Love's Notion

CHAPTER ONE.

I was 12 years old. He was the same age. We were both fresh faced, naive, and surely hesitant but eager participants; to discover love, or at the very least, something deeper. Finding ourselves at Belinda Huntington's home - an overindulged precocious girl -- for her birthday party, where the main source of entertainment would be an exceedingly slippery game of spin-the-bottle. My mother drove me to her house; a renovated Victorian echoing the charm and social status of the occupants who were oblivious to their good fortune, living within steps of the River Walk. We lived in a modest residence by comparison. Being blessed with a mature sense of self, I knew an invitation to Belinda's party was seen as the ultimate compliment and unexpectedly, she had extended one to me. Unexpected, for a quiet and studious girl who knew her lack of social popularity excluded her from most events, such as these.

I remember being nervous, entering her lavish home, cautiously ascending the staircase to the upper third floor family room and secretly pondering where to position myself, reluctantly blushing as I sat courageously beside my first crush. His name was Marc Tullford. He was rare, one of the lucky ones, with a unique cool name just because he had a 'c' instead of a 'k'; and was smarter than most with seemingly little effort. Marc was blessed with big hands and arms that looked like they belonged on someone much taller. He had dark hair and green eyes which were rimmed with thick lashes. Through the grade school years, I had observed him from afar; although unfortunately, few words were exchanged between us. I was shy, he was not. Unintentionally, I had committed to my memory bank, that unmistakable feeling of tummy butterflies and pure unsolicited exhilaration, just by being close to him.

So there we were, sitting in Belinda's third floor family room. We ate hot dogs and sipped on sweet root beer floats. I remember the food and everything about the first boy I ever kissed.

I had not spoken to, nor heard of Marc since then. As I drove, I wondered what made my mind wander back to those adolescent moments of sexual awakening. Coming home after all these years? Or the fact that I was driving for days, and I had examined every aspect of my adult life with no foregone conclusions? I was now searching my treasure chest of childhood memories for possible insight.

Self examination: unattached single woman, mid-30s, knowingly attractive, highly educated, charmed personality...absolutely acceptable, if I say so myself! To most, the absenteeism of male suitors was surely a product of my overzealous quest for career advancement. Perhaps some questioned my demeanour; years past gleefully gossiping at every possible opportunity. And either explanation was surely justifiable as to why this lovely young woman was unattached. Inwardly, I knew my perfectly acceptable status didn't equate to preferable, to me.

Finally heading south and seeing the mileage sign, being tired but relieved that I'm on highway 35, San Antonio was only minutes away. I can't believe I'm moving back home! Driving from Chicago was a long haul, but thankfully it was a one-way trip.

"Vivian, you are all woman, there is nothing you can't do. Yeah well, a few things...never mind, don't let your mind wander there, stay awake and keep driving," I said out loud as if hearing the sound of my voice made me less lonely.

Solitude naturally procured this habit of me speaking out loud, while driving, and was perhaps the only quirky thing about me. Or so I thought. Plus, knowing that the occasional witness would assume I was speaking into my phone helped justify the idiosyncrasy. Yes, knowing no one could ever hear me, I would have inspirational natter on most interstates.

Urban expansion coupled with a decade of renewal had not escaped San Antonio, but the one thing that remained; a charming river aligned with restaurants, shops, and spellbound visitors: the River Walk. Purposely purchasing my condo within steps and a breathtaking view of the river was the prudent thing to do. I was alone; hence living close to the bustle of people was the precise backdrop for happiness. My family lives here in San Antonio, and I was returning home.

Pulling into the underground garage, I loaded my arms with as much as I could carry, and walked toward the elevator. My furniture was delivered the week prior, along with my personal belongings which were neatly packed. Twelve stories up, I turned the key and opened the door to my new home.

I was fortunate to have a week to unpack and finish decorating my condo and putting everything in its place. Choosing a creamy white palate with splashes of color on the walls and decorative accents made the space stylish and current. I loved to decorate. Slick and modern furnishings complemented me and my lifestyle. That said, what I really longed for was a Georgian style home, filled with comfortable furniture and a family of my own, but I knew that was not feasible.

As the hospital administrator, my new position was lucrative but demanding. Keeping abreast of medical advances, government regulations, technology, and the ever-evolving health care insurance and financing options, was relentless. The hospital was conveniently located a few city blocks from a new state-of-the-art fitness club which I joined on my very first day at work. Everything suited me, and I was ready to work and start my new life - right back where it all began.

At the club, I signed up for a massage with Salina who apparently gave fabulous and effective rubdowns. I asked her to concentrate on my upper neck region; she was so good that I almost fell asleep. My mind wandered. I had no experience with women, but was always a little curious. Women being so pretty and sexy, that they are often the main appetizer in my sexual fantasies. Could a fantasy become a reality? Would I be able to ever go through with it? No one would ever find out. I wasn't sure if I would like it. With new beginnings, I felt like being a bit of a rebel. After all, there would only be one way to satisfy my curiosity.

A month had passed. My new job was proceeding along as expected and I was also able to visit with my parents on a regular basis. A family dinner on Sunday night, where attendance was mandatory, was something to look forward to at the end of each weekend. Playing and interacting with my two nephews was the highlight by far. I loved that feeling every time I heard them say 'Aunt Vivie.' Visiting with family was even more enjoyable when a Spurs game was blaring from the flat screen; hoping for a win as all of us yelled. Yes, I was right back where I should be, with family.

Deciding to make an effort to socialize beyond work associates, I became friendly with my neighbors at the condo and especially Salina from the fitness club, who always seemed to be overly talkative. Either my fitness friend was attracted to me or wanted to assist me in my never-ending pursuit of physical perfection.

It was Sunday night, after our family dinner, and I decided to unpack a few of the remaining boxes. My condo had a den which housed a bookshelf, desk and a small sitting area. Opening one of the boxes, I placed my childhood photo albums on the vacant shelf. Accidently, one album fell to the ground. Looking down at it, I glanced at the photo of my grade 7 school class. Picking it up, I smiled as I scanned my classmates, loving the dated hair and clothes, only to notice one particular person. Is that him, Marc Tullford? What a coincidence. I was just thinking about him on my drive from Chicago. Whatever happened to him? I got very sick in grade 8 and missed a lot of the school year, and after that, I lost touch with most of those kids. My family had moved to a nicer home and I found myself attending a high school in a completely different neighborhood.

Eyeing my computer and then the clock, I decided to do some creeping of old school mates. But first, I put on my favorite pajamas and made a cup of tea. Carefully placing the mug down, and finding a comfortable position at my new desk, I started searching on my laptop, starting with Facebook. There were so many Tullfords. I wasn't sure. Was he even living here? Would I recognize him? Grade 7 until now, that's a long time. For all I know, he could be unrecognizable, overweight and bald!

Sharpening my creeper skills, I decidedly moved my search over to LinkedIn, keyed information into the search bar and scanned the plethora of possibilities. There's one in San Antonio. I can't believe I'm doing this. Squirming in my seat, I spot a possibility. Is that him, if there's a picture I should be able to tell by those eyes? I clicked on the link. Oh, I think that's him! Is it? Yes it looks like him! I held up our school photo. Wow. Well I'll be. That IS him. Look at you, Marc. Well I'll be damned, you're fucking HOT. I quickly scanned the information. He works for one of the big banks downtown. It looks like he has done well for himself; really well. Going back to the Google search I'm able to find more details about him. Holy crap, I can't believe all of the information you can find on here. Damn...fuck! He's married. Suddenly, I felt a deep sense of disappointment. I don't know why that upset me, but it did. I slumped back in my chair and just stared at the screen. Ok, so married.

Unbelievable, talk about an invasion of one's privacy, here's his home address. I sat thinking, tapping my manicured fingers on the desktop, then hastily took a slip of paper and wrote it down. Vivian, get a grip, you can't go to his house. That is just wrong. Knock on his door and say what? Well, unless I just do a drive-by as that is less creepy. I'm just curious to see how well he did in the banking industry and a perhaps sneak a glimpse of his wife. There's no harm in looking!

"Let's see how well Mr. Grade 7 Smart Boy did?" speaking outwardly and declaring my mission.

So, with that little piece of Marc in hand, I turned off the computer and walked to my bedroom, placing the paper on my nightstand. Walking into my en-suite; I brushed my teeth and did other bathroom rituals. I removed my pajama top, wanting to feel the cool crisp linens on my skin, as I crawled under the covers. I laid there for the longest time, just thinking. I thought of Marc and our first kiss. I tried to remember everything about him. Thinking, dreaming, and imagining what he would be like as a mature man. Glancing over at the piece of paper I said, "Watch this Marc, I'm going to finger my clit, around and around, until I come, and I will think of you the whole time."

With that, I turned off the light and brought myself to orgasm faster than you can say Marc Tullford.

CHAPTER TWO.

The next work week flew by. Being a creature of habit, my routine was as follows: work early in the morning, fitness before dinner, a light bite, walk along the river, read or mindless TV before bed. My body was strong and supple. I had an ongoing love affair with fashion and was determined to keep my frame slender. My hair was light brown and with the occasional highlights, I could be a blonde at a moment's notice. At work, many men tried to date or sleep with me, but I made it a rule to separate my sex life from my career.

At the gym, from time to time, I bumped into Salina who now spearheaded the massage therapy section of the club. Her quick wit and charming personality grew on me. She was quite beautiful in fact, with short stylish hair dyed a burgundy red and big baby blue eyes. Her figure was second to none, and she had no problem flaunting her overt sexuality.

On one particular occasion, while I was taking a steam, she quietly entered the room. We were not alone. Some women prefer to lie down on their towels others sit. I was sitting on the upper bench with my towel pooled at my waist and she spotted me, placing her towel close to mine. Turning to me, she offered her perfect smile. After a minute or so, she undid the towel that was secured above her breasts, letting it drop. Her skin was darker than mine and beautifully smooth. I indiscreetly helped myself to occasional glimpses of her small and perfectly shaped breasts. She asked how my day was and I wanted to tell her that she was making it more interesting by the minute.

The room was steamy, but you could clearly see the person beside you. Her breasts were glistening with moisture as if waiting to be licked dry. As we chatted casually, Salina failed to hide her frequent scrutiny of my breasts. Her eyes moved down my neck, onto one nipple and then leisurely over to the other. Both tips hardened from the visual attention, and her eyes smiled at my evident arousal. I was a little embarrassed.

I was mindful not to assume she was attracted to me. However, when she moved her leg up, and curled one foot under the other thigh, I knew her provocative overtures were not misguided. She was completely naked and her vagina was available for my viewing pleasure. Welcome home Vivian and meet Salina. We finished our conversation, and as she got up to leave, I couldn't help but think I had been put through some test.

The next evening, with no particular plans and after a quick drink with some work friends, I picked up a few groceries. Standing at the cash, I flipped open my wallet to get some change and there was that little piece paper with the address and a sketchy map which I drew. Should I drive by his house? Packing the groceries into the back of my SUV I kept playing it over in my head, wavering on what to do. What the heck Vivian? Just drive by his stupid house. He wouldn't recognize you even if he fell over you. Plus you'll be in your car; you can drive away.

Looking at the piece of paper, I navigated my way out of the parking lot and drove over toward his street. I had butterflies in my stomach. This is kind of exciting. Okay, turning left, here is his street. Driving slowly, I spotted some house numbers. Why are some so evident and some hidden? That bugs me. Especially, when I am spying like this. I giggled to myself. That's it. There it stood. I pulled over to the opposite side of the street, a few houses away. Evidently, the banking industry has served him well. Well, his wife certainly has exquisite taste. There it was, in all its glory, a beautiful three story Georgian house.

Then, to my complete and utter horror, the front door opened and a very handsome man with two small children walked out. I watched as he helped them into a SUV. Is that him? Oh, shit! That's definitely the address. From a distance it really does look like him, or at the very least, how I envisioned him. Children! He has two kids too. This is getting worse by the minute. He slowly pulled out of the driveway. Responsible too. I quickly bent over toward the passenger seat as they drove past my vehicle, just to be sure he didn't see me. My heart was beating out of my chest; I sat back up slowly and watched them drive away in my rear view mirror, until I couldn't see them anymore.

For the next little while, I just sat there, staring at the house. With that, I started to cry.

The following week I immersed myself in my work and any activity that would keep my mind off of him and that unmistakable feeling of disappointment and loss over something that I never had: a loving husband for one, and then two adorable children. Keeping busy was good for me. I knew that. Suppressing my feelings and putting on my happy face was my specialty. That's what I did. As far as my family and colleagues were concerned, Vivian Johanson had it all under control.

One night after my workout, unplanned, Salina met me in the locker room and suggested that we go out for a drink. I love the way her lips formulate each word and glide smoothly over her perfect teeth when she smiles. Salina was finishing her shift and was free. So we went to a nearby restaurant and sat at the bar, drinking a few too many cocktails and got to know each other. Yes, admittedly I was attracted to her. Again, in my slightly inebriated state, I found myself gazing at her mouth as she spoke and wondered what it would be like to kiss those lips. Her flirtatious ways and overt body language told me she felt the same.

The next day, she sent me a text. She had a spot available at the end of her shift, the following evening, and wondered if I would like that time slot -- or better yet, we could meet at her apartment for a private session. I knew what she meant. We had flirted around the subject during our bar date. Her, wanting to treat me to a massage because she was learning this new technique and I would be helping her out by letting her practice on me.

I had to mull this over. A few hours later, I replied to her text letting her know that I was available and my shoulders were a little stiff and needed some attention. She loved my text message and replied that she'd know exactly the right moves to help with that. Yes, this encounter would be a good diversion. I felt so naughty and it felt so good.

That day I left work, and on my way home I drove past Marc's house, just to torture myself. That evening once home, I played my music loud, got into the bath and shaved myself everywhere I could. I was now ready, willing and available for any possible adventure with Salina.

I most certainly didn't sleep well but woke up with a certain excitement. It was difficult to concentrate at work, but being extremely busy helped, and the day flew by. Salina sent me a text letting me know what time to arrive and her home address. She also asked if I would like to go for a light dinner afterward. I told her yes. After all, if our session was a disaster I could feign an illness and excuse myself.

I drove myself to her place and nervously rang her apartment. She answered immediately and buzzed me up. I could hear music playing. She opened the door wearing shorts and t-shirt. She was so very pretty. Immediately she offered me a drink. Good thing. I was nervous, but it quickly evaporated with the help of a glass of Chardonnay.

In her living room, a massage table was ready for its customer. She kissed me ever so gently on my lips and asked if I would like to get naked. Handing me a robe, she turned abruptly, leaving the room. I removed my clothes, placed them neatly on a chair, and stood awkwardly waiting for Salina to return. It felt like I was in a gynacologist's office waiting for the doctor to return for my examination.

Salina smiled at me as she walked back into the living room and over to the table. She slipped her hand into the belt and untied it. With the robe partially opened, walking behind me, she took her hands, caressed my neck and removed my robe. I was naked with her front to my back and feeling so exposed and vulnerable. I could feel my face blush and Salina's eyes on my skin.

"Vivian, you are so fucking beautiful. Please, lay down on the table, face down and we'll begin. You can trust me, and if you don't like it, we'll stop." Salina stated softly.

I nodded, turning to her and said with a slight sarcastic tone, "Trust me, I'm more worried about you."

Salina smiled, leaned in and ever so gently placed a kiss on my mouth. Her lips were soft and full. Just like I had envisioned. Our lips played a sensual dance exploring one another for the first time. Tongues found their way to each other. Exploring and caressing. I was sexually aroused, feeling pleasure all the way down into my pelvis. Kissing her was soft, enjoyable and highly arousing. I was beginning to really like this feeling.

She guided me onto the table that had fresh clean white linens. I was relieved when she made me lay on my front. I was even more at ease when she covered my lower body with a white warm towel. So Salina was actually going to give me a massage. This would be a win/win with me receiving a massage and a possible orgasm.