Chapter 1

What happened between David and I... what is still happening between us, didn't start at a single moment in time. There were no locked gazes across a crowded room, the instant spark of attraction that I thought I needed to feel passion for a man. It was a slow, gradual process, a series of circumstances and events that forced me to unlearn everything I thought I knew about men, and to discover new things about myself and my life almost every day. Even now, three years later, not a day goes by that I don't learn something new about David, something new about myself, and something wonderful and interesting about our life together. To truly tell this story as it should be told, I must start at the beginning.

Up until the moment I met David, I thought that a man was... well, "Manly." Strong. Silent. Brutish, sometimes. Living his life between his legs. Concerned with only his own pleasure. Basically a donut-eating, couch-pototato- sitting, porno-video-watching ball of cholesterol and high blood pressure waiting for that one special blood clot to end his so-called life. That, of course, was the result of being married to Ted, my husband of almost 15 years. Ted and I had married young; too young, as it turned out. As all people will, we changed over time, our priorities and concerns diverging in the face of everyday life. Ted wanted a wife that would stay at home and cook and make babies. I wanted children... just not yet. I wanted to explore and experience what life had to offer, to discover what was out there for a woman like me: Intelligent, funny... good looking.

Ok, I admit it. Compared against my peers, I come out a little, hell a lot! above average in the looks department. I have naturally blond hair that the stylist hilights and frosts from time to time, beguiling green eyes, those classic cheekbones that the writers are always talking about, and a rather soft, full body that has bumps and curves in all the right places.

Two years ago, if you'd asked me that question, I would have said that I was 'ordinary, ' or 'plain-looking', or on my best days, 'not that bad looking.' That was because of Ted, who took great pains to point out to me what a huge favor he had done by marrying me. Seems that I just didn't have that certain something, or so he said, that made men want to be with me. I felt unnattractive and undesirable.

David changed all that.

What happened was that the recession hit, and I had to get a job. I took stock of my education and experience and realized that I probably would only be able to get a job as a clerk or something like that. I took a job with a local multimedia production company, working as a combination receptionist/clerk/typist. David was a programmer assigned to the television and movie unit, writing programs to do sprite and raster animation. I didn't meet David until my second week there, when he phased in during normal working hours.

David, like most programmers, ran on a constantly shifting cycle. He would work bizzare hours, somtimes days at a stretch, then take a week off to let his body adjust. He liked working nights, when it was quiet and desolate, because he wouldn't be disturbed by phone calls and stupid questions.

David HATES stupid questions.

I was wearing this little headset, taking calls, when this tall, gangly man-boy walked into the office. At first glance, he seemed very young, probably still a teenager. His soft brown eyes were hidden behind rimless glasses, and he smiled shyly at me until I got off the phone.

"I'm David," he said. "I work in the TV unit. I just wanted to introduce myself." He shook my hand, and I was struck by how... gentle his touch was. Most men grab my hand as if to crush it, or hold it like a complete pansy, as if afraid I'm a porcelin doll that's going to break. David's grip was firm but gentle. He turned and walked away, back into his office, and I returned to my calls.

The funny thing was, I wasn't attracted to David at that time. He wasn't my type. I like, much to my own dismay, strong, in-control type men, men that know what they want, and aren't afraid to go after it. David struck me as... well, kind of a wimp. A nebbish. The typical computer nerd...

Except for his incredibly dark, soft brown eyes. They seemed so dark they were almost black. It was hard to tell where his pupil ended and his iris began. David and I didn't have much contact for about three months. He would smile at me as he came and left, and I would return the smile. That was the complet extent of our relationhip.

Little did I know that David had fallen quietly, desperately in love with me the first time he'd seen me, and noting the wedding ring on my finger had chosen to nurse his secret passions without informing me. He confided his feelings to a co-worker, making him promise to keep the secret. As I could have told David, the man broke his word, told his secretary, thinking that it was 'cute' that the 'kid' had a crush on 'the old broad.' His secretary, being of the blonde-bubble-headed variety, (I found her staring at a bottle of OJ one morning, and then saw the label: CONCENTRATE... if that gives you any idea... ) told her friends, and it was like that old Breck commercial: She told two friends, and so on and so on.

One of the more vicious gossips, a woman who loved telling people what other people were saying about them, came up to me and informed me that the 'kid' had a crush on me. That he thought he was in love. I thanked her for that little bit of information, and went on with my life.

But the thought persisted. David... in love with me? How could that be? He didn't even *know* me. How on Earth... ? A small thought started at the back of my brain, so small it didn't even have a voice yet. My husband had made it clear that he was going to have affairs whether I liked it or not, and more than once I'd sensed another woman on him. My husband had also made it clear that he didn't find me attractive anymore. I couldn't remember the last time I'd made love, and was frankly pretty hungry for the touch of another human being. And David was in love with me.

The thought grew, slowly, over hours and days and weeks. On the one side, the thought of a torrid, illicit affair with a younger man was strangely exciting and exhilerating. The thought of giving myself to this young man, of letting him uncover and reveal the secrets of my body and soul turned me on like nothing else had in a long, long time. But, on the other hand, it would be wrong to encourage David, to lead him on, to let him believe that there could be a future for us, that I would divorce my husband for him. After all, as much as I hated to admit it to myself, I'd taken those vows seriously. To Death Us Do Part.

But I couldn't shake the mental image of David's soft, brown eyes taking in my naked body as I undressed for him that first, special time. Watching his eyes widen, his pupils dialating with passion as I revealed my creamy breasts to him. Feeling my own nipples harden in arousal as I saw him gaze at me and lick his lips in Pavlovian anticipation...

Then the Gods handed me a present for which I will always be grateful. Ted came home one night and announced that he wanted a divorce, that he had met the woman of his dreams. I discovered that the woman of his dreams was a 19- year old areobics instructor with a body by Fisher and mind by... if not Matell, then Ronco. She was the single dumbest woman I have ever met in my life. If someone said, "Look at the dead bird!" this bimbo would look up in the sky and say, "Where?"

I gave Ted my blessings, my consent, and 1/3 of our marital property. I got the house and the new car and something I hadn't had in a very long time: Freedom. Freedom to live my life the way I'd been aching to for so, so long. First on that agenda, of course, was David.

I bided my time, waiting for one month to pass after the divorce was final. Then I decided to make the first move. Walking into David's office one afternoon, I spied him working on the keyboard, jacked in and punching deck. He was gone, far gone into the bits and bytes of the system. I had to cough twice to get his attention.

"Oh," he said, smiling, "I'm sorry. I didn't know you were there. What can I do for you, Ellen?"

"What are doing after work today?" I asked brightly.

"Uh... nothing. What's up?"

I took a deep breath. "Would you like to have a drink down at O'Mally's?"

He thought for a moment. "Uh... sure. The gang decided to go out, huh? Who else is going to be there?"

My weight slid onto one hip. "Just you and me, David."

His expression was one of confusion, and then he brightened. "Oh. I get it. Meeting someone, huh? You talked to Sherry, right? Sure, no problem. If your date starts giving you any trouble, just signal me, and I'll take it from there."

Now I was confused. "What are you talking about?"

"Uh... Sherry had this blind date with some dude, and wanted someone there in case things didn't go well. She asked me to pretend that I was her brother, and if things got strange, she would signal me, and I'd move in. I thought that's what you..."

"No, David," I said, shaking my head. "You don't understand. I'm asking you out. I want to go have a drink with you. Just me and you, David. No brothers, no blind dates... no one else but me and you."

There was a long, long pause, and then David said, simply, "Oh."

"Is that a problem?" I was becoming rapidly annoyed.

"No. No problem. Not at all. It's just that... um... why?"

"Why what?" I snapped.

"Why... me?"

That was it. His entire attitude was annoying and confusing. "Oh, forget it!" I snapped. I turned and stalked out of there, angry at myself for believing that a younger man would want me, angry at him for not jumping at an opportunity that had taken me weeks to work up the nerve to offer him, angry at Ted for putting me in this pos-

"Ellen?"

I turned at the door. "What?"

He stood and walked over to where I was standing. He looked so... lost, so unsure. The maternal instincts in me gushed out, and I wanted to hold him.

"Please understand Ellen... no one has ever... asked me out before. I don't know... what to do." He drew himself up, some internal switch closing, some personal decision made. "I'd very much enjoy having a drink with you, Ellen."

"Fine," I said slowly. "Meet me at O'Mally's at six- thirty. And David?"

"Yes?"

"Please... don't mention this to anyone else. It's not usually a good idea to date people you work with, and I would hate for this to get around." He nodded thoughtfully and went back to his desk. I returned to the front and continued answering phones. The clock seemed to crawl towards five, and every moment seemed like a thousand.

I had to use the restroom, and I passed by David's office on the way. When David was at work, he was usually AT WORK. Jacked in, punching deck, riding the electronic waves as a byteSurfer. As I passed his office, I found him sitting in front of the computer, his hands still, fingers on his lips, staring at his screen... but not seeing it. His eyes were far away, and I could see the... concern on his face. And then the fear. And then his features went... slack, I guess is the only word, and he shook his head and turned away. When his face returned to my line of sight, I was absolutely shocked to see the beginnings of tears at the corner of his eyes. He dropped his face into one hand and began massaging his temples. Suddenely aware that I could be seen at any moment, I hurried to the bathroom, wondering what I had just witnessed.

David met me at the bar right on time. I'd arrived a few minutes before him and had obtained a booth. I was nursing my first drink when David slid in across from me and gave me what can only be described as an agonized smile.

"Thanks for coming," I said, not sure how to even start this conversation. It had been almost two decades since I'd had to date, and wasn't sure what the rules were. I remembered reading something about the sexual revolution, but apparantly, I'd been in the Indiana National Guard of sexual battalions, and hadn't been called to serve. I'd had basic training, a little advanced work, but no in-the- trenches work for a long time.

David didn't answer, just nodding and signalling for a waiter. He took David's drink order and vanished, leaving the two of us alone, silent with our thoughts.

"So," I finally said. "How long have you been with CyberDyne?"

"Since college," he said. "About five years." That would put him at about 26, maybe 27. Thirteen years younger than YOU, my brain quietly announced.

A slow song came on the jukebox, and I dragged a faintly protesting David to the dance floor. Truth be told, I wanted someone to touch me, to hold me, and this seemed a nice, socially acceptable way to accomplish that.

David held me in his arms a littl stiffly at first, and as the music took hold, I started to draw his body against mine. He resisted, and when I finally managed to press against him, it was like dancing with a board.

The song ended, and we wound up back at the table. We finished our drinks, signalled for another round, and waited. He couldn't even look at me. I wondered if the company gossip had misinformed me; David was not acting like a man secretly in love with me. Not at all.

Unless, my mind suddenely said, he's a man who is secretly in love with you, who has never dated once in his life. That would put his emotional/social development somewhere around high school... which was exactly how David was acting. Like this was a painful high school date.

It all clicked.

"Do you mind if I ask you something?"

"Sure," he said, immediately blushing.

"You... haven't dated much, have you?"

"Oh... once or twice. Not a lot."

"Is that why you were so stiff out there?"

His face turned away swiftly, and I thought I saw something flash across his features. "Uh... no."

I took his hand in mine and gently stroked it. "Tell me, David... something is bothering you. I can feel it."

"Uh..." He had trouble holding my gaze, but I waited, patiently. "I'm not a great dancer... I... I don't like getting too close to people."

"Why not?"

"Um... when I was in college, I got kind of drunk at a party once. I asked this girl to dance, and she said that she didn't want me touching her, that I grossed her out. Then, about two months later, I was walking behind this woman on the Quad. She slipped, and started to fall back. I caught her, and she was fine until... she saw it was me. She... screamed at me not to touch her, that she would rather have fallen down than have my hands on... than have me touch her." He finished in a rush and looked away. Talking more to the dance floor than to me, he said, "So... I've always kind of thought that... people... women... didn't want me to touch them, so I... don't. I try and keep as far away as possible so I don't... offend. I don't want to... gross anyone out. Don't want to repulse them."

I stared at him in amazement. This couldn't be true. David was by no means drop-dead gorgeous, but he was also not unattractive. He was just... shy, bookish. Perhaps a little too smart for his own good. He probably knew things... did things... that other people didn't understand. He was... different, that was all. Not bad, necessarily, just... different.

"David," I finally whispered. "Let me make one thing perfectly clear." He was still looking at the dance floor. I grabbed his chin between my fingers and turned him to face me. "Look at me. I... very much... want you to touch me. When I dance with someone, I want to feel their body against mine. I want... to feel your arms around me. Can we try again?"

Nodding silently, as if afraid to speak, David agreed. We moved to the dance floor, and this time, when I drew him against me, he came. I felt the gentle pressure of his chest against my breasts, the warm strength in his arms as he drew me closer. We swayed gently to the music, finding our personal rythm. My hand was flat against his chest, my face right next to it. I closed my eyes, and the music continued, filling the empty spaces between us, bringing us closer and closer together.

When the song finally stopped, we pulled apart and looked at each other. David was flushing, slightly embarrased, and I knew why. I'd felt his erection pressing against my belly as we'd danced, and I'd been secretly a little excited myself that he felt that way about me. His desire was obvious, but I still wasn't clear if it was for me, Ellen, as a person, or for me, Ellen as a woman... a woman who wanted him to touch her.

I decided that it didn't matter. Listening to my husband tell me for so many years that I wasn't exciting and attractive, having a man next to me, obviously attracted and turned on, was a novel and exhilerating experience, one I intended to draw out and savor as much as I could.

We returned to the table and had a few more drinks, and then danced some more. As the night wore on, the dances became slowly more sensual. It was dark outside, the sun having set hours ago, and David and I were slowly swaying to the music, our bodies pressed tightly against each other.

I lifted my head and David smiled down at me, happiness written all over his features. Impulsively, I leaned up and kissed him, a quick peck really, and then returned my head to his chest. I felt his hands tighten around my back, and I shivered in pleasure.

I asked David to take me home, and he agreed. The computer business had been nice to David, as evidenced by the brand-new Nissan PathFinder he was driving. We climbed into his truck, and he drove me home. I'd already made up my mind to make love to David, but wasn't sure how to make this happen; after all, I was used to being seduced, not the other way around.

Inviting David in for a quick drink, I was thrilled when he only paused for a second before accepting. I took him into the house and stowed him on the couch, ducking into the bathroom to quickly check my hair and makeup. I tried to remember if my bedroom was passable, and decided that if it wasn't, the couch would do fine.

David was sitting exactly where I'd left him, in the same precise position. He hadn't moved an inch. I made us drinks and brought them over to him, sitting down next to him, but not too close. We clinked glasses softly and sipped once. Taking David's glass from his hand, I set it down on the coffee table (screw the coasters! I thought) and turned to face him.

The room was very, very quiet. The sound of the crickets outside the window was the only break in the silence. David's soft, brown eyes locked with mine, and I moved my face a fraction of an inch towards his. He moved too, a fraction closer. Slowly, with the inevability of the sun rising, we approached each other. I could smell him, his masculine scent, feel his hot breath on my face... and I started getting seriously excited.

We kissed each other for the first time. His lips were soft and warm. My head twisted for another angle, kissing him again, just as softly. I could feel him leaning towards me, into me, and I opened my mouth to moan with arousal.

David pulled back as if he'd been shocked.

"Did I hurt you?" he asked, worry all over his face. I had to struggle not to laugh. I wasn't laughing at him... but it was funny and touching in a... well, sad kind of way.

"You've never... necked?" I asked, and I saw the shame and embarrasment flood across his face.

"No. There weren't any girls who... wanted..." And at that moment, I flashed back to when I'd found David in his office, near tears, rubbing his temples. I knew that he had thought, then at least, that regardless of his feelings for me, that I would never want him.

That no woman would ever want him. That he was somehow... not enough. Not handsome enough. Not sexy enough. Not successful enough. Whatever the woman of the moment was looking for, he would just not... be enough.

I took his face in my hands and turned him back to me, urgently, hungrily kissing his mouth, letting my tongue play across his lips. "So," I said, pulling away, still stroking his strong jaw with one finger, "you are... ?"

"A virgin," he confirmed. "In every sense of the word."

"You've never... anything?"

He giggled suddenely. "This," he said, taking a deep breath, "is the furthest I've ever been with a girl. I mean... I've read, and I've seen movies and stuff like that... lots of emprical data, but no real lab work." He smiled at his own joke.

He lay back, resting his head on the back of the couch. I lay against him, my head once again on his chest, my hand rubbing his pecs through the blue oxford he wore.

Jesus! I thought. A completely unspoiled virgin. Unsullied. Mine to do with as I please. To teach and instruct on the ways of adult phyiscal love. This was going to be *great*!

"David," I whispered. "I don't know quite how to say this." I paused, and he waited for me to continue. "Those women at college were... bitches. They shouldn't have said what they said. I know this, because I very much want you to touch me, David. Since Ted and I divorced, and long before that, I've been very lonely. Unsure of myself, of my attractiveness. As a woman."

David laughed, his chest undulating with his mirth. "Don't worry about that, Ellen. You're gorgeous!" Just the way he said it sent a flood of pleasure and pride through my body.

"Thank you," I said sincerely, hugging his chest. "I want to... be with you David. What do you think of that? You and I... together... in bed?"

There was a very long pause. Finally he said, "You'll have to show me. I'm... not sure what to do... exactly. I mean, I'm familier with the theory and all that... it's just that you'll have to tell me when I'm doing something wrong, or too fast or whatever." I smiled, not only at his words, but becuase the anticipation of being with me had started a rather interesting effect in his pants, an effect that I was now witnessing.

Twisting in his arms, I reached out and caressed his face. "I want you to understand that I don't do this with just anyone. You will be the second man that I have ever made love to." He blushed at the words 'make love, ' and I remember someone saying that a man who can still blush about sex is the best lover, because he understands how special and personal it still is.

David nodded and kissed me, softly. We pulled apart, foreheads touching. "We don't have to do this tonight, I know that. I want you to be comfor-"