Chapter 1

Samantha had known him since high school. They had never dated ... she was always dating another boy whenever he was available, and he was involved when she was available. But they lived a few blocks from each other and they studied together and flirted like crazy.

When he packed up to go to out of state to college she went to his house to say goodbye. They found themselves walking together out behind the garage at his family's home, saying how they both wished it had been different, and he leaned over and kissed her.

It was electric. In the warm breeze of late summer his kiss was full of the passion of what felt like an eternity of unquenched desire. He just held her in his strong arms and pressed his lips against hers and they melted together.

It seemed to last forever, and in an instant it was over. They walked back to the front yard without another word and he got into his car and he was gone.

In another two weeks Samantha was off to college herself. Over time they remade themselves in college, and moved on to more serious romances, still not with each other, and gradually they grew out of touch.

There were times over the years where she felt a pang of regret, or entertained a wistful fantasy about how her life would have been different with him. But in time she found her true love, married and settled down into a happy, suburban American life complete with kids, a picket fence and a minivan.

It was a late summer day a decade and a half after that kiss. Samantha had dropped off the kids at camp, and was on her way to the mall for some back-to-school shopping when her cell phone rang. She looked down and saw a number she didn't recognize. She let it ring through to go to voice mail, because she didn't like to talk when she drove, and it was probably just a marketing call anyway.

In a couple of minutes, the phone rang briefly again to indicate a voice mail was received, and she planned to pick it up when she got to the mall.

When she parked near the JC Penney's and turned the car off she sat for a moment and collected a text from her husband, checked a Facebook post from a friend, then dialed the voicemail to catch up on the call she had missed.

"Samantha, it's me." Her heart raced; she recognized his voice immediately. She was glad she was sitting down because she felt herself go weak with the shock of recognition. "I'm glad you didn't pick up the phone, in a way. It will make it easier for you to be honest with me. I've thought of you often over the years, since the day of our first and only kiss exactly fifteen years ago today. If you haven't thought of me, I understand. If you have, and have wondered ... like I have ... well, maybe you'll like my idea."

She was breathing hard as he continued. "I'm only in town for the night ... tomorrow I fly home and back to my wife and kids. I don't want anyone to get in any trouble, don't want to wreck any homes, but I'd really like to see you." He laughed and sang a verse from the song that popped into his head at that moment, "I'm not talking 'bout moving in, and I don't want to change your life, but there's a warm wind blowing, the stars are out, and I'd really like to see you tonight."

She smiled softly to herself ... he always had awful taste in music; somehow in him it was an endearing quality.

"Anyway, if you want to see me, meet me downtown at the Orpheum Theater at 9pm tonight. The building is closed for renovations. That's part of what I'm doing here ... I'm an architect now ... but I'll leave the stage door open for you. It will be just us. If you don't want to see me, just don't come tonight. I'll understand and I won't bother you again. If you do, just be there at nine. I promise you a night to remember."

A little after eight o'clock Samantha was kissing her husband in the doorway. She told him she was headed over to her friend Marianne's house for the evening. Marianne was separated and needed regular comforting. She wore a black wrap dress, black stockings and three inch pumps over her 5'3" curvy, womanly shape.

Her bra and thong panties were black and lacey to match the outfit. Since nights out with Marianne often wound up at a club, her outfit was appropriate. Samantha had already conspired with her friend to cover for her if anyone called.

She drove to the theater with the worst case of nervous butterflies since her wedding. Several times she resolved to turn around, and really visit with Marianne instead. Each time her curiosity and desire overcame her better judgment, she remembered that sweet kiss so long ago, and she steered the minivan back toward the theater.

She arrived in the alley behind the old red brick building a little after 9pm. She hoped he hadn't given up on her already, now that she had committed, she would have been devastated if he had left thinking she didn't want to see him.

The stage door was propped open with a brick, it squeaked open onto a long hallway lit only with a dim bare build hanging from a long cord reaching up into the high scaffolded backstage area.

She walked tentatively toward the light. Beneath the bulb there was a small table and a coat rack. A single, perfect red rose lay on the table, with a folded note tied to it with a long red ribbon. The note read in elegant hand-lettered script: "I'm so glad you came. You have another choice to make. If you want to stay, you have to be willing to give yourself to me entirely, without question, without hesitation. To prove you can do this, take off all your clothes, except your shoes, and stockings if you are wearing any, and leave them on the coat rack. Leave your purse on the table if you brought one. Take the ribbon from the rose and tie back your beautiful hair if you still wear it long, and bring the rose out onto the stage, through the curtains at the end of the hall. You'll find your next instructions there. If you don't do exactly what I require, I'll leave and you'll never see me again. It's your choice."

Her heart was pounding as she slipped out of her dress and hung it on the rack. She wondered if he was watching as she unhooked her bra and exposed her naked round breasts, nipples rapidly hardening in the surprisingly chill air of the old building.

She paused for a moment before taking off her panties ... what was she doing? But the feeling of erotic tension and the wetness between her legs convinced her that she was doing exactly the right thing, for her, tonight. If he was near, hiding in the curtained darkness of the backstage, he would definitely smell her powerful feminine desire as she slid the panties down off her hips and released her fragrance into the air.

Samantha was naked now except for the stockings and high heeled pumps. She shivered, though not from the temperature, rather it was from the vulnerability of being naked and alone in a strange place, following the directions of a man could not even see, and hadn't seen in over a decade.

She picked up the ribbon and tied her long brown hair, streaked with golden highlights, in a ponytail bow, leaving a long trail of loose ribbon down the pale smooth skin of her back.

She took a deep breath for courage. Holding the blossom of the rose to her chin just below her pouting lips painted in nearly the exact shade of red, she strode forward with feigned confidence toward the end of the hall. With a trembling hand she parted the thick black curtains and paused for a heartbeat to take in the scene.

The wide stage was bathed in brown-filtered warmth from spotlights in the dark of the rafters and footlights across the front of the stage. The comfortable sepia light gave the entire scene a feeling of antiquity.