Eleanor

"Hello, come in," I heard you cry.

I poked my head in, and before I could utter a word you exclaimed, "Rachel, I looked at your memo and the underlying research and it exceeds my highest expectations ..." You continued to talk for several more minutes but I remembered nothing. Your praise felt like the sun shining on my face. I basked in the warmth of your compliment. Your words faded into the background as my infatuation for you turned into an outright worship of you. I was hopeful that you wouldn't notice the glazed look in my eyes as I thought about you, and that fact that you liked what I did for you. Did you like me as well?

Humbled as I was to receive your praise, I now wanted your love.

We continued to meet once a week to move the research along. I routinely posted my research on Sunday and you routinely reviewed my research before our meeting. I got you. I understood you. I did from the beginning. I was able to anticipate what you wanted and to succinctly digest mountains of information and regurgitate it for you into bite size pieces. Our meetings began to open up. They weren't just business any more. We were usually able to dispense with the critical elements of my research in 20 or 30 minutes. The remainder of the time was spent talking about ourselves. I treasured every minute of those conversations.

In the beginning you shared base level information about you and Camille, your backgrounds, your interests and how the two of you met ( I didn't know that Grounded in Toronto was in fact all true and that there were no fictionalized portions). But then the alone time was spent at the second level - - what it was like to live with Camille, what she did that bugged you, and your hopes and aspirations - the good stuff. I eagerly shared everything about me. It was easy because there wasn't that much. You did appear fascinated by my personal experiences, particularly when I described how I came out and how I told my parents. You didn't appear to be surprised to learn that I was a lesbian.

After a half dozen meetings we had an easy intimacy. I walked into your office without knocking. I would bring us coffees to drink. I would show you what I was wearing. You would do the same. We found out we shared the same shoe size. You let me walk around your office in your pumps with four inch heels. I think my side hurt for at least a week because of the laughing we did that day as I traipsed around your office in your heels pretending to be you.

Eleanor, I remember that day so vividly. It was the first time you looked at me with something more than casual interest. We shared that look after we stopped laughing. I was in your heels with one arm resting on your desk for support. You were sitting at your desk. You looked up at me and it appeared to me that your eyes were twinkling like two stars in the night. It was a soft glow, a glow of affection. It radiated from you. I couldn't believe how warm it made me feel. It was if I was in a cocoon and your radiance was contained within it. I can't describe it any better than that. I can tell you I'd never felt that way before we met and that ever since we parted ways I've not felt that way again.

My ankles started to wobble from my inexperience with four inch heels and that small bit of motion broke that look of affection you had in your eyes. Your eyes cleared and we finished our business at hand. You left early even though we had ten minutes left of our hour and I suspected that it was because you were flustered by our moment and wanted to get your bearings back. You never did tell me the reason for your hasty departure.

I went home that night with that look of love. My roommates were familiar enough with me see the telltale signs and pressed me for more information. When I refused to tell them who I was in love with they were incredulous. We shared everything with one another, so the withholding of such critical information was a felony. I knew I couldn't surrender your name, not then and not ever. I put up with an extra helping of verbal abuse for my continued refusal to tell them who I was seeing.

That night when I slipped between the covers my mind wandered from my school projects to you. What would it be like if we were lovers? Would I be able to please you? My hand started rubbing and then pinching my nipple. I varied the pressure on my nipple, causing it to pulse with pleasure. My other hand was drawn lower, imagining you letting your long blonde hair down and dragging it across my nude body, starting with my face, my breasts, and then my sex. You would then kiss me, starting with my neck, raising goose bumps on my body, and then to my lips, full of passion. I imagined you would suck on each nipple, pulling away from my body to lengthen the nipple and increase its sensitivity, and then kissing down my belly to my needy sex. I would implore that you lick and suck on my wet pussy, driving me wild with lust. My fingers brought me to an orgasm, with my mind creating a mental image of your head firmly between my legs, making me cum. I opened my eyes, now panting, and being back to the reality of a cold bed and you not in it with me.

I looked forward to the following Monday, when I would see you again and hoped that my dream would become a reality. However, instead of my dream coming true, the next time we met in your office was the most painful hour of my life. It was pure business and perfunctory queries about what I was doing in the summer and what type of permanent job I might be seeking. There was nary a mention of that moment we shared during our last meeting. I was on pins and needles for the entire hour, waiting for a hint of your awareness that we had shared such a moment. The sense of anticipation as the hour came to a close was electric. I was certain you would say something and that something wonderful would come of it. But I was wrong. You exhibited no awareness of that moment we shared nor did I detect any signs of personal affection during our meeting.

When I arrived at my apartment that evening my roommates thought that someone had died in my family. I had spent a good part of that afternoon wandering around campus and crying. I couldn't believe that a moment so powerful for me didn't even register as a blip on your radar screen. Could I have been that blinded by my love for you? My eyes were so red and puffy that I had to come up with some sort of explanation. I told them that I had been dressed down by you for failing to carry out a research project properly. They reluctantly accepted that explanation but I'm sure they were suspicious that there was much more to that story.

I knew I couldn't go through another meeting like the one I just had with you. I spent the entire next week coming up with some way I could convey my budding affection for you and to find out if you felt it was mutual. I practiced on my way to class. I doodled your name on my notes. I thought through possible scenarios during my classes. I narrowed down the choices to a handful, but was unable to pick one clever way to say something that would cause you to reveal your true feelings for me.

Finally it was Monday at 1 p.m. and I was standing outside your door. We long ago dispensed with a knock, but I had to summon the courage to confront this pressing issue. I knew that if our meeting today didn't go well that I would likely resign my research position. You were finishing answering e-mails on your computer or something similarly mundane while I stood in front of your desk with both hands on it, leaning forward. You finally turned around, and seeing me simply said, "Yes?"

"Eleanor, I'm just going to have to say it. I'm attracted to you."

You looked at me thoughtfully. "You know that I'm married."

"I do, but it doesn't change the fact that I'm attracted to you."

"Thank you. I'm flattered, but this can't go anywhere."

I didn't know it at the time (though somewhat suspected it with the fragments of the phone conversation I overheard), but part of the reason you took the teaching position was to get some time away from Camille. You had been married for three years by that time and the relationship was getting a bit chippy. Plus your natural curiosity about young love was bound to get the better of you. I was at the right place at the right time.

I had brought a large research file for that particular meeting. I accepted your answer for the moment and put the documents on your desk and spread them out. "So if you look at these charts on the survival rate it's been improving over time with this particular protocol," I explained to you in a clinical fashion.

You were looking over my shoulder. I could smell your perfume. The closeness of your body and your hypnotic scent made me do something that was against my better judgment. I pulled you to me and kissed you lightly on the lips. You looked at me, a bit stunned by my forwardness, made sure there was eye contact, took my face in your hands and kissed me deeply. I knew there was no turning back.

We broke the kiss and second thoughts immediately surfaced for you. "Rachel, this isn't me."

"But it is. You and I want each other."

"We do. But we're adults and I have a responsibility to another."

Oh joy! You did acknowledge that you had feelings for me. Now I wanted to be the selfish one. I wasn't going to take 'no' for an answer. I took your wrist. You looked at me, again looking surprised by my aggressiveness.

I was now the forceful one, the pursuer. "Tell me to my face that you don't want me."

You paused. I could see the battle being fought between your body and your mind. Your willpower was weakening.

"Rachel ... beautiful Rachel ... I can't tell you how much I do want you ... but ..."

I kissed you again. Your resistance melted. You kissed me back, even more forcefully, with a desperation that showed the recent lack of attention to your needs.

You slipped your hand inside my blouse and underneath my bra. Your practiced hand found my nipple, already erect, and pinched it between your fingers. You knew how to make love to a woman. I was the willing student.

"Come home with me," you whispered in my ear.

I nodded. We left everything in the office as it was and you led me hand in hand to your car for the short drive to your house. The house you rented was a modest ranch but was nicely appointed inside. You had already managed to put your touch on the house with books and photos adorning the bookcases and the fireplace mantle.

I took a few steps inside the house, standing in the middle of the living room, not knowing what was to come next. You stood behind me. I turned my head to look over my left shoulder. You kissed me, extending your arms around me and unbuttoning my blouse, tracing your fingers around the cups of my bra. Our kissing became more passionate as you slipped your hand underneath my bra, cupping my breast. I wanted you so badly, yet also wanted to let you seduce me.

I unbuttoned the rest of my blouse and unclasped my bra, throwing them both on the floor. Our kisses became more frantic as your hands caressed my breasts, learning their texture and weight, as the excitement of new love overcame the two of us. We shed our clothes as you led me to your bedroom. We both kicked off our shoes as we entered it, now naked. Before we had a chance to study one another the passion of the moment dictated our actions.

You lay on top of me, rubbing your nude body against mine as we kissed. I could feel your breasts press against mine as we rutted like two animals in heat. We could have spent hours rubbing and touching, but the urgency of the moment caused your head to go lower to my breasts. You muttered "beautiful" under your breath as you captured my nipple in your mouth, swirling your tongue around it and causing me to arch my back as the pleasure of your touch radiated through my body.

I started softly whispering your name. I couldn't believe you were making love to me and that my dream had come true.

I spread my legs for you, inviting you to explore lower. You started kissing my belly and the inside of my thighs, increasing my level of anticipation. The velvety soft touch of your lips made my thighs quiver as I used my hands to guide your lips to my sex, now profusely leaking, as I closed my eyes and tilted my head back. Your intimate kiss did not disappoint. The feather light touch of your lips caused me to involuntarily gasp as a bolt of current surged through me.

"Yesssss," I hissed, as your tongue went deep inside me, exploring the wet folds of my sex.

You became ravenous, using your tongue and your hands to lick and touch every intimate crevice of my sodden pussy as I now started to call you name, tearing at the sheets, pleading with you for my release. But you had more in mind. Your fingers went lower, now exploring my rosette, an area to which I was a virgin in all respects. Your unexpected touch caused me to reflexively arch my hips, pressing your lips even tighter against my cunt as your finger wiggled its way into my back passage. I started running my fingers through your hair, feeling the silky texture of your long blonde tresses, as you pleasured me.

Words can no longer provide an adequate description of the ecstasy I experienced with your tongue on my clitoris and your finger lodged deep in my ass, launching me into a seemingly endless progression of orgasms. At some point I drifted off into an ethereal cloud, not wanting to ever return. I felt your face close to mine, as you had worked your way back up during my reverie, and you were holding my body tightly against yours, a moist heat now radiating between us.

"My turn," you mouthed in an almost inaudible tone of voice. But it was your eyes that betrayed your true feelings. It was the same glimmer I saw that time we were clowning around in your office. That same look of affection. You wanted me to make love to you and I so wanted to return the pleasure.

I pushed you so you were lying on your back. I took a moment to study you. Your hair was now down, gently flowing on each side of your head as it rested on the bed. Your face, with now subtle lines near your eyes telling me that bloom of youth was gone, but replaced by the features of a beautiful mature woman. Your breasts, large and heavy, resting on your chest, with your nipples erect, begging for my lips. And your soft mound, with curling hairs hiding the lips below, but already bearing the sticky sweet drops of dew.

But it was your eyes that told me what you wanted. The desire and the lust you kept bottled up was unleashed. Your eyes had an almost sad quality to them as they pleaded for me to make love to you. I eagerly relented, first starting with light kisses on your lips and neck, nuzzling your neck, causing you to sigh contentedly. My kisses went lower, to your breasts, licking and sucking the soft creamy white flesh, and then relishing the darker skin, that pebbly texture of your areola and nipples. Your cries became more urgent as I worshipped your breasts, begging me to go lower. I buried my head between your legs, feeling the humidity of this resting place and the tickle of your hairs as they touched my nose and face.

I pushed my tongue between your lips. They parted easily, greeting me with another dose of your nectar, as the heady aroma of your sex further inflamed my desire. I greedily lapped at your sex, enjoying an endless supply of your essence, as your hips undulated in sync with my tongue. You began to rock your head back and forth, babbling incoherently, as the pleasure doled out by my tongue threatened to overwhelm your senses. But it was you that so recently introduced me to the pleasure of ass play. I asked you to turn over on your belly and bend your top leg, exposing your anus to me.

I had never made love in this way, but the invitation to do so was so erotic I couldn't have refused. I gazed at the gentle curve of your bottom and the crease between your bottom and your thigh and the wrinkly texture of your rosebud. I traced my finger in the crease and then circled your anus. You yelped, not in pain, but to signal the sensitivity of your back passage. I pulled your cheeks apart to afford me easier access and let my tongue glide up and down your anus, swabbing your rosette as it clenched and unclenched with each stroke. My hand pressed between your legs, probing and then finding your hardened nub, slickened with moisture, as you made an eerie keening sound that signaled the ascent to your release. I redoubled my efforts, stroking your clitoris and now stabbing your anus with my tongue, progressively getting deeper and deeper inside. The lewdness of this most intimate contact raised the heat level between us to an almost unimaginable level, as your cries and my furious lovemaking ended with your hands pressing my face firmly against your anus as you shook uncontrollably beneath me. My free hand found its way to my overheated pussy, bringing me to my own rousing orgasm as you continued to thrash under me.

As the passions of our primal mating died down, we settled into each other's arms and then into a deep slumber.

We awoke sometime later, with darkness outside telling us we had been asleep several hours. Nude and clammy, we looked at each other and came to a silent agreement that our lovemaking would continue until we were both exhausted.

"Trust me," you said in a reassuring tone of voice.

You took a piece of material to gag me and another to tie my hands behind my back. You had me kneel on the bed with my face planted in the tangled sheets with my backside fully exposed to you. You dispensed with gentle foreplay, parting my cheeks with one hand and pushing your tongue into my back passage. I pushed back at you, telling you that your intrusion was welcome, and that I wanted you to press further inside me. I took a cue from you, willing my anal ring to squeeze your tongue, pulsing that powerful muscle and feeling the rapture of anal sex. You wiggled the tip of your tongue inside me, pressing that delightful soft fleshy surface against the neglected erogenous zones in my back passage. With my hands tied behind me I had no way to address my surging need and you did not make any move to do so. I screamed through my gag for you to bring me off, but those screams fell on deaf ears. Instead, you used your hands to squeeze my nipples as your tongue remained buried deep in my ass. I had heard of the power of orgasm denial but had not experienced it first-hand. You kept working my bottom, impaling me with your tongue, and squeezing my nipples to the border between pain and pleasure. I was squirming underneath you, now pleading for you to make me cum.

Now you were the devilish one. You stopped and rested your head next to mine. My lust filled eyes were wide as saucers. You casually asked me, "do you want to cum Rachel?"

I nodded my head furiously while imploring you through my gag.

You gave me an impish smile and said, "Well, maybe a little bit more before you get what you want."

"Nooooo," I screamed.

You went to your bureau drawer, finding a vibrator and lube. You slathered the lube on the vibrator as you locked your eyes on my inviting derriere. You turned the vibrator on and the buzzing noise increased the already tense atmosphere in the room.

You slid underneath me with your mouth inches from my sex. I wanted to splay my knees so I could press my pussy against your lips but you used your hands to keep me in a kneeling position. Once I understood you wouldn't proceed unless I stayed in a kneeling position you said, "relax."

You positioned the tip of the vibrator against my rosebud. I could feel the coldness of the sticky lubricant and the hard plastic of the vibrator's tip. I tried to relax but my body wanted to resist this invader. You pressed and the released the pressure over and over until there was a respite in my muscle contraction and you pushed the vibrator an inch inside me. My nipples rubbed against the sheets, further intensifying this anal stimulation.