Accidental Meeting

I originally posted this story -- ACCIDENTAL LOVERS -- on Literotica, in May of 2011, and was delighted to receive almost 20 comments; all mostly good, although I was admonished by some to check my editing, which was a bit 'wanting'... A few asked for "Chapter Two" and I regret that it's taken 2-1/2 years to actually get down to producing the second part -- THE AFTERMATH. As the story is consecutive over two days, I have taken the liberty of repeating the original here, with the second following immediately, so that I can maintain continuity. I trust you will find them satisfying.

Stu Roberts.

ACCIDENTAL LOVERS

"Damn Jenny" he thought, as he swung the Lexus into the street from the underground parking lot of his office building. "Why would she always piss and moan, when she had known damned well that he simply had to complete the commercial today?" She'd known for the past few days that the client was giving him - and the Agency - their last chance to retrieve what had been a low-rating ad for the product-line, a cheap generic gas-reducing pill for those afflicted with over-indulgence of crap food! Now, he'd bent the cradle of the car-phone, as well as damaged his desk phone with the frustration of her voice-mails to him.

God, he was angry. Jenny, his live-in lover had become really bitchy over these last months; Hell, it was worse than when he'd been married to Sally. At least she'd consoled herself with her own infidelities, finally confessing that she didn't like to play the lonely wife, always waiting, and the tennis instructor had consoled her in more ways than one!

He smiled. Was it a smile? No! More a grimace. A sardonic reflection of his thoughts. He almost wished Jenny would stop relying on him, and move on. She always threatened that she had offers "up the wazoo" by various itinerant guys. Okay he thought grimly, staring through the windshield at the falling snow, then take them up on their offers! He'd be well rid of her! He knew that when he got home, he would be in just the mood for a fight, and Jenny would pay for his resentment that he felt towards the client who had insisted that the commercial was changed to his way of thinking, and then - when it didn't work - calmly announced that the three million dollar budget was in grave danger of being shopped!

Of course, his chief had gone berserk, blaming all and sundry staff - especially the creative director -- HIM! - and not accepting that he'd told them, all along, that the client was not the creative whizz-kid that he thought he was, and - if he was so goddam good - what the hell did he need the agency for? Thank Christ he'd gone to Europe on some other business for a week or so; they'd at least have the chance to redeem themselves with the newly revised commercial.

His mind rambled. The day's shoot hadn't gone too badly, and apart from seven phone calls from Jenny, he should have been happy that he'd - almost - had his way with the revised scripting. Now the thing had gone to bed, and he only had to await the results to come in from tonight's first airings on the eastern area regions. Now, to get home and sort out this fragmenting, disastrous affair! "Christ!" he thought, wincing. "We don't even have sex anymore, so why the hell are we still hanging on?"

His 18th floor apartment was across town on the swankier side of Chicago, just off Riverside Drive. On summer evenings, he could sit on his patio, drink in hand, and gaze at the lights of the downtown buildings down river, and be off in a dream world, planning fresh ads, or - even better - thinking of nothing at all. But, now the thickening snow swirled against the car, forcing him to switch the wipers to high speed, in an effort to clean the rapidly settling white stuff from the windshield. Red lights ahead slowed him to a crawl, being careful not to over-brake and lose control. Now, he was alone in the street. The canyons formed by the buildings disappeared ahead of him, lost in the gusting blizzard. He glanced at the car clock: 8:35 p.m. Shit, at this rate it would be ten before he'd get home.

In the right hand door mirror, he saw a City Bus approaching, and then the lights ahead went to green. Prodding the accelerator lightly, his wheels scrabbled for some grip through the packed snow, chinking the car slightly sideways. The bus rumbled slowly past him on the inside and he ended up twenty yards behind it, with the bus driver then pulling to the left slightly, blocking his view and throwing up even more muck than he'd had to contend with until now. The car phone shrilled, startling him.

He punched the button and yelled at the overhead mike. "Yeah!" He KNEW it would be Jenny!

Her whining voice squawked back at him petulantly. "Where are you Alex?" Jeez! Did she never stop?

"I'm in the goddam car, stuck in a snowstorm and trying to get home! Now, fer chrissakes, gimme a break! I'll BE there, okay?" He didn't even wait for her reply, simply punching the off button before she could respond. Shit! He'd now moved up closer to the bus, but was bombarded again with slush thumping against the windshield. He decided enough was enough! He'd be turning right at the end of this block and the bus was blocking what was left of his view, so he swung to the right, into the bicycle lane, knowing that he had less than a couple of hundred feet to go to the turn. And, there she was!

The Rolls Royce was stuck about six feet into the road, coming up from the building's underground garage; with less than sixty feet to go he instantly slammed on the brakes, subconsciously feeling the pulsing of the anti-lock braking as he tried to swerve left to avoid it, but all to no avail. The Lexus simply plowed on over the icy base-pack. His last recollection, before he was blinded by the air-bags deploying, was the wide-eyed look of horror on the girl's face.

Luckily, he'd always worn seat belts, a habit formed from when he rallied in Europe. In those last seconds before he clobbered the Rolls smack against the front left fender, his mind transported him back to when he'd up-ended the Rally Ford Escort in Wales in another blizzard, crashing over a ninety-foot drop, but getting caught in the trees, the car hanging upside down, stuck firmly thankfully, while he and his navigator hung by their belts, looking at each other. Charlie's comments still rang in his ears. "We're gonna have to be real careful getting out of this!"

He was relieved as the immediate shock of the impact vanished to see the girl in the Rolls clinging to the wheel still, probably in shock herself. The snow swirled around the cars, and - as he sat thinking about the next move - the visibility became blurred; the wipers simply couldn't handle the pressure of the snow building up. "Fuck, Fuck, Fuck!" He cursed, glancing around to see if there was anybody else near, but the street was empty, the bus having vanished into the swirling snow. They were on their own.

Cranking the door open, with just a mild crunching where the fender had been pushed slightly back, he exited, immediately returning to lean over his seat to collect his overcoat. The girl sat still, transfixed seemingly, in the driver's seat of the Rolls. His mind raced; "Oh Shit!" His insurance company was going to be really pissed about this. Then, as he walked around to the passenger side of the Rolls, he realized selfishly, that it was an older Silver Spur model, possibly from the early eighties, and not the $200,000 job he'd seen in the last glimpse through his headlights.

"Are you all right?" he yelled at the passenger window. The girl, possibly still stunned, nodded imperceptibly. "Are you sure?" Again, the feeble nod. He was aware that he was beginning to look like a damned snowman as the blizzard was not letting up in any way. Damn!! He was suddenly freezing. "Do you mind if I open this door? - can I come in?" She stared at him for what seemed like minutes, although it was only about five seconds. Then, turning to her door, she flicked a switch and he saw the chrome rod of the door lock rise upwards. He pulled open the door and sat swiftly into the seat, slamming it as snow fragments blew in, as a mini gale.

"Christ, I'm sorry about that" he said, wiping his eyes and trying not to brush too much residual snow into the car from his shoulders and hair. "What were you doing half-way into the road?" Not accusatory, but he was looking for some defense.

"I, er, I was going to try and beat the bus" she muttered, staring at him, "but then decided it was too risky." Her voice started to rise, now somewhat defensive of herself. "Where the hell did you come from?" Her anger made her eyes blaze, even in the shadows of the car's interior, and he was suddenly aware that she was beautiful! Possibly mid-thirties, and the coat she wore certainly wasn't from the five-n-dime! The black turtle-neck sweater hid what was obviously a long, slender neck, rising above the fur-trimmed collar. He felt mildly intimidated.

"I'm sorry. It's my fault. I was covered in spray by the damned bus, and was due to turn" - he gestured to their right - "at the end of the block and simply didn't expect anybody to be there." He almost looked sheepish to her, and actually was embarrassed that he'd been so stupid. "I know I'll get this sorted out for you; I'm fully insured, so there'll be no problems, but..." he paused, "does this thing still work?" He pointed to the hood of the car, now aware that the engine was still running because heat was still coming through the vents, melting his surface snow and dripping all over his coat and the seats. He flicked a hand through his hair again, drenching himself with melting snow. It dripped down his collar, and he shivered with the shock.

She replied that she didn't know, but as his car was still jammed against hers, she wasn't going to even try and move the Rolls until his was clear in some way. "Okay" he said, "I'll try and back mine off, so you can try it." Once outside, he pulled his coat around him and slushed to the Lexus, briefly checking the front. It was crumpled badly, the lights were shattered and both front fenders were creased and pushed back slightly. "Damn!" The snow had not abated and he hoped he could start his car again. He'd left the ignition on. But, internally, the car was okay. Switching off the lights for the moment, he turned on the hazards; there could be another fool like him coming up and the last thing he needed now was more damage!

The starter churned and noises came from under the hood indicating damage internally, but he didn't care. "Start damn you, start!" And it did, finally, revving under his right foot as the chattering noise went away. Various lights glared at him from the dash but he ignored them as he pulled the shifter back into reverse, and the car jerked slightly. The rear wheels bit into the snow, spun and then grabbed at the road surface, pulling the car back about four feet. The noise of wrenching bodywork came through the half open door and he was aware that the car was dragging some bodywork with it. But the Rolls didn't look too bad, which somewhat relieved him.

He reversed a few more feet and then, leaving the engine running, he got out and went to the front of the Lexus. Steamy water dripped from under the front, hissing as it hit the snow. Glass and fragments of the plastic front lay littering the ground and he saw that the fender rubbed against the left front wheel. "Damn again!" He wouldn't be driving anywhere tonight in this car! Pulling his collar up against the swirling snow, he went to the driver's side of the Rolls, and the girl buzzed down the window a few inches. "I'm sorry" he said, "my car's wrecked and I'll need to call a tow-truck, or leave it off the road here. Why don't you see if you can move yours?" He backed away to look at her wheel. The street lights were fairly bright, and although the snow made inspection difficult, he could see well enough.

She obviously engaged reverse, and tried to move the car back onto the sidewalk exit from the garage. The wheels spun a little and then the car traveled a few feet before she braked. Alex walked beside her, noting that the wheel rubbed against the damaged fender. She too, wouldn't be going anywhere! "I can't turn the wheel" she said through the lowered window. "Can you see anything?"

"Yes" he said. "There's too much damage for you to drive. Can you straighten up and park it back in the garage?" She looked over her shoulder hesitantly.

"I'm not sure. I'm not that good at reversing this car." Her eyes were glistening as she looked at him, and his heart thumped just a little faster.

"Okay, look, move over and I'll back it down the ramp; at least we can get out of this damned weather!" He noticed that the garage door had lowered behind her and they'd be stuck if she couldn't open them. She slid across into the passenger seat, and he was treated to a flash of inner thigh as her coat slipped open. Knee-high black leather boots added a contrast of the paleness of her skin. He got behind the wheel trying not to be distracted. Snow swirled into the car around him, and he fumbled on the armrest for the window button, shutting out the freezing wind that was blowing through.

He looked at her, apologetically. "I really AM very sorry that I was so stupid" he said. "I guess it's been a bad day, and I simply wasn't thinking." Pausing, he looked at her with concern. "Are you sure that you're okay?"

"Yes" she said. "I'm all right now. Just a bit dazed I guess. I think I banged my head on the window, as I've got a headache coming on, but..." She noticed his frown; "I'll be okay." She turned around to look behind the Rolls, and reached up to the passenger visor, clicking the button on the remote unit. The clanking of the door could be heard distinctly. "Come on, try and see if we can get back in, and then discuss what to do with your car."

The Rolls was difficult to straighten, but he managed -- with a bit of brute force -- to get the car aligned, and slowly reversed into the blackness of the underground garage entrance. As they tipped into the down-slope, lights shone through the gloom, and within minutes they were safely on the main floor. He turned to look at the girl. "Where now?" questioning where to park.

She pointed over her right shoulder and said "Next to the elevators, just there. Number 5." Alex reversed a couple of lengths and then, accompanied by scraping noises, pulled the car into the slot and switched off the motor. They both let out sighs, and he turned to grin at her.

"I'm sorry. I really am sorry that I've caused you this trouble. Where do you live? Can I call a cab for you?" As he spoke, he fumbled in his jacket pocket and brought out a business card. My name's Alex. Alexander actually, Norton's the last name. Here." He passed across his card as he studied her in the yellow glazed lights from the parking stalls.

She briefly read the card and offered her gloved hand. "I'm Sandy. Sandy Barrett. I live upstairs, and -- well, I guess we could go up there and order you a taxi. How about it?" He nodded.

"I'd like to get my car out of the way, as some other fool may collide with it. Is there any chance I could park down here tonight, and then, when things are cleared tomorrow, I can get the repair guys to collect it?" She thought for a moment.

"That shouldn't be a problem. I'll tell George our maintenance man what's happening." She reached up and pulled the door beeper off the visor. "Here, take this and you can get your car in, er..." she looked around, "er, see if you can park it over there." She pointed to a stall about four cars away from them. "That's a spare for my Father, and he's out of town right now." She paused again. "I'd better get the Rolls repaired before he returns. It was his gift to me for my birthday last year, and well, he'll be upset about this."

After some discussions, he left to walk up the ramp, buzzing the gate open again so that he could tramp back in the snow to his, by now, almost obliterated car. It took him over fifteen minutes to get it driven over the ramp and down into the garage and parked. He slammed the creaking door, pocketed the keys and grabbed his brief-case and cell-phone, not bothering to lock it. 'Let some bastard steal it' he thought. 'That'll solve a lot of problems!' By now, he was thoroughly wet. Covered in snow, water, and looking very second hand, he made his way to the elevator. Now, what had she said? Penthouse? Hmmm!

The elevator whooshed him to the Penthouse in mere seconds, announcing its arrival with a muted gong, as the doors slid wide. As did his eyes! 'Wow' was all he could think. Marble walls, an antique table with an even more antique Greek vase were in his immediate view; a blood-red carpet held his footfalls to a mere squelch of waterlogged shoes as he stepped out, looking both ways in seconds. She said "Turn right" -- so, he did, walking through a marble-clad foyer to a pair of ten-foot-high doors. He pressed the buzzer and stepped back.

A minute passed before she came to open the door, looking quite diminutive against its bulk. "Hi. Did you get your car in okay?" she asked. He nodded, unable to speak. She'd left the turtle-neck sweater on, but, having shed the coat he saw that she wore a tight fitting black skirt, and those black high-heeled boots. Her cheeks glowed, possibly from the cold that she'd been in, and yet again...? His mind was suddenly on other things. The way the sweater clung to her, nipping in at the waist, encouraging his eyes to wander to her breasts, perfectly outlined below the fabric.

"Hello There?" she asked, mocking him. He flinched, realizing that he'd been staring.

"Oh God! I'm sorry.' He seemed to be constantly apologizing, and fumbling around now was not his style. Yet, he was almost over-whelmed. "I didn't realize that I guess, well, I know, I was staring."

She smiled. "That's okay. I guess I've gotten used to it over the years. I've been very lucky to be blessed with some looks..." She paused again, and then took a noticeable deep breath. "Are you coming in, or shall we talk through the door?" Her eyes, now mischievous, smiled across the threshold at him, until he moved forward.

"No, let's not try that, okay?" He too smiled, and then realized that he was standing on very expensive carpet, and he almost jumped back, aware of his dripping coat and ruined shoes. "Look, I'd better dump these somewhere, or I'll screw up your carpet as well as your car!"

She led him down a hallway, and into what turned out to be a closet-cum-laundry room. "Here" she said, taking his coat from his shoulders, "hang it up here and it should be okay. It'll drip onto the tiled floor, and- if you want -- you can leave your shoes here on the heating duct; they may just dry out some, while you make your calls. I'll be in the kitchen; I guess you'd like some coffee? -- or tea?"

"Umm. That'd be nice. Coffee. Thanks" he said, watching her as she turned and walked down the hallway, almost silent on the carpeting. He was in Love! Stunned, and stupid! Just like that! She'd been extremely casual, now having regained her composure, and being on her "home turf", she was, in effect, in control. He shook his head and melted snow dripped freshly into his collar. That cooled his ardor! Standing there in his socks, he opened some cupboards until he found a towel with which he dried his hair and wiped the inside of his collar, after loosening his tie. Finding his comb in his jacket, he tried to make himself more presentable, and then following her footsteps, made his way to the kitchen.

The apartment was huge and obviously very expensive. Drapes and pictures hung everywhere. The furniture in the lounge area was large and looked inviting. The dining suite -- seating for fourteen, he counted -- was also luxurious with candelabra standing on the table's highly polished surface. Lighting was minimal, creating a warm glow through the whole suite, an atmosphere which reeked of comfort and wealth. He made quite a bit of money as the senior creative director for the agency, but this was waaay out of his league. 'How the other half lives' he thought. The brighter reflection through a doorway, indicated the kitchen. She turned as he entered.