A Beautiful Sea and a Beautiful Lady

Then she proceeded to order a California Pinot from a winery just up the road from where I lived. She had picked a great vintage that was one of my favorite wines. I considered it an outstanding winery and had visited it numerous times for tastings.

When the waiter delivered the bottle, I complimented her on her excellent taste. She reminded me that she had lived for quite a few years in France, and that she had become something of a connoisseur in her time there. I would soon learn this was not idle braggadocio.

The waiter took our order and then left. We began sipping greedily from our glasses, so I used the pregnant pause to change the subject.

"Enough about me. Tell me about your life -- your children, your... work," I said tiptoeing carefully. Suzette proceeded to relate most of what I had already gathered from cobbling together the bits and pieces of her Facebook page. I missed on some of the details, but by and large, I had most of the general information pretty well down.

She didn't bring up her current romantic situation, and I knew that it was best if I left that alone for now. For that, I needed to be patient.

Dinner was served, and it was exceptional. As we were finishing up our plates, Suzette looked at the bottle and poured the remainder of the Pinot into both of our nearly empty glasses.

Then, she decided to tread where I had dared not go. "Are you seeing anyone now?" she asked with a world-weary sadness. I explained that I had dated a few different women since my wife and I had split, but that none of those relationships went anywhere. I mentioned that it had been four or five months since I had been out with anyone.

Suzette asked if I wanted to share another bottle, and I told that it was really her up to her -- that I had walked over from the hotel, and so not having to drive, I was open to most anything. She laughed, "I walked over too! In fact, if you came straight down the beachfront on your way here, you went right past my building -- the Marbella."

"Beautiful sea," I said. "I'll bet you have some great views of the ocean from there."

"Si. ¿Tu hablas español?"

"No," I answered, "I just live in California; it's hard to avoid it! I think I picked most of it up through osmosis," I joked. She laughed.

She sat thinking for a moment, and then she stared deep into my eyes and said with great affection and sincerity, "J'aime parler avec toi."

I remembered enough of my college French to understand her sentiments. "Hey, no fair changing languages on me!" I joked. "I can barely speak English!" Now it was my turn to peer deep into her hazel orbs. "I love to talk to you too, Suzette. I've really missed it." She smiled warmly and reached across the table to grasp my hand. I knew that we had advanced to another level.

The waiter brought a second bottle of Pinot and poured us each a refill. Now, with a few glasses under her belt, Suzette began to open up about her marriage and personal life.

Francois had been really good for her, she admitted. She had grown up as a wild child, and when she met him, what she needed more than anything else in her life was stability, structure, and tranquility. Francois supplied her with that.

Francois had made a lot of money in the fashion industry, she mentioned, and she herself had done nearly as well. Neither she nor her daughters had ever wanted for much of anything. They led comfortable and at times even extravagant lives, living on the French Riviera near Nice. When they moved to America, the money came even more easily.

But after her daughters began to grow up and entered school, and she had spent a few years pretending to be a soccer mom, she no longer needed a calm and stable presence in her life. What she craved instead was variety, eccentricity, and excitement, and those were luxuries that, despite his wealth, Francois simply could not offer her. They were not in his nature.

When they split, Francois moved back to France. She had only seen him once since the divorce.

At first, the girls, who had citizenship in France, went back to visit their father at least a couple times a year, but even then, only for a week or two at a time. As they grew up, the trips became less and less frequent and even shorter. None of them had seen their father at all in the last three years.

So Suzette was left to play the role of both mother and father to her daughters. She threw herself into that completely, like she was tossing hay bales, saddles, and yearling cattle around the ranch.

Between parenting and work, she had no time for men, much less love. But now her girls were all out of the house with their own romances blossoming. They simply weren't around much anymore -- Danielle, the oldest, had finished school, was working for a law firm in New York, and was engaged to be married; Elsa was in graduate school in North Carolina; and Colette, the baby, the only one who even lived in Florida any more, was a sophomore at the University of Miami, an eight or nine hour drive from Jacksonville.

Now Suzette needed romance and love, someone with whom to share her life. She had dated a man for about a year, and she thought that relationship was promising.

But about six months ago, he had broken it off with her and since that time, she had grown desperately lonely and sadly fatalistic. She had even considered visiting online dating sites and hanging around wine bars, but as of now, she still regarded each as "a bridge too far."

"I find it hard to believe that you'd have trouble attracting a man. You've always been an incredible looker in my book. You're absolutely stunning, Suzette. And that's only the surface, you're also really intelligent, well-educated, and, I must say, unbelievably cultured. And more than all those things, you're kind and loving. Men ought to be falling all over themselves to be with you."

She looked up at me with tears in her eyes. "You're too... sweet," she stammered, barely able to get the words out. "But...." And then, she started crying and couldn't speak at all. It took her a full minute to compose herself enough to finish her sentence, "... most men... aren't... like you." Then, she broke down sobbing uncontrollably for the next five minutes.

A tiny part of me wanted to celebrate -- it seemed I really had a chance with Suzette -- she needed someone like me -- but that tiny kernel of joy was completely obliterated by her sadness, regret and resignation, though I didn't really understand yet their source. I was thoroughly in love with her again, and if she was hurting, my good fortune was hardly relevant. Finally, she used a tissue to dab her eyes, apologized for her emotions, and smiled at me wanly.

We finished the last of the wine, and I picked up the tab for dinner. Suzette argued with me, or tried to; after her emotional breakdown, she was pretty much worn-out. She insisted that I was her guest, and that she should pay -- that I had come all the way across the country, and.... It didn't take long before she relented, but only if I agreed to go back to her place for another bottle of wine. I certainly wasn't about to argue.

We walked out of the front door of Eleven South hand-in-hand into the warm, salty air. Before we had even crossed 1^st Street South, Suzette had put her arm around my waist and her head on my shoulder.

We continued to walk east until we reached the sand. A bright, nearly full moon shone in the southeastern sky. When I saw the Atlantic stretched out in front of us, glittering in the moonlight, I pulled Suzette's face to mine, and I whispered, "Un bello mar y una bella dama."

Then, I kissed her on those soft, sensual lips, and she kissed me back with great passion. After a long minute, our lips parted, and Suzette looked up at me with tears in her eyes again, but now they were tears of joy and happiness.

Then, she laughed and removed her high heels. Taking her lead, I took off my shoes, and with each of us carrying our own footwear, we walked with our arms around each other across the warm sand until we reached the ocean.

There, we turned north, strolling in the wet sand only a few feet away from where the Atlantic made landfall. It was only a few hundred yards to the Marbella.

When we entered the lobby, I realized that these were ultra-luxurious condominiums, and I started to put a few things Suzette had said together. We laughed as we brushed the sand from our feet, and then we took the elevator up to the top of the building, the 12^th floor.

When she unlocked the door to her massive condo, I was stunned. Her place was more extravagant than I could ever have imagined "Jesus, Suzette. It's magnificent," I stammered.

The entire east wall consisted of floor-to-ceiling windows that afforded stunning ocean views from every room. A patio ran the length of the windows and featured neo-classical sculpture and tropical vegetation surrounding a current pool that was dropped in the middle. It sported Moroccan tiles throughout the kitchen and baths; Travertine, and Sakura wood floors; enough recessed lighting, chandeliers, and decorative sconces to fill a 10,000 square foot mansion; original artworks in decorative frames throughout; and a Malaysian Mahogany wine cellar, stocked with the most extensive and thorough collection I had ever seen.

We entered a stunning great room, filled with lush sectionals. It was the only room in the condo that was carpeted, an off-white plush pile seemingly about four inches thick.

On the wall behind a Steinway grand piano, I spotted the Impressionist still-life that I had seen on Facebook, an original Cézanne, hanging above a gold-leaf topped console table.

We sat down on one of the sofas, and Suzette adjusted the lighting, like she was directing a Broadway play, setting a romantic and amorous mood. She was smiling. Her tears seemed a world away. As I stood admiring the view of the ocean, she left the room momentarily, before returning from the wine cellar with two crystal glasses and an open bottle of Mourvèdre Châteauneuf-du-Pape.

She poured us each a glass, and we sat down on the sofa. We each took a sip of our wine, and for a moment neither one of us said or did anything. We were just getting used to the reality of having found each other after such a long time. Then, Suzette leaned over and gave me a quick but significant kiss.

Then, just as quickly, she excused herself, and rising from the sofa, set her glass down on the end table and said, "I'm sorry, Jae, but I've got to get this suit off me before I go insane. You make yourself comfortable. I'll be right back." I took off my jacket, and laid it down on another of the sectionals. Then, I sat down again, savoring the view and that incredibly complex Mourvèdre.

When Suzette returned, any doubts that I had about where this evening might be leading were instantly dispelled. She sauntered toward me, wearing a purple satin and lace robe, fishnet stockings, and these incredibly elaborate strapped, black stiletto heels.

She slithered down next to me on the sofa, and holding her robe closed with one hand, she purred, "I have been waiting a long, long time for this, Jae." She reached for her glass and took a long sip of her Mourvèdre, and then she released the grip on her robe and put her hand on my leg. When she did, the robe fell open revealing the sexiest lingerie I think I had ever seen.

She was wearing a black, leather bustier which supported the underside of her big breasts, but left them completely exposed, their round areolas framing her erect nipples. It had straps that went over her shoulders and laces that ran up the middle, exposing about three inches of her toned stomach.

She was also wearing a tiny, black, lace thong and superfluous lace garters, that connected her bustier to black, fishnet stockings that stretched from her strapped heels to halfway up her sexy thighs, where the fishnet gave way to lace hold ups. I began to get hard.

"Oh my god, Suzette! You look amazing!" I marveled. Then, stupidly I broached a subject I should have left alone forever, "I have to admit, after the last time I saw you I thought you never wanted to see me again. Do you remember that night in Springfield?"

"You mean when you came in my mouth," Suzette said bluntly.

"I'm sorry. I've always felt badly about that night, but there was something wrong, really wrong with me. I still don't know what happened to me that night."

"I know." Suzette confessed, almost in a whisper. She grimaced. "That was me. I'm the one. Please don't apologize when I haven't even had a chance to tell you how badly I feel, have felt for all these years. I am so, so, so sorry, Jae. I hope you believe me when I tell you that I have spent most of my life regretting that night. A lot of Confessions -- Hail Marys and Our Fathers, but they never seemed to lessen the guilt. When I saw what those drops did to you, I couldn't believe it. I felt so sad and so ashamed. My god, you could barely move." She resisted the urge to start crying again, but now I understood her sadness and tears. "Suffice to say, that was not my finest hour," she concluded. I was stunned. She really had done it.

"But why?" I asked. It didn't make any sense.

"I know this isn't going to make any sense to you," she said, again reading my mind. "It's going to sound like an excuse, and it's not an excuse, but I'd been chasing you for such a long time, Jae. You had to know that. I wasn't used to having to work so hard to get someone to come on to me. Usually I just found some guy, flirted for a little bit, gave him a quick blowjob, and let him cum on my face. They seemed to like it. I thought you would too, but with you I wanted so much more. For some reason, there was always some kind of roadblock to us being together. I know it sounds crazy, even stupid, but in my immaturity, I thought that was the only way to be with you."

"But, Suzette, I was crazy about you! I would have made love to you at the drop of a hat. How could you not have known that? I was just trying to be... I don't know... discreet. I knew that I wasn't very experienced. I figured that things had to be perfect, or I would fuck it up. I liked you too much to allow that. I'm pretty sure that it would have happened sooner or later anyway, but I wanted to get it right. I figured I owed you that."

"But it wouldn't have happened sooner or later, Jae! I tried to make it happen for almost a year. That was 28 years ago, and I never saw you again after that. I figured that night; it was now or never."

I was confused. "You mean you knew you were leaving? That you were transferring to the school in Texas? That we'd never see each other again? Once you got to Texas why didn't you write to me or call me to tell me how you felt?"

"I didn't know for sure, but I sensed it. You didn't know my father, but I drove him crazy. He thought I was too wild, especially with boys. Of course, I was wild! He made me that way! When I got home after that spring semester, he told me I would be going to that school in Texas. I didn't want to, but I didn't have a choice. I screamed and yelled and cried, but what could I do? He was paying. He'd researched the whole thing! A conservative women's college, and in Texas, my god! That whole first semester I cried every night. I felt so bad about what I had done to you. I really, really liked you. But I was so embarrassed and ashamed, how could I tell you the truth about what I'd done? I just figured you never wanted to see me again."

"Suzette, if I had known that you cared about me at all, even the slightest bit, had even one iota of interest in me, I would have jumped on the next plane to Texas or Florida or Timbuktu."

She paused for a moment and tried to soak in what I had just said. And then she said with a devious smile, "Well, you're in Florida now!"

And with that, she unbuckled my belt, unzipped my jeans, reached her hand inside my shorts, and pulled out my now erect penis. Grasping my cock around the base with her hand, she looked me in the eyes, and with another devilish grin, she opened her mouth and stuck out her tongue, revealing a silver stud piercing!

Then, she growled, "Tonight, I'm going to do this the right way," and as she did, she dropped her head to my erection.

First, she used her flat tongue to run that pierced stud up the backside of my cock, from the base all the way up to that sensitive triangle -- the frenulum of my crown.

Then, she wrapped her soft lips over my head, and moving them ever so slightly up and down, she concentrated her vigorous sucking on my crown. At the same time, she used her tongue and that stud to lick the top of my glans.

After a few minutes using just her mouth and tongue, Suzette began employing her hand to stroke my entire length, while she kept up her sucking at the same time.

I was groaning with pleasure, but now she changed things up. Suddenly, she took me all the way into her throat for four or five strokes, then went back to her ferocious sucking, before reintroducing the hand action, finally she went back to deep throating me again. This was a carefully orchestrated routine. She continued that routine for five more minutes, until I was fast approaching a familiar outcome. Not that again! I had to stop her.

I pulled her head from my engorged dick and got to my feet. I stepped out of my jeans and shorts, took off my shirt, and stood before her unabashedly, my dick, dripping with her saliva and pointing like a compass toward the vast Atlantic.

I pushed Suzette back onto the sofa, lifted her legs and spread them wide. Then, I dropped to my knees.

I kissed, licked and nibbled at her breasts before working my way down her stomach, exposed by the laces that tied the two sides of her bustier together. I continued my kissing, licking, and biting around her thighs, butt, and pubic mound, which was now hidden by her lacy thong.

I wanted to see her pussy, so I pulled her thong to the side. Sensing my desire, Suzette reached her hand to her mound and used two fingers to open herself up to me. Then, an incredible thing happened; her wet hole began to spread open -- blooming in front of my eyes, like a rose covered in morning dew.

Now it was my turn. I started by running the tip of my tongue as slowly as is humanly possible all the way from the bottom of her flower until it reached her clit hood. I could have been content to keep going, but suddenly I wanted it all -- to see everything, all of her.

So I pushed her thighs together, reached around Suzette's slim hips, and pulled that thong down her toned legs. Before I tossed it to the carpet, I held it momentarily under my nose and breathed in her sex -- an unbelievably erotic aroma that beggared description. Then, I spread her legs open again, and pushed the backs of her thighs down astride her big tits until those sexy stilettos were pointing skyward.

Suzette was breathing faster now and moaning softly. I made a pledge to myself that I would not get off my knees until she "got off." Tonight, she would cum first! I could see everything now, and the view kept my dick rock hard: her prominent lips oozed sweet juices, an engorged pink button peeked out of her long, slender clit hood. Above it, her mound featured a beautiful, dark tiny bush meticulously trimmed to just above her vulva. She was waxed clean everywhere else.

Again, I breathed on, licked, kissed, and gently bit her inner thighs, those tight asscheeks, and finally her sexy mound. Then, I went back to that gushing hole, licking, as I had before, from the bottom to the top with the tip, followed by the broad, flat surface of my tongue.

After a couple of minutes, I pulled my right hand from the back of Suzette's thigh and slid it to her sexy mound. Using my thumb, I began tracing circles around the edge of her clit hood, careful not to touch her sensitive nub directly. I would save that for later. She was writhing and arching her back now, and I knew she was getting close.