Danielle

Preface

I want to state beforehand that this work is a fantasy based on facts mixed with my, shall we say, fertile imagination. I do know a young lady similar to the one I describe in this tale, and have thought of her many times. However, the intimate events detailed in this story have never happened; if they had, I certainly wouldn't be telling you about them. That would be 'ungentlemanly.'

Part One

I first met Danielle when I was her supervisor at a small diner outside Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. She was only eighteen at the time and, although I did harbor an attraction for the girl, my then current live-in relationship with a woman I deeply loved, my status as her boss, as well as the fact I was thirty years Danielle's senior, relegated me to keeping my distance. I could look, though...and from time to time, I did.

Physically, she was as lovely a girl as I had ever encountered. She was around five-ten, long and finely textured brown hair, with a creamy porcelain complexion that showed no traces of ever having needed Clearasil. Her eyes were the same brown as her hair, and were shaded by the most sensual eyelids I had ever seen. Naturally long lashes feathered her high cheekbones, and her lips were full with a slight bow.

Her body was exquisite to my eyes; slender and svelte, nearly willowy, with slender hips and small breasts. She was everything you would expect to see in a girl making her final transition to womanhood.

Her manner was friendly but cool, and very professional in the diner. She waited tables as if she had been doing it for years, not the four months she had indicated on her application. Her manner toward me was also professional, but somewhat shy. Often, when conversing with me about topics that were more personal, her eyelids would drop a bit, and I would see the slightest of blushes creep onto her cheek. It was absolutely charming, and I became a bit more open with her about my life outside of work.

Occasionally, she would ask me (or I would offer) a ride home. During those short drives, (she lived less than a mile from me) we would talk about other things; movies, music, etc. and we were surprised to find we had a lot more in common than expected, given the age gap. She loved the classic films; Lawrence of Arabia, 2001: A Space Odyssey, Paper Moon...but she also confessed a love for the work of Mel Brooks and Woody Allen. I was amazed that someone so young grasped some of Allen's subtle and intelligent humor, and came to realize Danielle was much more than she appeared. As a result, we found ourselves warming to each other even more, and relished every opportunity to talk.

Only once did the friendship threaten to go further. I had just pulled into her driveway and offered my hand for what had become our traditional farewell handshake. She took my hand, but didn't let go. Instead, she pulled me a little closer, and shyly kissed my cheek. "What was that for?" I asked, but her lids had dropped a bit and she shrugged.

When she looked up again, she said simply, "Just a thank you...for being my friend. You're very nice, you know, and you treat me with a lot of respect at work. That's why I try to give you my best."

"Well...you do good work. I certainly do appreciate it. And Danielle?"

"Yes?"

"I do appreciate the kiss...but it would be a good idea if you didn't do that again. I'm still your boss, and even a friendly kiss could be trouble if anyone at work ever found out. They whisper enough anyway about me riding you home."

"I know," she replied, " I hear the whispers sometimes. But we are just friends, after all."

"Yes we are...and I value that friendship immensely. It's nice to have someone outside of my home to talk to."

"Yes it is," she said. A silence fell between us as we made eye contact, then Danielle brightened.

"Still friends?" she queried.

"Still friends," I replied with a grin, and we shook again. "Goodnight, see you Thursday," I said as she opened her door.

"Goodnight, Steve." The passenger door closed and I waited as I always did until she was inside the house. I shook my head...that kiss; so soft and...what was I thinking? She's just a kid! And you have a great woman!

I drove home, entered my house and found my lady. She was just getting into the shower when I turned her around and kissed her deeply, passionately. Beth responded fully to my advance, allowing me to pick her up and carry her to the bed where we made love for the next three hours.

Two months later, I quit the diner job due to a dispute with another employee. He had tried to give me a joint after work and I refused the gift, knowing it was inappropriate. It turned out to be a setup anyway, and after some heated discussion the next morning with Jon, the general manager, I told him to go fuck himself for the underhanded subterfuge, and walked out. Danielle was just coming in for her day shift and stopped me outside the front door. I explained the situation to her, and she sympatheti-cally hugged me. The general manager saw the embrace, stormed outside, and fired her on the spot for 'inappropriate fraternization with a supervisor.'

"I just quit," I reminded him, "I was no longer her supervisor when the contact occurred!"

"I don't give a shit!" he yelled, "Danielle, you are terminated, effective immediately...get your personal items from your locker and leave the premises!"

"Asshole!" We looked at each other, surprised we had said this in unison, then burst out laughing. Jon stormed back inside, and I offered Danielle a last ride home, which she accepted. When we got to her place, she lingered in the car for a few moments. "I can't believe what just happened," she remarked. "I can't believe he fired me for that."

"I can't believe it either. You know, " I continued, turning to look at her, "we could file a lawsuit for this. I was technically and factually not employed there when you hugged me."

"But by law, it would have to go through an arbitration process first, right?"

Surprised, I looked at her. "How did you know that?"

"I took some classes last year...you know, business administration, business law, stuff like that. We covered this subject. There would be an arbitration hearing to see if the issue could be settled out of court. If no resolution is reached, then a suit could proceed." I shook my head in wonder. Danielle had amazed me again with her intellect.

"Right," I continued, " and Jon would probably agree to rehire you to avoid the suit. I would have no standing because I had already quit, and..."

"And he would make my life miserable until I quit," she finished. Danielle shrugged. "Ah...just as well. He paid me shit wages anyway, and the tips weren't that great. Good riddance, upon reflection." She smiled at me. "You OK?" I took a breath and whooshed it out in a sigh.

"Yeah...I can always get another job. Look, Danielle..if you ever need a reference...you have my number, right?"

"Yeah...but I'm probably going to go back to school full time anyway. But I'll call you from time to time, if that's alright." She smiled as I nodded. "Steve...you're the best boss I've ever had." And with that, she held out her hand. As I took it, she quickly kissed my cheek. "I'm gonna miss working with you."

"Me too," I returned. She smiled softly, and her eyes dropped a bit, those long lashes touching her cheeks. She gave me one last look, opened the door and left.

I didn't see her again for three years. She never called.

Part Two

In the following years, I opened and folded two businesses, worked part-time jobs in a variety of industries, bought and sold two cars, sold my house...and lost my lady to another man. Beth had grown impatient with what she called my "lack of direction," but I didn't discover her affair until she had been gone for a month. Beth left me two days before Christmas that last year, and I was devastated. Luckily, my parents and siblings were empathetic, and they did a lot in helping me get over a failed eight year love affair.

I found myself working with various hospitals and nursing homes as a patient advocate, or ombudsman. I had been appointed to this position due to my management experience, which had included a lot of conflict resolution involving departments and employees in a union shop. I had been doing this job for about six months when I was called to investigate patient abuse complaints at a large university hospital in downtown Philadelphia.

I was on the third floor, having wrapped up some interviews with three LPN's and two CNA's, a process that had taken over four hours. As I left the conference room and headed for the elevators, an eight foot high food cart came around the corner, nearly colliding with me in the hall. I dodged left and banged my briefcase on the side of the cart. A female voice exclaimed, "Omigod! Are you OK?"

I looked up and said, "Yes...I just didn't see you com..." I stopped as I saw her, a slow smile breaking over my face.

Danielle looked at me, her eyes widening in shock. "Oh, WOW! Steve! Hey, you!" In a flash, she was hugging me fiercely. I hugged back just as hard. "Danielle!" We pulled back and regarded each other. "Where'd you come from?," she asked, and wrapped her arms around me once more.

"Aw, sweetie, you look great!" I took another look. She looked exactly the same as she had at eighteen...just as lovely, just as slim. "How are you?"

"I'm great, thanks; you?

"I'm good...just happened to be here on business and kinda ran into you."

"I ran into you...well, almost!" We laughed. "I'm sorry I never called you, Steve."

"Yeah, I was wondering about that." I looked at my watch. "Listen...I gotta go, I'm due back at the office, but let me give you my new number." In a flash, she pulled out a smartphone and saved the information. "Please call me later, uh...after six-thirty," I said. We looked at each other again. "We could go get a drink and catch up, if you'd like."

"That sounds great! Steve...I'm really happy to see you. I thought I'd never see you again."

"I was kinda wondering what happened to you, too," I said, and looked at my watch again. "I'm sorry, I really do have to go. Call me?"

"Count on it," she said. She smiled, hugged me again, and I turned and left.

My phone rang at six forty-five. "It's Steve," I answered.

"Steve, Danielle." Her voice was happy and light.

"Hi, there! How are you?"

"Unchanged since this afternoon," she laughed. "You?"

"Same, same. So...you have plans for this weekend?"

"Maybe," she returned. "I forgot to ask you today...how's Beth?"

"Ahhh...I hear she's fine. She left me this past December."

"Aw Steve...I'm so sorry." her voice was sympathetic. "All alone then?"

I smiled at that. "Yeah...yeah."

"Well, since that's the case," she said, "How about you come over for dinner?"

"Tonight?"

"Sunday, she replied"

My reply was immediate. "What time and where?" She laughed.

"Well, you didn't take much convincing. Um...four o'clock. _____ Park apartments, just off the pike, near Lincoln Avenue. You know where that is?"

"Yes...it's about two miles from me." I hadn't known she lived so close. "Can I bring anything?" "Yes you can; white wine...cold. Your choice."

"OK...I'll be fashionably late."

She was amused. "Not too late."

"I'll be there. See you."

"Goodnight Steve."

"Goodnight." I disconnected. Could it be that...? No, I thought. She's still thirty years younger than you, idiot. As lovely as she is...too much of a gap. I made a quick supper, watched some TV, and fell asleep.

I slept late on Sunday, as I usually do, rising about noon. Shit, shower, and shave; always in that order, following the advice of my long dead grandfather who believed there was no use washing your ass first if you were just going to immediately get it dirty again.

Around two-thirty, I went to the closet and chose from my summer wardrobe a black linen suit, aubergine shirt, and my favorite tie, a silk Brioni medallion in red and blue. I dressed carefully and slipped into my black loafers...no socks. I checked myself in the mirror...I looked good.

I left the house at three forty-five, the wine in a travel bag, encased in ice. The drive took only ten minutes, so I hung around for a few minutes at the market, looking over some gourmet cheeses buying nothing, but making mental notes for my shopping list.

I arrived at the apartments at four-ten and found Danielle sitting in the courtyard, leafing through Newsweek. She smiled when she saw me and rose in greeting. "Right on time," she remarked, and led me through the lobby to the elevators. "I'm on the top floor...it's a little difficult to explain how to get up there, so I thought it best to meet you down here."

"Good idea, then," I returned, and followed her into the car. She used a key to select her floor, and we were transported upward. "Danielle...you look lovely. That is a beautiful outfit."

"Thank you." Her clothes were indeed lovely. A cream blouse, low cut but fashionable, topped black silk pants. She had a simple gold chain around her neck, and wore matching anklets above a pair of black flats which whispered along the carpet as we walked to her door. "I love your suit," she smiled, "is that linen? It looks good on you."

"Good eye," I replied, "and thank you." We had reached her door. She turned the knob and we went in.

To say I was unprepared for what lay beyond the entrance to her apartment would be a gross understatement. I literally gasped. The room was incredibly and beautifully lit. The light seemed to come from all directions simultaneously.

Around the walls stood oak tables, waist high, upon which had been placed multitudes of stump candles, all lit, and backed by rosewood-framed mirrors, which gathered and amplified the light. I saw some table lamps, which were not lit. In fact, the only electric light that was on was a three foot by three foot ceiling fixture, dimmed to match the intensity of the candles. The room was awash in soft yellow light, and the effect was astonishing.

The floors were hardwood, red oak I guessed, and were decorated with Italian wool rugs in cream with blood-red trim. I caught a twinkling in my peripheral vision and turned to see the small dining table had been exquisitely set with what looked to be Lenox china, Baccarat crystal, and antique Oneida silver; not plate...solid silver flatware, polished to a high shine.

I looked at Danielle; I must confess my jaw had dropped open a bit. It was the most beautiful room I had ever seen, and I said as much.

"Thank you," she said. "I learned this from my mother. She was a decorator, and taught me how to properly light a room." She paused, smiling at my reaction. "I guess I achieved the desired effect."

"To impress a dinner guest? Effect achieved." I shook my head. I could have looked at the room for hours.

"Dinner is not quite ready, Steve. Would you like a drink? The bar is over there; and you can play bartender."

"I would, thank you. What would you like?"

"Whatever you're having is fine. I'll be back in a moment," she said as she disappeared behind the kitchen door.

I crossed the room and opened the small armoire that she had indicated. Another surprise; it had been converted into an efficient wet bar. Wine and champagne glasses hung from a rack on top; double rocks glasses and beer pints were off to the left on a small shelf, along with quarter-pint tasting glasses.

There was a tap for beer, and the hand-written label read "summer shandy," a personal favorite.

I scanned the bottles and found the selection included some of the finest and rarest spirits from the planet. Mansinthe Absinthe, Chartreuse, and Grand Marnier l'Orange dominated the liquers. Lamb's Navy Rum. Porfidio tequila, its distinctive green glass cactus thrusting upward from the base of the bottle. Hennessy brandy, 1936. Basil Hayden single barrel bourbon. I looked for the scotch and found three world class single malts; Bowmore 21, Laphroiag 18, and...Omigod... Cadenhead's Rosebank 1989, a 9 year old whisky that I had first tasted in Ottawa, Ontario. I selected that one, and measured two fingers each into double rocks glasses.

I crossed the room and knocked on the kitchen door. "May I enter?" "Of course," she replied. I handed her a glass and she inhaled its aroma. "Cadenhead's ...good choice, it's my favorite of all the malts."

"Mine too. Wherever did you find this in the US?"

She smiled. "I have a friend who smuggles it over from Canada."

"That's where I first had it." I stuck my nose in the glass and breathed in the combined scents of barley, smoke and peat.

"Shall we have a toast?" she asked.

"Lets." We raised our glasses. "May the best of our pasts be the worst of our futures."

"And to the good stuff," she replied, "may it last a long time." We clinked glasses and sipped.

"Ahhh," she sighed, "sweet nectar."

"Yes," I replied, "very sweet indeed. Where did you learn about scotch?"

"From my father. He was a collector, and would give me a taste now and then...much to Mother's

chagrin. I think she was afraid I'd become an alcoholic...but it turned me into a connoisseur."

"I've heard it said that winos are simply connoisseurs who became obsessive."

She laughed. "That's good...very funny." We sipped again, and she put down her glass. "Well! The salads are just about ready; there's a corkscrew on the bar; would you open the wine?"

"Certainly. Um, I brought a Montrachet...hope that's all right."

"Who made it?"

"Louis Jadot."

Her face mirrored her approval. "Excellent choice." She shooed me from the kitchen and I found the 'screw on the bar. The cork came free easily, and I poured a taster into a wine glass. Sipped and ap-proved . I placed the bottle in the filled icebucket, which rested on a sideboard near the table.

Danielle emerged from the kitchen bearing two small salad plates which rested on matching shallow bowls of crushed ice. "I've prepared a light, three course dinner. This is baby spinach, lightly steamed and soaked in a mushroom vinaigrette, with Roquefort cheese, sliced cucumber, and white radish. The main course is broiled salmon with black peppercorns, cracked of course, and buerre blanc. The third course is dessert...New York cheesecake. Hope you're hungry!" She smiled. I poured her a half glass of the Montrachet, and we dug in.

After dinner, which included much laughter and several sincere compliments on her prowess in the kitchen, we retired at her invitation to the conversation area. The candles were all still burning brightly, and I relaxed in the glow. "Danielle," I said, " I cannot remember the last time I had such a good meal. I simply don't cook this well, although I'm not a hack...but this was truly five-star."

"Did Beth not cook?" she asked.

"She wasn't as good as I was...she admitted that herself. Beth was more of a...nuker."

"And you?" She was curious.

"I'm more of a creative chef...got that from my mom. 'Guess and Hope' was her lesson. 'If you start with good basics and don't skimp on the process, whatever you make will be good...or at least edible.' " We laughed at that, and I reflected on how enjoyable this all was. Great food, liquor...and company. I looked at Danielle fully. She is lovely, I thought, I wonder if she'd mind if I...Oh stop it! I again shouted to myself. She's young enough to be your daughter!. Nonetheless, I smiled at her.

She smiled back, then scrutinized me more closely. "You look tired, Steve," she analyzed. I can see it in your eyes."

"Long week," I admitted, "too many cases, most of them from one facility."

"Maybe I can help." She was concerned.

"Um...I can't really discuss anything; confidentiality agreements and such." She shook her head, her

long hair swinging.

"Not what I meant, Steve." She got up from her chair and moved behind me. "I meant this way." She gripped my shoulders with her hands and began to knead the tension from my muscles. Oh God, I thought, that feels so good. I closed my eyes and felt her move to my biceps, then back up to my shoulders. "Could you take off your jacket?" she asked. "And loosen your tie." I rose and complied. I was unsure where this was going, but was enjoying the physical contact. She had never touched me before, and her long fingers felt cool and soothing on my skin.