A Gift in Disguise Ch. 12

When standing facing her, I am at least a foot taller than Bethany. Now on my knees in front of her, I saw a different and even more exciting look in her eyes. She looked down at me with a look of intense sensualism inflamed by my move of submission. My body had communicated to her that in return for her having trusted me, having submitted her body to my touch for my own arousal, I was now trusting her with mine so that she might achieve her full sexual arousal and pleasure.

Our bodily language had communicated what our words never could.

Now, Bethany's unspoken message to me was as clear as mine had been to her.

I stood facing her and within easy arm's reach.

Bethany reached out and unbuttoned my shirt front and cuffs. She pulled the shirt from my trousers waistband so the shirt hung loosely. Then she placed her hands, warm and soft, just above the trousers waistband and on the skin beneath my shirt. Slowly she moved her hands upward, parting my unbuttoned shirt and exposing me.

Her hands came to rest on my breasts. Though her hands had stopped moving now, a sudden surge of sexual energy coursed from them first into my chest and then throughout my body. The sensation was so intensely pleasurable that I did not dare move. If I had, I would have cum instantly. The look in Bethany's eyes conveyed her own similar feelings to me.

We remained frozen at the edge of orgasm for several seconds.

When the sensations of her touch began to subside, she moved her hands up to my shoulders and moved my shirt so it slumped first to my upper arms, and then dropped to the ground.

Bethany moved her hands to either side of my neck where the shoulders begin to slope upward to meet my throat. Again, she stopped, and once again the surge of sexual energy flowed through our bodies. This time, too, it lasted for seconds and with no less intensity. Oddly, and just as when I had touched her, neither of us was surprised by the feeling. Rather, we just let it flow over and through us.

It seemed that neither of us had to consciously try to please and arouse the other. Whatever we did, the effect was cumulative and very, very easy.

Bethany allowed her hands to east slowly down my chest to my belt buckle. In no particular hurry, she released it. I recall kicking off my dress shoes. Then she unfastened and unzipped my suit trousers. With the weight of my billfold and car keys, my trousers dropped quickly to the floor. Bethany took a step back and at the same time I stepped out of the crumpled trousers.

Now she wore only her sheer panties and thigh-high stockings while I wore only my low-rise black undershorts and dress socks.

As I stepped out of the trousers lying on the floor, Bethany guided me to the edge of her bed, then eased me onto it on my back.

Always looking at me, holding my gaze, she glided to the foot of her bed. She placed her hands on each leg just above my sock top and began to gently part my legs by crawling between them. While she moved her petite body between them, she moved her hands up my calves. Her fingertips seemed to find sexual nerves I didn't know I had. Her light touch was accentuated with only an occasional dig of a fingernail. The net effect was to make me feel as if my erection was about to explode the seams of my undershorts.

On the tops of each thigh, her fingers reached the leg hole fabric of my shorts. I expected her fingers to ease up and over the fabric to my waistband, but instead her slender fingers crept under the fabric until the fingers on both her hands were alongside my erection. Her fingertips surrounded the coronal ridge. Her smile was enigmatic and enticing.

Her fingertips briefly but intensely surrounded the glans and lightly fingered its circumference. So intense was the sensation that I cried out. Again, the mysterious smile that told me she knew exactly what she was doing — as if I needed any confirmation of that!

Bethany flexed her fingers just enough to cause the fabric to lift off the head. She guided it up and under and then out from under the elastic waistband which freed it from the confines of my shorts and exposed it to the air.

At the instant the slightly cooler air hit it, its sensitivity was slightly attenuated. It was at that moment and with one remarkably smooth motion that Bethany turned her hands inside my shorts so her palms were up. In the same fluid motion her fingers clasped the elastic waistband and pulled my shorts downward until my cock and balls were completely exposed.

The position of her body between my legs prevented her from pulling them down very far. With noticeable ease she shifted her position so that she was straddling my right leg. Instinctively I closed the left leg which allowed her to somehow and with one hand pull my shorts down, then underneath and behind her, and finally off my ankles. All the while she straddled my right leg just above my knee.

Hardly stopping, she moved back between my legs and parted them again. She ran her hands back up my thighs and positioned them so they lifted my erection from its rest on my lower abdomen and it was sticking straight up, perpendicular to my body.

In the next instant she began flicking the tip of my cock with her tongue. Again and again, changing from slower to faster to slower again. Still using its tip to tongue and trace around the head, she slowly lowered her face so her lips completely encircled it just below the ridge. Her tongue spiraled around and down the head, then slowly back up again, then down.

My entire body tensed at the sensation. Bethany knew how to read my body's responses. She would stop, her lips still entrapping my cockhead, her eyes looking up at my face.

I began to feel the pleasurably painful point of the first stage of an orgasm deep inside me. At that precise moment of recognition, Bethany stopped. She removed her mouth from my cock and began kissing her way up my abdomen to my chest. Her mouth played with my nipples briefly before she continued up to my lips.

As if to give me distracting relief from the sensations that would have driven me to an orgasm, she kissed me, deeply but not violently, probing my mouth and tongue with hers. I wrapped my arms around her. I felt her roll to one side, and I followed until I was on top of her.

We lay there a while, kissing deeply, lovingly.

On some unspoken cue I began kissing down over and beneath her chin to her throat, then alongside her neck, down to first her left and then her right breast. Her breasts were small, very firm, with very prominent nipples that made my tongue want to dance around them. Her wordless sounds guided me in the same way mine had guided her.

I felt the slightest pressure on my shoulders, and I began kissing my way down her abdomen to her panties.

In contrast to the patience she had shown with me, I grabbed its waistband with my fingers and simply pulled them off, gently but quickly. Rather than being surprised or displeased, she seemed even more aroused by my haste.

Her shaven, completely bare pink treasure was exposed before me. I recognized its delicacy, yet something about her drove a primal instinct in me.

Firmly but not roughly I put my thumbs alongside her hood and eased it apart to reveal the pearl it protected. Bethany murmured her assent and shivered a bit at the sensation I had imparted. Then I squeezed the sides back in to put pressure on her enlarging clit.

Slowly but steadily I repeated the movements to apply then remove then reapply pressure. Occasionally I punctuated the movements with my tongue to further incite her.

Throughout our lovemaking Bethany's face had maintained a surprisingly serene appearance.

Now, however, the need for orgasm was unmistakably building inside her. Occasionally she involuntarily closed her thighs on my head when it tongue fucked her pussy. Watching her face while I licked, I saw the twitch at the corner of her mouth, the tightly closed eyes, the increasing flush of her face and neck. Her sounds of approval became more frequent, even more demanding, though they were still only sounds but not words.

It was only when I very slowly and carefully inserted a middle finger into her very wet pussy while still vibrate-tonguing her clit that the orgasm dam began to open, slowly but irreversibly.

With surprising force she grabbed my hair and pulled my head up and toward her face. My middle finger remained inside her and my palm replaced my lips on her clit while my mouth found hers. The force of her kisses, her tongue driving against mine while she wrapped her arms behind my neck and held me tightly, sent us both rapidly toward the edge of orgasmic pleasure.

I needed no words or other instructions. I withdrew my finger and eased back between her legs. With my cock in my hand, I guided it into her opening and eased the head in. When I stopped, her eyes opened to reveal a look that screamed, "Why did you stop?" She raised her pelvis to pull me in and then imprison me inside her. That such a petite woman could take all of me so easily and yet with so much sensual friction was amazing and stimulating.

We were both past the point of no return. I began to withdraw and reinsert first slowly but gradually increasing speed with each successive rhythmic plunge.

Now Bethany's serene look had completely disappeared. Her body was about to be consumed by long-denied sexual release, and she cared little about her appearance or her words. The sweetly gentle lady had been replaced by the fiery slut demanding satiation.

At the commencement of her orgasm, her cunt muscles seized me like a python seizes its prey and squeezes the life from it. In that moment my white gummy liquid began its injection into her inner folds. She responded with scissoring legs and heaving hips to subdue my manhood, but instead I became even more aggressive in plunging into her. Her own lust exploded to mix with mine, and we both cried out in ultimate agony as the prolonged orgasm washed over us both.

Underneath me, Bethany's body began to pulsate, almost a whitewater rush with each surge of orgasmic stimulation and release. Her eyes had locked open in the looking into the universe orgasmic stare with which I had become so familiar. Her bodily pulsations turned to finer and finer vibrations, punctuated by the occasional, then gradually less frequent jerky mini-orgasms.

For me, the room seemed to erupt in flashing colored lights, and I became surprisingly weak. With both of us gasping for air, I withdrew from Bethany and rolled off her to one side.

Lying side by side in complete disarray, both of us breathed much easier now. I worked up the strength to roll my head to one side to look at Bethany. Though her hair was severely mussed, her face still flushed and perspiring, her unsurpassed serene beauty was beginning to return.

She fought to keep her eyes open, but quickly lost the battle. In moments, she was breathing steadily in a deep, deep, sleep.

I lay beside her, not wanting to leave but knowing our first passionate moment together had passed. Even in sleep, her peaceful smile and gentle soft breathing reassured me that our first time would not be our last.

As silently and with as little disturbance as possible, I got up and gathered my clothing strewn in her bedroom. Leaving the room, I turned her room light's dimmer switch down even further but not completely off. I dressed quietly in her living room not wanting to disturb her sleep.

Then I carefully repacked the photo book in its white cloth inside the decorative box and the outer shipping box. I also returned the magnifying glass to her desk drawer. When I opened it, I saw some blank embossed note cards. I removed one of the cards, sat down at her desk, and composed a brief and heartfelt note for Bethany. It took a few minutes of thought to compose to express my sincere feelings for her.

I placed the package next to her front door and retrieved my suit coat and tie from her hallway coat closet.

I took one last look around to satisfy myself nothing was left behind and she could sleep safely and securely. Then, note in hand, I walked quietly into her bedroom. She was beautiful even in sleep. I bent down and kissed her tenderly on her forehead and placed my note on the pillow where I had lain my head only minutes earlier.

Her front door closed and locked quietly behind me. I placed the box in the back seat of my car and pulled onto the street for the drive home. The digital clock in my car read 2:12 a.m.

Unconsciously, I looked to my right. The passenger seat was, of course, empty, yet I felt Bethany's unmistakable presence. That made my drive back to my apartment less lonely and more tolerable.

When I walked into my apartment, I immediately closed and locked the door behind me. Then I put the box on the shelf in my closet. I removed my now-wrinkled suit and hung it up, reminding myself to take it to the dry cleaners on Monday to be cleaned and pressed again.

Though I desperately wanted to fall into bed, I recognized I needed to shower. By the time I climbed into bed, it was 2:45 a.m. on Sunday.

The ringing telephone awakened me. My bedside clock read 10:30 a.m.

"Hello," I mumbled trying to sound awake and no doubt failing dismally.

"Good morning, Tom. It's Bethany. I hope I didn't wake you up."

"Good morning, Bethany. I was planning to call you a little later to thank you for last night. I had a wonderful time." Yes, I had avoided answering her implied question.

"Oh, so did I. And thank you for the note you left. That was very thoughtful of you. I hope we can do it again sometime."

"I'd certainly like to. I know your schedule with the clubs limits your off time, but if you see something you'd like to do, something like a play or another concert or even something less structured that fits into your work schedule, I hope you'll give me the chance to go out with you again."

"Of course I will, Tom." After pausing, she continued.

"I spoke with Karen Matsumoto a few minutes ago on the phone. She said she'd wait until noon to call you. She's very interested in seeing the book you showed me. I gave her your cell phone number. Let me give you her number, so you'll recognize it when she calls."

Bethany gave me Karen's number and then went on.

"Karen and I have known each other since I was living in Japan and she was over there on a sabbatical from the University. We're also in the same Sunday afternoon Zumba class on campus.

I think you're really going to like her. If you get a chance, ask her about her education and background and how she came to be the Director of Special Collections. I promise you'll be fascinated by the answers."

Then Bethany went on with a rather mysterious tone. "You know, I had the funniest dream last night, and it may be partly your fault.

In the dream I visualized the presentation of several series of Misako's photos at the Club. It was so vivid that I was able to recall it in detail after waking up. I made some notes and sketches, and I'm going to skip my Zumba class to meet with Paul and Michael first thing this afternoon to discuss it before I have to go to work. I'm hoping they'll agree so we can contact Misako and invite him and his sister to look at the Club and restaurants to see if they think Misako's photos would be a good fit."

"So if your dream idea turns out to be a success, you'll go out with me again, but if it flops, I'm toast, right?" I asked jokingly.

She laughed lightly but then turned serious. "Whether they like the idea or not, I would like to go out with you again."

Then she added in a seductive voice, "And if you're toast, I'm bringing lots of jam."

She let the meaning of her comment sink in.

"Anyway, Tom, thank you for the best evening I've had in many, many years. I really want to do it again."

It was getting close to 11 a.m. when Bethany and I reluctantly ended our phone conversation. We were like teenagers talking with our first love; neither one of us wanted to say good-bye.

I settled in to read some more of Kim's medical material and wait for the call from Dr. Karen Matsumoto, the Director of the University Library's Special Collections Department.

At 12:15 p.m. she called.

"Hello. This is Tom Connors."

"Mr. Connors, this is Karen Matsumoto with the University Library. Bethany Battaglia gave me your phone number."

"Hello, Dr. Matsumoto. Yes, Bethany called a few minutes ago and said you would be calling to discuss the photo book I showed her last night."

"Oh, good. Did she explain my interest in it?"

"No, not really. I assumed she saw something unusual that might be of interest to the University. I didn't question her reasoning any further, though. Should I have?"

"No, her recommendation to let me look at it is based on our having been close friends for years. If it wouldn't be too much of an imposition, is there any possibility you could meet me at my office some time today and bring it with you for me to look at? I realize this is very short notice, but if we can meet and I can examine it, I can give you a more complete explanation and analysis."

"I'm available anytime after 1 p.m. today, Dr. Matsumoto."

"Well, I'll be going to my office at about 1 p.m. Why don't we say 1:30 p.m.? And let me give you the address. My office is not in the main Library. It's in the library's storage building at 2375 Rowles Road. Just park in front and come to the front door. Push the intercom button, and I'll come let you in."

"Rowles Road? Out by the airport?"

"Yes, that's it. I'll see you at 1:30 then? I'll have everything warmed up and ready. If you have any difficulty finding it, just give me a call on this number. I'm calling from my cell phone. And please, call me Karen."

"Thank you, Karen. I go by Tom. I'll be there."

"Oh, one other thing, Tom. It's a very hot day and the University shuts down the air conditioning for most of this building on weekends. Most of our space gets quite warm this time of year, so feel free to dress accordingly."

I left a little earlier than needed to get to Dr. Matsumoto's office, mainly because I was unfamiliar with most of the roads on the north side of the regional airport. The north side of the airport had been the military side for decades. It had been closed down as part of the Pentagon's base realignment and closing efforts. Some buildings were sold off mostly for commercial use, and others were torn down to create buildable lots. Apparently the University had bought one or more of them, but I had never paid much attention to what the school used them for. As far as I knew, there were no classrooms there.

It was a good thing I left early. Twice I drove right by where the Google Maps icon indicated Dr. Matsumoto's building should have been. There was what looked like an plain run-down corrugated tin warehouse on that site, but no signs or markings connecting it to the University.

On the third pass I made by the supposed address, I drove through the warehouse's parking lot to look closer. Only then did I see the numbers '2375' in fading paint on the glass pedestrian door near the completely empty weed-infested parking lot. There was a weatherworn intercom box by the front door.

The building was pretty much indistinguishable from every other steel warehouse structure in the complex. It had barred windows, but the window glass was translucent rather than transparent. There was an extremely sturdy-looking steel rollup door at one end of the building. It looked large enough to accommodate an 18-wheeler with a trailer. Next to that was a single-wide rollup door like one might have in a home garage.

I parked in the front parking lot and retrieved the shipping box with its contents from my trunk. At the entry door, I pressed the intercom button.