Sandy Ch. 04

Readers will discover that Sandy has total recall when telling about conversations with her roommate, Vivienne, but that helped me understand her better.

Sandy and I had been in the bar (chapter 3) and were talking about how we had teased another man there, laughing on the street.

*

Even in Manhattan, so much exuberance turns a couple of heads on the street, but we still continued chuckling as we replayed the conversation. Sandy knew that he had seen that she didn't have a bra on before I joined them, both of us then wondering if he knew that she had been wearing one at the office, agreeing that he would certainly try to check Monday morning, and then wondering how far he thought we might go that evening, how far he might imagine that he could have gotten with Sandy.

"Not past the doorman."

"But outside the door?"

"Oooh, I don't know? Well, ... since he didn't get to pay for my dinner, he wouldn't really have deserved much."

"Not for going way out of his way to walk you home?"

"Oh, maybe so, just in appreciation, just a peck," and she turned her head up and gave me a kiss on the cheek."

"That's all right, ... if it didn't give him hope for more."

"It probably would. Wouldn't it you? But I can deal with that."

"Of course it would ... me," and I found her hand on my arm with my other one and scratched my finger in her palm."

"Oooh, yeah, I thought so. Don't do that, ... my nipples."

"Sorry, I didn't know it was that effective."

"With the right guy it is."

We both chuckled as I murmured "thanks" and just held the back of her hand on my arm. We walked on for several blocks, almost in silence, not just ours, but now the traffic quieter, too, and few people on the sidewalks. I wasn't thinking about much, just enjoying that we could also be relaxed together without talking. I wasn't even wondering what Sandy was thinking, as one usually does in that situation, but then she told me.

"That was good, what we did, ... not tonight. Thank you for taking so much initiative, that was really good, hm-hmm, ... what I wanted, but I wasn't sure you did, ... and not so sure I did, ... though I had set things up, just in case."

"Um-hmm, I did, ... real good."

After a moment of silence, she went on:

"I hope my boyfriend is having a good time."

"Where is he?"

"Somewhere in Europe. Hmmm, ... I guess in France now, with a friend. Girls usually travel in a group with a guide, it seems.

"Yeah, I have heard that, ... and that they get a little stir-crazy after three or four weeks together. A senior at Columbia said so, at least."

"Hmmm, ... yeah, I can imagine, ... I would, ... oh, maybe I am," and she glanced up at me with a smirk, then continuing:

"Well, maybe then he will have a good time."

"You mean, like that?"

"Well, ... I am, ... we are. It would only be fair, ... and so I don't have a guilty conscience."

"Um-hmm, ... uh, ... we don't have to ..."

"Oh yes we do, ... maybe he is, ... and besides, I'd rather feel guilty than feel deprived," and she glanced at me again:

"And I would, especially knowing what else I like now."

"That's good. It was only an offer. I sure do."

She held my arm a little closer, and we both chuckled and walked on in silence again. This time I was thinking, that it was good that we had discussed the situation, and she was thinking about the same, after the next street remarking:

"I'm glad we talked about that."

"Me too," I agreed, and then we were silent until we were nearly to her building, when I asked:

"What kind of kiss am I going to get?"

"Hm-hmmm!? ... One good enough to take home and think about."

"Nice, I will. And good enough to give me hopes for the next time?"

"I hope so," and then we stopped and embraced, kissing until she felt him, and then loosening our embrace a little to let him rise, and then kissing some more.

"I want to hold him," she murmured.

"Like when you were eighteen?"

"Um-hmm," and she rubbed herself on him.

"Not a good idea here. You'll just have to take that thought home with you."

"I guess so, ... and before I do anyway," and we kissed again.

I waited outside the building till she got past the doorman and then headed home.

Just a table lamp was on when I opened the door. Under it was a note from my mother in her somewhat formal style, not just saying that they had been invited out and would be late, but also remarking that she hoped I had had a pleasant evening. Before I finished it, I heard my sister:

"Hi, nobody's home."

From the sound of her voice more than from her words, I knew that she didn't have a bathrobe on, and before I turned to her, almost feared that she was wearing even less. But she was wearing a pajama top, the same one she had on Fire Island - a too strong reinforcement of my recollection of her - especially when I saw her nipples stiffen under it as I looked at her.

"They said they would be late," she said softly and looked at me questioningly with a slight smile.

"No," I replied, knowing too well what she was suggesting, aware of a warmth in my groin.

"Shouldn't you be wearing your bathrobe?" I added to deflect my thoughts.

"But nobody's home, ... except us," she countered, first with a pout and then with her too suggestive little smile.

"No, ... you know what I mean."

She looked disappointed, pouting again, but still persisted:

"Why not?"

"Never, ... here." I was recalling my dream about her when sleeping with Martha when I added the "here," but immediately recognized that that was a mistake, even before she looked more hopeful and replied:

"Oh, ... then maybe somewhere else."

"Don't get your hopes up," I managed to reply, despite wondering myself if ...?

"Why not?" she repeated, and then her eyes opened wide:

"Oh, you've already ..., tonight?"

"Hm-umm, just dinner."

She grinned and then after a moment replied:

"Then I bet you really want to, ... don't you?"

"But I won't, ... we won't." She looked disappointed again, and then replied:

"Pity, ... I was hoping so," and nodded with forced smile of understanding.

I wanted to embrace and kiss her for her honest outspokenness, but managed to resist. We were still just standing there, and I told about my dream, and she nodded understandingly, finally agreeing:

"Yeah, I guess you're right. ... Hm-hmm, ... I guess I'll have to do it myself." Then she grinned and added:

"I was, a little, before," and grinned again and raised the corners of her pajama top to let me see that she had nothing else on.

"Go to bed!"

"You too, and think of me," she replied with another grin and turned.

I did, as I watched her walk away, envisioning her bare ass and back above her naked legs that I could see. And in bed, despite my efforts to think about Sandy, recollection and images of my sister predominated, recollections of sweet, drawn out incidents together, taking my time, stretching my sack as I wondered if she was recalling the same incidents behind her closed door, until I couldn't hold off any longer, and in my fantasy we came together.

The next morning while I was making breakfast before our parents got up, she joined me in the kitchen with a smile, and then with a smirk remarked:

"It was almost real good, ... last night. My bed's all wet," and she smirked again, and then again and asked:

"And you? Did you think of me?"

"Gentleman don't tell," I replied and winked.

"Hm-hm-hmmm!" She looked pleased with herself, and then went about setting the table.

Despite this refreshing of our common recollections, we survived the weekend without any further incidents. Mother and Dad's presence was a strong influence.

On Monday, Sandy said the Vivienne, her roommate would like to meet me and had even offered to make dinner for us all on Wednesday. I was surprised at this enthusiasm, but Sandy explained that she had told about my training timeframe with a brief smirk, and then said that she would tell me more on the way there that evening. That sounded intriguing, and kept me wondering till Wednesday afternoon; at work, when we only occasionally met, during my real training, and at home, playing with different images of how Vivienne could look and ideas about her interest.

I bought another bottle of wine and waited for Sandy after work at the next corner, and we set off, she starting immediately to talk, obviously full of something:

"Oh, I've got to tell you, last weekend, I bought "The Joy of Sex". Wow!" I had heard about, but ... Have you read it?"

I nodded, and she looked a little disappointed for a moment, but then went on:

"Isn't it something? It was kind of reassuring to find that others like what I do, ... what we do, ... and more, though I'm not sure I'd want to try everything."

I nodded again when she looked over at me, apparently for confirmation, maybe wondering if I did, and then she continued:

"Well, I hadn't intended it that way, but Viv, my roommate, Vivienne, also looked at it. I guess she was a little more surprised than I was, and, of course, we talked about it a little, ... and about our ... experience, y'know. She's almost twenty-five, I guess, and certainly sleeps with guys, and as she admitted, had let them do it to her, y'know," and she glanced at me again, and I nodded as she added:

"All the guys in France want to, ... well, those she has met, and, ... well, ... she asked if we had, ... no, she asked if I had. I just said 'yes', and she went on, that the guys wanted her to, too, but that she hadn't - thought it would be dirty or yucky. Yeah, the guys had done it just to warm her up, if you know what I mean."

I nodded again.

"Well, that was our first conversation, and then we left the subject, but, of course, the book was lying around, ... yeah that was Saturday, and on Sunday somehow we got back talking about it. I think she was a little more curious than she wanted to admit, and I was kind of liking that I had done more than she had, and, well, ... with all those pictures ... I don't know if I said anything, ... she eventually asked if I thought I would do it, obviously assuming that I hadn't. When I said that at first I had also felt a little like she did, ... well, ... she immediately asked: 'You have?!´ And, well, as I said, I liked the idea that I had ... not to mention liking it," and she glanced at me again with an expression, like she was assuming I had: "... and I said I had.

"That surprised her, but she was more curious: 'Just a little, ... or all the way?' When I admitted - not wanting to brag - 'all the way,' she was just silent for a moment or two, but then asked: 'And ... uh, ... you wanted to?' I guess she thought maybe I hadn't, but when I just nodded, she just said 'Oh' and was again silent.

"I think we decided to have a beer then, she suggesting it, sort of to change the subject, but it was still on her mind. When we returned from the kitchen, to the book open to one of the pictures of the woman doing it, she took another drink of her beer and asked again: 'And you wanted to, you wanted him to?' 'Um-hmm,' I replied: '...of course. I was doing it to arouse him, to make it good for him, and it was arousing for me, too, to know how good it was feeling for him; I wanted him to, to know that it had been really good.'

"She was silent again and then said: 'And ...?' 'Yeah it tastes funny, if that's what you mean, but you wouldn't want it to taste like cream sauce, ... and besides, I've tasted it before, the first time I made a boy come.'

"That kind of broke her up, she giggled, and then opened her mouth as though she were thinking about how it would be. I hadn't seen her like that before, and then we both drank, and she asked: 'With him, last week?' When I nodded, she asked: 'And he did it to you?' 'Real good, all the way,' I replied, and she almost giggled again and asked: 'Really, like that, "all the way"?' 'Um-hmmm! That good. He wanted it,' I answered. Viv just looked at me with a surprised snicker and then smiled, and we finished our beers. That really broke the ice between us."

"I guess it did," I agreed and we both snickered, walking a block in silence. After we crossed the street, Sandy continued:

"Well, after that, we didn't talk about that any more, but it was obvious that we were a little closer from having done so. She was going to be away from Monday to Wednesday, so I told her that we would probably be going out this evening, since I wouldn't see her in between. That is when she suggested that you join us for dinner. We take turns cooking, but she is better than I am at it."

"I am sure it will be very good, then. What does she do for desserts?"

"Hm-hm-hm! You'd have to ask. I told you. ... Hm-hmm! I'm a lot better at that!"

"She could learn."

"But not tonight; you'll just have to take what comes, ... and nothing like that, if I can read your mind."

"Not until you suggested it."

We snickered again and then were silent for the last couple of blocks.

In the elevator, Sandy told me that she was going to change and that Vivienne wouldn't be surprised at her not wearing a bra, and also that Vivienne also probably wouldn't:

"... not for you. She doesn't need to and usually doesn't, except for work."

And she wasn't, under her tasteful silk blouse that went well with her slightly Mediterranean teint and dark hair. After Sandy introduced us, she went to change, leaving us alone. Viv took my jacket and then offered me a beer, taking the bottle of wine to the kitchen. She returned with two full glasses, and with just a gesture of a toast, we drank.

"So you're the lucky guy," she started.

"I guess so, ... yes, quite."

"Sandy has told me a little about you."

"Not too much, I hope," I replied, beginning to wonder how direct Vivienne's curiosity was as she smiled with a slight shake of her head:

"That you're a gymnast and going to Columbia, and that you are a New Yorker."

"Yes, that's about all there is to know," I replied, appreciating that she was only wearing lipstick, maybe a little eyeshadow, but maybe not with her teint, less than most New York girls, which was nice.

"And you?"

"I guess you know how we met, through a colleague from Sandy's hometown. I've been flying for three years, now on international routes, which is nice. My speaking French helped, but still it took a couple of years of seniority."

"Yes, I bet that is nice, getting to fly to foreign cities that other people have to take vacation to visit."

"Sometimes, some places. Not all of them are so interesting."

"I guess not, ... and I guess your schedule is pretty unpredictable. I have heard that."

"Too often. At first it was a bit exciting to fly off at short notice, but it loses its appeal."

"And upsets local social life?"

She smiled with a nod, but then replied:

"Well, you meet people elsewhere, but not very regularly."

"Oh, like a sailor, a girl in every port?"

"Not quite, and maybe girls are a little more choosy."

"I hope so."

Vivienne smiled as Sandy joined us, making me realize that I had hardly seen her with clothes on in the apartment. She had on a shirtwaist dress with two breast pockets, but when she turned to get herself a beer, I could see from the movement of her breasts that she had no bra on. She rejoined us and topped up my beer from the bottle, and Vivienne excused herself to finish cooking.

The table had already been set. Sandy called to say that she would help if needed, and we sat down on the sofa. I whispered that it felt a little funny to be wearing clothes there, and she smirked with a nod before we drank, then chatting for a few minutes before Vivienne called for help. I offered to open the wine, and we both joined her in the kitchen.

Soon we were sitting at the table. Vivienne had, indeed, prepared a nice meal. Sandy and I complimented it and toasted her, and she looked pleased, seemed quite moved, in fact; I saw her nipples press against her blouse, and as I drank, thought involuntarily that they were probably more tan than pink. Then we enjoyed our meal chatting: about work, hers and ours; the girls once about their hometowns.

Towards the end of the meal, the conversation turned to travel. Vivienne had, of course seen more of the world than Sandy or I on our trips to Europe. When the Riviera was mentioned, Vivienne surprised me when she said that on a dare she and another girl had gone topless and that she later had done so, pleased that no one thought she was American because she had no tan-line. Definitely darker nipples, I thought to myself as Sandy remarked:

"I don't know if I would have dared, ... two years ago, just out of high school. ... Maybe I would now, ..." and she glanced at me with a smile:

"but they sure would take me for an American. I guess that makes you look more naked."

We all chuckled, and I raised my almost empty glass:

"I'll drink to that, ... and also to Vivienne's cooking," and we all finished our wine. As we set down our glasses, Vivienne asked:

"What would you like for dessert?"

Sandy glanced at me and tried to suppress a snicker. Vivienne looked at each of us questioningly and asked:

"What was that about?" Sandy snickered slightly and replied:

"Maybe you shouldn't ask. ... Hm-hmm! When I asked him that, he said he wanted me."

Vivienne joined in our chuckling, her nipples showing through her blouse again, and offered:

"Well, besides Sandy, what would you like?"

"Nothing, thank you. I am just fine; I don't usually have dessert."

Sandy agreed, but snickered again as she said:

"Nice of you then to have made an exception for me."

This time we all laughed out loud. We stood up and cleared the table, and then Sandy and Vivienne agreed that there wasn't space for all three of us to help in the kitchen, which suited me, since I had to go to the bathroom, wondering if the turn in the conversation suggested that the girls were feeling the beer and wine somewhere else. As I returned, they were talking softly, but I overheard Sandy say: "He's read it," and Vivienne's soft "Oh!"

"Yes, he has," I confirmed to make my presence known, before it occurred to me that they had wanted me out of the kitchen for some girl talk, now aware of what it had been about.

"Oh!" Vivienne said again, turning to me, and her nipples were more prominent than before:

"... I guess you know what we were talking about."

"Yes, Sandy told me on the way here."

"But you didn't tell me what you thought of it," Sandy remarked, which wasn't entirely true, but she seemed to want open the discussion, and my immediate thought of a reply wasn't going to change that:

"Well, I won't tell you what I did the first time I read it, ..."

- they both snorted with brief smiles -

"... but it wasn't all new to me, but kind of nice to discover that some things I like aren't that unusual."

Sandy smiled with the slightest nod of agreement as Vivienne replied:

"Yeah, I guess so, ... if it was like that."

"When was that?" Sandy asked.

"Two years ago, on Fire Island with my sister and new brother-in-law. They had it."

"And you all ready had ..., uh, ... 'some things'?" Sandy asked, looking a little surprised, and Vivienne looked even more surprised.

"Um-hmm, but gentlemen don't tell, ... oh, she had also been with an airline."

I almost had said "with United," but managed to change words. Vivienne's nipples had popped out again just at that reference to her job. She changed the subject by saying that they were finished in the kitchen and asking if we wanted to open another bottle of wine.

I thought that she could have offered coffee, if she really wanted to change the subject; wine might loosen our tongues even more, but it was only just past seven-thirty, and Sandy nodded. Vivienne said that she had gotten it for the evening, anyway, so I agreed.