I stared hungrily at her body as she moved in wanton abandon upon the bed. I knew she wanted me and heaven knows I wanted her. Her arms were outstretched, reaching out to receive me. I could feel the surge of blood within my loins.
I placed my hands on her knees and felt her body tense at my touch. I gently pushed on her legs and then turned her over onto her stomach. Anticipating my next move she elevated her derriere and cooed, "Yes ... Ben, I so need you."
I leaned forward and placed my lips upon an upturned cheek and then pulled away making a loud smacking sound. By stubborn will power alone I turned away and moved over to the dresser. I watched her through the mirror, her reflection mimicking the surprised look upon her face as she rolled onto her side.
Puzzled, she was looking at me, fully dressed. She asked, "Why did you do that?"
I took in a deep exasperated gulp of air, exhaled and replied, "Susan, I fear that you are soon going to tell me to 'kiss your ass.' When you do, I'll be able to say 'I already have.' You know ... been there, done that."
"I don't understand. Why would I tell you to kiss my ass?"
"Susan, I have a story very similar to yours. I met a girl one night. Her hair was darker and little longer. We danced and had a great time. Then we had sex - great sex - the best sex I've ever had! I never called her. I never saw her again."
She shrugged her shoulders, "Okay. We both met a great person. We both got lucky. Boy and girl meet each other ... Boy and girl screw each other ... Boy and girl lose each other. It happens all the time."
I sighed and asked, "What about the part where boy and girl find each other again?"
She was starting to become agitated and that tone was in her voice, "Sure, it's possible, but if you ask me, that's the stuff that happens in fairy tales."
I laughed and said, "Once upon a time ... eight years ago ... a beautiful Princess named Imogene met a handsome Prince named Ball ..."
"No way!" she shrieked. "That was you?" She sprung from the bed and stood before me. She was studying my face and rubbed her fingers across my upper lip and chin and said, "You had a moustache and a beard ..."
I grinned and replied, "Yeah, a Van Dyke. My hair was fuller then and a truckload of beer has added a little more ...er ... circumference to my girth since that night." I placed my hands on her bare shoulders and moved her back until she was arms length distant. I moved my eyes from her head to her toes and back again and noted, "Your hair was longer and it was dark brown."
She giggled, "You men are all the same. You made it a point that night, that the carpet didn't match the drapes." She ran her hands down her bare abdomen until they were framing the sandy tinted patch of carpet. "How about now?"
I traced a path with my fingers down her rib cage, "I can't believe it, after all these years ..."
Abruptly she pushed my hands away and returned to the bed. The glow that had dominated her face only a few moments before was gone, replaced with a sullen frown. She brought her knees up to her chest and crossed her arms about them. "Tell me, Ben, or is it Ball? Why didn't you ever call me?" She shook her head as I tried to speak. "Let me guess, you got what you wanted ... and then you left ... without even a goodbye." She was staring at her knees, "I thought you were different, not like the others."
"I was ... I'm not," I stammered. "Look, I was going through a divorce at the time. We were going to court the following week. I couldn't risk anyone, my wife or her lawyer, finding your telephone number or your address ... I threw the piece of paper away." I turned my back to her, hoping to find it easier to talk to her reflection. "I did go looking for you ... the next night ... and the next. I climbed into the dumpster in an alley where I'd tossed your number trying to find it. I even placed an ad in the personals!"
She shifted her legs until her feet were touching the floor, "You did all that? Really?"
I winced and looked into her eyes in the mirror, "Well, I ... uh ... lied about the dumpster." I turned to face her and grinned, "The part about the ad ... that's true." I reached into my wallet and fumbled through the card pockets. I raised my hand and waved a bit of paper pinched between my thumb and index finger. "Here it is. I cut it out of the paper the first day it appeared. Would you like to see it?"
"No ... Yes! Yes, I would," she conveyed extending her hand. I stood still by the dresser which forced her to come for it. I raised my arm high just beyond her reach. "Gimme," she begged. When her breasts touched my shirt I pulled her tight into my arms. She struggled for only a moment as I pressed my lips against hers. The kiss was long and our tongues wrestled, one trying to pin the other.
"Damn," I whispered, "I'd almost forgotten how great of a kisser you were ... and you still are." I raised my hand and touched the piece of paper against the tip of her nose.
She shook her head, "I don't need to read it." She kissed the fingers holding the the folded paper, "Besides, only a sincere man would admit to going through all that trouble to find a girl. I guess you're not at all like the others."
I cupped her buttocks and pulled her tight against me, "Don't be so sure about that. Right now I've got only one thing on my mind." I released my hold on her and before I backed away I pressed the paper into her hand. "Would you mind terribly," I said to her, "if I got out of these clothes and slipped into something more comfortable - like my birthday suit?"
She jumped onto the bed and made that tiger-like growl again, "Mind if I watch?"
I sighed as I began unbuttoning my shirt and asked, "Say, what was with that Imogene name you were using that night anyway? Me, I used my middle name."
She grimaced and replied, "Awful, isn't it? I hardly ever use it. My full name is Imogene Susanne Powers. I don't like Susanne either! I prefer Susan." She glared at me for a moment as I stood there only halfway undressed. She pointed at me and commanded, "Get out of those pants!"
I quickly worked the belt buckle and the waist snap of my pants and gave my own order, "Susan, or would you prefer I call you Imogene?" She was glaring again and I lowered my voice, "Susan, read the ad!"
"Oh, okay. If you insist." She unfolded the piece of newsprint and held up to her face. She scanned it slowly and a smile raised the corners of her mouth. She glanced at me and then began to read it aloud.
"Imogene, this fool lost your number. This fool is desperate. This fool wants to see you again. This fool will remain a fool until he finds you. A fool, Ball."She lowered the ad and said, "Aw, that's sweet. You really did want to see me again." She giggled and said, "Ben, did you really think the average girl would answer an ad like that?" She watched me blush and look away and then declared, "I'm not an average girl and had I seen the ad ... I would have answered it."
I tossed my trousers on the floor and approached her clad in only my undershorts. "Are going to hit the shower to freshen up?" I asked half in jest.
"Uh-uh," shaking her head. "No way! Every time I take a shower and come out, you are either gone or turning me away. Not this time. If I go into the shower, you're coming with me!"
I thought for a moment of that prospect and replied, "That's doable!"
She slid from the bed onto her knees in front of me. "First things first," she announced looking up at me. She was looking straight ahead when she maneuvered her fingers into the waistband of my shorts. "First, there's an acquaintance I wish to make."
I took a deep breath and turned my eyes to the ceiling as her lips brushed against the hairs below my navel, all the while I could feel the shorts slipping down my hips.
"Oh my," she said. "What a big bulge you have."
I went along with her playful remark and said, "The better to..."
Michelle's voice bellowed from beyond the door, "Benjamin!" She was then banging upon the door. "Ben! There's someone here. He wants to see you!"
"NO!" Susan screeched. She wrapped her arms around my legs, determined not to let go.
The door burst open and Michelle froze in step. "Oh dear. I'm so sorry to interrupt!" She turned away from our obvious intimate postures.
I slipped away from Susan's arms and roared in frustration, "Who in the hell is it?"
She backed away pulling the door closed and answered, "It's a cop. He said he was Sergeant O'Day."
(To be continued in part 19, Friday 1/30, with I'm Having A Bad O'Day.)