Caution: This Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, Consensual, Romantic, Heterosexual, Oral Sex, Anal Sex, Petting, Slow, .
Desc: Sex Story: Chapter 1 - He is a computer geek who never held a real job. She comes from money--self-confident with a lot of class. They are a perfect mismatch, but a computer project brings them together.
The tech chat room was busy when it suddenly appeared, "DB ex crash cash end. Charlie."
Now to many people that ad meant absolutely nothing, but to me it was pretty clear that Charlie was desperate for a database geek who would work on a crash project for no money until the job was done.
I didn't like the cash at the end, since I was broke. In fact, I had been evicted from my studio apartment a few days earlier and had been freeloading on a friend's couch. However, database management is my thing, and a crash project meant that the end was near, so it was worth a try.
I had interviewed for two jobs in the real world during the past week. Neither company asked me back—I didn't know if it was my string tie or the absence of socks that did me in, but nevertheless, I was still unemployed.
I thought, "What the hell," and typed "Charlie, phone num pls."
Since I was at my friend's place, a phone was available. I dialed the number and it was answered on the first ring.
A soft female voice answered, "Hello."
"Is Charlie around?"
"I'm Charlie," said the female.
There was a pause and then she blurted, "I'm desperate. If you're a good DB, I need you now."
Her voice did sound desperate, but it was a nice sounding voice, and I wasn't very busy anyway. "Tell me how to get to your place and I'll come over and talk."
"8920 Western; apartment 309. There isn't an elevator."
"Charlie, I'll be there in an hour. By the way, I'm really good in DB."
Fifty minutes later I walked up the stairs of a sixty-year-old building that showed every one of those years and knocked on the door of 309.
She opened the door; she looked like shit.
She was wearing a baggy sweatshirt and pants with worn flip-flops for shoes. Her hair was a dirty blond that hadn't been washed in a day or so. But it was her sunken eyes—an equal mixture of blue and red—that told me she hadn't slept in a while. She might be pretty. She was about five-foot-eight or so, but with the baggy clothes it was hard to say anything else about her body.
"You look like you have a deadline, Charlie."
"How would you know?"
"I've been there... many times."
She mumbled something and then raised her voice, "Come in and let's talk."
She led me into a very large but old studio apartment. Everything was in one room including the bed. I guessed that the only other door in the room probably led to the bathroom. Against one wall was the work area—two tower computers tied to one printer sitting on a pair of old tables that were strewn with paper. In the middle of the room was a ratty couch. The tiny kitchen area had the basic appliances. On another wall was a big bed that hadn't been made.
She led me over to the couch and I sat down as she wheeled over one of the work chairs. She sat down facing me.
"Cliff," she began...
"My name's Clyde," I interrupted.
She blushed briefly and said, "How did you ever get the name Clyde?"
I grinned, "The normal way—my parents named me."
She blushed again.
She tried again. "Tell me about yourself."
"I was born and named Clyde. My parents were hippies. I went to school and was bored. Finally I went to State U and took computer science. I knew more than the instructors, but they had good equipment so I put up with them. I graduated two years ago and never found a regular job, but I spend a lot of time helping people. I'm part of an informal computer underground; when a rush job comes out, if I like it, I do it."
"Why don't you get a regular job?"
"No one will hire me."
"My theory is that it is a combination of my string tie and no socks."
"Clyde, string ties went out forty years ago."
I shrugged, "I like them. Maybe they'll make a comeback.
"Look Charlie, trust me, I'm great in database and you look like shit, and you also look desperate, so where are we?"
For a second I thought she was going to cry, but then she sucked it up and stared at me.
"My ex-boyfriend and I graduated last year with majors in computer science. We wanted to start our own company so we created a LLC, rented this place by the month, and started looking for jobs.
"We got a few small, patch jobs at first and then this project came up. The company wanted a major change to their main system that had to be more efficient and run faster than their old system. The database is huge and takes forever to manipulate it the way they want.
"We underbid the job and said $30,000, and that we would do it in three weeks. We should have said two months and $60,000, but this was our first big job so we closed our eyes and took it. We got ten percent up front and we get the balance when we successfully benchmark the new system.
"We should have asked for one-third up front, but again, we really wanted the job."
I interrupted, "So far you've told me a story that I've heard many times. It's the nature of the industry."
"Not when your boyfriend wants equal time playing in bed and working, and the work he does somehow never quite works right.
"We had a huge fight a week ago. He walked out. I changed the locks and I'm trying to finish all the work. We only have five more days."
"Where does the project stand?" I asked.
I have most of the programming done with one major problem that I can't break through. The real problem is my ex thought he was a DB god. It turns out he didn't know shit. His data manipulation doesn't work fast. In fact, it doesn't work slow—it doesn't work. So even if I get over the programming problem, I'm still screwed without fast access to the data."
"What's in it for me?"
"The ten percent has been spent. If we do the job, the split is sixty-forty. You'll get forty percent of the $27,000 if we deliver."
I changed subjects. "How did you get the name Charlie?"
I caught her by surprise and she stared at me. Finally, "My dad wanted a boy. So Charlene became Charlie. The boy he wanted was supposed to take over the family business when he retired. Just before I graduated I asked him if he would take me into the business. His answer was that 'Women can't do the job.' "
"That must have pissed you off."
"I haven't talked to him since I graduated. I'm not stupid. I know part of the reason I started this company was to show him he was wrong."
I stared at her; she stared at me.
Finally I asked, "Do you have the database documentation, and do you have a test file for testing?"
"Okay. Let's go to work."
She gave me the database material and went back to work on her programming. For four hours I studied what the company had given her. It really was a cluster. They had made modification after modification and created a monster database. It was no wonder they wanted it faster—pencil and paper might beat it the way the system was currently configured.
During those four hours I heard every obscene word in the book; it was obvious that Charlie wasn't solving her programming problem.
Finally at one point she yelled, "SHIT, damn it to hell, you stupid shit!"
I looked at her. It was obvious that she was shot. Every additional hour she worked would produce nothing. The adrenaline rush had long ago left her, and she was physically and mentally exhausted.
I stood up and walked behind her. She was staring at the monitor, but not seeing anything. I gently touched each shoulder and started to massage her neck and shoulders. She was startled but quickly sighed and let me do it. For ten minutes I gently massaged her shoulders and finally she placed her hands on top of the keyboard and put her face on her hands. Minutes later I could hear her rhythmic breathing as she slept.
I gently rubbed her shoulders and back for ten more minutes. She was in deep sleep—obviously exhausted after probably forty-eight hours without sleep.
I swung the chair around and pulled her to her feet saying, "Come on Charlie, it's time to sleep."
She mumbled, "Huh," but didn't wake up.
I pulled her body into mine briefly and felt her breasts. Obviously there was something behind that sweatshirt. I braced myself and put my arms under her knees as I lifted her. She moaned, but didn't wake up.
I carried her to the bed and gently laid her down and pulled a sheet over her, but did nothing with her clothes. I knew it wouldn't matter.
She started snoring softly.
For the next eight hours I studied the documentation trying to determine the best way to attack the mess they had given Charlie.
I got tired and slept two hours on the couch.
Two hours after I got up I heard Charlie moving on the bed. Suddenly she yelled, "What the fuck!"
"Good morning, Charlie."
"Why didn't you wake me?"
"Because you were toast and weren't doing anything productive."
"I just lost another day," she whined.
"Charlie," I asked, "Will you do me a favor?"
"What?" she asked, exasperated.
"Go take a long, hot shower. Wash your hair and brush your teeth."
She glared at me, "Are you saying I stink?"
I just looked at her.
She turned and headed for the bathroom as she mumbled, "Damn men think they know it all, and they order and we're supposed to obey. What bullshit."
Twenty minutes later she came out of the bathroom wearing the same sweat outfit, but obviously refreshed. She had brushed her hair to a gloss.
She looked at me and said, "I'm sometimes... can I make you some coffee?"
"I'd love some coffee, Charlie."
When the coffee was done we relaxed and enjoyed it.
"Do you know I slept twelve hours?" she asked.
"You were exhausted."
"I remember you squeezing my shoulders, but that's all. How did I get to the bed?"
"I carried you."
She blushed and then said, "Thank you, Clyde."
We went back to work. Two hours later I heard Charlie yell, "Shit... I can't believe it."
"What?" I asked.
"It's so obvious. I should have seen the problem two days ago. I know what the main programming hitch is and the fix is easy. I just didn't see it."
"Lack of sleep, maybe?"
She looked at me and said, "Maybe."
For the rest of the day we worked on the system. Our meals were hot pizza and then cold pizza. At one point I walked to the couch, took off my shoes and grabbed the pillow. Eight hours later I woke up. Charlie insisted I take a shower. It felt great even though the same clothes went back on.
We tested the system. Charlie's programming worked great, but the database inquiry system she was using was super slow. It was a major problem.
I knew I could convert the database to a friendly format, but the system required a massive amount of manipulation and that caused a big slowdown.
I finally told Charlie, "I know a guy who was testing his system for his graduate degree. If it works, it would be perfect for us. Should I call him?"
"We only have two days left Clyde."
I dialed his number and he answered.
"Hey Knucklehead," I said, "How's it hanging?"
"Clyde, right?" "I'm doing great."
"Did your fancy database invention ever work?"
"Yea, it's great, but I'm looking for Beta sites."
"Give it to me free for my customer and I'll test it live. If it works, I'll promote it."
He laughed, "Does that mean you have a real job?"
I answered, "Don't give me any shit, you turkey."
"Give me your email address, Clyde, and I'll download the program to you."
We got the program. It took fours hours to convert the file to match what Knucklehead's program expected and then we did the first test. It worked!
For the next two days we tested the system every way possible. Charlie's programming didn't crash and Knucklehead's database inquiry worked every time.
Finally the day to present the system came. Charlie insisted that I come so I went to the apartment where I was freeloading and cleaned myself up. I put on a shirt that was almost clean and had my favorite string tie around my neck.
I went back to Charlie's and knocked on the door. The door opened and when Charlie saw me, she winced—the string tie again I thought.
But I saw Charlie and was flabbergasted. She was wearing a pants suit. The blouse was matching and the top two buttons were open showing her bare chest. Where the skin ended, two prominent peaks pushed against the fabric—she had breasts—very big breasts that caught me by surprise.
"You're staring," she giggled.
"You're beautiful," I blurted.
Her face turned a deep red.
When we entered the customer's building, Charlie took over. I was overwhelmed and somewhat intimidated by the size and splendor of the building. Our contact met us and escorted us into his office. He asked, "Are you ready to benchmark?"
Charlie grinned and bluffed, "We've been ready for a week. Let's do it."
Two hours later our programs were in their computer and the test data was ready. Their data processing manager said that our system was ready for the benchmark. He was going to give us data that the current system ran for thirty minutes. He would check our results with theirs, and also time how fast our system worked.
The test started and I could see that Charlie was nervous. Their manager had just said that at least our programs hadn't frozen his system when the completion bell rang. Our system had taken ten minutes against the thirty-minute bar. We had beaten the shit out of them!
For two days they tested the crap out of our system and it worked perfectly. On the third day the manager-in-charge gave Charlie a check for $27,000. He was embarrassed.
"I knew you desperately wanted the job and I screwed you to the wall. You delivered on time perfectly. I'm a little embarrassed, but a deal is a deal. What I'll guarantee you is that I'll recommend you to people in the industry to try to make up for being so tough."
As we walked out of the building with our check Charlie stopped me and said, "We did it, Clyde.
"Let's go to my bank and deposit it so that I can give you a check for your share."
I hesitated and then asked, "Could you give it to me in cash?"
Charlie looked surprised. "Why do you want it in cash?"
I was embarrassed and then muttered, "I don't have a bank account."
"Not even a savings account?"
"No accounts at all. I never had enough money to worry about it. I just carry cash around."
Charlie was quiet for a few moments and then said, "Clyde, you're going to my bank and I'll write you a check for what I owe you. Then you'll open a savings account and put in the money you don't need right now. And then we'll get you an ATM card so you can withdraw your money when you need it."
I was embarrassed, but I knew she was right. I nodded agreement and we drove to her bank. After the bank stuff was done we walked to a nearby restaurant to get a sandwich.
When we finished eating, Charlie looked at me and shyly asked, "What do you think about us taking a long weekend vacation at the ocean?"
I looked at her.
She violently blushed, "Separate rooms Clyde... not sex. Just to relax."
I blushed. Sex is not my thing. I'm a virgin. The closest I've come to sex is looking at the nude sites on the Internet. Staring at naked females on the monitor has been my main sexual stimulation, which usually resulted in masturbation.
"Sure, Charlie, I think that's a great idea."
Charlie had an old car and the next morning we drove for three hours and reached the ocean. Charlie checked us into the hotel with her credit card. I had the cash from our project, but obviously didn't have a credit card. Our rooms were on different floors.
The next few days were fantastic. We ate at good restaurants, walked on the beach for hours and talked. Charlie insisted I buy a swimming suit, and on the second day we played in the ocean. I was pasty white with no suntan at all. Charlie wore a modest bikini; her stomach and chest were as white as mine.
In her swimming suit it was easy to see that she had a terrific figure. Her legs were long and thin with a small ass and flat stomach. Her beautiful breasts were like magnets. I got hard every time I looked at Charlie because inevitably my eyes always locked on her breasts. I know she knew I was staring, but she never mentioned it.
When we came out of the water she picked up a tube of sunscreen and coated her front. Then she handed the tube to me and asked, "Put some on my back, please."
I thought my suit would tear open I was so hard when I rubbed the lotion on her back and thighs. I had never touched a girl's body like that before, and it was overwhelming me. Then she did the same for me. Her hands rubbing lotion on my skin was so sensual that at one point I know I moaned. She giggled.
We were having dinner on our last night before we returned to the city. We talked during the dinner and then sank into a comfortable silence when the food was taken away and we waited for the check.
Charlie asked, "What are you going to do now, Clyde?"
"I don't know. Probably the same things—wait for jobs to pop up and do the ones I like."
"Why don't we become business partners?"
I was stunned. Sure I had dreamed that maybe we would work on another project together, but she had real class and I had a string tie and no socks.
I stammered, "Charlie, you can do better."
"Clyde, you're a DB genius."
"But I can't sell worth shit and I have no class. Charlie, I can't even get a credit card."
Charlie grinned, "But I can sell, the company is already set up, and you know where to go if we need a specialty item."
A thought struck me and I blurted out, "We just finished a project under your company name. Isn't your ex-boyfriend a fifty percent owner?"
Charlie's face turned white. "Oh shit!
"As soon as we get back I have to start another LLC with you as a fifty percent owner. And I better talk to a lawyer whether my ex can claim any money from the project.
"You will be my partner, Clyde?"
She looked at me waiting for an answer. Her face was so beautiful and the look so hopeful, I had no choice.
"Yes, Charlie, if you really want me."
She grabbed my hand and squeezed it hard. Her face was beaming as she said, "Hi, partner."
"One thing, Charlie," I said. "When we get back I have to take some time to find a place to crash. My friend left me a note that I've used his couch long enough."
I could see she was thinking about something. Thirty seconds later she blushed and said, "I have an idea, and don't laugh at me. When we get a big project we will usually be in crash mode—just like the project we finished. We'll sleep when we're exhausted.
"What do you think about getting a two-bedroom apartment with a large living room? We could use the living room as the office, maybe use it as a tax write off, and when we have to crash, our bedrooms are right there."
She was blushing and that caused me to blush.
"I never had a woman as a roommate, Charlie."
"You never had a woman as a business partner, either," she countered.
I thought for a moment and stammered, "Let's see if we can find the right two-bedroom place for us when we get back."
I walked her to her room and we decided what time we would meet the next morning. She stood in front of her door looking at me. I desperately wanted to kiss her but was afraid of what she would think.
I touched her arm and said, "Thanks for a great vacation weekend, Charlie. It was fun."
I turned and walked away. I masturbated furiously that night thinking of what might have been.
I met Charlie the next morning for breakfast. We checked out and drove back to town. We had three hours to talk about where we wanted to look for the apartment, and how we were going to find new business.
We stopped at my friend's place so that I could pick up my stuff. Five minutes later I came down with two full brown-paper bags and my laptop.
"That's it?" asked Charlie.
I blushed and she knew the answer.
We bought a newspaper and looked at the apartment ads. The old district in town was at the beginning stages of a massive renovation to bring young people back into the city. There seemed to be a lot of apartments for rent; some of the ads even said the first month was free.
After an afternoon of looking we walked up the stairs of a two-story loft. When the manager opened the door, Charlie immediately whispered, "Yes!"
The ceiling was fourteen feet high. The living room was huge and even had a gas fireplace. One bedroom was quite large and the other certainly big enough for me. There was only one bathroom—no tub but a huge shower that could hold four people at once.
Charlie told the manager, "We need cable access with high-speed lines."
The manager replied, "Already installed."
Charlie thought for a moment and said, "We need immediate occupancy but the lease will start on the first of the month."
"But that gives you ten extra free days," protested the manager.
Charlie grinned and answered, "The place is empty. It's going to be empty for the next ten days. You lose nothing."
The manager thought and countered, "You want ten days and the first month free. If you sign a year lease and pay two months in advance, it's a deal."
"Done," said Charlie.
The next few days were hectic. We gave notice on Charlie's apartment and moved her furniture using a borrowed pickup truck. Then we used the same truck to move the used furniture I had to buy for my bedroom. I was able to get a great deal on a queen-size bed and bureau. Charlie was giggling when she pointed out that I had to also buy sheets, towels and other basic things.
Charlie went to her lawyer and requested that he terminate the old LLC. She asked his advice on how to protect herself against her old partner, and finally she asked him to create a new LLC. We were very creative on the new company's name—C & C Computing Consultants.
In the early evening of the third day, Charlie and I sat exhausted on the ratty couch. She was still writing notes about things that we had to buy for the apartment, but most of the major items were already there—because Charlie already owned them from the old apartment or we because had bought them. But the list of things that had to be done was never-ending.
Charlie pointed out that we should have two phone lines in the apartment, one of which would be our dedicated business number so that we could connect a voice recorder on it, not only not to miss messages but to screen calls before we picked up the phone.
I looked at Charlie writing notes and said, "Enough. Tony's Italian restaurant is one block away. Let's eat and call it a day."
She put down her pen and looked at me. The exhaustion on her face told all. She yawned and said, "I'm tired but I'm really hungry too. Let's go."
A week later we were finally organized, phones in, legal paperwork completed, and it was time to make some money.
We put some ads into the local tech paper and even hung some signs on telephone poles for those people with home computers who had problems—without a major project we would do anything.
We debated about the yellow pages. It was awfully expensive, but the amount of market it reached was huge. We finally decided on a modest two-line, box ad that emphasized our flexibility for any size job. The new directory would come out in six months, and hopefully, by then, we would be making enough money to pay for it.
The next week we went on six home calls to solve easy problems. On one of those house calls the cord had pulled out of the speaker so there was no sound. I didn't have the nerve to charge anything, but the elderly lady insisted that I take ten dollars. Charlie teased me on being a soft touch, but told me she would have done the same thing.
While we waited for a decent size job to come our way, I was getting more comfortable having a female roommate. Charlie usually wore a light T-shirt and shorts around the apartment and at first I couldn't take my eyes off her breasts. If the T-shirt was short I could see her bare stomach. She caught me looking a few times, but just grinned.
However, if I left the damn toilet seat up, she went absolutely bonkers!
Gradually we got comfortable with each other. Many nights found each of us on our computers working the Internet for information, chatting, or catching up with our computer contacts.
On a Monday morning the business line rang. Charlie picked up the phone, "C & C Computing."
She listened for a few minutes and then asked, "When do you want to see us?"
She paused and listened for a second and answered, "We'll be there in an hour, Mr. Olsen. What is your address, and who should we ask for?"
She wrote down the information and said good-bye. She looked at me and said the person wanted us to quote on a job, and that he got our name from the manager of our first big project. She frowned and then said, "It could be decent money, but the guy was awful pushy and I'm not sure it's someone I'd like to work for even on a short-term project."
We quickly dressed. Charlie was in her best business suit. I had clean pants and shirt and wore my favorite string tie. Under a piercing stare from Charlie I broke down and put on some socks.
We were escorted into Ted Olsen's office. It was absolutely huge with a conference table in one corner that could sit eight easily, a couch and cocktail table with comfortable chairs on either side of the couch. His desk must have cost $10,000 by the looks of it.
At his direction we sat at the conference table. He immediately took charge, "You got a nice recommendation, but are you two really any good?"
Charlie didn't back down. "Yes, we are really good, Mr. Olsen; we especially like it if the project is a challenge."
"Our damn top programmer's father had a heart attack and so he quit to help him recover. He didn't give us any warning, and he left the same day that he gave notice. He was writing the key program that ties the whole new system together. He swore it was clean, but every time we test the program, it either freezes the system or gives us bad output.
"The rest of the staff is barely competent and the key guy never hired anyone good enough to be his replacement, so we're screwed. I absolutely need the system up and running in two weeks or I miss my deadline. I never miss my deadlines, so that's why I called you.
"When can you start?"
The guy really was pushy and I was intimidated. I stammered, "If... if there isn't reasonable documentation, we won't start. It can't be done."
Olsen's face turned red with anger. "We got good documentation. The problem is that the damn program is bad. I'll pay you $10,000 if you get the damn thing running within two weeks. Two other consultants already turned me down without even looking at the mess."
Charlie interrupted, "Mr. Olsen, let Clyde and me look at the documentation for the next two or three hours and give us access to talk to your programming staff. Then we'll tell you yes or no. If the answer is no, there is no charge."
Three hours later we agreed to take the job and headed back to the office with tons of documentation and the program that wouldn't work.
We both realized that this was a pure programming problem, and right down Charlie's alley. The problem was that the guy who quit was really good, but every time he had a chance to do something simple or fancy, he chose fancy. He got so fancy the company's programming staff couldn't figure out what he was doing.
Charlie went into crash mode. It was obvious to me that this was a one-person job and I just kept my mouth shut and let her work. I went to bed at eleven; Charlie stayed up all night. By noon the next day she was exhausted and irritable. I went behind her chair and started massaging her neck and shoulders. She groaned with pleasure as I increased the pressure.
Finally, she was relaxed; her head was nodding. "Charlie, take a nap."
"I've got too much to do."
"I'll wake you up for dinner."
Very reluctantly she stood and headed for her bedroom; she was asleep in seconds. I left the apartment in the early evening and bought some take-out Chinese and brought it back. I woke her at seven. She took a quick shower and we ate.
Her eyes were clear and it was obvious the sleep had helped. She worked all night again.
The next day was a repeat. She took a seven-hour nap and worked the next fourteen hours. The third day was different. When I woke up in next morning she wasn't at her desk; she was sleeping in her bed!
She woke up at noon, showered, and came out in her T-shirt and shorts. She had a big smile on her face.
"Got it?" I asked.
"Nailed it," she beamed.
She continued, "The guy is really good, but he must have a huge ego. If the logic should take twenty lines, he had to make it work in five. When he did that enough times he created tremendous interfacing problems branching in and out of routines so many times you couldn't follow the flow. Once I had his technique down, I just had to reverse the program logic until I found the kinks. There were only three bugs, but it took me that long to find them."
"Testing? I asked.
"I'll test for the rest of the week. If things are clean we'll relax during the weekend and go see Olsen on Monday."
The first test Charlie ran didn't work. I got involved and found out that they had given us a corrupted database. I went over to the company and got some clean data. Charlie's fix worked perfectly; by Friday afternoon we knew she'd done it.
We had a relaxing Saturday and had a great meal at a new restaurant followed by a movie.
We slept late on Sunday and finally I walked into the kitchen for coffee at about eleven. Charlie was already up. We went to a local place for a big brunch and then walked to the nearby park for exercise. We got back about four o'clock.
We were on our computers when the doorbell rang; we looked at each other. It was the first time anyone had used it. Charlie walked to the door and opened it. I heard her angry tone when she said, "What the hell are you doing here?"
A man's voice answered, "Hi, Charlie. I miss you."
I thought, "Her ex partner..."
"Well I don't miss you. Good-bye."
He walked by her into the living room and spotted me for the first time. He was about six-foot and a little on the heavy side. "Who the hell are you?"
"I mean what the hell are you doing here?"
Charlie was pissed. "Clyde's sharing the place with me and he's my business partner. And he's a damn good DB man as opposed to you!"
He flushed and blurted, "What the fuck kind of name is Clyde?"
I didn't know what to say. I hate confrontations and fighting, and was never very good with a quick answer when verbally assaulted.
Not waiting for an answer, he turned back to face Charlie.
"I came over to see if you wanted to get together again, and take up where we left off, but I can see that you got desperate, so forget it."
Charlie yelled, "You son-of-a-bitch. Get out of here."
He smirked and said, "I'll leave as soon as you write a check for my share of the money."
Charlie's face was ashen. "You walked out on the job. Clyde did all the work."
"It doesn't matter Charlie. I'm a fifty percent partner in the LLC and I get fifty percent of the profits. So get out your checkbook."
With Charlie and her ex going at it, I had time to think. I stuttered, "The... the original LLC has been terminated. It's no longer a legal entity."
He swiveled to face me and yelled, "But it still has obligations to its creditors and partners. Just because you killed it doesn't let you walk away with my money."
My interruption had given Charlie time to think. She said calmly, "For three weeks in a row I put an ad in the business journal that anyone with any claims against the LLC should contact me. Once a week went by after the third ad, any claim against the LLC stopped. The third week ended ten days ago; you're out of luck."
I knew she was bluffing a little—her lawyer had said that both sides had a good argument.
"That's bullshit," he yelled.
Charlie walked to her desk and picked up a card. "Here's my lawyer's card. If you want to sue me, go for it.
"But you asshole, if you do sue me, my guess is it will cost you at least $5,000... I can afford it, can you?"
Charlie gave him the card and then lifted the phone. "Should I call 911 or are you leaving?"
I could tell he was steaming. He yelled, "You're a fucked up cunt. You're so pissed at your father that you have a personality of a turd... and you can't fuck worth a shit."
He turned and left the apartment, slamming the door.
Charlie stood, holding the phone. She was in shock and then she started crying. It wasn't a few tears on her face but a no-holds-barred breakdown. I quickly walked over to her and sat her down on the couch. She put her face on my chest and sobbed; her chest was heaving and she could barely breathe as she wailed.
For thirty minutes I held her. After the first ten minutes she just quietly sobbed. Her head was on my chest and I stroked her back. I could sympathize with her. She was mad, and she was embarrassed and humiliated that it happened in front of me. I guessed the mention of her father was a big part of it.
Finally she pulled away from me and said, "Thank you for being there for me."
"We're partners, Charlie."
She gave me a wan smile and tried to wipe the tears from her cheeks with the back of her hand.
"Will you give your partner a kiss?" she asked.
Without thinking I leaned over and kissed her. Her lips were soft and moist and I could feel the moisture of her tears on her cheeks. I had kissed a lot of girls... well maybe two or three, and this kiss was something else. I didn't want the kiss to end and, apparently, neither did Charlie.
I continued to kiss her lips and then her neck and forehead. She was clinging to me and every time our lips met, the pressure was greater. At one point her tongue pressed into my lips and I opened my mouth to be attacked by her tongue. It was fantastic!
I kept rubbing her back and then I touched the side of her breasts; I could feel her bra straps. My cock was throbbing and I was aroused. My hands finally cupped her breasts through her T-shirt. I felt her nipples grow hard with my teasing. We kissed again with even greater intensity.
I knew it was wrong. Her guard was down from the encounter with her ex-partner. I was embarrassed that I had lost control and taken advantage of her emotional trauma. I took my hands from her breasts. My cock went limp and I pulled away from her.
"I'm sorry, Charlie. I got carried away. I'm really sorry.
She looked at me sadly and said, "Clyde, unless a girl says 'no', she's probably saying 'yes.' "
I stared at her blankly. She sadly smiled, kissed me on the forehead and went to her bedroom.
I sat on the couch for an hour trying to figure out what just happened.