Gina Ch. 01

[Ring. Ring. Ring.]

The telephone interrupted my late evening meditation, stirring me out of my deep state of inner relaxation. After first considering ignoring it, I lifted the receiver. Assuming it was just a wrong number, I prepared to politely remind the caller of his or her error.

"Hello," I almost whispered into the receiver, my mind still dazed from its altered meditative state.

"Scott?" a woman responded. I thought the voice seemed familiar, yet wasn't expecting to hear from anyone at this hour.

"Yes, that's me," I replied.

"It's Gina. I hope I didn't wake you."

The voice of my ex-wife was familiar, yet something felt different. Was it because we hadn't spoken for nearly a year? Perhaps after all those years of living together, I'd just lost touch with the subtle nuances of her tone, her vocal expressions... But no, there was something else, decidedly different. Her voice seemed deeper, richer, fuller. It sounded relaxed--more relaxed than I'd ever heard in the 11 years we'd known one another.

"Uhhh, no. You didn't wake me. I was just meditating, that's all. You sound different..."

"Well, that's probably true. After all, you haven't seen me in almost a year--maybe you forgot me already?"

The guilt tripping was beginning already, I thought.

"I'm here, downstairs," she continued, before I could react to her previous comment.

"Can I come up?"

"You're *here*? Why?", I asked, my heart sinking into my gut.

I was genuinely surprised. I didn't think we would ever see one another again. Even though we both lived in the same city, our homes were over 10 miles apart, and our workplaces were more than 35 miles away from one another. Save for an occasional trip to a market near my apartment, I figured she'd never want to come near my region of town.

"Well, it's a long story," she began. "But it would be a lot easier if I could see you in person again."

I felt waves of emotion. Memories, images, sounds from the past came rushing into my brain. In the span of seconds between my pressing the front-door buzzer that allowed her access and her knock at my door, ten years of my life with Gina rapidly played back through my psyche. I approached the door with many mixed feelings.

Opening the door slowly, I saw Gina, looking more alluring than ever. Even so, Gina had always turned my head. She had those dark, exotic looks that hinted at a smouldering passion right underneath the surface. Being a brunette had always felt like a liability, she'd so often told me. "Blondes really do have more fun," she'd said on more than one occasion. But for me, those dark looks--her long black hair, her light olive complexion, her deep brown eyes--had always gotten to me. Reminding me of my first high school crush when I'd fallen madly head-over-heels in love with a tall, willowy brunette named Jan. Tonight, Gina reminded me more of Jan than I'd ever seen her looking before.

How can I describe that first look at her after those many months of not seeing her at all? I'll never forget it. The red velvet minidress and the dark stockings certainly got my attention. And then there was her hair, much fuller, fluffier, shinier, bouncier than before. And her lips: They shone a deep crimson, rich and full and, seductive?

Yes! That was it. I'd never seen her looking so seductive before. My mind scrambled to adjust to this image of the woman who had been the demure, insecure wife with me for those many years we'd lived together.

"I'm so glad you're still up," Gina said as she looked at me.

She was standing just five inches from me yet I wasn't sure how to respond. Part of me wanted to reach out and hug her and kiss her, and a part wanted to just let her enter the room untouched by me--allowing me a chance to grow accustomed to the sight of this "new" Gina. Finally, I eased out of my temporary stupor and reached out my hand to take hers in a gesture of invitation.

"Come in, please," I replied, spontaneously lifting her hand to my lips, kissing the outstretched back of her hand in a way I'd only seen in movies.

"You look positively wonderful," I said.

I wondered how long it had been since I'd last said that to her.

"And you look good, too," she spoke softly.

In that next instant, we stood there, looking into one another's eyes. Gazing into one another's souls, reconnecting after the lost months of no contact between us. I always felt that when I looked into Gina's eyes, I saw so much more of her than she was willing to reveal. I used to wonder about her mysteries--her life before mine crossed her path. And now, I felt those same feelings, wondering what kinds of mysteries she now held, after so many hours of our living apart.

"I'd like to kiss you," she offered. "That is, if you haven't rejected me completely."

Ever the insecure, vulnerable, delicate creature with me.

I often wondered if that is who she really is, or if that was just the way she was with me. When I contrasted her shy, self-effacing personality while living with me against her past descriptions of affairs with other men, I'd always seen contradictions. As if I wasn't seeing the complete Gina. As if she had always been playing a role with me she could never break free of, in spite of herself. Tonight, I hoped maybe I'd begin to understand a few of the mysteries about her I'd never resolved.

I decided to begin by allowing my lips to gently explore hers. Instantly, I felt my body responding as her body pressed forward into mine. The taste of her lips and the smell of her perfume sent chills up and down my spine. Our mouths were intensely hot, mutually pursuing something we'd missed from each other for over a year. As if we were both enjoying a sumptuous banquet after many days living on mere bread and water.

Gina's tongue sought refuge in the cavern of my warm mouth, probing deeper and deeper. Her lips were smouldering, her body insistent as she pushed her pelvis into me, urging my throbbing erection with the mere friction of her body against me.

As she kissed me, the low cut of her dress fell open enough to afford a generous view of deep-plunging black lace that contained her overly ripe breasts. In that second before my eyes closed, I recognized the outline of the black lace camisole I'd bought her many years before for our private erotic interludes with my camera. My mind was filling again with images: Images of Gina and me at the beach, lying nude under the hot sun. Images of us watching a favorite erotic film,'Henry and June', and telling each other afterwards all the fantasies it had inspired as we made gentle love by the fireplace.

"God, you taste good," I gasped breathlessly, fully two minutes after our kiss had begun.

"Wait. Let me put on some music," Gina said as our kiss temporarily broke. "Do you still have those Sade albums of mine?"

I'd hung onto those Sade albums as a memory of Gina, even though I never listened to them after we separated last year. Once the divorce was final, I'd let my life enter a new and different phase, but still longed to hang on to some of the special memories of what Gina and I had. Music, especially sensual music, had been among our mutual passions.

Gina swept past me, walking over to explore my music collection. Her body had a grace of movement I didn't recall from the past. Even though she'd been a dancer, she'd always felt too gangly to let herself feel like a dancer, she'd told me. Tonight, though, even with her tall black heels (another new, and unexpected addition to her wardrobe) she walked with an ease, an air of self-assurance that was out of character with the Gina I'd recalled.

I sat back down for a moment and drank in the sight of her. I remembered how erotic I'd always felt with her, how erotic I'd always wished she could let herself feel when she was with me. It was almost as if the Gina I'd long been searching for--the Gina that she'd so often protected when we were together--was finally emerging. Like a beautiful butterfly, at last she had no need for the safety of her little coccoon.

As the first notes of "Smooth Operator" poured forth from my speakers, I arose to dim the lights to a soft back background glow. I watched Gina, slowly moving her hips to the music. Standing five feet in front of me, her hips flowed with the music. She closed her eyes, swaying back and forth. She was hypnotically responding to the rhythms and Sade's sensuous voice.

When she danced, her voice began to hum along. My mouth began to water--my tastebuds suddenly discovering imaginary flavours spontaneously inspired.

And then I felt myself getting aroused. Really aroused. As she slowed her dance to match the mood of the next song, Gina's fingers reached up to stroke her hair, then her right hand slipped downward, teasingly approaching the top button of her dress. Tempting me, I knew not why. The dress began to fall open, her deep cleavage barely concealed by the tiny cups of her camisole.

"Watch me, Scott," she urged, eyes still closes, fingers taking on a life of their own.

Releasing the remaining buttons of her dress, she threw her shoulders back and let the soft fabric fall to her waist while turning her back to me. I gazed hungrily at the outline of black straps flowing down the length of her shoulder blades. God, she has such sexy shoulders...

I began recalling the many erotic photographs I'd taken of her over the years. Gina looked so good in black. But when she wore black underneath anything, even old sweatpants and a tee-shirt, it always turned me on.

"Do you like showing off for me?" I asked with a sly smile, entering into her little teasing game.

"Yes. I want to show off for you," she responded in a voice both throaty and barely more than a whisper.

She was entering a state of barely-contained lust, deep erotic hunger. And she was letting me be in that place with her. A place I'd so often dreamed of entering with her, but never could unleash before. It was a place that I'd created for the fictional Gina who was star of many of my erotic stories. 'Maria' was her name in all of my stories. Maria was a woman of unbridled passion, a woman who wasn't afraid to experience all the pleasures that life had to offer.

I watched Gina, mesmerized by her every movement. I watched as she lifted her skirt and revealed the smooth flow of her long thighs and the skimpy silk panties underneath.

God, is this for real? My former wife looking like a symbol of unbridled lust. Showing off for me. Making me hot for her, making me have fantasies about her. Making me wonder, who has she been with since we departed?

"Watch, Scott. Enjoy. I love showing my body to you. Do you like it? Do you want to see more?"

I did, of course. But what was she doing this for? Was she trying to punish me, to tease me? Was she going to get me all worked up, and then just when I took the bait, pull back and walk out? Was this the way she'd punish me for seeking my freedom from a dysfunctional marriage? Fears began to probe my consciousness. After all, it had been me who had insisted on moving out, seeking a new life more in tune with my own needs.

"Yes, Gina. Show me more. I want to see more." My voice matched the hypnotic mood of the music.

I felt myself falling into a trance as I continued to gaze upon her.

"I'm going to take it all off for you tonight," she murmured. "Nice and slow. Just like you like it."

Unzipping her tiny skirt, her fingers dropped the soft fabric to the floor. Standing there before me, she looked scrumptious in her black stockings, shoes, and lingerie.

"And now, I want you to come over here," she purred to me. "Come closer."

I wondered what was on her mind. I stood to walk toward her, but felt my legs growing rubbery. What was I afraid of? I didn't know. My ex-wife was a vision of pure lust, a slut. She was behaving like the start of my wildest fantasies. Yet I couldn't come to terms with the fact that she looked more like Maria than like Gina. Had she become Maria? Or in fact, was Gina really Maria?

Standing within a few inches of her, I watched as her fingers released the front clasp of her bra, the cups falling away and revealing the fullness of those breasts I'd so often loved to nuzzle. Her nipples and their silver-dollar-sized brown areole stood firm, inviting my fingertips and lips to tease them.

"Go ahead, taste them," she purred. "I love it when you suck my breasts. I always have."

I reached forward, taking one of her breasts between my fingers, gently caressing the flesh and worshipping them the way I had so often done before.

She always loved it when I'd spend long moments pleasuring her breasts. She'd sit astride my hips, impaling herself on me, lowering her breasts to my hungry lips, begging me to suck them, enjoy them. And I would be ravenous to fill my mouth with her tender flesh. And as my lips would close around her tender bud of flesh, she would sigh, moan, and shudder. It was always such a wonderful feeling to be connected that way.

Now, taking her breast into my mouth, I again let those old feelings return. I watched a familiar look appear across her face, heard a familiar sigh of contentment emit from her lips. Her head tipped back as it always did, thrusting her breast even further into my mouth, as if by pressing harder, she hoped to fill my mouth to capacity with the fullness of her breast. I could tell that any inhibitions she had when she'd entered the room would soon be melting away.

"Feel me, Scott. I'm so wet."

I looked as her fingers descended to the top of her tiny black panties. She held open the waistband, inviting me to slip my fingers underneath while my lips remained closed over her left nipple. That familiar heady aroma of Gina's pussy filled my nostrils as my fingers slid toward the entrance of her hidden opening. What I discovered as I explored her was a flowing volcano. She was wetter than I'd ever known her to be. My fingers eagerly teased her, entering gently to probe deeper inside.

All at once it was unmistakable that another man had recently been with her. And at that same instant I grew incredibly hot, aroused beyond anything I'd ever felt before. Lifting Gina into my arms, I seated her on my lap, kissing her passionately. I was overcome with desire for her.

"You've been with someone today?" I asked.

"Yes," was her simple reply as she looked down at the floor, avoiding my eyes.

"Have you been with him before?"

"Yes, many times."

"Do you enjoy being with him?"

"Very much."

My mind whirled. Images floated through it again. I tried to imagine who her lover was, what he looked like. I tried to picture what it looked like when they were together. I was overcome, with anxiety, confusion, lust. I knew she had another lover. But I'd never thought I'd come so intimately in contact with him. As I pondered the comments she'd just shared with me, she began to open my shirt, to reach inside and caress my chest, to tease my nipples. She always knew how to get me hot.

"Is he the guy you told me about last year?" I asked, recalling her mentioning in our last telephone conversation that she was dating a fellow faculty member.

"No. That's over," she replied as her fingers descended to lower the zipper of my pants.

She reached inside to caress my hardness, which was pressing painfully through the tightness of my briefs. I watched her head lower to my waist as she kneeled before me, lowering my briefs to reveal my nakedness. My cock stood tall before her.

"You have a new lover, then," I concluded, almost losing consciousness as her fingers began to work their magic.

Gina's fingers were caressing me all over, her mouth trailing sloppy kisses down the front of my body. I shuddered as her fingertips reached my cock.

"Yes. I do. Do you like knowing that?" she asked in a tone barely concealing her lust.

She'd never been so forthright about sex before. This was a part of her that had always remained shrouded in mystery for me all during our years of living together.

"Well..." I muttered, many conflicting feelings drifting through my mind.

"You always said that was one of your fantasies," she purred as her lips approached my throbbing hardness and sent a jolt of electricity coursing through me. Within seconds I erupted and filled her mouth to overflowing with my hot, creamy spunk.

Surely we'd entered a new dimension in our relationship...

[end, chapter 1]