by actually admitting to myself that I enjoyed her company. She was smart, sharp, and quick. She is anything but one-dimensional. She constantly surprised me with her broad knowledge and many talents, not the least of which was her culinary skill. She had a fabulous sense of humor, though covered a lot of it up because she didn't want to seem frivolous. I told her that being serious to the world doesn't mean she can't be frivolous with me.
For those couple of days, she could be just "Deb" and I could be, well, just "Norma" doing those prosaic domestic things. She cooked and straightened; I went out and chopped wood...I'm a farm girl, you might remember. And she and I shared our stories. We didn't leave anything out...well, only one thing for Deborah. I never asked her about the scar on her tummy and she never volunteered. We wound up knowing each other's "Reality" as we knew it at the time. We understood and accepted each other, including that one thing she didn't want to talk about.
There was lots more to her in her life than being "Deborah X_____", but I don't have time or space to go into it here, and now I know it. She found out that there's more to me than being a professor's wife--but you already know that and now so does Deborah.
