It started out as a typical Saturday, with not much going on except a couple of phone calls that weren't of any consequence. Lounging on my sofa, listening to some music, and reading "Catch-22" seemed like a proper way to allot my time. Steely Dan was wafting through the speakers when there was a soft tapping at my door. I sure as hell hoped it wasn't some damn Jehovah's Witness trying to sell me Jesus. Jesus isn't for sale, as far as I know, and a theological discussion with some naive rube from Arkansas wasn't at the top of my dance card. I turned the music down a bit, and hurriedly pulled on a shirt and opened the door.
"Hiya Danny!! Surprised?!" she exclaimed, a smile lighting up her enchanting face. I stared at her dumbfounded, and a grin eased onto my face. Beth was a very pretty woman who I was "involved with" in college. She was 27 years old, stood about 5 feet 7 inches tall, and weighed approximately 125 lbs. She had long chestnut brown hair that hung to an exquisite ass, firm pert breasts that were wonderfully shaped, about a 34B, long slender legs, and a rather angelic face. She was sort of shy when we first met, but that dissipated fairly quickly as she met more people and matured intellectually. She eventually became something bordering on assertive.
"No, not at all. I've been expecting you, Beth," I told her, the wide grin on my face strongly hinting at the veracity of my claim. "You look very lovely," I expressed, looking into her blue-gray eyes. She was as beautiful as I had remembered her, perhaps even more so. Beth had usually dressed fairly casually when were attending school together, and today was no exception. She had on a pair of old military-surplus fatigues that served to accentuate the alluring shape of her ass, and a simple white t-shirt that made it quite clear that there was no bra between her pert breasts and the thin cotton shirt. Her perky nipples made their presence known from beneath the light shirt, subtly pressing through the material. I realized at that moment how much I had missed her. It had been going on five years since I last had seen her elegant face.
In the not-so-distant past when we were both attending the University of Arizona, we would spend countless hours talking history, philosophy, and a broad range of other topics, and I believe that we both came to appreciate each other's intellects and varied senses of humor. Beth possessed a sense of humor that consisted of large portions of irony and sarcasm, and her rapier wit had humbled many an opponent. Many men seem to be put off by a woman with a strong intellect, especially one greater than their own, but I was initially drawn to Beth because of her cerebral nature. Of course, it didn't hurt at all that she was attractive and alluring. I still distinctly remember when the relationship transcended mere intellectual appreciation.
We were walking home in no hurry from the U of A library in our sophomore year, casually discussing a mid-term exam that was approaching in one of our more difficult philosophy courses, and without warning she took my hand into her soft grasp. I was rather surprised by this spontaneous event, as ours had been a connection with platonic roots up until that point, although I doubted that we would have denied a sexual attraction.
After Beth took my hand, she looked at me with something resembling a mix of love and ardor in her eyes, and brought her pretty face very slowly towards mine. She smiled softly at me as she swept her hair away from her face, then hesitantly kissed me with her soft lips, very tentatively at first, then with increasing passion as she eased her tongue into my mouth, seeking out my own. It was tender. It was sensuous. It was loving.
I pulled her close to my body, feeling her firm breasts pressed against my chest, experiencing her warmth while I kissed her deeply, my tongue dancing rhythmically in her mouth. I remember the clean smell of her hair. I recollect the seductive nature of her subtle perfume. We paused from our unanticipated embrace, looking intently into each other's eyes. We then turned in unison, and slowly continued on our way in silence with slight smiles on our faces, my arm around her shoulders. When we got to her door, I kissed her very tenderly on her soft lips as I eased my arm around her petite waist. I reluctantly turned to walk to my apartment, elated at what had just transpired.
I pondered that initial kiss all of the way back to my small college-ghetto apartment, and into the evening, mulling over where it might lead. Beth's feelings were the same as mine I thought, at least hoped they were. I just didn't want to overstep any unspoken boundaries, as I regarded her as an unparalleled friend first and foremost. She was intelligent, she was stimulating, and she was beautiful in my eyes, and if I could tell anything from the leers that she received whenever we ambled across campus together, she was pretty hot in a lot of other guys' eyes as well.
Over the next several months, it became rather apparent where this romance was evolving. We began to gradually transform into a couple as time progressed. We went to the campus bookstore together when we needed to, we would go to various restaurants and fast food franchises occasionally, and we unfailingly went to our common classes together daily. We hung out on weekends at my apartment, listening to Steely Dan, Elvis Costello, and alternative radio, among other things. We also happened to have in common an avid inclination for the blues. There was a definite shared predilection for each other.
We hugged and kissed considerably more, in private initially, and we gradually became more public with our affections. We profoundly enjoyed each other's company, and both of us sought out one another on an increasingly frequent basis. That eventually led to an evening where Beth found herself alone at her off-campus apartment, as her roommate Monica had left for Cabo San Lucas for spring break. She called to invite me over to her place at 8 o'clock that evening for, "maybe some coffee, a few drinks..." she giggled, then added cryptically, "and whatever." I imagined that I heard her grinning through the phone.
After showering, shaving quickly and throwing on some cologne, I got dressed and walked the reasonably short distance to her apartment. I proceeded with a leisurely pace to her house, debating whether I was just imagining the implications that I thought I heard in her voice on the phone. Beth met me at the door, and after a warm and inviting kiss, welcomed me into her house. She was dressed casually, wearing tight faded Lee jeans, a loose fitting skull-and-roses Grateful Dead t-shirt (she was somewhat of a Deadhead), and was barefooted. I thought I could discern the outline of erect nipples beneath her thin cotton shirt. In my somewhat biased eyes, she was simply beautiful.
"Hiya Danny. It's great to see you. Come on in," she said softly with a shy smile, and eyed me at the door. "How are you?" she asked me with an appealing twinkle in her eye. "Gee... you're looking quite dapper... got a date after you leave here tonight?" she teased playfully, referring rather facetiously to my weathered jeans and a somewhat tattered Elvis Costello "My Aim Is True" t-shirt. "That is, if you leave here," I thought I heard her whisper under her breath, and I was pretty sure I had understood what she had said. I kept whatever I might have had to say to myself.
"Hey Beth. I'm pretty good. Thanks for asking. It's damn good to see you as well, babe," I said, putting my arm around her and kissing her softly on the lips as I entered the house. "And thank you for the comment on my clothes, babe; I didn't want to outdress you," I kidded her with a grin. She answered with a practiced smirk and a toothy grin. "Still listening to Jackson Browne, eh?" I asked her rhetorically as I found myself listening to "Late for the Sky" emanating from her speakers, and looked to see her nod her head and softly smile. Beth had a certain fondness for early seventies music.
We also shared a mutual interest in the sixties. Beth was drawn to acid rock and the alternative lifestyles, i.e., "hippies", while I was more attracted to the political upheavals of that era, particularly the Democratic National Convention in Chicago in 1968, the Weather Underground, and Huey Newton and the Black Panthers. I had wanted to be a revolutionary back in high school, despite the fact that I realized even then that the pension plans for freedom fighters were somewhat less than ideal. I decided to go to college to sort out my political leanings, among other things. I waited two years before I entered college, as I went on a two year "self-discovery" period. In that time, I decided what I wanted to do. Namely, I wanted to be a writer.
The room had the vaguely sensual scent of jasmine enveloping it, and I looked to see a stick of incense burning in an ashtray, sending up plumes of fragrant smoke. There was a pleasantly mellow ambience in the room. I noticed a fine-looking calico cat, and her name was "Peckerwood", based on my conversations with Beth, walking warily around the room, eying me nervously. I'd always wondered why she had named her female cat Peckerwood.
.... There is more of this story ...