I was leaving the post office, not expecting anything eventful to happen, when a high-end older model Jaguar came very close to hitting me. The car parked a few spots over from me and I was able to watch as the driver stepped out of the car. I was readying myself to give them a dirty look and if prompted comment on almost being hit. I instantly recognized the mane-like head of blonde hair from a time when I had been addicted to the local strip clubs. Her stage name had been Icy. Her real name was Sheryl. I looked right at her. It was she that gave me a dirty look. She was carrying a few envelopes and was headed inside the post office. I had never really forgotten, and still fantasized about her. I was a customer of the club she stripped at when she first started her career. She had been about 20 or so and was perfection. It was a combination of her blonde hair and her diva-like attitude that had me enthralled and had me giving her my money and attention. There were other more attractive girls. Some had larger breasts than her 36 D's, and some danced better than her, but her Icy demeanor certainly warranted her stage name. I tipped her so well that she would come and sit with me on her free time. I got to know some about her and even met her on her days off for some modeling sessions. She danced and posed for me as I took pictures. Our relationship never resulted in any sex, but being around her felt very rewarding.
"Sheryl?" I said.
"Do I know you?" She said, seemingly ready to dismiss me.
"It's Rob, from your days at the club downtown."
It took her a moment to recognize me. So many faces, so many men to remember.
"Yes, Rob. Come here." She said, opening her arms to embrace me.
She was wearing a blue tracksuit with white piping down the side. Her jacket was open and she had on a white blouse. She wore white gym shoes with blue stripes. The massive bosom she once displayed seemed significantly smaller. I hugged her. She smelled incredible. At 5' 10" she had been my equal in height when she wore heels. I was a little taller than her now. She embraced me longer than I expected. Her chest did not feel as imposing as it once did. Her face had a few wrinkles, but overall the skin was very healthy. She must have been in her early 30's now. I had been told she stopped stripping some time in her mid 20's. This was around the time her body must have started to betray her.
"How long has it been?" She said.
"A few years. You still look amazing." I said.
She moved her hand through her hair and looked proud to elicit such a compliment.
"You were a good customer. Always polite." She said.
"Thank you, Sheryl."
She seemed far removed from her Icy persona. Nonetheless she was very attractive and very enticing.
"Do you still visit the clubs?" She asked.
"No. I said. I don't know, it was kind of period in my life that I needed that. You will always be memorable for me."
"I bet." She said, laughing. "I guess with the Internet giving you access to so much, well..."
"Did you ever marry?" I asked.
"No." She said.
I kind of expected that answer. I remembered that she spoke of never really being capable of loving someone so much that marriage would follow. I was divorced now, and kind of understood what she described. I had not been able to start any type of meaningful relationship since my divorce 5 or so years earlier. I just lingered for a moment, trying to smell her. She gave a half smile that said she wanted to move on with her business. I wanted to see her again, even if it was only for dinner. I needed to reconnect with her. She represented a time when I believed certain things were within my grasp: love, success, and a meaningful life. She had been a youthful summer day. Now, here she stood, seemingly changed from what had captivated me, but still drawing me nonetheless.
We agreed to meet a few days later for dinner. I watched her walk into the post office and thought it ironic that she was in a tracksuit. Her body may have gone soft so early from lack of exercise and good diet. She enjoyed junk food and a few glasses of wine, and had told me she lounged around too much. She still looked great. Her bottom was just a little broader and not as high. I left very excited.
I headed back to my office and sat at my desk, remembering how she danced, how she gyrated. So many sultry looks had been exchanged between us. I recalled those moments when she posed for me at a motel not far from the club. I took so many pictures, and she was comfortable letting me take close-ups of her privates. Sadly, I no longer had any of the pictures. My then wife had discovered them hidden away in the attic of our home and destroyed them. I had never touched her. I was playing her slow, hoping to get all of her one day, but there was a breakup in the routine. She had taken some time off to travel to Spain and Italy with a wealthy fan and I was trying to save a marriage that deserved to end. I needed to call an old friend with the news that I had seen Icy. I called my friend Greg, to ask him if he recalled Icy.
"I remember you were obsessed with some blonde. I don't remember her exactly. I was usually drunk when I went to those clubs." Greg said.
"You should remember her. You always hit on blondes." I said.
"Was she the one who would sit with you sometimes?"
"The really bitchy one?"
"O.K. Yeah, she was hot." Greg said. "You going to bang her this time?"
"I actually just want to get to know her again." I said.
I spent the next few days picking out some clothes. I bought a new sports coat and had my hair cut. My barber sensed something was different about me. I usually chatted comfortably with him, but on this day my words trailed off. He asked me if everything was fine with me. I laughed and told him that I had a date with a woman I had known some time before. He asked me if I had looked her up on the Internet. I told him no.
"I probably would have eventually tried to find her through the Internet." I said.
"She must be special to you." He said.
I had an image of her twirling on a dance pole, then pointing at me as she danced to the popular songs of the day. I smiled. My heart raced. Had I really meet up with Icy the other day? I still could not believe it.
I was useless at work. Papers were piling up, and there were some phone calls that needed to be returned. My mind was on the stage that Sheryl had owned. My thoughts bounded around. We were going to meet at a restaurant a few blocks from the strip-club that had introduced us. Part of me still thought of her as the young college dropout that needed to make a few extra bucks. I still had not exchanged that persona for the woman I was so fortunate to have met at the post office. I reserved a table off to the side, but with a view of the entrance. I wanted my time with her to be without any distractions.
I arrived early and sat down and ordered a drink. I kept looking out the front window and waited for Sheryl to appear, seemingly out of my personal history. I was nervous. I wanted to tell her that I had a better job then when she first new me. I wanted to explain to her that my marriage falling apart was not my fault. My ex-wife was impossible to please and she never communicated her feelings. Just as I was about to order another drink, Sheryl walked in, looking statuesque and very classy. The blonde had on brown. Different shades that is. Her knee-high boots were dark brown as was her skirt and leather jacket, but her stockings and blouse were pale brown. She looked very confident and somewhat purposeful. I was so happy to see her. I rose to kiss her and was taken back to another time. She was wearing a perfume I was very familiar with. The kind of perfume she had worn years ago that only added to her mystique. I made a mental note to ask her about it later. The Ice Queen sat down and ordered a drink. Our eyes searched for an equal point to lock on. She only seemed slightly preoccupied. She was almost complete with me in our moment.
"I am so... glad that we ran into each other the other day." I said, wondering if she even knew how close her car came to hitting me.
"I am too." She said. "My life doesn't seem as exciting as when I was dancing. Things were definitely different then. Seeing you brought back so many memories. Not all of them good. Men can be such pigs. You were a gentleman though."
I smiled when she said that. I was glad that I always treated her respectfully, even while she spread her legs for my camera.
Sheryl went on to tell me that she had been thinking of giving up dancing even before she had to remove her implants, but without a large chest she didn't feel as confident. She had been at a costume party and was wearing 6-inch heels. She had been drinking and easily lost her balance, falling on her precious cleavage. She did not feel right the next morning and went to the emergency room. One of the implants had ruptured from the force of the fall. The implants were removed and her career as Icy was over. Another fan of hers offered her a job as a topless waitress. She needed a job and took it without thinking that her former source of ego and pride was now deflated. She said that even though most of the girls in the restaurant had natural breasts, they almost all had better boobs than she did. She could not handle being second rate to young girls just out of high school or older women who fell short in all other categories of attractiveness. Her chest could not compete.
She then went to work as a web-cam model, but did not like being confined all day, along with having to take orders from customers. Men, and sometimes women, were naturally vulgar she said. Sheryl was now working as an office worker for an insurance company. She said the boss, who knew her from her days as a dancer, initially allowed her some flexibility, but was not favoring her as much as he had done in the past. Sheryl felt threatened by a younger co-worker who garnered a bit more off the male attention than she did. The couple other secretaries were homely looking, but the new arrival came with a very athletic frame, offset by two confident breasts.
It seemed I had heard the same type of complaints about other strippers, although now it was in a different environment. I was attentive to her words. Her blue eyes mesmerized me. I felt her boot hit my leg more than a few times. Was she sending me a sign?
Her cell phone rang. She seemed to forget that I was there.
"I forgot." She said into her phone. "Look, we made those plans weeks ago. I have been busy at work... you know that... there are things that come up... I am out having dinner with an old friend. I don't... hardly say anything when your wife calls you away."
My heart felt as though it had been pounded by one powerful hammer. I was dazed as I continued to hear her speak into her phone. Her tone got nastier and she finally admonished him about asking too much of her. She finally ended the call and looked at me with an apologetic smile. I was not interested in a casual affair with her. I was willing to take my time. The prize, for me, was her love. That is, my love for her being equaled by her own for me. Let her have her dalliances for now. The Ice Queen would melt in my arms soon.
After dinner, I walked her to her car. She seemed at ease at first, then a bit surprised that I was not looking for anything more. For me, the night was over, but our new relationship had just begun. I wanted to get my hands on everything under her brown outfit, but I wanted more.
"Then... that's it?" She said.
"Of course not. Just over for tonight. I have a meeting in the morning. That sounds silly doesn't it? I want... to see you so much again. I understand if... that you already have a full life, but I want you to make room for me. Can you do that?" I said.
She was quiet. Pensive. Sheryl was really thinking. I sensed she was calculating how or if she wanted me to be a part of her life. I had told her that I was certainly mismatched with my wife, but had realized it after we were already married and that I always felt closer to her than I did other woman I had spent time with.
"Yes. I can find room for you in my life. You already know... me." She said.
We embraced for the second time that night. This hug felt more promising. It seemed as though we were finding the ability to be more than just one-time acquaintances. Her eyes appeared almost tearful. She kissed me on the cheek and got into her car. I felt an electric charge course through me. Blood moved quicker through my veins. I drove home with the radio turned up and drove faster than usual.
We exchanged some phone calls and some text messages over the next few days. I even asked her about her perfume, but she didn't include her response in her text message to me. I was going to pick her up at her work and take her to lunch. I don't know how I was able to do my job, since I spent most of the day thinking about Sheryl. There were glimpses of the new Sheryl, commingled with flashes of the youthful diva dancing to an endless track pulsating with sexual tension.
I waited in my car in front of her office. A few of her co-workers were themselves leaving for lunch. The blonde hair was unmistakable as it came through the lobby doors. She was wearing black slacks and had on a green sweater. Her high heels clicked on the ground as she walked. I got out of my car and met her. We kissed and shared a laugh. As we were pulling out, a young woman was walking in front of my car.
"That's the one. The one they all act as if they would do anything for. Her name is Nicole. They call her Nico." She said.
I had to be quiet and not say anything that might upset Sheryl. This young woman was stunning. She had olive skin and a rack that was airborne. Her dark hair flowed straight and ended just above her heart shaped ass. This was a beauty that had only recently evolved into womanhood. I didn't think Sheryl should have felt it necessary to compete with her. I felt the former stage sensation was greedy. She wanted the attention of all the men, not just the few that preferred her look to that of Nicole's. Sheryl seemed unhappy now.
"Sweetie, don't fill your pretty head with thoughts that don't mean anything. Maybe they view her as being inexperienced, easy prey. You have seen all the bullshit guys can put out there. Take it as a compliment. You are a woman." I said. I was unsure if anything I said was going to be helpful.
"Maybe you can help me find another job. I don't..." She said, acting as if she wanted to cry.
I didn't know what to think. Was she using me, or did she simply just think she could rely on an old friend.
"Let me check with some people. I'll see if anything is available." I said.
"I new you would take my request seriously." She said.
She moved closer and wrapped her arms around my arm and nestled her face into my neck. Part of me wanted to prove I was worthy of her, and of helping her, while another part wanted me to advise her on trying cope with the demands of working in an office. I decided to just drive to our lunch date.
I spoke with a few people, to see if they needed anyone for an office job. There was one guy, Ted, who probably would have paid just to have her around in his office, even though it was a one-man operation. Maybe have her get coffee, make a few phone calls while giving him a new source to exercise his sexual imagination. She would serve as masturbatory material. I was reluctant to ask him, because I didn't want to share her with anyone, but I figured he was older, married and would content himself with just having her around. I called him, and he was delighted at the chance.
"It gets too quiet here most days. Could use someone to make some calls. Have her come by for an interview." Ted said.
I called Sheryl and told her I was coming over to her apartment, with some news about a job. She paused a short while on the phone, then told me to come on over. I wasn't sure if I was surprising her by coming over so suddenly.
I drove over to her apartment. She lived on the 5th floor of her apartment building. She had lived in a very expensive high-rise while she was a dancer, but now lived a bit more modestly. She opened the door for me and quickly headed back into her bedroom. I could see she was wearing black fishnet stockings and did not have on shoes. She had on a silky white robe that I could tell was opened.
"I was going out tonight, but news of a job is just as important. Thanks for coming by." She said, from her bedroom.
"I figured it was important to you. I wanted to deliver the news in person." I said.
There was not much furniture in her apartment. The walls were bare, save for a poster of a very high-class club she once danced at. She was featured in the poster.
I started to explain to her what the job entailed, when she walked out of her bedroom. She was still showing me her stockings, but was now wearing heels. She had on a black panties and a matching garter belt. She wore a black push up bra. Her stomach had a little extra, but appeared very inviting. She stood there, as if allowing me to appraise her at a new age. The Icy Queen a few degrees warmer.
"You look..." I started.
"Does the job... equal or more to what I am making now?'" She asked.
"Try... go to the interview. Ted is a very good man. He will try to accommodate you."
She walked closer to me. I was growing very animated. I was sure, a word here, a gesture there, and she and I would be embraced in a lustful coupling, but on this night Sheryl had other plans. I was instantly deflated. Secretly spurned. I remained openly a gentleman for Sheryl.
"I know I look like this could be a comfortable night here... I made plans. Can you understand? I will call you after my interview. Will you leave his number so I can call him? Rob, I don't know how... I want to thank you when the time is better for us." She said.
Even though Sheryl spoke of other plans, she stood there quietly, as if anticipating, or daring me to initiate something. I felt physically frozen.
'Are you all right, Rob?" She said.
"I am good. I understand. I dropped by with little notice." I said.
"I have to finish getting ready."
I tried to look her over as best I could, without leering. She was certainly softer than I ever knew. Her stomach jiggled a little as she turned to go back to her room.
"I feel so bad we couldn't go out or something." She said. Her voice trailed off as she walked to her bedroom.
She was wearing a thong. I was surprised by how smooth the skin was. No longer did her bottom bubble up, but it was still an attractive point. There was just a hint of cellulite on her thighs. Her confidence was admirable.
I had to leave before my brain exploded. I walked into the kitchen and wrote Ted's number on a notepad.
"I left Ted's number in the kitchen." I shouted. "I better be going, Sheryl."
"Thank you." She said. Her voice was barely audible.
I walked out of her apartment and did not feel confident at all. I was patient, but was in no real mood to be playing the role of someone who was there only to be counted on. I wanted to take it, to take her to the next level and beyond. I didn't want any part of rushing things for the sake of sex. Although sex was on my mind, love was the prize for me.
Ted called me a couple of weeks after I had first spoken with him about hiring Sheryl and he told me that Sheryl was working out grandly. It had been a while since he had anyone working in his office, but it seemed to be going very naturally. He also mentioned that she was a very attractive woman. 'A real looker' he said. Ted said she had been with him for over a week. In that time she had not called to thank me. I wasn't looking for all that much, but a bit of gratitude would have been nice. I decided that I was not going to call her. It seemed easy at first, but actually took some will power.