The Wingman
Chapter 3

Copyright (C) 2011 by the author. All rights reserved.

Romantic Sex Story: Chapter 3 - Loren is smarting from his breakup with his long-term live-in girlfriend. During an office off-site gathering, his colleague and player Todd recruits him to be a wingman as he attempts to pick up a stunning brunette at another table. Loren's assignment -- to which he reluctantly agrees -- is to distract her companion, who Todd regards as less desirable. They hit it off -- until she reveals a secret that she believes jeopardizes their relationship.

Caution: This Romantic Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa   Consensual   Heterosexual   Fiction   Anal Sex   Oral Sex   Safe Sex  

Morning light roused Loren. He walked to his kitchen in his briefs. From a cabinet he removed a box of corn flakes, dumped some into a bowl and added a splash of milk. He sat at the kitchen table with the bowl and a glass of grapefruit juice. Picking up the remote he turned on the television.

The weekend morning news was being broadcast. He listened to the weather forecast, predicting a nice, mild, early Spring day. Loren rinsed out his cereal bowl and set it in the sink. He headed upstairs to the bathroom, showered and dressed in twill pants and a polo shirt.

He drove along Oakwood looking for the sign for the Community Center. He spotted an older municipal building dating from the sixties. A banner reading Round Robin hung over the door. Loren parked his car in the adjacent lot and walked in.

Rows of card tables had been set up with representatives from various organizations greeting visitors and handing out flyers. Loren walked past a booth for the Bonsai club and another for model railroaders. In another booth sat members of the amateur radio club, next to a table with model airplanes. Along a wall were tables for quilters, jewelry-makers and photographers.

He saw another booth for the Readers' Guild, with regularly scheduled book readings and discussions. At the next table someone from the Society for Creative Anachronism was demonstrating how to make chain mail. Next in line were a stamp-collecting club, an organization for bird watchers, and the local historical society. Behind another table a practitioner demonstrate tai chi; and on another the climbing club had set out an assortment of carabiners.

Loren stepped to a table with a sign reading Alliance Française. "Bonjour et bienvenu," said a blond woman sitting behind the table. Behind her, sitting cross-legged on the floor was an olive-skinned, dark-haired little girl sketching on a pad with colored pencils.

"Bonjour," he replied.

She looked up. "Loren?"

"Abrielle?"

"Loren!" she exclaimed. "I am really happy to see you!"

"Are you, really? I didn't think you wanted to see me -- that's the impression I got."

"That's not what I meant. Loren -- I had a miserable week."

"So did I."

"I was looking for you in the cafeteria. I didn't see you."

"I was brown-bagging it. I didn't want an uncomfortable confrontation."

"Loren..." She looked up at more guests filing into the building. "Bonjour et bienvenu," she said and handed out flyers.

"Bonjour, " an older man replied and began looking at a pamphlet.

"Loren -- please, come sit." Loren sat beside her behind the card table. "Loren -- I think this is all due to a misunderstanding. I want to see you. I really do. I just don't know how to make it work."

"If I understood what you're up against..." Loren said.

"It's my fault for not being up front..."

Some visitors passed through the front door. "Bonjour et bienvenu," Abrielle said. One picked up a program and then headed toward the next booth.

The little girl Loren had noticed approached the table and set the sketchbook on it. "Maman -- regarde" she said.

"C'est trés jolie," Abrielle replied. The girl smiled and returned to her spot behind the table. She flipped over a new leaf and began sketching with colored pencils.

"Abrielle," Loren said, "is that your daughter? I heard her call you maman."

She drew in a breath. "Yes, Loren. She's my little girl."

"What's her name?"

"Nicole."

"Nicole ... pretty. Is she your other obligation?"

Abrielle nodded. "She is indeed. I'm raising her as a single mother. She really ties me down, Loren."

"I imagine she does. She doesn't look much like you. Is she adopted?"

"No, she's mine. She looks like her father."

"Where is her father? If you don't mind..."

"He's out of the picture." A young man stepped to the table. "Bonjour et bienvenu," she said.

"Is this organization for French ex-patriots?" he asked.

"No, not just," she replied. "It's for anyone interested in the French language and culture. We offer lessons and social programs. There are Alliance chapters in cities around the world."

"Cool..." He picked up a brochure and shuffled to the next table.

"And, your Cinderella evening?" Loren asked.

"Nicole was on a sleepover with friends from school."

"Why didn't you say something?"

"I would've -- I was going to. I wanted to break it gently. You see ... every other man who's interested me..."

"Let me guess -- he hits the silk when he learns about Nicole."

"That's right." More visitors filed through the door. "Bonjour et bienvenu," Abrielle greeted them.

"Abrielle," Loren said, "when this is over, let's go somewhere for dinner -- the three of us. Maybe we can have an uninterrupted conversation."

"I would like that."


A Community Center staff member closed the main doors. "Whew!" Abrielle said.

"I'll help you straighten up."

"There are boxes for the brochures." She set them on the table. Loren began scooping up pamphlets and brochures. "The card tables belong to the center. I need to lug these boxes back to the Alliance. The volunteer who brought them had to leave early."

"Where are you parked?"

"At home. We live close by. It's a nice day so we walked. I hadn't bargained on carrying these back."

"Put them in my car and we can drive over."

"I don't suppose you have a car seat."

"No, I don't. Nonetheless we can stash them in my trunk and dispose of them later. I doubt anyone's going to need them right away."

"True, true..."

Loren carried a box outside and to the parking lot. He unlocked his trunk and set the brochures inside. "Where should we go for dinner?" he asked.

"What did you have in mind?"

"Isn't there a place within walking distance?" he asked. "This part of town is somewhat avant-garde and intellectual. There must be some nice restaurant."

"We can go to Jacques's Cafe. It's only a couple of blocks. Allons, Nicole."

Carrying Nicole's sketchpad and pencil box under one arm and holding the little girl's hand she walked with Loren. "Tell me how you ended up coming here," she said to him.

"I got tired of moping around the house and was looking for something to do. I saw the Round Robin on the news station's website. It was a choice between it, the corpse flower or the teddy bears' picnic."

Abrielle laughed. "So the Round Robin won by process of elimination."

"Well -- the corpse flower was a close second. I was surprised to see you there, Abrielle -- though, in hindsight the Alliance is a perfectly natural organization for you."

"Yes -- I volunteer there. It's a place where Nicole can keep up her French."

Nicole began to drag behind. "Does she speak English?" Loren asked. "I've only heard you speak French to her."

"She's fully bilingual."

"Just like her mother."

"We mix it up."

"It's a gift, Abrielle." Loren stooped and addressed the little girl. "Nicole -- would you like to ride on my shoulders?"

"Oui!" she replied.

Loren lifted her and set her on his shoulders. "Hang on..." He adjusted her hands. "Just not around the eyes, s'il vous plait." Carrying Nicole he resumed their walk. Loren touched Abrielle's hand and they locked fingers.

"Here we are," Abrielle said. Loren set down Nicole and they found a table in the restaurant.

Loren looked over the menu. "What's good?"

"Everything," Abrielle replied. "I always have the seafood crepes."

"I think I'll try the mixed pate plate. What about Nicole?"

"I'll have them make a half a croque monsieur for her."

Loren removed his smartphone from his pocket and manipulated the screen. "I have something to show you." He showed her the image.

Abrielle regarded it. "Is that Ludivine Sangier?"

"It is. I wanted to show you how closely you resemble her."

"I don't think we look very much alike at all. She's certainly leaner than I am."

"Okay, your face is rounder. Look closely -- you have the same eyes, the same nose, the same mouth ... the same lips and the same jaw."

"Let me see..." She removed a compact from her bag and held it at arm's length, regarding herself. "I'll grant you the eyes and chin are similar. My nose isn't anything like hers. It has a big, ugly bump right below the bridge -- and it's crooked."

"I hadn't even noticed," he replied. "There's another resemblance. You both have the same French carriage."

"Carriage? What do you mean?"

"It's a look -- an attitude that says, I'm comfortable in my own skin. I'm a woman and I'm okay with how I am. If you think you're man enough..."

"You just paid me quite a compliment ... I think."

"You are a striking woman, Abrielle. I do wish you had told me about Nicole."

"I would've -- honest."

"I wish you had called."

"I was going to call you on Monday," she replied. "I had resolved to do it. Why didn't you call me?"

"My mama taught me when one party breaks off a relationship, it's that party's responsibility to renew it."

"Like rules of diplomacy," she remarked.

"Abrielle -- for the record, the fact that you're a mom doesn't matter to me. I mean -- it does matter, but I'm willing to accommodate Nicole."

"I'm really pleased to hear it. Loren -- it seems to me we both jumped to the wrong conclusions. I assumed you'd be bothered by Nicole and you assumed..."

"I assumed it was something else."

"Let's not let that happen again," she said.

"Agreed. Let's not make assumptions. Let's be open with each other."

"I want nothing more."

"Something that's obvious to you might not be to me."

"And, vice-versa."

A server set plates before them. Loren regarded the crepes. "That does look good. May I try a bite?"

"Certainly."

With his fork he cut off a morsel from her plate and ate it. "Very good."

"May I try some pate?"

Loren broke off a piece of baguette and spread it with pate. Abrielle took it, sprinkled it with pepper and popped it in her mouth. She followed it with a cornichon from his plate. "Delicious."

"You put pepper on it?"

"That's the French way," she replied.

Loren sprinkled pepper on his pate. "It is good this way."


"That was an excellent dinner," Loren remarked as he walked with Abrielle and Nicole.

"Would you care to come up for some after-dinner conversation?" she asked.

"I'd love to."

"My place is a couple of blocks past the Community Center."

"I remember." Nicole began to drag behind again. "Nicole," Loren said, "would you like another ride on my shoulders?"

"Oui!" she exclaimed. Loren picked her up and set her on his shoulders.

"How easily you carry her," Abrielle remarked.

"She's not heavy." Loren touched Abrielle's hand and they locked fingers.

"We go right, here," she said and led him to the front door. With her key Abrielle opened the door. Loren ducked down so Nicole cleared the doorway and followed Abrielle up a flight of stairs. She unlocked the door to her apartment. Loren stepped in and set Nicole down.

"I'll change into something more comfortable," Abrielle said. "I have to wear pantyhose five days a week. Wearing them on Saturday is just too much."

"I'll occupy Nicole," he replied.

"Parlez-vous Français?" Nicole asked Loren.

He held up his thumb and forefinger. "Un peu. Parlez-vous Anglais?" Nicole folded her arms and shook her head. S'il vous plait?" She shook her head again. "Do you like to play games?"

"Do you know how to play Go Fish?" Nicole asked.

"Aren't you too big a girl for Go Fish? Do you know how to play Crazy Eights? That's more of a big girl game."

"How?"

"Do you have cards?"

Nicole produced a pack from an end table. Loren shuffled the deck and dealt two hands, set the deck on the table and turned over the top card. "You match suit or number," he explained. "If you can't match suit or number you draw from the deck, up to three times. First empty hand wins. Got it?"

"Yeah!"

"Eights are wild -- they match any number or suit and then you get to name the suit. You go first."

Abrielle approached them. Loren looked up and scanned her. She had changed into a lightweight, sleeveless cotton dress that came halfway to her knees. He regarded her full but shapely legs and cherub-faced knees. "What are you playing?" she asked.

"Crazy Eights," Nicole replied.

"Deal you in?"

"Sure. We love to play games."


"I won again!" Nicole crowed.

"Okay, that's enough," Abrielle said.

 
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