Chapter 1: In the beginning

I was waiting for my best friend to finish a phone call so we could break for lunch when I heard her laugh. A deep throaty laugh that put chills down to my toes. I stood and held up one finger to buddy Dave and homed in on her sound. Her office door was wide open but all I could see was her upper back and head. Red hair over a petit frame. She glanced up from her notepad and saw my reflection in her window.

"Hi," I said and grinned at her mirrored face.

She spun her chair around and asked, "Can I help you?" Her smile caused another ripple of pleasure for me.

"I was waiting for Dave to get off the phone so we could go to lunch when I heard you laugh."

She looked past me out her door then up at my face. Her eyes were green.

"Yes, and?" she asked.

"I had to come find out who could put goose bumps on me with a laugh."

She smiled big, her full delicious red lips curving sweetly. I felt a strong desire to know the taste of her mouth, the feel of her lips on mine.

"Rich, where are you?" Dave called from the hallway.

Giving her my best smile, "We're going to lunch at the deli. Please join us. My name's Richard Peters." Stepping forward, I held out my hand. She stood and took it in hers.

"Moira O'Rourk."

Her hand was tiny, warm and soft. Her smile flickered, our eyes locked, a long moment of silence as we connected. We just stood there, holding hands, smiling broadly into each others eyes. No words needed.

"Rich, let's go. I'm starving." Dave's irritated voice behind me broke our connection.

I don't remember what I had for lunch, don't remember much of Dave. Time was a blur of full red lips and green eyes. Dancing green eyes. Smiling Irish eyes. I wrote her number on the palm of my hand.

"Let me have yours," she said.

I reached for her left hand and turned it palm up. I grinned at her and wrote my number on her soft skin, lightly caressing her with the pen point. I pressed our palms together. Our eyes locked for a long moment. She laughed. I goose bumped and shivered. Connection. She felt it, I felt it. We both knew what was happening.

"Call you? Tonight. Eight o'clock?"

She nodded then shook her head. "Nine thirty. I have to..." Her eyes tightened. "After my daughter's in bed." Her eyes held mine as if asking a question.

I grinned at her. "Perfect." Her eyes smiled again.

The afternoon flew by in a glorious haze of sparkly sunlight. A calm joy tickled me. This woman's going to be significant, important was all I could think. I felt a sweet peaceful certainty.

That evening I waited and puttered, eager for nine thirty to arrive. At eight the phone rang.

"Hi," she said. "My daughters exhausted from gymnastics. She's gone to bed early. So I called."

"Can I come over?"

She laughed. I shivered, feeling delighted, a little flustered. Like a little boy cavorting in front of the prettiest girl in the whole school.

"Mmm," she breathed softly as if pleased.

"Synchronicity," I said and paused. "That's what I'm feeling right now. All afternoon."

I listened to her breathing, wishing I could feel it on my neck. Goose bumps.

"May I? Tonight. Right now?"

She was waiting for me in her open doorway. She'd changed from her corporate dress into dark flowing slacks and a cream silky shiny blouse. I stood on her porch and just stared.

"How tiny almost, she is," I thought.

My hand moved up to her face. I trickled my finger tips down her cheek. She turned her face to nuzzle my palm, her breath warm against my skin. Her hand moved to hold mine tight against her cheek. I slid my fingers back under her ear and stroked her temple with my thumb. Her hair soft, silky. I bent and softly stroked her lips with mine.

"Mmm," was all I could say. She took my hand down and backed into the house, drawing me with her. I kicked the door shut as she pulled me towards a hallway. A dream dance to her bed. She put one knee on the bed and pivoted to face me, reaching for my shoulders. I kicked off my shoes and reached for her waist with both hands. Tiny waist, warm under silk. I pressed my thumbs into her taut belly muscles. She slid her hands down my arms and pulled me to her, pressing her cheek against my chest. I dropped my face to her hair and wrapped her in my arms.

"Your heart..." she started.

"Is yours," I finished, laughing softly.

"I know," she sighed.

We lay engrossed. Arms and legs moving slowly against each other as we told our stories. My casual current relationships, her occasionally intimate friend. We glossed over our work day lives and moved to travels and pleasures. We shared our joy with the opera, our annoyance with crowded lift lines, the serenity of cross country skiing. Snuggling while at the movies. Free beaches. Squash. Dancing.

"Who was your first love?" she asked. "And when?"

"High school. She was Prom Queen and graduating class valedictorian. Brains and graceful beauty."

"Did you tell her you loved her?"

"Couldn't. Wouldn't, she barely knew my name. She was "A" list. I was "G" list. I was geek before the word was stolen from carnival lingo."

"Did you fantasize about her?"

"No. I just couldn't use her for my sexual fantasies. Two or maybe three of the cheerleaders starred in my masturbatory sessions."

"Did you masturbate a lot?"

"Yes. Four times a day at least."

"What did you think about? What did you like to do with your cheerleaders?"

"Straight missionary or doggy."

"No BJ's?"

"Back then, that was disgusting."

"How about anal?"

"Wasn't even aware then. Watched my parents some and all they did was missionary. Except the one time I saw my mother on her hands and knees."

"Did it turn you on to watch them?"

"No. But it pleased me that they enjoyed each other. They were very loving, had a tender sexuality together. Do you see that image?"

"Yes, I like it."

She told me of her first love, a cousin three years older. That she never let him know but felt he understood as he was always warmly affectionate with her.

We shared our first times. Me, a high school senior and her, a college freshman. Her boy had squirted on her belly during their first attempt. I chuckled and told her I'd done about the same. We hugged and giggled over that revelation.

"I'm a bit kinky," she whispered.

"I am so shocked! How can an intelligent woman admit to that?"

She dug her fingers into my ribs.

"Don't try to tease. I'm serious. I like public places. If we could do it in the park, I'd love it." She pulled her head back to look into my eyes."

I could only grin at her laughing eyes. "I like mountain meadows at high noon."

She rubbed her belly against me. "Am I turning you on?"

"Yes."

"You're not hard."

"I am very aroused by you."

Her lips nibbled across my cheek. Her breath warm against my skin.

"You're flattering me, aren't you? You're savoring this, aren't you?"

"Yes. Savoring is a good word. I'm savoring you," I repeated her words slowly in a throaty murmur against her ear. "Now I'm going to savor your sweet silky body."

"Richard, I'll warn you now. I will retaliate," she mumbled against my ear.

I pulled her blouse up and bent to her breast. Just a handfull, like a blueberry muffin with a rubbery berry right on top. She sighed and shivered as I licked and sucked and blew cool air on her skin.

She wiggled out of her blouse and I cupped her tiny so hot crotch. Her hips surged against me, distracting her from my shirt buttons.

"I feel like a Wendy's hamburger," she moaned.

"What?"

"Hot and juicy," she chortled.

I pulled my shirt over my head, grinning broadly into her face.

"Hey, that's my job," she scolded.

I thrust my hips at her and she stripped open my jeans, the brass buttons popping like popcorn. She tugged them down taking my briefs along for the ride. I pushed her onto her back and stripped her slacks down to her knees. She raised her legs straight up and I pulled them straight up and off. Her trim little legs and round butt presented to me. Couldn't resist, I dove for her belly and kissed my way down to her "Hot and Juicy".

"Yiee," she screamed softly and clamped her thighs around my neck driving my chin into the bed between her legs. My tongue a wild thing seeking her core. I pivoted over her, wanting her mouth on me. She turned her face away and I stroked her forehead and cheek with my dick trying to find her mouth. She shook her head back and forth.

"Suck me. Suck it. My clit."

Her belly muscles twitched then twanged.

"Ah, ah, ah, oh. I'm." Her belly rippled like a horse's flank shaking off flys.

"Ai, ai, ai. There," she groaned and collapsed into the bed. Her thighs split, releasing my head.

I was lost in this woman. I wanted her. Badly. I felt a furious rampage of lust. I wanted to mark her. Make her mine, all mine. Consumed, ingested. Part of me forever.

My dick was hot against her sweaty face. I spun and straddled her chest bending my dick down to her lips.

"No. I don't... want to," she groaned.

"Yes, open your mouth."

"No, don't want it in..."

She shook her head back and forth.

"Yes, stick your tongue out or I'll tickle you," I warned.

The tip of her tongue peeped out. I brushed my dick across her lips and tongue softly.

"More."

Her little pointed tongue slid straight out like a tiny pink penis and I rubbed the underside of my dick over it, back and forth.

"More." Her tongue disappeared for a moment then came back.

"Taste good?"

"No," she mumbled, trying not to open her lips.

"Open."