Tom and Sandy Ch. 02

Author's note: I had to laugh… even though I wrote the very first part of this story well over a year ago, the line where Tom read on the internet that "Gas prices were up. The house market was down. There was some kind of a thing happening in Los Angeles today" still pretty much holds true today. On second thought, maybe I shouldn't laugh…

Also, thanks for the comments. Keep them coming. They're why I write it…

*

Eight A.M. Thursday found Tom at his desk. With a looming deadline, a reasonable person would have expected him to be hunched over, tapping furiously at the keyboard. Or perhaps performing calculations, inputting a few equations into Excel, or at least making preliminary drawings on a pad of paper.

Not this Thursday.

Tom was sipping a cup of coffee, his feet on his desk.

It was this pose that brought him his best insights. He would sometimes sit for an hour, hardly moving, coffee getting cold, while he ran through designs in his mind. It was relaxing. Tom had an innate sense that this was a design that could be accomplished with some creative engineering. He just had to cull it out of his brain and onto a drawing.

Sandy was late again. Eight thirty ticked by and still Tom sat, almost motionless, at his desk. The design was forming. She was driving. They'd both arrive before the coffee pot was empty.

At eight-forty five, she strode by. She flipped a card onto his desk, hardly pausing. Before it landed, she was gone.

He blinked at the strange proceedings. No stranger, he supposed, than the events of the previous couple of days.

He picked up the card. It was in a red envelope, perhaps the size of a Christmas card. Hefting it, he could tell that there was just a card in it, nothing more. He fished out his pocketknife and slit the side. Removing the card, he began to read.

It is with great pleasure that I R.S.V.P. for the event scheduled for this Friday evening. I hope that semi-formal attire is acceptable; as I have not had the opportunity to procure a dress slinky enough for the expected activities. In any case, I expect any wardrobe choice I make will only become wrinkled as it lies upon your bedroom floor for a minimum period of four hours.

Expectantly,

Sandra

That smart-ass!

But Tom smiled. He expected her to make some sort of thrust at his boast from the previous day. He'd have been a little disappointed if she hadn't. Smile turning into a smirk, he took another sip. She'd soon find out whether it was a boast.

The design was finalized in his brain. It would involve some custom machined parts, but nothing a top-notch manufacturer couldn't handle. A precise shop drawing was in order to specify to the machinist what he required. This was what engineers got paid for.

Noon rolled around and he had hardly looked up. When Tom got in the zone, he was a whirling dervish of engineering creativity. The pumps he called out were standard, for the most part, with a few modifications to the normal blade lengths and intake valve diameters. A tweak to the diameter of the flow pipe at station 48+72 along the route ensured that the fluid velocity would remain within acceptable tolerances. The project was almost defeated. All that remained was to put it to paper.

His stomach growled. He hadn't eaten breakfast, per his M.O. For his entire life, he had preferred to sleep the extra 20 minutes it would take to feed himself in the morning. By noon, he was usually hungry.

Rising, he pondered lunch choices. Luciano's was a bit overdone lately. Perhaps something… more exotic… today?

"Thai it is!" he thought to himself.

"Lunch plans?" Tom poked his head around Sandy's door. She was gone.

He hadn't seen her leave. Ah, well.

The pad thai was superb. He'd ordered it medium, as the Thai immigrants that manned the noodle stand were unforgiving to anyone who dared order it hot. They seemed to take it as a challenge. He had learned on his second trip to the place that if you ordered it hot, HOT was the way you were going to get it. Even crying uncle to the chef as he had, his forehead was beaded with sweat before he was done.

Tom arrived back at the office a few minutes before one. Sandy wasn't back yet. Odd, she'd left before him and would get back after. Wonder what she was doing?

He continued to work on his project for another 45 minutes before he heard the front door open and close. Seconds later, Sandy darkened his doorway and stopped.

"Yes'm?"

"Guess what I just did?"

"Flew to New York, had lunch, and flew back?"

"Nope!" She didn't flinch at his jab.

"Hm, made sixty three-minute eggs?"

"Nope!"

"Well, what then?"

"Went to the mall. Bought something for my… formal occasion tomorrow night."

"What did you buy?"

"You'll find out if you're good!"

She smirked, turned, and left his office.

"This was the best decision I've ever made," Tom thought to himself.

The day passed uneventfully. The project reached somewhere around the 10% stage. He spoke with Chris about the details, learning of a few minor modifications that needed to be made. Nothing major, so he didn't estimate any additional time would be needed. He should be ready to present his 30% proposal on the due date.

At 5:00, Sandy poked her head in the door.

"I'm going home!"

"Are you, then?"

"Yes!"

This good mood of hers was unprecedented. He cocked his head at her, not sure how to feel.

"Well, I hope you have a good night."

"I won't. But, I bet I will tomorrow night! And for that, I'm happy."

He smiled at her. To gaze upon, she was so innocent. A youthful face, deep blue eyes, honey-colored locks cascading down around her face. He imagined what she'd look like with his semen dripping down her nose.

"I bet you will too."

Friday morning dawned clear and crisp. The air was still a bit cool. Spring was underway, the trees cautiously pushing forth blooms to beckon forward the onslaught of summer. Without the pressing heat of the season, they could not reproduce. Within it, there was a chance they'd be beaten into submission by the burning rays of a July sun. It was a reproductive dance that dated back to eons long forgotten.

Tom left for work at 7:00. That would put him in his office at about 7:20. He hoped he'd be able to get some work done. As a precaution, he'd worked late into the night to get ahead, knowing that he would get nothing done today. His anticipation level was too high, and besides, he had plans for the afternoon.

By 8:00 he'd caught up on the news. The Rangers had won. Only eight games out, now! If only the Angels would go into an 0-for-20 slump, they'd be right in it. If the A's would also lose a lot of games. And if Seattle didn't make a run. This might be their year.

Hope sprung eternal.

Sandy came in a few minutes after 8:00. She wore jeans, the best possible attire she could have chosen. Her ass was luscious in that pair, and Tom recognized that there was no chance that she could have missed that fact. She knew she had it, and today she was flaunting it. He smiled when she stopped in his doorway.

"Yes, ma'am?"

She said nothing. The grin she wore on her face was even more attractive than the denim that hugged her curves.

She looked upon him for a few seconds. Slowly, she sank into the chair in front of his desk. He broke into what he hoped was a winning smile. Finally, she spoke.

"Tom, I wanted you to know that I'm a little nervous."

"Why is that, Sandy?"

"Because I am afraid that I won't live up to what you're expecting."

"What do you think I'm expecting?"

"I… don't know. But I know your expectations are high, and to be honest, so are mine. I just wanted to tell you something…"

She paused.

He didn't speak. She was gathering her thoughts, and he would be stupid to interrupt that. She'd tell him what she had to say when she was ready.

"Well, I just wanted to say that I am… well, I'm feeling a lot of things right now. I feel anxious. I hope I'm what you want. You might have to guide me. I just… well, I'm not very experienced at this sort of thing."

Tom nodded. She had more to say.

"I'm nervous. I trust you, but the amount of trust I've put into you is beyond anything I ever thought I would be able to summon for a man. I hope you understand that."

"I do."

"I guess most of all, I'm… oh God, Tom, I'm more aroused than I've ever been in my life. BUT! I want you to know that I have refrained from… satisfying myself… since I knew that I would be coming over. Tonight will be the first time I've… well, you know… since uh… Wednesday morning. In the shower, you know…"

He smiled.

"I promise that I will do whatever I can to make sure it was worth it."

"I'm glad to hear that."

There was more forthcoming.

Finally, she put her cards on the table. "Tom… can I ask you something?"

"Anything, Sandra."

"If I don't live up to what you are expecting, will you… teach me? I can be what you want, but if I'm not, the first time… will you show me the way? I am putting an enormous amount of trust in you, and I just hope that you'll be patient with me."

Tom considered. He was almost giddy with anticipation with regard to the night to come, but he knew he needed to assure her. She was right; the amount of trust she was placing in him was titanic. He had to admit to himself that he, too, hoped he could live up to her expectations.

"Sandra, I want you to know that nothing you could say or do would disappoint me. If you decided that this whole thing wasn't for you, I'd expect only that you told me so, and I would shake your hand and we could go our separate ways. Don't worry about my expectations; my only hope is that we can enjoy each other while we have the chance."

Her eyes were suddenly wet.

"How do you always know how to say exactly what I want to hear?"

"Just lucky, I guess."

She blushed, arose, and walked to the door. Turning, she had one more thing to say.

"But don't count on me deciding any such thing."

Flashing that sexy smile, she was gone.

Tom tried to concentrate on his work. The morning slowly drifted by. He got a few mundane details taken care of, but overall, he was extremely unproductive. It was ok, because he'd known that such would be the case. His extra work in the previous days would keep him on schedule.

At noon, he walked down to Sandy's office. She was there, staring absently at her monitor. Noticing him standing in her doorway, she looked up and smiled.

"Yes, sir?"

"I… need the afternoon off. I have… an appointment… er… yeah, a doctor's appointment."

"Do you, now? Something I need to be aware of?" Her smile turned into a smirk. She enjoyed sparring with him.

"Yeah, I've got this burning sensation… well, it's more of a rash, really… I guess I might need some penicillin or something. I'm sure they'll be able to clear it up like they always do."

Her grin twitched. That look that he adored flashed through her visage. He always seemed to be able to turn her knobs. He hoped he'd be able to turn them correctly when it counted.

"Okay then. I will let Chris know. How is the project coming?"

Tom supposed that she did need some input from him regarding the drainage project. After all, it was a big contract and they did have a job to do.

"It's in good shape. I'll be ready on Monday like I told him. The parts are pretty much off-the-shelf with a few tweaks."

"Great. I'm looking forward to the presentations you'll be making in the next few days." She winked at him. His knees nearly buckled at the elegance, the sensuality, of her long lashes fluttering at him. Her eye shadow was immaculate, as always. She was a real artist with her makeup.

"I think you'll be impressed."

"Really? I've been disappointed in the past. Sometimes the exhibitions don't even last five minutes."

"My God, what is her husband thinking? He should be fucking her twice daily, and at lunch on Thursdays!"

He decided to play along.

"I've got a long powerpoint that I think you'll enjoy. By the time I'm finished I think you'll be convinced that my way of doing business is in your best interests."

She was clearly fighting the urge to laugh.

"I'm not sure, there are a lot of contractors out there that will install pipe anywhere you want it."

"Yes, but you have to pay for it."

"A properly placed pipe is worth every penny."

He nearly lost control of himself. This woman was running with him, stride for stride. And she was getting the better of it!

"Sandy, when it comes to laying pipe, you want someone who does it because they enjoy it, not someone who only wants a paycheck."

"Seems to me that the only thing that matters is that the fluid flows when it's supposed to."

He stared at her, trying to resist a desperate urge to burst into laughter. She looked upon him steadily, but he could tell that she was fighting the same battle. They both knew she was about to win this verbal sparring match. He was drawing a blank!

Finally, inspiration struck.

"Sandy, in my experience, it's not the pipe itself that is important, but whether the final design satisfies the customer."

Her eyes met his. He gazed at those gorgeous blue eyes, drinking in their depth. He knew he was out of ammo for this skirmish. Before she could respond, he spoke.

"I'll see you at five."

Turning on his heel, he left.

Driving home, he noted that some gray clouds were gathering in the western skies. That was good; they needed some rain. His lawn was not greening up the way it had last year, when rain had been plentiful.

He had a few things to do before she came over. His plans for the evening were elaborate. He really did intend to show her the time of her life. Arriving home, he put the dog out and set about his preparations. The house was immaculate already, but he wanted it to be perfect. The bathrooms got cleaned. The dishwasher was run. The hardwood floor got a Swiffer-ing.

Then, he set himself to preparing dinner. He was actually a pretty fair cook, if his friends were any judge. For the evening, he had chosen something fairly light, as he didn't want any heavy food to slow down their later activities. Capellini, angel hair pasta to the American tongue, with seared chicken breast and a white wine sauce would be the main course. For an appetizer, some bruschetta, and a nice crème brûlée for dessert. To complement the proceedings, he had chosen a chardonnay to be served at request throughout the entire meal. He had bought 3 bottles; although he didn't expect that they'd consume all of that, he did not want to be found wanting as far as anything was concerned. This was to be a night for indulgences.

Five o' clock arrived. He knew she'd be taking off from work about now. It was a twenty minute drive, for a woman who didn't stop off for a drink or two to steel her courage. He wasn't exactly sure when she'd arrive.

POP!

The cork on the first bottle of chardonnay announced its departure from the snug home it had recently occupied. He poured himself a glass and sipped on it as he buzzed about the house, making sure that everything was in readiness.

The doorbell rang at 5:30. Tom strolled to the front door, half-empty wine glass in hand. He nearly dropped it when he opened the door.

If there was a more angelic figure in heaven or earth, Tom had never even dreamed of it. She wore a sheer white dress, with spaghetti straps over her shoulders, and a diving neckline. Her hair had been retouched so that her long curls flowed fresh around her shoulders. Her waist contracted as seductively as always, but now was set off by a black sash circumnavigating her luscious tummy, terminating in a loose knot just underneath her navel. The hem of the dress hung loose just above her knee. White hose hugged her slender legs, their pristine paleness offset by a pair of black heels. It was his favorite pair; opened toed, but with a strap slung high around her heel. He suspected she'd caught him eyeing them, and knew to wear them tonight, as it was seldom that she chose them for her work attire.

Her immaculate curves were perfectly presented while she stood demurely in front of him. The dress hugged her hips; it must have been custom tailored to fit such an exquisite figure. Not many women could pull this off. The average woman would have just looked silly in a dress cut so. For anyone without the blessing of Marilyn Monroe's hourglass proportionality, that dress would have been tight at the waist and loose at the hips. She must have expected that he'd want to drink her in; she'd never wear something this formal to work. It was a good thing she didn't, because none of the male employees would ever get any work done if she did.

The only thing missing was a halo.

"You're late."

Her eyes widened at his authoritative tone.

"I… well it's a bit of a drive… and I…"

She blushed when she saw him smiling at her.

"Just kidding, Sandy. There's no need to be nervous. I'm just as anxious as you are, but you are welcome here."

She flashed a smile, and entered.

"Oh, hey, why don't you pull your car into the garage? That way it won't be visible to anyone who happens to drive by…"

She took his meaning. She walked back out and after he opened the garage door for her, she pulled her Kompressor in. Holding out his arm, he escorted her inside.

She surveyed his house anew. It had been 48 hours since she'd been there, but the accommodations were fresher now, more studiously attended to. Tom was glad he'd spent the extra time tidying up.

"Wine, Madame?"

She seemed startled by his sudden appearance beside her with a fresh glass. She'd been looking around, and hadn't noticed him slip off to pour her libation.

"Yes, I'd love some, thank you."

"Let me know what you think of it. I find that the 2001 vintage California chardonnay was pretty respectable as far as that genre of wines goes."

She suppressed a smile, but took a sip.

"Tastes fine to me."

"Great, because that's all we have! I'd hate to think of us forcing down an entire bottle of bad wine…"

She peered at him over her glass. He was dressed in his slacks, with a blue polo shirt that he felt made the best of his slightly-above-average musculature. He wore socks, and as always, a pair of brown leather shoes that looked ok in most situations.

Tom cleared his throat.

"Sandy, I wanted to tell you that I really appreciate you being here tonight. It isn't often that I get to cook for such an exquisite woman."

"It's my pleasure… sir."

His eyes snapped up. She was blushing deeply, but her eyes were locked on his. He knew that what she had just said spoke volumes about her intentions.

"That isn't necessary… tonight. Tonight, we are a couple on a date. And I think you'll be swept off your feet. What you are about to go through will truly be an… orgasmic… experience."

Her blush deepened.

"And then, after dinner, I'm really going to show you a good time!"

She burst into laughter.

Collecting herself, she spoke.

"Tom… every word you say makes me feel reassured that what I have done is the right thing. It makes me forget about my problems. Most of all… well, since I promised I'd be honest with you… it makes me want to just skip dinner."

Tom took two strides and wrapped his arms around her waist, being careful not to cause her to spill any wine.

"Sandy…"

"Yes, sir?"

Her blue eyes fluttered at him, with a desire that couldn't be missed. He gazed at her for a pregnant second.