Finally Meeting Morgan Ch. 03byAVixenLiterally©
I was dreaming. It was fabulous! I was liquid, languid, floating, every bit and piece of me enervated yet relaxed. Every molecule was bathed in endorphins; completely luxurious, pleasurable, and decadent. I was being pleasured – slowly, lovingly and wonderfully. I saw Ally in my dream – she was smiling, nodding her delight. "Take it all love, take each little bit and" - Oh lord in heaven!! It wasn't a dream. I came out of my sleep to find you between my legs. It was your voice my fugue conscience heard. There was a buzz and then I felt your mouth on my breast. We were both still under the blankets.
Dear reader - Other than what my lover was gifting to me, is there anything as fabulous as the scent of love lingering?
I stirred; you moved to my mouth. "Morning baby; I thought I'd give you an early morning treat. I may be here a little longer than planned."
I looked out the window. It is snowing. I sighed. It is January; not much you can do. Right now, there's only one thing to do.
"Ally honey; care to make this a twosome?"
"No Morgan, our 48 hours will be up all too soon, snow notwithstanding. Put it on my tab."
"Is this similar in..." Your mouth covered mine again and you dialed up the vibe. I shivered in pleasure. Your tongue is a terror. How did a little chit of a woman like you have such a devilish, tantalizing tongue? Me? Complain? Not!
You got your just reward. When the crest engulfed me I screamed into your mouth as I bucked into the vibe. All the languid, luxurious floating – gone in the pulsating, throbbing heat you woke me with. My nails dug into your skin as I held you to me. It finally slipped away. You, the demon goddess you are, kept teasing me with that damn thing. Each pleasurable twitch brought a moan. Finally, begging, "Alison! Stop!"
You whined, "I'm famished."
I teased, "You just had room service."
I turned my head to look at the clock. 8 am. Damn. In the excitement of meeting you I had forgotten to check the forecast for today. Morning snow, yes; I wanted to know about the rest of the day.
"Sweetheart, we might think about a shower. You brat! Yes, I'd love more, but I need to check the weather while you shower. Then we can go out for breakfast and relax for a bit."
"Pet - tsk, tsk. There you go again, pretending that you're in charge."
"Hey you – you're on my home turf. Besides, I don't have any tea. I accept a misdemeanor for my oversight."
Your blues shone bright – "I believe last evening rendered your record 'even.' So we shall begin anew at one."
"Yes miss, thank you. Seriously though; there's a really nice place not too far from here that does a wonderful breakfast – really good food and it doesn't cost a bundle"
"Umm, with the weather and all, will I be warm enough?"
I grinned brilliantly, "If you like I can lend you the egg."
You leaned in with a mischievous leer, "That will be one, pet. Well done."
How will I ever manage after she's gone?
Try to imagine the lingering kisses and such in the shower.
Eventually, after, both of us did what we needed, dressed, bundled up and headed out. You shivered as we stepped outside.
I laughed, "This is a terrible corner Ally. It's a wind tunnel with the high buildings and, when the winter winds come from your northlands, it's quite bitter." I held you close to me as we strode carefully through the lightly falling snow.
Only a block and a half to the restaurant – Michael greeted me, "Morgan! How nice"
"Hi Michael; this is my Alison. Alison, this is our host Michael." My Alison!
"Good morning Michael."
He winked at me and led us to our table, put the menus on it, and, "Nice to see you again Morgan. Ladies, enjoy."
"A wink?" Your eyebrow arched. I smiled.
"I'm something of a regular, this place being so close. He's a nice man. It's second generation ownership. He's freshened the place up nicely while keeping the food wonderful and the prices reasonable. Yes, he knows."
A nod; I turned to my menu. I could feel your eyes on me. This is me ignoring you.
This is you kicking me in the shin.
Nothing. Just the look.
"He knows I'm gay, nothing more."
"He's come on to you."
I laughed, then, "Is the little green monster showing her head?" The confusion in your eyes made me laugh.
"A: I don't know for sure but I suspect he plays for their side. B: No he hasn't come on to me."
We placed our orders; chatted lightly and idly. Food placed on the table; we ate – voraciously. I suspect that our appetites were fueled by our appetites. I bow graciously at your laughter.
It was wonderful as always; you acknowledged as much. We finished, paid and left.
Back home. The rest of the day ahead ... what else?
I stood stock still in the middle of the sidewalk. "Oh my God! Ally, we have to go downtown. There's your room, your clothes and all your things. We'll go back to my place for a few and head downtown."
I turned and hailed a cab. Once inside, I gave the driver instructions and we were off. A quick drive back to my place to fetch your little black bag then back to the cab. We snuggled close. We didn't speak much on the ride. Did we give the driver a show? No comment.
We arrived, straightened ourselves as best as we could, paid the man, and left. We giggled conspiratorially. We had done that a fair bit this weekend. YAY!
Hours remained before we needed to leave for the airport. What to do? You checked out and told staff you would be leaving late. Thankfully, your corporate account gave you some leeway
It was only 10:30 am. An elevator ride, kisses, and then to the room. The snow had eased some but I called to check flights. So far you were okay (fuck all). We were downtown; O'Hare is 15 miles or so to the northwest. It could be a different world there.
We had plenty of time to kill. (Teeth biting lip) How would we spend it?
I had on fresh clothing; you had what you'd worn yesterday.
Critical mistake: you decided to change.
I pounced. I pinned your tiny, slender form against the mirror. I grabbed your hair so you could look up at my eyes in the reflection.
I grinned, "You're mine!
"Yes, love, I am." Me: swooning.
Impossibly, you spun, placed your hands into my chest, and pushed me back onto the bed. How the fuck?
Your near-naked form climbed astride me.
"When will you learn?"
"Ally, I only want to give back what you had given earlier."
"I know Morgan, and I love you for it. You shall have your wish – when I'm finished with you."
I am putty – again.
What followed was so wonderful yet familiar. We were still so new, so fresh, and so young in our love that every bit was so (laughing) ... the word that came to me was 'virginal.' Hardly! We were tender and slow; unspoken between us was that this would be our last loving for this time together. We shared whispers, kisses, hugs and more. It was neither want nor need – it was the joy of having time together and the agony of it ending. We both knew it was inevitable. That hardly mattered as we stared it in the face; each of us in our own way. The lovemaking was completely satisfying. I believe I remember you whispering as much in my ear as we held each other afterward.
I looked at you. Your eyes were filled. I kissed you. You found my shoulder and cried softly - me too. There were no words needed. Each of us was feeling the sweet bitterness of what we had shared and was, all too soon, coming to an end. Minor correction - What was the first of our visits was coming to an end.
"I love you."
My eyes lifted to yours, stunned. You took my breath away with three words.
I kissed you, "Alison, I love you as well, more than I ever thought possible – this soon. This is not an ending but a beginning. We have planned our next visit, each of us has been tasked, and we shall move forward. Where we end is unknown; what matters is that we will – will – wind up together."
You nodded. "I know. It's all been so unexpected yet so brilliant. It's been so much more than I ever thought we could be; it's lovely. We are so good in person, just as we'd been in email and chat. I want to be with you again – soon – and just do all this and more."
I knew just what you meant and nodded. "Yup; there's a future, we'll create it."
Silence – we both knew; I hated to be the one, softly, "Honey, we have to get you packed and head out."
Stoically you nodded. You rose to pack; this, that, and such. It didn't take all that long; it was only 48 hours.
You came and sat next to me. Uh oh – there was that gleam – again – in your eyes.
"Pet, I want something from you before I leave." Oh? "Stand before me, Morgan, and lift your skirt."
"Yes miss." I rose, stood, and lifted my skirt.
I felt your hands fiddling with my panties. What on earth? The fabric was pulled to my sex. I felt your hands on my lips, spreading them, something slipped into their midst. I felt you tug at something. You smiled; "Look pet." You turned me to the mirrored door. Skirt still lifted I saw what you'd done. You'd ribboned me!! Oh my god – I'd read it in your story. The elastic straps of my panties were completely in me front and back. The few steps to the mirror gave me a hint of the delicious ecstasy of it; one last gift of submission.
We settled for a rather late (2 pm) lunch. Four hours – not that I'm counting. We dawdled and lingered, not wanting to face the inevitable.
After we finished, "I think it's time we head to the airport Alison." You grabbed your coat from the chair and handed it to me. I helped you into it and put mine on as well. The exquisite bliss of your torture was with me every step of the way - as you'd known and planned. At the front desk we collected your bags. The doorman hailed a cab. We were on our way.
The cab ride was slow but not so much it caused worry. We were desperately silent.
Softly, "Morgan." I turned and looked at you. Your hand was open. In it sat a black ribbon. I looked at you, puzzled.
"If I put this round your neck, would you accept it as a gift - a symbolic collar?"
You'd done it again – completely reduced me to a puddle. I nodded and smiled through tears. I turned around and saw your hands come across my vision. I felt the ribbon on my skin, loosely. I lifted the hair from my neck and felt your hands tying a knot. When you'd finished, I turned back around to you. The look in your eyes said it all. You brought my lips to yours; the kiss was unbearably sweet and loving. We both had tears; heads rested on shoulders as we hugged, silently.
I sighed softly as we arrived at the airport. You paid the fare, we gathered your luggage, and, arm in arm, strode into the terminal. A quick check of departures – fuck – the flight is on time, you're good to go. NOOO!!! You're not, nor am I.
We moved to security, the end of the line for me. You looked at me as we stood in line – an eyebrow cocked. I smiled.
"The ribboning is exactly as advertised Ally – devilishly delicious. It will be a wonderful way to think of you every day; that and my collar." As I said that last my fingers caressed it. You smiled.
The line inched forward. Then it came – the final goodbye. We cried, hugged, cried, and kissed.
You cleared the icky TSA eye. One last glance, tear-filled eyes, blown kisses, and you disappeared into the crowd.
I stood in front of the departure board until your flight number came off the board. You were in the air – only a bit late.
I held myself together until I was outside the curious eyes of the masses. Then I melted into a puddle of tears.
Someone – she was young – came to hug me. "Honey, it'll be okay. He'll be back soon and you'll be together again."
48 hours. One weekend. The hope of a future together.
Dear reader - It's January of 2012, the present. I'm now in the first person present. What came before was "the story."
If that jars you I apologize. It's been 5 years. What follows is what happened in the aftermath.
The weather cleared enough that, whatever the delays had been, flights were given clearance for takeoff. Alison's plane left nearly on time. I stood and stared at the board to be sure. I went downstairs, waited in line for a cab, and headed home. Alone. Nothing remarkable about the cab ride, not that I can recall now.
I paid the cabbie, strode through the lobby, up the elevator and to my condo. Alone.
I tore off my coat, threw myself on my bed and sobbed my heart out. The room was still filled of the scent of us. It only broke my heart more. I must have cried myself to sleep.
8 pm. I jolted awake. I staggered to my feet, wandered to my office, turned on the computer, and clicked my browser.
The headline: "Plane crash in Montreal. 75 lives feared lost." Heart pounding, I thought - she is going to Toronto.
Frantic, I checked the airline for flight details – nothing.
I called; lines busy – OH GOD.
10 pm. – You should have landed two hours ago. I called your cell; it went to voice mail. I cried and raged.
Midnight – Again, nothing. Screaming in my agony I collapsed on my bed. Sleep did not find me.
3 am. – Same; it was killing me. You didn't answer. The lines were still busy. The computer gave no answers.
6 am. – I awoke with a jolt - from habit. Somehow I had fallen asleep.
I rushed to the television, tuned in CNN, and rushed to turn on the computer. CNN filled me with dread with news of a crash in Montreal. The airline and the flight number – all the same. No – no, it can't be.
I dialed your number – nothing; voice mail. I'm now frantic.
I called the airline and finally got a live person on the line.
"Yes, the flight was diverted to Montreal." I collapsed; the phone slipped from my hands. The rest was a blur.
I died that day. I really did.
The TSBC, the Canadian equivalent to the NTSB, ruled it was "mechanical fault." There were lawsuits. Whatever.
I have no idea, nor did I care, about anything else.
You were gone - we, us, future, plans, dreams - gone.
It's okay if you're wondering why and how a woman so many years my junior, on our first face-to-face weekend together, could affect me so. Soft laugh. It's been five years – I've wondered nearly every day.
We loved each other. It's that simple – and so completely complex. Surely you understand that!!
Was it love, or a sex-fueled crush gone wild? It was so new, but it was so very real.
What would have happened had the snow cancelled the flight? I tortured myself endlessly with just that.
There's very little left in a plane crash. I wasn't family so I had to grieve alone – save for a few intimates who came to know of you and my grieving.
On the first anniversary I cried a river, nearly tore my place apart in my fury and anguish - spent myself again and again in the blackest, darkest of it all – futilely.
On the second anniversary I drank myself into oblivion for several days. No relief there – only a hospital stay.
On the third anniversary I went to Toronto. I had an idea where you lived and worked. I'd been there twice before and loved the city. It is wonderfully cosmopolitan and vibrant. I hated it. I cried bitterly on the flight home.
Prior to the fourth anniversary I had sought and found a grief counselor. She helped me immensely. I raged, I screamed, I begged, I cursed. She gave me every bit of what I needed - saved my life, with this: "I Wasn't Ready To Say Goodbye"
During one of our sessions she asked about the black ribbon around my neck. I cried and cried and cried. My stomach ached from the effort. That sweet day washed over me in a full, dark, wonderful tidal wave. When I had wrung out the last of my sobs I haltingly, painfully, and through tears, told her of that cab ride. When I finished I looked up through glistening eyes to find her crying.
I'm wearing it as I type. My will contains instructions that I'm to be buried with it on.
This January is the fifth anniversary and, at the urging of my counselor, I am writing this story. It is written in her honour - in memory of and for my love of my Alison, my Ally, my miss, and all that we shared in so brief a time.
The ache in my heart has barely receded in these five years. It no longer takes my breath away to speak her name.
I'm nearly 55 now. Whatever youth left in me was given, freely, to her.
I can tell you, honestly, that I still meander through each day. Nothing touches me, reaches me. I just do what's needed.
This has been a tale of a chance connection that grew into a friendship that became a relationship and blossomed into a love story that ended tragically and suddenly. I have the privilege of sharing it with you, my dear reader.
Among the many gifts she gave me, this is the most precious: the rebirth of my muse.
Author's notes: First and foremost, this is my fantasy, my story and my creation. The two authors referenced are, in fact, on Literotica. You can find them, and, more importantly, their stories. I heartily encourage you to explore their works.
I've not met the Alison in the story. I've no idea where she lives, where she works, who she loves. It's literary license pure and simple.
The book, "I Wasn't Ready To Say Goodbye," is available on Amazon and in bookstores.
Thank you for reading - and, if it's not too bold, for voting. As it's said, again and again, feedback is what the author craves.