A Walk in the Park
It was one of those soft, cool New York days that make everyone want to be outside, since such weather is so rare. Dave had decided on a sweater, though it wasn't absolutely necessary, but the last few blocks of his walk home would be on the lee side of Central Park, and the breeze might come up. Anyway, he loved wearing sweaters in the fall.
The newspaper flew out of her hand just as he turned on forty ninth to walk over to fifth. It was almost a reflex action to take a quick step left, bend at the legs and waist, and scoop up the mass of newsprint as though it was a ground ball. As he leaned over there, trying to hold on and simultaneously re-fold the thing, he felt a hand brush his, and looked up to see the gorgeous redhead down on her hands and knees fumbling with the same twisting mass of paper. Her hair was blown toward him, framing huge eyes, heavily made up, dark tan lips on a full mouth, and a tiny, patrician sort of nose, all in all a refined yet sensuous face. He had a flashback of firm, twisting hips on a big woman just before the New York Daily News got away from her.
In a deep, sexy voice, she murmured "Thanks, thanks a lot. The wind kind of surprised me." Dave blushed, and stuttered "No problem. Damn high buildings, makes it windy even on the nicest days." His hands had stopped moving as he gazed at her, and he realized she had the paper neatly folded and tucked under her arm. She was staring at him. Naturally, people went walking by, ignoring them.
She had a strange look on her face. Sadness, he thought, but interest, and a little flush. They both stood slowly, and Dave felt it was almost a dance. She was only a couple of inches shorter than his six one, and held his eyes. He felt he wanted to just stand there. When the long pause got embarassing, she broke the silence by taking his arm, and pulling him, stumbling, down the block.In that low voice, she said "I'm heading for seventh avenue, to drop this for a friend. I don't usually read it." Then she laughed, a low, throaty guffaw. "Now why should I tell you that? Huh. Because I don't want you to think I'm the sort of person who reads the "Daily News." Isn't that funny? I've never thought of myself as a snob. Maybe it's you."
As she waited for him to continue the conversation, he kept staring at her. He thought she was younger than he was, but still over thirty, just a few wrinkles around the eyes, and all that makeup. High cheekbones. Such a sexy face, particularly for a big girl. Woman. Shit, he thought, she's waiting for me to say something. Okay, lemme see. "Uh, do you know you're a knockout?"
The minute he said it, he grinned, shook his head, and looked rueful. God, how dumb is that. He continued "Sorry. That just popped out. I mean, I knew you were waiting for me to say something, and all I could focus on was how pretty you are, so... Faux pax time. Sorry."
She gave him the throaty chuckle again. "I have to work at it, but thanks. Glad to see it's appreciated. Where are you going? Isn't it a lovely day?" As she spoke, he felt her grip on his arm firm up, and the soft mound of her breast gently caressed his arm. He felt his cock twitch, looked at her quickly, and she grinned at him. Then she pushed just a little more. "Look, my name's Jesse Moore. Here's an easy one. What's your name?"
By the time they had gotten across town, dropped off the paper, and started back uptown, Dave was in love, and really felt it was being reciprocated. At least a bit. By the time they had gotten to her building just off Park, they were talking about restaurants, and he impulsively asked "How 'bout tonight, Jesse? I know it's short notice, but I hate to say goodbye." He blushed as he said it, and the sadness came back to her face as she looked into his eyes. She seemed to be debating, and he wondered if maybe she had a prior date, or...
But she shook her head, as though to clear it, and answered "Sure, Dave. You're nice to be with. Come back about eight, we'll have a drink, and walk over to the french place. I've never been there, even though it's close. You paying? Good. Then it's a date. A real date." She glanced at the doorman lounging against the wall, then pecked him on the cheek lightly. Her perfume filled his mind, and he didn't remember getting home.
When he got to her apartment, feeling strange because of the way the doorman looked at him, even though polite, his mind emptied as she opened the door. The same lovely face, made up with slightly darker lipstick, and heavier mascara, giving her a more sensual look, atop the most spectacular figure he had ever seen. She was over six feet in high heels, with a black halter dress that showed off spectacular big tits. He had felt them, but he could see their fullness covered with a thin silk, nipples prominent, cleavage puffed up with some sort of bra, he supposed. Her wide shoulders and the figure hugging cloth showed off long legs, and full hips. There wasn't an ounce of fat, but she was still curvy and feminine. When she saw his reaction, she grinned, and pulled him inside.
She took the bottle of good port he had brought, and set it on the coffee table, the movement as she twisted around and down erotic as hell. The process of straightening up from her leaning over gave him a flash of nipple, and his cock jumped. She smiled and raised her hands to the side, sort of posing. "Not bad, huh baby. I'm glad to see you approve. Maybe we can have some port when we come back, but I have some chardonnay chilled and open. That okay?" He still hadn't been able to muster a word.
He floated through the evening, relaxed and intoxicated with her. There was a bit of a strange character toward the end, as he felt her attraction for him matching his, but he ignored the slight tension she seemed to feel. On the way home, she asked him about plays he'd seen recently. She apparently worked as an editor for a publishing house, and was very knowledgable about recent Broadway. After he reeled off several he had seen, she asked "M. Butterfly?" He told her he hadn't seen that one. She said she had the movie, and maybe they could watch it sometime.
Just before they turned the corner to her apartment, she stopped him. "Dave, look, I... can't ask you up. I know, we talked about port earlier, but... I have to think about this, okay. I had such a good time, it was so..." She leaned in to him, pushing her tits into his chest, and kissed him gently. He felt her trying to keep it soft, and reached up behind her head, and pulled her mouth to his hard, opening his mouth and sticking out his tongue. He felt her flinch, then move against him and give in to the kiss.
It was a wonderful, sensual, five minute thirsting for each other. She was strong, and between the two of them, their bodies heaved and writhed together, passion bubbling out. When they finally separated, he took a deep breath, and she started crying. He was shocked at her tears, and held her close as she sobbed. He muttered "Jesse, Jesse, my god,..."
She tore herself away from him, and pushed him away with one hand, gasping "Just stay here, go home, don't come to the door, okay?" He watched, shocked, as she hurried around the corner, her perfume still strong in his heart.
He started calling the next morning, and for three days got nothing but her answering machine. At first, his messages were cool, saying he had a great time, let's do it again, call me. By the third day, with no response, he felt hurt, depressed, and angry. He finally left a message in which he exploded, yelling how much he loved her, how could she treat him this way, pleading to hear from her. After slamming down the phone, he sat beside it, breathing hard, wondering if he had totally screwed up. As he rose to get another scotch, the phone rang, and he grabbed it before it even had a chance to ring a second time.
"Dave? It's Jesse. Look, I, I haven't been totally honest with you, and it's breaking my heart. I felt strongly too. I did. I don't know what to do. But I guess I owe you an explanation. Come over now." She didn't even give him a chance to respond.
He almost ran the five blocks, rushing past the same doorman, and when he burst into her apartment, she was standing in the door to her bedroom, wearing a black negligee that showed off her tits, and black thong panties under it. He started toward her, and she brought a gun from behind her back and pointed it at him. Shock jangled through his mind as she whispered "Just stay over there, Dave." He froze, then backed slowly a couple of steps.
She looked lovely, but tired. She closed her eyes, and said "Some of my friends warned me that guys like you get violent when they find out... my secret. I'm sorry Dave. Really sorry. In a few months, if we'd met then, it might have been... better. I guess the easiest thing is to show you. Stay there." With one hand she reached to the valley between her boobs, and loosened the negligee. It slithered to the floor, revealing her creamy white skin, slim, boyish hips, and lovely legs enhanced by the high heels.
Dave stared, and in spite of his confusion, felt himself harden, a combination of the memory of their one kiss, her body so sexily displayed, the obsessive need for her that had built up over the last days swirling madly around in his mind. As his hand went to adjust his cock, she watched him, and a tear ran down her cheek. She whispered "Oh baby, baby, I'm so sorry."
.... There is more of this story ...