Love's Notion

Soft music was playing; the room was dimly lit from a small table lamp. I was a little tense. My arms were at my sides and my legs were squeezed together. I closed my eyes and she told me that she would be using lightly scented oil. She let me pick between two scents. I preferred the second one; as it had just a hint of lavender, this being one of my favorites. She warmed her hands with the oil and started to rub and dig into my shoulders. One arm at a time, then she moved her hands over my whole back. It was so relaxing.

My breasts were pressed into the sheets and she ran her hands down the sides of my back, stopping to feel the sides of my full breasts. Moving her hands further down towards my ass, I clenched my butt cheeks. She used more oil as she ran her hands over the top part of my lower torso and as I relaxed she'd move the towel lower. Touching and caressing me, until I was no longer shy or reluctant. The towel was gone. Her hands explored my thighs; down each leg to my feet with strong, firm and yet very soft caresses.

The oil was warmed by her hands and my body heat. I felt her thumbs massage my inner thighs, moving up close toward my vagina. I spread my legs ever so slightly wider, inviting her hands in. She ran her oiled fingertips over the outer part of my vagina. I could feel her pressing there and slowly working her way inside my slit. My moisture mixed with the oil.

She glided her hand under me placing a thick towel under my pelvis which naturally arched my behind up. Her hands found me once again, gliding all over as she explored and found my clit which was pooled in oil and my own juices. She used her hands to gently prod my legs further apart. This gave Salina full access to my most private parts. I was no longer shy. I wanted this.

One hand entered my slippery and soft vagina while her other hand rubbed my clit. This feels soooo good. I squirmed as she stroked me over and over again. Pressing and circling my hardened button while her other hand fingered my hole, I was drowning in my own pleasure. Slippery hands stroked and pressed and within minutes, I exploded all over her hand.

I just laid there enjoying the aftermath of my orgasm. The music gently continued. It was a classical piece that seemed to caress my body. I was so relaxed. My eyes were closed and I could feel my pussy pulsing. As if waiting for a throbbing cock.

That's when she told me to turn over.

I opened my eyes and was asked if I would like a frontal massage? Salina was exceptionally beautiful and started to unbutton her top. I was lost for words, and before I could answer, she bent down and sucked on my nipple, then the other, until they were rock hard. I watched as her full lips lavished attention on each breast by sucking them into her mouth.

She stood up, looked me in the eyes and slowly removed her top. Then her simple black bra dropped away. Her nipples were small, dark and pointy surrounded by a perfect mound of flesh. I had the urge to suck them; not knowing what it would be like. Salina leaned forward and rubbed her tiny pointed nipple around my lips; first around my bottom lip and then my top lip. I kissed it slowly, brought it into my mouth and then started to suck. This was foreign to me. I wanted to play. She pulled it out and offered me her other nipple. I licked it slowly, bit down slightly, pulled on it and suckled. Oh, I loved sucking them. It never dawned on me to use my hands. My mouth was all I needed and obviously all she wanted.

She pulled away, reapplied oil to her hands, and massaged my breasts. They were very slippery. I watched as she played with both of them, arching them up for more play. My breasts were larger than hers and my skin was pale by comparison. Oh, it felt so good as she touched and played...so arousing to watch. She slid her hands down my waist and once again found my clit. My tender pussy felt soft and full.

At that moment, she reached under the table and handed me a wand vibrator as she turned it on. Was this for me, her, or both of us? I would let her take the lead. I liked to do that during sex. Hopping up on the table, she straddled me at my waist. She opened her pussy lips, showing me her clit. I had seen this view before. I knew what she wanted. I placed the vibrator over her lips and all around, lightly pressed her clit. She moaned and wiggled as the wand pressed into her wet pussy. I was no stranger to this lovely little apparatus.

I let her take the lead once more as she turned around, with her hips up in the air; positioning her pussy close to my face. I smelled her juices. I kept the vibrator moving all over her vagina. She moved down my body, took her hands and separated my pussy lips which were swollen and glistening wet. Was she going to kiss me there? No need to ask, as she shoved her face into my throbbing pussy and she sucked my clit into her mouth. Her lips were soft and melted into me. I didn't want her to stop. I kept pressing the vibrator onto her clit and surrounding flesh. The vibrator was dripping with her juices. It turned me on knowing I was pleasing her. Meanwhile, her sweet mouth kept up the relentless sweet torture on my clit. Bringing it into her mouth to tongue massage it, and letting it out. Over and over again. Salina knew how to eat pussy, lucky me! I could feel her mouth move down to my opening and use her tongue as a spoon to help herself to my overflowing juices. Her whole face seemed to circle and press into my clit and the surrounding flesh. She was drinking me in. Moving with such conviction, knowing I could not hold out any longer, as my orgasm released me from all reality. I was truly lost.

Just at that moment, when I must admit I was barely paying attention, she stiffened and cried out with the sweetest sound. She came.

Yes, Salina gave a wonderful massage and now I must go shopping to buy myself a vibrator just like hers.

Afterward, we shared another glass of wine and enjoyed some small talk which was exactly the right thing to do. We both decided that we'd pass on the dinner out. I went home, showered all of that oil off, and got into my bed. I looked into the top drawer of my night stand, and pulled out my trusted vibrator, the rotating rabbit, and gave myself my third orgasm of the night. I realized something about myself tonight: sometimes a girl just wants to get fucked!

CHAPTER THREE

The next morning I woke up, made myself my morning tea and gazed out over the River Walk and beyond. While I drove to work, I kept shaking my head. I couldn't believe I had experienced that. Admittedly, I did enjoy myself, and it was a good distraction. But I had to admit one thing: I wanted a man. Again, on the way home from work I drove by Marc's house. Yes, I was becoming a stalker. Or was I one already?

The next day, I decided I would walk by Marc's workplace on my lunch hour. While strolling, I looked up at the largest sky scraper in San Antonio, a marvel of postmodern design, and this just happened to be his office building. I walked through the lobby. I wonder what time he takes his lunch? Perhaps one day I would be able to run into him, accidentally. After all, I couldn't just walk up to his house and knock on his front door. I'd freak him and his wife out. By the third day, I decided to go after work because the lunch stalking wasn't working out. No sign of Mr. Smart Boy.

I don't know why I was getting obsessed over this; I just wanted to talk to him - a little conversation is all. It was an itch that needed scratching. Plus, now that I had started all this, I need to finish it. He was married and I would never interfere in that. Talking is not an affair, right?

I could walk right into his office and ask to meet with him. No, that would be way too obvious, and then he would know I was stalking him. No, I better do it outside, in neutral territory. Something just dawned on me; he might not even remember me. That was entirely possible. That would be embarrassing. If that was the case, I would need a quick escape. Outside would be best. So I would try tomorrow after work.

The next day at my office, I was completely distracted. I wore a classic red shift dress that I had at the back of my closet and stylish black patent heels. Looking good was a must for our 'chance meeting'. I knew I was being ridiculous, but I just couldn't help myself. Maybe I needed a new hobby. Before leaving work, on my way out, I decided to pop into the women's washroom, double checking my reflection in the mirror. Mascara and a touch of lip gloss did my face justice and I wore my hair in a ponytail in memory of my youth. Here goes it Vivian and you better hope he remembers you, if not -- you will never, ever, walk on that street again. Leaving, I passed a small girl coming into the washroom all alone. She was very young; blonde and adorable. I didn't want to startle her, so as I passed, I just gave her a small smile.

It was a small three stall bathroom and she was alone in there. Where was her mother? I decided I would wait outside the washroom, just to make sure she would be safe. Walking out, I looked back into the washroom, and as I took a few steps forward I bumped - no crashed - into a man, using my hands to steady myself on his firm chest.

"Excuse me," I said in apology.

"That's quite alright. My daughter just went in there to use the washroom. I'm just waiting for her," said this handsome, tall, and slightly familiar man.

I stood, speechless. It was Marc Tullford, himself! My heart raced. Wait a minute, I was just leaving work to stalk you. You can't be here. I swallowed and found my voice.

"I..I..just saw her," I stammered, "she's ok, the washroom is empty."

"Thanks, oh good...you look...aren't you--?" he began.

I found my voice, "I'm Vivian Johanson," saying it with some newly found confidence, even though I felt my face flaming up like a neon sign.

He extended his hand and with a genuine soothing voice said, "Vivian, of course, wow. Nice to see you after all this time. Wow. I'm Marc Tullford. Do you remember me from grade school?"

Do I remember you? Crap, I know your height, weight and social security number. By the way -- you have a really nice chest (I mean house). Placing my hand in his, he shook it lightly. His hand was warm and secure. We just stood there smiling at each other.

"I can usually find family washrooms when we're out. But I guess they don't have 'em here in the hospital. I don't like her to go into washrooms without me and you know, I can't take her into the men's washroom and I can't go into the women's washroom and there are so many crazy people out there. I'm sorry...I'm babbling!" Marc explained with a huge smile.

"I work here," I blurted out. Smooth.

Marc cocked his head to the side and said, "Oh, my daughter and I are visiting her friend from school--"

Just then the bathroom door opened and his daughter came barrelling out. He extended his arm and she automatically placed her tiny hand in his, "Vivian, this is my daughter Jennifer. Daddy used to go to school with this nice lady when I was really young."

I looked down into her sweet face and she looked up at me just grinning. I said hello and she squeezed her father tighter, shielding her face behind his arm.

"Well, I guess we should go," as he glanced at his watch, "we have to pick up my son from the sitters. It was so nice to bump into you," he said kindly.

I wasn't sure what to do next. Me, standing there in front of this package of perfection and feeling completely dumbfounded. I just wanted to talk to him. I wanted to know if he remembered me in the same way that I so fondly remembered him. We were so young, but it meant something to me.

"Yes, it was so nice to see you after all this time," I murmured, "take care."

Just then, as I stood there rooted to my spot, he started to walk away. He turned slightly and said over his shoulder as his daughter stood sweetly by his side, "I work at Bank of America Plaza on Convent Street, 5th floor investing. Come by and we could go for coffee. If you'd like?"

Was he asking me on a date? No, he was just asking you for a coffee -- look at his adorable daughter.

I smiled and accepted his proposal with, "Yeah sure, maybe later this week?"

"Ok... great, good. Nice to see you Vivian," he said with affirmation. With that, I simply nodded my head in agreement -- words mysteriously abandoning me once again - and he turned and walked away. The image of Marc and his daughter, walking away, scanned into my brain forever.

I drove straight home, put on my running shoes and went for a walk by the river. It was a beautiful spring night, and as it had rained earlier, everything smelled alive and fresh. Or perhaps that was just the way I was feeling. I played the scene over a million times in my head. Sometimes after social situations, I replay the conversations in my head, things that I should have said, comparing it to what I did say. With him, it was the funniest thing; I couldn't remember what he said. But I do remember how he made me feel.

I decided to wait a few days before I stalked him at his office, deciding on a mid-day visit, as that would be the most inconspicuous. But now, since we met, I won't put that into the stalking category. So technically, I am no longer a stalker. Hi Marc, I'm just casually dropping in, haven't really given you a second thought since we last saw each other. Friday was a good day to visit. I got up earlier than usual, gave my hair that arduous blow dry that required patience and special tools. He worked in finance, so I decided on fashionable office attire. Slender navy blazer with matching ankle pants and a soft pink ruffled sleeveless blouse set off by elegant heels. I applied my makeup carefully. So, if he rejects me at his office, at least I'll look good slinking away.

That morning at my office, I received numerous compliments on my appearance. So many, in fact, I thought I must be a mess on most days. By 11:30 the butterflies were back in my tummy as I made my way over to Marc's office. I arrived at the Bank of America tower; where the concierge knowingly gave direction to Mr. Tullford's office. Taking the elevator up to his floor, I examined my reflection in the mirror. My hair was neat and tidy in the low pony tail, and my makeup was minimal but precisely applied. Then I wondered: is some creepy security guy having a laugh at my expense watching me look at myself?

The doors opened and I walked over to the reception desk. I asked the overly accommodating receptionist if I could speak with Mr. Tullford. She asked for my name and then told me to sit in the reception waiting area. This was more formal than I had originally imagined. I sat on the edge of a tan leather chair, crossing my legs at the ankles, and waited for Marc. Maybe he will be too busy and then that will be the end of my stalking career. Instead, I`d become a full-time lesbian with relaxed back muscles.

A few minutes later, the receptionist came over to me and told me Mr. Tullford would be with me in a moment; asking, ever so politely, if I would like an iced tea or water beverage while I wait. Well, you should have seen Mr. Tullford when he was 12 and feeling my boobies through my blouse at Belinda Huntington's house. But no thank you on the beverage.

So I picked up a magazine and pretended to be interested. Five minutes felt like an eternity, with constant glances to my watch. He came walking down the hall, self-assured and extremely attractive. He had on a grey suit, well tailored, a crisp shirt and purple tie. Mr. Tullford, you or your wife have exquisite taste, and you've most definitely have grown into those arms of yours.

I stood up as graciously as I could muster and he offered me his hand. This time, he placed his other hand on top of mine. It felt so right. So warm and comforting. I could see the receptionist watching us from the corner of my eye. Yes, don't worry, I am just a friend from years gone past. I know he's taken.

"Hi Vivian, I'm so glad you found me here," he said kindly.

"Hi, I hope this isn't a bad time for you?" Please say no, say it's ok.

Marc crooked his head to the side and replied, "No, this is perfect timing. Would you like to go for a quick lunch or coffee? Are you on your lunch hour?"

I smiled as he made me oh so happy and said, "This is my lunch. I'm pretty flexible with my time. I can go for a bite to eat or coffee, any place is fine with me." Any place as long as it's with you, I wanted to say.

He smiled and nodded his head, "Great, there's a place across the street that has an excellent lunch menu, and if we leave now, we'll get a good table."

With that, we started to walk to the elevator. The doors opened, and he stepped aside, letting me enter first. Good manners, I noted. I watched him press the button. He had beautiful manly hands. I could certainly put those to use. Too bad for you Vivian, you're late to the party.

He turned, looked at me and said, "You know with your hair up like that, you look just like you did when we were kids. Obviously a little older, but the same girl I knew then."

"You're the same too, except now you have to shave." With that we started to laugh.

The elevator doors opened, and we walked together toward the restaurant. Walking beside him, I noticed that he was taller than me, even with my kick ass high heels. We crossed the street, exchanging small talk about the weather. When we arrived at the restaurant, the hostess placed us at a table for two in the front window. It was a charming bistro with comfortable seating. He politely asked what I would like to drink. Alcoholic drink or not? As if he could read my mind, he told me he would be ordering a beer for himself. Oh good, so I ordered a vodka soda with lime.

We spent our lunch talking about where we went to college and our career paths. Our likes: travelling, sports, personal fitness, cooking (my love of cooking and his love of eating). We didn't talk about his marriage or my lack of marriage. I assumed he knew I wasn't married due to me not mentioning it and nothing to show on the appropriate ring finger. He wore a wedding band on his left hand. The lunch flew by, and it was time for us to go back to our respective offices.

The bill came and I went to grab for it. "Um, I never let a lady pay. But...thank you for the offer."

His tone was serious and very firm, and something told me that I need not press the issue any further. He was extremely confident.

I smiled sweetly and quietly said, "Why thank you Sir, this lady appreciates your generosity." He stared for a few seconds into my eyes, and shook his head. Marc Tullford has a firm disposition.

Leaving the restaurant I wondered if this would be it. Our one and only encounter began, and then ended, with a quaint lunch on a Friday afternoon. I was most curious to speak with him about our childhood, and oddly enough we didn't even talk about that. We were at ease with each other. But, he was the one that was married; I certainly would not want to interfere, so I decided at that moment to let him take the lead on this. Perhaps we could remain friendly.

We walked outside, and I turned to him and said, "Thanks for the lunch Marc. It was my pleasure to see you again and—"

"Would you like to get together this weekend? I think I can get away Sunday afternoon. Maybe we could go for a drive? What do you say?" He said it, almost planning out loud as he said it. I was a little surprised.

"Umm, ok. Sunday afternoon. That works for me. I can drive, if you like. Do you want to meet somewhere?" I asked, speaking a little fast, as I was nervous. Suddenly it felt like we were planning a date.

He smirked at me, "No, Vivian, I'll drive this time. I'll pick you up, if you'll give me your address." This time?