Chapter 1

It was a pretty normal Friday evening dinner, at least most of it. My mother-in-law was visiting and we wanted to take her out to a nice dinner. She likes Italian and so do my wife and I (especially lasagna), so we decided on Casa Mia in Kennewick.

The dinner was going exceptionally well; the food was great, the service wonderful, and the atmosphere is very classic Italian. The restaurant is even owned by an Italian couple, and they’d gone all out to make the restaurant ‘Italy’.

We were nearly ready to pay our bill and leave when Karen and her mom said they had to go to the bathroom (now you know my wife’s real, fake name). No big deal, happens every time we go out to eat. This time, though, things turned out differently. It seemed like they were gone forever, so I pulled out my cell phone and was perusing SOL, checking my favorite list and found an interesting story to read from one of my favorite authors.

My phone has a pretty good-sized screen, an oversized Samsung S10 plus. I didn’t think a thing about it until I heard from right behind me, “Hi, may I ask what you’re reading? I love erotic stories.”

I must have nearly bumped my head on the ceiling from the jump. “Sorry, didn’t mean to surprise you,” she laughed. To say that she took me by surprise is like saying there are fish in the ocean.

I said ‘she’, and she was definitely a she. A very nice-looking she; brown hair down over her shoulders, beautiful face, gorgeous figure, probably early-twenties, at least ten or fifteen years younger than me.

How embarrassing! I hadn’t thought anyone could see my screen. She must have just been walking by and noticed it. “It’s just a little short story,” I told her, a little worried about my wife finding me talking to this gorgeous creature who seemed to be flirting with me. I’m bashful as hell, especially when it comes to pretty girls and, in spite of some of my stories, very uncomfortable around the opposite sex, especially pretty ones flirting with me.

“Would you mind if I took a little peek?” she asked, “I love to find new things.”

So I handed her my phone. I know, dumb, huh. But when her fingertips grazed mine, an electric charge went through my whole body and mind. Hell, she could have asked for all my credit cards right then and I’d have given them to her ... along with my pins.

I was watching where my wife and her mom had gone. I didn’t know for sure what I was going to do when they reappeared. I didn’t want this lovely creature to go away.

The story I was reading was ‘Cruise’. A married woman on an ocean cruise was dancing with a man she’d just met; they walked under the stars and moon until he escorted her back to her cabin, undressed her and made love with her. All the little sexy details were filled in, like his slow, gradual seduction of her, but you get the idea.

It was hot as hell! The author is one of my favorites for a good reason. My brief description doesn’t do the story any justice and the girl reading it seemed to be totally engrossed until some guy walked up, put his arm around her, and said, “Whatcha doin’, babe?”

Talk about a mood-killer! “Just finding a new place for stories that we’ll like,” she told him with a brief kiss on the lips.

She handed me back my phone, then asked, “What’s the site?”

I told her, “Storiesonline.com, check out my profile, robertl,” knowing that I’d never hear from her. Girls like that weren’t going to be interested in someone like me. Besides, she knew I was married. At least I assumed she did. And she had a boyfriend. Best if I didn’t ever hear from her. But I also scribbled my email and website on a napkin and handed to her. You know, just in case.

“Thank you, we’ll check it out,” and they walked out. That was the first I got a really nice look at ‘my’ girl’s bod. Damn! Really, really best if I never heard from her.

By then my cock was hard, but I’d lost interest in the story. Not even that story could compete with a girl like her.

It was still several more minutes before Karen and her mom showed back up. At least I’d dodged a bullet, trying to explain to Karen what a beautiful twenty-something was doing at my table with my cell phone in her hand. Karen knows nothing about my little hobby. One of those little secrets that seemed pretty innocuous, or had until right then. At this point, I didn’t want to tell her, either. Especially after that Kodiak, Alaska story being so close to what had almost happened.

I was both relieved and disappointed as the weekend went by. I checked my e-mail and SOL a dozen times both Saturday and Sunday, not to mention the half-dozen after we got home Friday, wondering if just maybe she’d message me. I kept telling myself that there was no way a beautiful girl like that would be contacting an old, middle-aged stranger like me. Thirty-seven wasn’t actually over the hill yet, but to a gorgeous, young girl like her...

I tapered off from checking during the next week, to the point where I was only checking them once or twice a day like I normally do. At least I told myself that was what I was doing. Almost convinced myself, too.

I didn’t even know the mystery girl’s name and my thoughts of her had dwindled to almost non-existent, maybe only a couple of dozen times an hour. I love my wife, but we’d been together a long time and I haven’t actually even thought about another girl, ever, and the feelings I was having were strange. And powerful. Realistically, I knew that it was a thousand times better to never hear from her. Yet, I couldn’t help but keep hoping. To be honest, I kind of forgot about the little fact that she had a boyfriend.

So, on Sunday afternoon, the following weekend, sitting in my little man-cave at my computer, when I saw that I had a message on SOL’s little ‘mail’ icon. I was almost afraid to click on it. I actually did close my laptop, willing myself to not open the message. For about a minute, maybe half a minute, until I couldn’t stand it any longer. When I clicked on the message icon, my heart was pounding. Then when I read the message subject, ‘Your stories’, I didn’t know what to think. Well, actually I did, I thought about what she looked like walking away from the table; those tight jeans; long, sexy hair; thin waist, full hips ... argh! There wasn’t any way I wasn’t checking out that message.

I hadn’t ever heard of the person, but it was obviously a girl’s name, with a short message, ‘Hi, been reading your stories, love to chat sometime.’ Then the topper, separate paragraph, ‘Think you’re cute, too.’

Oh God!!

My fingers were shaking and my brain was in overdrive remembering our brief exchange ... and that view! Now what? I knew damn good and well that I should just click on delete and forget it, let her just fade into a pleasant temporary interlude memory. Yeah, right! That’s what I knew I should have done. What I did do, though, was click on ‘reply’ and sent a short message, ‘this the girl from the restaurant?’ Dumb, huh.

Then I sat there, just staring at the screen. Would she reply? If my heart had been pounding before, it was nearly blowing a hole in my chest by then. Karen was in the living room watching a Hallmark movie so I was alone in my misery. That’s the kind of girl Karen was - a Hallmark movie girl. And here I was, pining over a girl who definitely was NOT a Hallmark movie girl.

I stared ... and stared ... and stared. Until my inbox showed another incoming message, ‘Uhuh, LOVE the stories, so sexy!’

My fingers were shaking and I had to delete my reply twice because it didn’t make any sense and was unreadable. I finally typed out a really sexy, intellectual message and hit send, ‘Hi, you their?’ At least it was spelled right. No it wasn’t;- ‘there’, not ‘their! Dammit. Now she’ll think I’m a bloomin’ idiot.

Then I started staring again, this time just a few seconds, ‘Love your stories, your characters seem so real. Especially like Adriana. And Tanner. Yum.’ So she’d started with my Reunion series.

We chatted back and forth the next ten minutes or so about different things, the Reunion story; she said she loved ‘The Wedding Meadow’ and wanted to know if those places were real, which I assured her they were. She mentioned how funny it was how I jumped when she first asked me what I was reading. By then my imagination was running way overboard wondering if I’d ever actually see her again. The boyfriend totally disappeared from my mind. So did Karen, to be honest.

My reverie was interrupted when said Karen’s head poked in my door, startling me, and asked if I’d run to the store for some eggs so she could make cookies. That brought me back to real life and a guilty conscience that I’d been drooling over this still nameless girl, and she was so young, just a kid, for God’s sake!

‘Gotta go, get eggs,’ I messaged her. Lame! Then I clicked on ESPN’s website just in case Karen might peek at my monitor while I was gone. I was sure that guilt was written all over my face.

I got up and had to adjust myself to hide my erection. If my face was showing guilt, Karen didn’t seem to notice, she didn’t even look twice; just asked for the eggs and popped back out.

“Anything else?” I asked her, before closing the front door behind me.

She hesitated just a minute, “Think we’re low on oil, and maybe some walnuts, too.”

Besides her eggs and stuff, I picked up some malted milk balls and Werther’s Originals, the caramel-vanilla ones, Karen’s two favorite candies, just to appease my conscience a little. Besides, I knew she’d be appreciative and the way I was feeling, I hoped that maybe later...

I don’t know if the candy helped or not, but we had a really nice first hour in bed. Maybe ‘nice’ isn’t exactly the right word, but you get the idea. We both enjoyed bedtime ... a lot!

It was Wednesday before I had a chance to message my new friend again. Wednesday night is Karen’s bunco night with several of her friends, so I was home alone.

The first thing I asked her was her real name. ‘Paulina, but my friends call me Pauli.’

Then the thing that had been bugging me, not that it should have since I’m married and anything more than just conversation would be totally off-limits, ‘You have a boyfriend?’

‘Mmhmm, I do, he’s a really good guy,’ and then just a couple seconds later, another message popped up, ‘but he’s not the jealous type - if you know what I mean.’

I stared at that. What the hell did that mean? No, I didn’t know what she meant. Was she implying what my imagination was thinking she might be? Shit, this was getting out of hand! I needed to stop this - NOW!

‘Don’t know what you mean - elaborate?’ I asked. Maybe just a tiny bit more before I tell her I can’t do this.

‘He’s seen guys dance with me. Liked it.’

I stared at that. Wide-eyed! ‘Kissing me, too. I like to kiss. Do you?’

Holy... ! I’ve got to tell her I have to go. I can’t do this anymore! ‘I do. But only ever kissed my wife.’

‘Too bad!’

My cock was raging. I remembered the electric shock that had gone through my body when her fingertips touched me briefly. What the hell would it be like to kiss a girl like that?

I honestly couldn’t do this any longer. ‘Wife’s getting home. Have to go,’ I lied.

After making love that night, Karen seemed quite pleased, “Mmm, what’s gotten into my husband? I like it!” Maybe ‘making love’ wasn’t the exact right terminology for what we’d just done. It had most definitely NOT been our ‘normal’.

I opened my mouth to tell her about the girl at the restaurant. The words almost came tumbling out before my mouth closed again. The likely repercussions of Karen finding out about my SOL account were just too much. I couldn’t do it, those words reverberating through my brain, ‘I like to kiss.’ I was hard again. I couldn’t even remember the last time that’d happened so soon after making love with Karen. Especially, after the kind of sex we’d just had.

Thursday evening, I was on my couch in the living room, Karen in her chair, and we were watching Blue Bloods on our DVR. At the same time, I had my laptop open, not paying a lot of attention to it when a little message popped up in the bottom corner of my monitor, ‘You have messages waiting at SOL’.

Erin and Anthony on Blue Bloods were having a serious argument over a man Erin had prosecuted for a murder years earlier and now, new evidence had come up that might show he hadn’t done it. Erin was still totally convinced he was guilty, but Anthony thought there could be something to it and wanted to reopen the investigation. It involved what could be a bad cop.

I really didn’t want to take my attention away from the story, but that message was calling, simply impossible to ignore. Two weeks earlier, I wouldn’t have any problem ignoring it, but not now.

So I clicked on it, trying to pay attention to Erin and Anthony at the same time. I rapidly lost interest in Blue Bloods when I read the message, ‘Connor and I would love to meet with you, talk about one of your stories.’

My heart rate doubled and I instantly closed it. I couldn’t meet with her, no way. I assumed that Connor was the boyfriend I saw in the restaurant. But the damage was done, I have no idea what happened on Blue Bloods after that. My heart was beating out of my chest, remembering that electric shock when her fingertips touched mine; that beautiful face; that view of her walking away; and then those words ‘I like to kiss.’

We watched ‘The Rookie’ right after Blue Bloods, but I didn’t hear a word that was said. I could watch that episode again and not even know I’d already watched it once. After The Rookie, Karen said she was going to bed. I told her I’d be there in a bit.

I opened that message and read it again. They wanted to meet with me; no, I couldn’t do it. But, what would it hurt just to talk about a story? I love talking about them with people. So this would be in person, not through the anonymity of the internet, would that be so bad? What could possibly go wrong?

I replied to her message, ‘Would love to meet you. Not sure when, though. Remember, I’m married.’

Her reply, ‘Bring your wife. Lunch, tomorrow noon?’

Bring my wife? No, no way I could do that. But I don’t see why I couldn’t meet her at noon. Karen works, I work, we have our lunch hours. And I worked for myself, so my lunchtime was up to me. Yeah, I know, I was trying to justify myself, but I couldn’t ‘not’ meet with her.

‘Where?’ I messaged. We agreed on The Olive Garden at twelve. Like I’d thought earlier; middle of the day, with her boyfriend, Olive Garden, what could possibly go wrong?

Then I went to bed, daydreaming about the next day. Karen was in bed wearing one of her short, sexy negligees. “I thought maybe we could take up where we left off last night.”

And we did, that electric charge from those fingertips ... and that butt, deeply embedded in my mind.

My hands were damp with sweat when I parked in the Olive Garden parking lot. This was something I never would have imagined myself doing. When I started writing, I assumed they’d always be anonymous. Now, here I was, meeting a girl and her boyfriend, in person, to talk about one of those stories. Other than that, I had no clue what they might be wanting to talk about. I’d never imagined myself meeting some pretty girl, unknown to Karen, either. That was the big one.

I was about ten minutes early and asked for a table for three, then waited, my nerves going somewhere through the roof. I wondered if she was really as pretty as I remembered or if that had just been the excitement of the moment clouding my judgment. I know I’ve written about things somewhat similar to this, but this was real, not just part of a story, words on the computer. It seemed a lot more ominous than it had when we were arranging it the night before. But still, what could possibly go wrong? Famous last words!

Then I saw the host bringing a couple toward my table. It was them. She had on a short leather skirt, blouse with several buttons undone and as they got closer, I could make out the color of her bra underneath the blouse. Absolutely gorgeous. As she sat, it was hard to not notice her red lips, especially remembering that comment, ‘I like to kiss.’ No, it hadn’t just been excitement clouding my judgment! If anything, she was even prettier.

She introduced her boyfriend, Connor. We shook hands, “Robert, or Bob, either one,” I said.

Pauli sat across the table from me. God, she was everything I remembered from that initial brief exchange and more. When she smiled at me, I nearly melted into a puddle of muck on the floor. All I could think of was, ‘My boyfriend isn’t the jealous type.’ Was this actually happening?

We had a few minutes of small talk, what we did; she’d gone with Connor the last three months; I told them that I was an independent building codes consultant, then explained what that meant, not exactly glorious. We ordered food and it was delivered a few minutes later.

“What we really wanted to talk about was your reunion story,” that sexy voice said. I thought she had a little bit of a British accent, like my Brit friend, Amber. She’d sent me a few videos and the sexy accent was similar.

Everything about Pauli was screaming sexy. I’d just watched a humorous skit on YouTube a month or so ago, a nerdy guy confidently talking to a pretty girl, then when she left, he turned into a quivering mass on the floor. That was me, the quivering mass.

“That strip poker scene is the hottest thing I’ve ever read,” she said, stroking my ego about a mile high. She hesitated, glanced over at her boyfriend, then went on, “We want to do it ... for real. And we want you there...”

My eyes got wide, I’m not sure what might have happened to the color of my face, probably turned totally white, “You ... you what?”

This time she was blunt, “ ... want you to be in the strip poker game with us...”

“I ... I ... I ... I’m married!” was the only thing I could think to blurt out.

“Bring her, it’d be fun. Bet she’d like it too.” Yeah, my ‘Hallmark movie’ wife. Not a chance in hell!

I looked at Connor, hoping to get some input from him, not sure what it might be, but ... something!

He grinned, “You really do want to see this girl naked!” he said. Oh shit!

“And remember what I said, I like to kiss ... and maybe even more...” that smile again! Oh God! And that perfume!

“I ... I’ve ... we’ve never done anything like that. It’s just a silly story.”

“Neither have either of us, that’s what would make it so much fun,” she said.

“But, I’m so much older ... thirty-seven...”

That was when I felt her foot rubbing up my leg, “Not exactly one foot in the grave yet ... I’d just call it experienced,” that foot moving up my thigh, “and besides, you’re cute. I like you.”

When I felt her toes on my cock I groaned. How the hell did I get myself into this? And how do I get out? But shit, I didn’t want out. Do you know how bad I wanted to do what they were talking about? Strip poker with this goddess? That’s the stuff that guys like me don’t even dream about. Shit! And she thinks I’m cute. I’ve never thought I was bad-looking, not ugly or anything, but nothing special. But cute? No one, not even Karen has ever used the word ‘cute’ in reference to me. Hell, is it even a compliment for a guy? Puppies, kittens, and babies are ‘cute’.

But I couldn’t, no way. That was too far, waayyy too far! My face must have been totally white.

“I ... I don’t see how I can. Can I think about it ... get back to you?” God, that foot ... that accent and that smile! Those lips!

She picked up a napkin and wrote on it, stuffing it in my shirt pocket, then got up. We’d finished dinner, I’d only eaten about half what I ordered. No way could I eat anything more.

“We’re getting the bill,” Connor said. Hell, I’d even forgotten there was a bill to pay.

We walked outside to the sidewalk, stopped to say goodbye, and Pauli kissed me on the cheek. I closed my eyes for just a second, God, that electric feeling from her fingertips was times ten; no, a thousand! I instinctively turned my head in her direction and her kiss was on my lips, those soft lips opening, her tongue pressing against my lips. I opened my lips just slightly and she pulled away, leaving me totally breathless as they both turned and left.

I pulled the napkin out of my pocket and looked at it; a phone number, three hearts with arrows drawn through them, and the words, ‘we’ll wait.’

No, no way! There wasn’t any possibility that I could get away from home for something like that. Would I like to take Karen to a strip poker game? Hell yes! But that sure as hell wasn’t going to happen. How the hell would I explain that to her? ‘Sweetheart, I met this girl and she thinks I’m cute and wants to play strip poker with me.’ Yeah, right! could see divorce court in our future. To put it bluntly, I was scared as shit; God, I wanted to do it!

I went back inside, to the bathroom and washed the lipstick off my cheek and lips. I didn’t smell her perfume on myself and could only hope that there wasn’t any residue. How the hell would I explain that to Karen?

I went back to work but it was a waste of time. My whole life had been thrown in upheaval, there hadn’t ever been anything that I wanted more. I kept closing my eyes and seeing that girl, smelling her perfume, using my imagination, that kiss, torturing myself. I put the phone number in my phone, not that I ever expected to call it.

By that evening when I went home, I’d calmed down, at least a little. I laughed a little at myself, thinking ‘what could possibly go wrong?’ What, indeed!

I asked Karen if she’d like to go out to dinner, somewhere nice. She smiled and said she’d love it. “Dress up a little?” she asked.

“I’d like that. I’ll wear a jacket, you wear a nice dress, we’ll have fun.”

“Where’d you like to go?” I asked her.

She smiled and said, “You asked me out, surprise me.”

One’s conscience can be a powerful thing.

This was our first ‘date’ for a long time. I thought about the Olive Garden. No, no way, ‘Paulie’ would be there, at least in my mind, she would. There’s a place we’d heard about, ‘The River Lounge’. Seafood, entertainment, dance floor, overlooking the Columbia River. A perfect place to take your wife when you’re feeling guilty. I checked my watch, called them and confirmed a reservation for two in an hour-and-a-half.

I showered, shaved, brushed my teeth and found my cleanest dirty shirt. I smiled at my humor, a Johnny Cash song.

I have a tan sports jacket that I’ve only worn a few times. This seemed like a good time. I even put on a striped tie that Karen bought me a couple of years ago for a friend’s wedding. This will be ... think, think, think ... twice that I’ve worn it.

A little while after I was ready, my wife came down the stairs ... wearing a shimmery, silver metallic dress about four-inches above her knees, a deep ‘V’ in front, almost showing her bra; shimmery nylons, silver heels, red lipstick, and her brown hair in a beautiful, glamorous bun, showing off her long, sexy neck. A little like Audrey Hepburn ... except with boobs. My eyes nearly popped out. I can’t even remember the last time I’ve seen my Karen looking like this.