Wandering Bk. 04: Beth

She laughed with me. It was obviously not a sensitive issue with her. "Well, we all have our failings, Lee."

"I'm having real trouble with the idea that you intimidate men, or that it interferes with your relationships with men. You are a very beautiful woman and I can't believe you haven't got a boatload of guys banging on your door."

"Well, I wish it were so, but it isn't. Maybe I'm hard to handle. Maybe my standards are too high. Maybe I'm just unlucky. Who knows?"

Never let it be said that I was shy. "So, I guess you have to decide whether I can meet your standards or whether you just got lucky," I said with my newly acquired self-confidence.

"Not so fast, buster. We haven't had dinner yet," she smirked.

"Point taken. Lead me to your kitchen."

She strolled - and I do mean strolled - into the kitchen area and it was just as elegant and modern as the rest of the condo. A restaurant-sized stove and oven, a meat-locker-sized refrigerator/freezer and everything in stainless steel. There was food on the island and food on the counter and she was serious about cooking dinner. I surveyed the fixings and determined that this was no ordinary meat and potatoes dinner. I spotted some fresh, hand-peeled shrimp, a loin of lamb and the some sort of special rice dish. There were fresh green beans and assorted other vegetables on a separate plate. I smiled to myself, knowing that I was going to be well fed.

I was right, of course. There was no reason to doubt it. It's just the way things had been ordained in the past week. I was getting an erection just thinking of how well things were progressing. Beth was spectacular and I was bulletproof. What was left to chance? Nothing!

So, imagine my surprise when we had dinner, some wine, a lovely light dessert, a long, interesting conversation about a variety of topics and then ... she said it was time for me to say goodnight! What the hell? This isn't the normal script. I have to go? Well, considering all the other crazy things that had happened in the past week, why should I be surprised? I accepted my fate reluctantly, but acted like a man and kissed her cheek, thanked her profusely for the wonderful dinner, and said I hoped to see her again.

I drove back to my B & B in a state of mild shock. Perhaps I was being unrealistic. Perhaps this past week had given me delusions of grandeur. Perhaps I had screwed up with Beth. I didn't think so, and she didn't seem to indicate anything was amiss, but I wasn't so sure. What about all that byplay in the afternoon and at the condo? As I let myself into my room, I realized I didn't have her phone number. I knew where she was and I knew she would be there until next weekend, but that might be a bit awkward. Hmmm? This was a switch.

I slept fitfully that night. I had dreams about a naked Beth and a number of positions I could imagine myself being in as I made love to her. Unfortunately, they were just dreams. I recognized that I was committed to seducing her, or at least letting her seduce me. Whatever worked! So much for my celibacy. Screw that! I wanted Beth and I was going to let my new-found powers help me.

I had my usual good appetite the next morning and once again, I overindulged at breakfast. I was tempted to head back up to the meadow and see if Beth was there. It was a reasonable possibility with another sunny, spring day ahead. I decided against it however. I had only one more night to achieve my temporary celibacy goal, and Beth would be here for the rest of the week. I had checked with the hostess, and my room would be available until Thursday if I wanted to extend my stay. I told her I would let her know tomorrow morning.

I decided on a day trip up the highway to Radium Hot Springs. Despite the fact that it was an overly-popular tourist spot, I had fond memories of Radium from my childhood. It was a regular stop for our family on our way back from visiting the grandparents in Calgary. It was only a few minutes drive from Fairmont, and I set off at mid-morning. I spent the rest of the morning wandering around the old haunt, had a light snack for lunch, enjoyed a glass of wine in the early spring sunshine, and finally, just after three o'clock, got back into my car and turned back toward Fairmont.

I would be passing the road to the meadow where Beth had been sketching, and I toyed with the idea of checking to see if she was there. It was a mental coin toss, and by the time I approached the cut-off to the old road I had decided I would check the place out. I drove up the rough track slowly and I wasn't really surprised that her SUV was parked in the same spot as yesterday. I got out, considered my options, looked at my watch, shrugged my shoulders, and began walking up the incline toward where she was yesterday.

I didn't have very far to walk. She was just over the rise of the first hill, and this time she was sitting on a small stool and had an easel in front of her. She was obviously painting in the scene she had sketched yesterday. Again, I didn't want to startle her, so I moved out wide to give her some warning that I was near. She must have picked me up fairly quickly as I saw her head turn and look toward me. She was wearing a wide brimmed straw hat and a different shorts and t-shirt outfit from yesterday. She looked just as dazzling today as she did then.

She waved in recognition and then turned back to her painting as I walked toward her.

"I wondered if you'd come looking for me."

"It was a coin toss."

"Who won?"

"I did, of course," I chuckled.

"Figures." She hadn't looked away from her painting the entire time I had been there and she was concentrating on something, making sure it was just right. I looked at what she had done so far and it looked very good and very professional. I decided to remain quiet while she worked.

"I brought my own water this time. Would you like some?" she asked.

"Thanks, I'm fine for now."

"So I guess this means you really aren't intimidated by me."

"I guess."

"Wanna do dinner again?"

"Sure ... why not?"

"Wanna fool around later?"

"Sure ... why not?" I repeated. She had this way with words; an economical and to-the-point way.

"Can you cook?" She still hadn't turned away from her painting.

"Yup."

"Good."

"Are you going to be here for a while yet?"

"Nope. Light's going and I'm getting stiff. I'll be done in two minutes."

"I'll stick around and give you a hand with your gear."

"Thanks."

We walked together down the slope of the meadow toward our vehicles, chatting about our day.

"Do you paint only landscapes?" I asked.

"Pretty much. I'm not very good at human forms. They are very complex and I don't seem to be able to get them just right for my own satisfaction."

"I remember being in a modern art gallery a while back," I began. "There was a painting; quite bold colors and very impressionistic. It wasn't a large canvas, but there was a form ... a woman's form. It was just three or four lines on the canvas, but it was the unmistakable outline of a beautiful woman. No face, no arms, just a form. I've never forgotten it."

"If I could paint like that, I would have been in that gallery too. It's what separates real artists from hobbyists like me."

"I like your work ... or at least what I've seen of it," I said quickly.

"A half finished canvas isn't much to see."

"What I could see ... I was impressed. You have talent ... but I get the impression you don't like to take chances," I said carefully.

"What makes you say that?"

"Your subjects ... no danger ... no risk ... pleasant pictures of pleasant scenes. I hope that doesn't offend you."

She stopped and turned to me. "So ... in your opinion, what should I be painting?"

"Things that frighten you. Things that challenge you. Things that threaten you. Things that are difficult?" I was speaking with more boldness than I felt.

"You've got some pretty strong opinions."

"Yeah ... sorry. I'm used to seeing a lot of artwork. My father is an artist ... or at least he was."

"Was?"

"Early onset Parkinson's Disease."

"Oh ... I'm sorry. What kind of art did he produce?"

"He was an illustrator. Mostly black on white, with brush."

She looked at me and then a puzzled look came over her. "Is your father Gordon Stephenson?"

"Yes."

"He's brilliant. I love his work. I have two of his prints in my home," she gushed. "You must be very proud."

"Yes. I admire his talent. Unfortunately, it isn't hereditary."

"Yeah ... I know. My mother is a musician. I haven't got a musical bone in my body."

"Ah ... art ... music ... they come under the heading of special talents. They are all gifts to be nurtured and developed," I said pompously.

"Very deep ... very perceptive. I've decided. You can stay." She was laughing at me.

"Thanks ... so long as you understand that I just gave you a classic example of bullshit baffles brains."

"Yeah ... but it was high quality bullshit," she laughed again.

"Can't fool you ... can I?"

"Oh hell ... keep trying ... that's the fun of it."

It was a light and fun conversation that we were both enjoying. This was a bright and very alive woman. Her physical presence and charm were obvious, but her mind was always working, and based on our conversation last night, and the bit of byplay this afternoon, she could hold her own in any company. She was a worthy opponent and a treat to be with.

I returned to the elegant condo at seven as requested, and Beth let me in. She was wearing another of her tantalizing outfits that did nothing to quell my interest or my libido. It took a moment, but after I watched her move through the living room, I was sure she wasn't wearing a bra. I immediately wondered what else she wasn't wearing.

I had taken the precaution of including some condoms in my pocket in case the need arose. I thought for a moment that this was a bit of conceit on my part, but I ended up rationalizing it as just being prepared. After all, just what would "fool around" mean if not what I had expected the previous evening?

"You wanted me to cook?" I reminded her.

"It's nice tonight. Not too cool. I thought we'd use the barbeque."

"Great. What would you like me to do?"

"I haven't decided. I've got some steaks, some albacore tuna, and some chicken. Everything is fresh."

"How about the tuna?"

"Sounds good. Won't take long, either. I'll toss some salad and I have some of last night's rice I can heat in the microwave. Does that sound alright?"

"Perfect. Do you have a white wine to go with it?"

She produced a nice Chardonnay and I opened it for her while I waited for the grill to heat up. The tuna would take only a couple of minutes to cook. I had some time to think about what sort of seduction I could employ on this interesting near-Amazon of a woman. I probably wasn't going to have to work very hard if our conversation of this afternoon was any indication. I was having those thoughts again of what it would be like to be locked in an embrace with Beth, both of us naked. It was getting pretty good at visualizing my more lurid thoughts.

We enjoyed the dinner and I helped her with the few dishes we needed to clean by hand while the rest went into the dishwasher. Our conversation continued to be easy and interesting and I found Beth to be a delight to be around. She wasn't just easy on the eyes, she was full of interesting ideas and she had an amazing general knowledge. I had always admired my dad's general knowledge and tried to emulate him, and Beth was very well informed by any standard.

We adjourned to the living room with the last of the Chardonnay and sat together on the sofa. There wasn't much distance between us, but I decided to let Beth make the first move. Well, that's what I thought, anyway. As it turned out, there wasn't any move. We just sat there talking about inconsequential things, now and then interrupted by periods of silence. Finally, I couldn't stand it any more.

"Beth ... can you give me a clue about what you expect from me?" I asked in a somewhat plaintive voice.

It was a straightforward question and caught her by surprise. "What do you mean?"

"Well ... let's see. Yesterday, you made it pretty clear that you were interested in me and then ... poof! I went home with a feeling that I had upset you or badly misread you. Then, this afternoon, I clearly remember you asking me if I'd like to fool around. So here we are and we seem to be stuck in neutral." I tried very hard not to sound accusatory or upset. I wasn't sure if it worked.

"Got you confused, have I?" she grinned.

"Oh yeah."

"Well ... yesterday was a dirty trick of nature. My period didn't end as I expected. Sorry, but I didn't have the courage to tell you."

"That explains last night," I said carefully. "So, where do we go from here?"

"Hmmmm ... let's see. Since you didn't think much of my painting, maybe I should just boot you out again." She was poking me lightly with her finger in mock approbation.

"Just how did I give you that impression?"

"Don't you remember? No danger! No risks!"

"Ah ... well ... you shouldn't take the criticism of the unskilled as serious comment. I suppose I was thinking of the work of a friend of my father's when I said that. He did landscapes and old buildings, barns and old houses and the like. His wife died of cancer when he was still in his fifties. He was devastated by her death and I remember my father showing me a painting he had done after she had died. There was no mistaking his mood and his feelings. It left an indelible impression on me. All his other paintings were nice pictures of old buildings or well composed country scenes. This one was special. It was his soul, torn open for everyone to see. It took his wife's death to release that emotion onto his canvas."

Beth didn't say anything for a few moments. She stared at me and then looked away with a wrinkled brow. I wondered if I had pushed too far, been too blunt. Who was I to criticize an artist when I was completely without talent myself? I was just relating an event, I rationalized ... a very personal one.

"I haven't ever had anything that traumatic happen in my life," she finally said in a quiet voice. "The worst thing that's ever happened to me was when a boyfriend broke up with me in high school, just before the spring prom. I thought I was going to die, but I got over it. "

"Ever try to paint a self-portrait?" I asked.

"No ... never." She looked at me again. "Why? Do you think I should?"

"Why not try. A self-portrait means the only person you can offend is yourself," I suggested. "I think the thing that separates true artists from the rest of us is their ego, their ability to be self-centered. It doesn't apply just to painters, but sculptors, architects, actors, musicians, opera singers; all the great ones have big egos and the courage to stick their necks out in public. Sometimes you need to be selfish and please only yourself. To hell with what anyone else thinks."

She looked at me for a moment and then a smile began to invade her face. "I was told you were shy. I find that hard to believe."

"I am. I was. I'm not so sure about myself anymore."

"So what was the traumatic event in your life?" she asked with genuine curiosity.

"The day I discovered that I wasn't in love with my wife and that I probably never had been," I said almost automatically. It was true and it was painful, and it had been with me every day since I had realized that truth.

"Do you think of it as lost time in your life? Wasted time, I mean."

"No ... I don't think so. I had a companion and a friend and there was ... intimacy. I don't think I knew what love was. I'm still not sure I do. I don't think I've ever known it, so how would I compare?"

"I know what you mean," Beth said sympathetically. "I don't know what it is either. I hope I will someday soon. I think we all need it in our lives to make us complete, but I have this feeling that not so many people really find it. True, undying love, I mean."

"You're young yet. Barely thirty? There's time. You just have to follow your instincts. It's like that artist attitude I mentioned. You have to be selfish enough that you won't settle for anything less than the real thing."

"Have you got a degree in philosophy or something?" she kidded.

"Naw. Just a few years on you and some real-life experiences to draw on."

I felt good about being with Beth. She was interesting, inarguably beautiful, and a very self-aware young woman. However, she had doubts about herself that seemed misplaced. She was too self-conscious about her height and self-deprecating about her artistic talent. I wondered idly if she ever got angry about anything. I decided not to try and find out. I reached out for her upper arm and pulled her toward me. She didn't resist and in a moment, we were locked in an embrace, kissing and dueling with our tongues.

Her hand dropped to my crotch, and she was searching for my soon-to-be full erection. The touch of her hand through my pants was more than enough to bring my cock to full attention.

She pulled back for a moment with a smile on her lips. "You've been fantasizing about this, haven't you?"

"Absolutely! Several times in several ways."

"Oh ... are you ready to show me the ways?"

"As long as you're ready, I'm ready." I untangled myself and helped her to her feet. She led me toward what I presumed was the bedroom and along the way, I surveyed her clothes to determine how best to rid her of them. It appeared to be a one piece outfit, tied with a sash. It was shiny satin, turquoise green in color, and I suspected she might be naked beneath it.

The bedroom was no less spectacular than the other rooms. A king size bed in a wrought iron frame was centered on one wall of the room. The floor was a deep cherry wood, as were the furnishings. Three white throw rugs surrounded the bed on each side, and at the foot. Two glass and wrought iron tables took the place of night stands. There were no drawers or hiding places for any items, toys or otherwise.

Beth turned toward me and I stepped forward, reaching for the sash of her outfit. I pulled it gently and it undid easily, allowing the top of the one piece garment to open and reveal her remarkable breasts. She was a fantasy come to life; a large, voluptuous woman who exuded sexuality from every pore. My hands slipped up across her breasts, allowing my palms to rub against her nipples, but not stopping until I had reached her shoulders. I pushed the light fabric away and was rewarded with the shiny, green garment falling to the floor. Without taking her eyes from mine, she stepped out of the puddle of satin at her feet and moved toward the bed, completely naked.

There is no known way for a man to undress in an erotic manner when he is wearing conventional men's clothing. It just can't be done. Beth sat on the bed with a bemused look, watching me fumble with my shirt, pants, socks and finally, shorts. At last we were on equal terms and I joined her on the bed, sitting beside her and stroking her breasts and tummy softly with my hands. She leaned into me and we kissed; at first tentatively, and then more passionately. She reached for my cock, now almost erect, and held it in her hand, squeezing it slightly.

I allowed my hand to slip further down and began to probe her neatly trimmed mound. I used my forefinger to begin the stroking of her labial lips, and as they moistened I pushed my finger into her as slowly and as smoothly as I could. She began to respond. She hung her head on my shoulder, and I could hear her breath become irregular. I felt her hips begin to move rhythmically as I continued masturbating her with my finger. I added a second finger, curling upward with the first and began a search for her G spot. I was sure I had found it when she began to react more dramatically to my probing.