John and Joan

1.

In the writers forum of Literotica, there was at least one complaint that no one ever wrote a story about ordinary people. Here is my attempt.

All persons, usernames, and internet sites in "John and Joan" are completely fictional and any similarities to any persons or sites living or dead is completely coincidental.

***

John arrived home from the office at six-thirty, his usual time. He had left that morning at the usual time. As a double entry accountant for a fast food organization, he performed his usual accounting tasks in the usual way. This evening, John was exhausted as usual, his head bleary from balancing row after row of numbers. He really didn't care to eat, but felt he must, so he tossed a TV dinner in the oven then went upstairs to his "office", a tiny room in what used to be the attic of the broken down old Victorian he rented for more than he could afford. Eleven rooms for just him. But it was the cheapest housing he could find.

He tried to tell himself that he had come up to his office to attempt to balance his budget, but he was fooling himself. He was after all, an accountant. It didn't take differential calculus to figure out he spent one hundred nine dollars more than he made each month. Provided his thirteen year old car kept working no other unusual expenditures popped up.

He was so ordinary he made himself sick. He was thirty-six, neither young nor old. At five nine, one hundred eighty-five pounds, he was on the heavy side of ordinary, his mid-life bulge beginning to protrude past his belt. He had his urges, to be sure, but was too shy, too much of a dork to meet women socially. Once a week, on Friday, he visited a porn site, masturbated quickly, cleanly, Kleenex in hand to catch his pitiful flow, slid quickly in to his bed,and fell immediately asleep.

The real reason he had come up to his office tonight, as he had been doing every night now for the best part of two years, was to see if explorer_12 was on-line. What could a woman like her see in him? He knew his growing virtual attachment to her was ridiculous, but it was the only life he had.

When his computer was fully fired up, he logged into his IP chat site, selecting his usual chat room, "40s". His id was gingerman41, hers was explorer_12. He scrolled down the list of who was chatting, but did not see her name. "Hi everyone." he typed in.

Royalpain2, bigdickman9, loverboy69, angelface, all typed. "Hi gingerman," in reply.

John began to type, but the screen scrolled. Angelface had typed, "no gingerman, haven't seen explorer, usually here by now."

loverboy69 chimed in, "Hey ginger, why don't u pull up a chair, have a drink. Tell us about ur day."

2.

Joan was tired. She dragged her weary body from the parking lot to her apartment, her Dacron polyester slacks making a rhythmic zhipp, zhipp, sound her slightly overweight thighs. Her job at the senior "resort" was grueling. Today had been worse than normal, requiring her to lift patients on four different occasions. She felt worn dirty, her hair limp, greasy. On days like today, her petite, four eleven frame paid the price. She wanted nothing better than to wash her hair, then soak in her special deep tub, maybe with some lavender scent, her favorite. For dinner she decided on Ramen noodles. Again. But maybe she would have a glass of that decent Chardonnay.

She wanted that tub, but she had worked late. She knew gingerman would be waiting for her. "How silly I am, she thought, to be so tied up with a man who may not even exist. She laughed aloud at the thought that he might be a recalcitrant twelve-year-old. Well, what the hell. Her two "real" relationships had not worked out very well, one had been a worthless wimp, the other violent.

It was fun, pretending. God knew she didn't have much to really offer. Her body was maybe okay, she thought, if you were a man. She had waited twenty-nine years for luscious melon-sized breasts to develop, but apples were all she had gotten. Now, as she grew older, they were maybe more like saggy pears. She had no hips, her knees were knobby, her hair lifeless, dull. She had a little belly that jiggled when she laughed, which was seldom.

She knew she was a lousy lover, both her men had told her so, many times. To top it off, she was boring, had no special interests outside her job. Dating left her flat. Anyway, dating these days was scary, with all those diseases floating around. She had had her fill of men, all that rolling around, sweating, grunting. Men! Their floppy 'things' they seemed so proud of, spewing all those messy fluids.

With gingerman, she could have all the benefits of a relationship with a man, without all the fighting or the fucking. "Hmm," she thought, "I think it might work out fine, chatting with him first, then relaxing in her bath. She would invent her own image of him while taking care of her own needs," A fantasy man was so much better than the real thing. Thinking about 'doing it', even by herself, made her blush hotly.

Spooning noodles into her mouth, she moved to her computer desk in the corner of her bedroom. She giggled when her slurping caused a noodle to flick her nose, wiped her hands on her nurse whites,keyed up her HP.

While waiting a full two minutes for her five year old HP to load, she slurped down the rest of the ramen, dumped the styrofoam cup, wiped her hands face with a Kleenex she found lying on the desk. Then rushed back to the kitchen for the forgotten wine.

In "forties" chat, even though she was still in her twenties, the response was immediate. Six people at once informed her: gingerman had been asking. She waited. Where was he? After about ten minutes she saw his familiar avatar.

-gingerman41: "Explorer, you there?"

-explorer12: "Where have u been?"

-gingerman 41: "Sorry, getting my dinner from the oven."

-explorer12: "Ch'eatin'?"

-gingerman41: "Banquet frozen chicken dinner?"

-explorer1: "lol u r bad as me. I m eating ramen."

-gingerman41: "lol. At least mine says 'Banquet'."

-bigdickman9: "gettin' pretty heavy between u 2, whn't ya get a room? LOL

John, irritated by the unwanted intrusion, sent explorer a request for PM, perhaps the fortieth time he had done so in their two-year relationship.

What made this request different, she couldn't say. Perhaps it was bigdickman9 the others intruding at a time when she really needed a friend. She okayed the PM.

-gingerman41: "I can't believe it, you accepted my PM. tyvm."

-explorer12: "U r vw. What did u want 2 talk about?"

-gingerman41: "U shud c me. I m blushing all over, as if I were really meeting u in person.

-explorer12: "Nothing to blush about, I m just an ordinary person."

-gingerman49: "Not 2 me."

-explorer12: "What do u mean?"

-gingerman49: "I m afraid to tell u."

-explorer12: "Afraid of me?"

-gingerman49: "Well, I. . . "

**** Reader's alert! ***

fictional chat room format is abandoned for ease of reading

* * *

"-gingerman, u there? I m the 1 who shud b embarrassed."

"Y"

"Now I m blushing"

"I bet u r beautiful when u blush."

"r u coming on 2 me?"

"Shud I b?"

"hello, u there?"

"Did I make u mad?"

"U r a very foolish man."

"Y is that?"

"B cuz I m no prize."

"U r 2 me."

"Lol now u R coming on 2 me."

"Okay. If I were there w/u I was coming on, what wud u do?"

"Proly slap ur face."

"I m sorry, I didn't mean 2 offend. So sorry.

Please don't go."

"Go?"

"Can I tell u sumthing?"

"uh, oh oh, this sounds serious."

"Maybe. Can I?"

"That depends on what it is."

"Well it is very personal that is Y I need 4 u 2 promise me sumthing."

"Oh yeah, promise what."

"That you won't go away not chat w/me n e more?"

"Woah, I don't know. U r not gonna get nasty w/me r u?"

"Oh explorer, I wud never do that. I think u shud know that already. Don't u know I respect u?"

"Really?"

"Yes really. Started out every once in a while, now every nite cept 4 Fri. I can hardly wait 2 hear from u. 2nite when u weren't on, I was so disappointed."

"Me 2. You can't know how much these chats w/u at nite mean 2 me. They r about all I have. I m so stupid, so boring, so ugly, u r very kind to waste all ur time chatting w/me, a beautiful woman like u."

"Me? Lol. Who u been talkin 2? U r nuts. I bet u r the handsomest man I will ever meet. I m the ugly boring one."

There was a very long pause. Joan wondered if John had to use the bathroom or something. A picture comes unbidden to her mind of him standing over the toilet, pissing loudly. She wondered how big. . . She shakes her head to clear the nonsense, but cannot shake the tiny twinges occurring 'down below'. She has not felt "twinges" over a man in a very long time.

"R u there?" she types

"I m short of breath. Give me a moment."

"What, what's wrong?"

"Well I know, that is I m pretty sure, well, but maybe not. I need 2 no. Did u hear what u said?"

"What do u mean, what did I say?"

"No never mind. That's what I thought. You didn't mean it literally, that's okay."

"No really, what did I say?"

"I told u, never mind, it's okay."

"Damn it, gingerman, what did I say?"

"Well, don't get mad now, but here's what u said. U said, I quote, "You are probably the handsomest man I will ever meet. I was kinda hoping u really meant that part about meeting."

"Well, I didn't actually mean it but"

"But what?"

"Well, it might be possible, some day, for us to meet,"

"Really?"

"Woah, I said maybe, someday."

"Well, that's good enough for me, for now."

"Would u really want 2 meet in person?" Joan asked.

"Well, believe me it feels really strange, like going from friends back to strangers. I am already a loser. Losing you would b quite a blow, you know if it didn't work out. But the risk would b worth it to meet you. It would be I think so, yeah. Maybe. How do you feel about it?"

"Don't u think it mite spoil what we have?

"What do we have?"

"Aw, don't say that."

"I didn't mean it that way. I meant 4 u 2 tell me 4 real, what u think we have."

"But u make it sound like we don't have n e thing."

"Not at all. I m just trying 2 find out how u feel about things. About us."

"Is there an us?"

"I certainly hope so."

"Really?"

"You know," he said, "This Saturday is our anniversary."

"What do you mean, our anniversary?"

"Saturday night it will be 2 years year since we first met in this chatroom."

"How do you know that?"

"I kept track, silly. Meeting u was important 2 me."

"That's very sweet of u gingerman. I swore I would never date again, but u r changing my mind."

Despite that the computer would not show her emotions as her face might, he somehow detected a hint of coquettish flirtation now. "Well, 4 me there is an 'us'. Only u can say whether there is an 'us' 4 u"

"Now u have me blushing."'

"I bet u r beautiful when you blush,"

"Cut it out!"

"I can't call you beautiful?"

"No."

"No?"

"I mean yes you can but. . ."

The pause here is so long that John thinks perhaps he has chased her away by being too bold, but finally she begins typing again.

"What I meant was you are making me blush more."

She is playing, John thought. He decided to push it. "So r u blushing all over? Even in those places covered by ur clothes?"

"Clothes?" she responded.

"You mean u r. .?" -- John could not quite bring himself to type the word

"LOL, just kidding, I wouldn't -- you aren't r u?"

"LOL," u had me going there no I am not NAKED."

"What r u wearing?"

"Now u sound like those phone sex addicts on TV"

"No I didn't mean it like that I mean. Never mind, I shouldn't have asked."

"Now I bet u r blushing!"

"How did u know, LOL"

"I'm smart that way, she said, reading people, knowing what they are thinking."

"So, O K, what am I thinking?"

"U r thinking: 'I wish this weird prissy woman would get off the chat line so I could chat with sumone more sexy.'"

"Hah! u don't know me at all."

"Yeah I bet u chat sexy with lots of girls."

Now it was John's turn to pause for a long time.

"What was Explorer thinking? Where was she going with all this talk?"

"You still there gingerman?"

"Yeah. I'm here."

"Where'd you go?

"Just thinkin'"

"Will you tell me what you were thinking about?"

"No."

"Oh Ho!"

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"I thought maybe you were having THOSE kind of thoughts."

"What kind?"

"U know."

"No, actually I don't. Oh, u thought I was having dirty thoughts about u?"

"Well,lets just say sexy thoughts."

"No, I would never."

"I know. You probably have a ton of pretty girls."

"Explorer, if I tell u something will u promise to keep me as a friend not get mad?"

"Wow is this personal revelation time?

"Well, I feel comfortable a little with u, thot maybe I could trust u."

"Of course u can trust me, Gingerman. I promise."

"I have nothing no 1 in my life but u. I live 4 these chats with u. Sumtimes, don't laugh, sumtimes I do think of u that way, in my fantasies after I go 2 bed, after we, u know, after we chat."

Joan wasn't sure whether to be flattered or pissed off. "Give the guy a break," her conscience said, "you thought about that just before you came on line. I m really blushing now ginger."

"I bet u r beautiful when you blush."

"Hah! Stop saying that."

"Why do u always put urself down like that? I bet u r really pretty. Will u trust me 1 more time?"

"Funny, but I think I trust u more than n e 1. Isn't that silly?"

Before the end of their session that evening, they had made an appointment to meet the next Saturday night at the "Sport n' Brat" on Thirty-Fifth and Jefferson, at eight p.m. He was to carry the red copy of Catcher in the Rye, she would wear a white carnation in her hair.

*** *** ***

As eight o'clock drew near, John's trepidation soared toward panic. His palms were sweaty, throat dry. He scanned every woman who neared the front door, hoping he would be spared humiliation. Perhaps if he were lucky she would not show up.

Joan hesitated once more, now only one block from the Sport n' Brat. Her feet kept trying to turn, to run away, but her stubborn heart kept directing them forward. Her fear was so intense she thought she might dribble in her panties. She approached the glass of the restaurant from the side, slowly, hoping to get a glimpse of him before he saw her. Her knees shook.

She had scraped together the funds to have her hair done professionally, yet not one strand would stay where they had arranged it. It looked mousy no matter what she did. The decision what to wear had been long, painful. She could not afford anything new. She had settled for comfort. Her favorite jeans, a FSU sweat shirt. She had considered a padded bra, but decided that truth will out. The outfit was chosen to test him: Would he accept her as is, or would he expect frills?

John sat, waiting, though why he wasted his time, he knew not. He was certain she would not appear. Nonetheless, his copy of "Catcher" sat in full view on the corner of the table. Even if she did come, why would she want him? He had noting to offer her. He had no money, no car, a shitty job no social graces. He was awkward with women not very well endowed "down there". Even after about half a can of hair spray, his cowlick flared skyward, bobbing with each movement like a rooster's coxcomb. "God, what will I say to her? What will we talk about? I am so uninteresting. I know she'll hate me."

Filled with trepidation, Joan entered the noisy restaurant, eyes searching. "I was right" she said to herself. "He didn't come. I knew it" Four boisterous customers jostled by, bumping her, engrossed in loud humorous conversation. She in turn collided with the table behind her, sending something slapping to the floor. When she bent to retrieve it, smacked her forehead sharply with another, dislodging the carnation from her head. He reached for the carnation. She reached for the red book. Their hands touched. Two items lay discarded on the floor, two heads rose, two pair of eyes made contact, one robins egg blue, the other smoky gray. " Eh, eh, explorer?" He asked stupidly.

"Gingerman?" she replied.

He rose swiftly to his feet, offering her his hand. The manner of their meeting seemed intimate enough. She took his hand resolutely.

He hauled her to her feet. "Are you okay?" he asked. He was large, his touch warm, his scent a smoky spice, his voice deep, resonant. He towered above her, his bright red hair arcing upward., his face neck hands were covered with a sea of freckles. She laughed to herself at having discovered the source of his chat name. For a moment she wondered how it would feel to lie in those ginger arms, maybe counting all those freckles. It could take a lifetime to count them all. Thinking that, made her wonder if they covered his ENTIRE body. She nearly gave herself away by giggliing. She pushed the thought away, reminding herself of the price of "comforting arms."

"I'm fine John. It is John, isn't it. I mean gingerman?

His smile was quite enchanting as he replied," I see you are exploring? Let me look at you, he said stepping back holding her elbows.

"Don't do that!" she said, pushing his hands away.

"I'm sorry, he said, I didn't mean to touch you. It's just that. . . "

"Don't be silly. You can touch. . . I mean don't, don't, look at me like that. I am not much to see."

"Well you're wrong about that," he said. " I like what I see very much. I'll look all I like. I am just looking after all, not leering. God what an idiot. he thought to himself. "Please forgive me. I never know how to behave, what to say, around girls, er, ah, I mean women, er. See what I mean? Won't you sit down?" he asked, brushing nervously at his unruly hair. He held her chair as she slid in, a waft of her scent of honey and lavender made his head light.

A waitress appeared. "Can I get you something to drink?"

"Dos Equis", John said.

"I really shouldn't," Joan said. Oh what the heck. Do you have a nice Chardonay?"

One Equis, one Chardonnay, coming up."

As he moved to his own seat, he turned his head to size her up. She had those perfectly formed, pear like breasts that really turned him on. He toyed with the idea that her dark wild hair might indicate a hidden wild side. She was thin, achingly thin, but her hips flared in feminine promise. Her blue eyes caught him looking. She smiled shyly. When she smiled, something lightened inside him. "Do you want to eat?"

"Well, that's usually what I do when I go out to dinner," she teased.

"I, I meant, it's just that, I mean, it is only "Sport'n Brat". I meant did you want to eat here or go somewhere else?"

"Let's get one thing straight right now John, er, by the way, what is your last name?"

"Would you believe Smith." he said.

"No."

"No one ever does. Then I get the Pocahontas jokes the "Speak for yourself, John."

"Huh?"

"Never mind it's an old story. Anyway, that's it, John Smith. Now you are gonna say your name is Jones, Joan Jones.

The petite woman laughed so hard wine foamed out her nose. John quickly rose to offer his handkerchief, knocking over his beer in the process, the glass breaking. Dos Equis spilled in her lap. He looked at her. She looked at him. She wiped frantically at her crotch.

He moved to help her but stopped himself at the last moment, his hand poised above her lap. "Great." she thought, Draw attention to your vagina, how sophisticated." They sat down hard

simultaneously, laughing so hard, so long their bellies ached.

"Yes, oh, yes," she finally managed to eke out between gasps. "Joan Jones, that's me. You should have heard all the crap I took in school. Kids used to call me 'stutter'."

An awkward silence followed,during which John had a strong surge of empathy, reaching out to cover her tiny hand where it lay on the table still moist with beer. Immediately she snatched her hand away as if touched by flame. She glanced at her hand as if it were not a part of her. "I am sorry," she said. "I didn't mean to do that. It's okay if you want to hold my hand, I like it. Joan blushed crimson, but placed her hand back where it had been.