A Secret Admirer

"When did this get here?" Nicholas Beauchene asked those around him, holding up an interoffice mail envelope. In the "Tombs," as the rest of the Beverwyck Insurance Company calls the main office's information technology department, interoffice mail never arrives before noon and Beauchene had just arrived at his desk.

"It was here when I got here," fellow programmer Natalie Harrison answered. She shook her head. "I don't know. Someone must have deemed it important I guess."

He shrugged his shoulders and opened the envelope. Inside was a plain white letter-size envelope addressed to him. He opened it and pulled out the letter. He sat after reading the first sentence, finishing it quickly. He slowly looked up and stared blankly.

"What's wrong?" Harrison asked. She walked to his desk and took the letter from his hand. She skimmed quickly the words, coming to the end and understanding the reason for his expressionless face. The letter was from a secret admirer, a woman that has a crush on him. She's invited him to lunch on Saturday, the following day. She will be distinguished from the other women at the Passion Café by wearing red.

"What are you going to do?" She placed the letter on his desk and stood over him like a big sister.

He slowly turned his head to her. "I don't know." He inhaled and closed his eyes. He did a quick inventory of those women at the company that could have sent him such a letter, those single and divorced women who could have such feelings for him. The list wasn't long, a few secretaries on the executive level and a few more file clerks throughout the building came to mind, even some of the divorced mature women in claims. He dismissed them all; not believing any of them could write such a letter to him.

"I think you should go," she said. She giggled and added, "Hey, you never know. You might get lucky."

He gave her a sarcastic laugh and put the letter in his desk. He went to answer, give a good funny quip, but left it within his mind. "Yeah, I guess so."

She laughed at her desk. "You do need it."

"You think so?"

"I know so. It's been far too long since the bitch left you and the divorce is official."

"I went for an annulment."

"So your future bride, if any, could have a Catholic church wedding?"

He nodded. "I think that was the best thing, since she basically abandoned me for that prick when he flashed his cash in her face."

"You're better off without her," another woman added. Jennifer Matthews was another programmer, an older woman who was there for him when his marriage crumbled.

Nicholas spun his chair towards her direction. "How times have I told you that you were right?"

She sat on her chair and smiled broadly. "Not enough times."

He rolled his eyes and turned to his monitor.

"I guess that means he doesn't want to play anymore," Harrison said.

"Yes it does," Matthews added as she turned her computer on.

*****

It was difficult for him to concentrate on work: his mind wandered too often on who could have authored the letter, who was his secret admirer. He didn't speculate aloud. He knew no one get any work done and the two women would ask him personal questions, ones that he was not ready to answer. He came up with a list of five possible women.

The first that came to mind was the 18-year-old in claims. Carla Warrington began working last June and immediately took a shine to him, followed him around during the summer picnic and danced with him twice at the Christmas party. He admitted to himself that being with her wouldn't be such a bad thing, but there could be drawbacks: clinginess and marriage on her mind were two.

The second most logical woman was Belinda Jackson. Belinda worked in claims as a representative. At 29, she was older than Nicholas was. She was also divorced. She had no children and from their conversations, she was happy with it. Nicholas wasn't sure if she had the feelings for him professed in the letter, but he really didn't know her feelings for him beyond being a good friend.

Next on his list was Marie Hightower. A redhead and very outgoing, Marie would spend much of her free time around his desk, trying to get him to get out of IT and into her department: Production. She was his age and had the same level of education. He felt, though, if she had romantic feelings for him, she would tell him to his face.

Fourth name to come to him was Charlotte Nance. A blond-haired beauty hired a month earlier; she worked with the executive assistants as a general office person. She was curvy, a female feature that all too often made him drool without him realizing. He knew she was single: she was one of his dance partners during the Christmas party.

Finally, Phyllis Simmons came to his mind. An older woman -- 47 and divorced -- she was the Claims Department manager, making any relationship tricky. He knew she had some feelings for him: She tried to kiss him at the summer picnic. He didn't believe, though, she would write a secret admirer letter. She was the type that would tell him to his face her feelings for him.

He had the list thought of and for the most part dismissed before leaving for the day. He didn't tell either of his female co-workers he had a list of possibilities but did tell them both he would go and meet this secret admirer and have a report for them on Monday morning.

*****

"What the Hell am I doing?" Nicholas asked himself in the mirror. He stood in front of it while he brushed his hair. "Do I really need to meet her, know who she is?" He shook his head and placed the brush on the shelf.

He was dressed, deciding to wear a colored t-shirt under one of his dress shirts and a pair of black jeans. He left the top shirt untucked. He debated on whether to wear a pair of hiking boots or sneakers. He decided the boots would be best: winter weather is always unpredictable. He looked at himself once more, to make sure he looked presentable, before leaving the house.

The drive downtown took less than five minutes, but the search for a parking spot took twice as long. Once he found a spot and parked, Nicholas exhaled deeply and readied himself, giving another thought of who it could be. He didn't have a clue as to who was his secret admirer. He smiled, shrugged his shoulders, and headed out.

"Welcome to Passion Café," a young raven-haired teen told him as he entered. Her light blue eyes had a twinkle when he returned the smile.

"Are you taking out or dining in?" she continued.

"I'm supposed to meet someone, so I guess I'm eating in."

She smiled and walked to the host station. Picking up a small piece of paper, she asked, "Are you Nicholas?"

He smiled. "Not going to attempt to say Beauchene?"

She shook her head and pointed towards the booths in the back. "The woman is in one of the back booths. She said you know what to look for."

"Thank you," Nicholas said. He inhaled deeply and closed his eyes in an effort to calm his nerves. He was ready for this, he told himself. There's nothing to fear. He exhaled and walked to the back.

She was sitting with her back to him, to the door. She was wearing a red sweater. He noticed that she had long brown hair, done up in a bun. He knew that hairstyle and it shock him that she was his secret admirer.

"Hello," he whispered.

She jumped slightly, frightened by his silent walk. She turned and faced him. Her dark brown eyes lit up when she smiled. She stood and held out her hand.

"Nicholas you came," Sylvia Heywood said, barely above a whisper. "I didn't think you would come."

Sylvia was an executive assistant to one of the vice presidents, Nicholas was unsure of which one. He knew that she had been with the company a few years before he was hired. He didn't know her age, but was sure that she was older, in her mid-30s. She didn't look it: to him, she could have not yet turned 30.

Being honest to himself, he had a crush on her since the first time he saw her, during his introductory tour through all the departments. He noticed her curves, noticed that that her breasts strained her blouse's material. He knew that nothing would amount to this feeling, however, since he was married to a similarly built woman.

Taking her hand and gently squeezing it, he tried to calm her fears. "Why would you think that?" He sat in the bench across from her. He noticed that she had a cup of coffee and a croissant while waiting for him.

She exhaled and looked down at the crumbs on the table. "I've seen you around the women in the office. You seem to be surrounded by women that are younger and skinnier than me."

He reached across and picked her chin up. He looked into her eyes and smiled. "Have you heard of me dating them?"

She shook her head.

"And you won't." A wicked smirked came to his face as he continued, "My taste in women, in spite of what my former wife did, runs towards the curvaceous, the wide hipped, the ample-bodied."

Her eyes widened and a small grin began to appear. "Then why do you spend time with the skinny chicks?"

"It's not me that does the hanging, but the reverse is true. They come to me." He swallowed hard, knowing that he was about to share some personal information. "It's like since my wife left me those are the women that want to know me better, like they want to help me get over her."

She reached out and touched his hands. "I didn't know that. I am so sorry. If I may ask, when did she leave you?"

He chuckled and grinned. "You can ask. I'm over it. She left me about a year ago, left me for someone she worked with, someone with money."

"I know that you have an annulment. That was spread through the company." She held his hands a beat longer before taking hers away.

For the first time since he sat, Nicholas noticed that he was very comfortable with her. He didn't feel nervous any longer. He felt that he could be open and honest with her. He had a question to ask her, but it stayed unasked. A server showed up at their booth.

The young blonde smiled. "Would you care to order something now, or do you need a menu?"

Nicholas smiled and answered, "A large Dr Pepper, please."

"Nothing to eat?" both women asked. All three laughed.

He shook his head. "I'm too thirsty at the moment to think of food."

"A large Pepper," she said. She turned and walked to the service station.

Alone with Sylvia, Nicholas asked, "Did you know I had a crush on you the first time I saw you?"

She blushed; her cheeks turned a bright red. He could tell that he embarrassed her and rose to an apology as his soft drink arrived.

"I didn't know that," she admitted. She swallowed hard and smiled devilishly. "If I had known that, I might have teased you."

"More than you have?" he quipped.

She slowly nodded. "You have no idea of what I would have done to you."

He looked into her eyes, debating on how honest he could be with her. He wanted to tell her that her outfit - a red blouse with a plunging neckline and bra that allowed him to look down onto the tops of her large breasts -- excited him. He wanted to confess that he see them, see the color of her areolae; see her large nipples free of her bra.

Sylvia must of have sensed he was looking down her blouse: she leaned over and smiled. Nicholas felt her foot rub against a leg.

"Do you want to get out of her and go someplace else?" she asked.

He was shocked at her candor. He didn't expect it from his "Secret Admirer," a woman that had to write me a letter to invite him to lunch. Nicholas nodded and asked, "Where should we go?"

Sylvia looked at him and lowered her head. She opened her mouth, ready to tell him, but stopped. The waitress returned.

"Is everything okay?"

"Yes, fantastic," Sylvia said.

"Can I get either of you anything else?"

Nicholas smiled and answered. "Please, just the check."

The server smiled and pulled out both checks. Nicholas grabbed Sylvia's before she could look at it.

"You can pay the cashier," the young blonde said before leaving.

Without missing a beat, Sylvia spoke. "I think we should go back to my place."

He grinned. "I like the sound of that."

She reached into her purse and removed a small notebook. She quickly wrote something and ripped the page out. Handing it to him she whispered, "Give me an hour, please." She replaced the notebook, pulled out a $5 bill, and placed it on the table. "For the waitress," she said before leaving.

Nicholas watched her as she walked away, his eyes squarely on her wide hips and large bottom. He was lost in her sway, his mind wandering off on how it would look, was going to look, naked. He watched as she walked out of the café.

"Nice, isn't it?" a female voice said, breaking his lustful daydream.

Nicholas looked at the woman who commented: it was the server. He knitted his brow in confusion.

She leaned in and whispered, "I like girls, too. You're a lucky, lucky man." She touched his elbow and smiled naughtily before leaving him.

Nicholas shook his head and chuckled at his fortune. He picked up the piece of paper and looked at the address. He knew the area had high-priced and large apartments. He removed his wallet and headed to the cashier to pay the checks.

*****

Nicholas Beauchene arrived at her apartment building and walked onto the front porch. He saw a note, addressed to him, "Walk in but lock the door after you." He put the note into his front pocket, walked in and locked the door.

He softly ascended the stairs to her second floor apartment. She taped another note to the door, "Welcome and have a glass of wine." He opened the door and saw several bottles of wine and glasses placed on a coffee table. He closed the door, removed his boots, and walked to the wine. He picked up a bottle of red and poured himself a small amount. He looked around for a place to sit. He saw a note on a chair.

"Please, make yourself comfortable. Enjoy the wine and relax. You'll know when it's time to come to me." Nicholas gave a chuckle and sat in the oversized chair. He took a sip and placed the glass on a coaster she placed on an end table.

He looked around, absorbing her taste in furniture and books. Sylvia modestly furnished her apartment: the living area had a television, another coffee table, and a couch bookended by end tables. He turned around and saw she turned the dining room into a sitting room. She had two soft chairs and a matching love seat, plus a coffee table that held the wine and glasses. In addition, she had an old writing desk and a tall bookcase, filled completely with an eclectic assortment of novels and anthologies. He made note to ask her if she was a writer or just an avid reader.

"Welcome to my home, Nicholas," he heard. He stood and was ready to call out to her, to ask where she was, but saw a door open. He knew it was her bedroom.

The nerves returned. It had been far too long since he had sex, longer than he cared to remember. He didn't fear that he wouldn't remember how to do it. His fear was in whether or not he could control his orgasm.

With each step, his heart beat faster. He tried to calm his nerves, breathing deeply and holding it for a five count before exhaling. In the past, it worked to control his anxiety, before tests, being on stage, or on the playing fields. It worked to some extent this time, but not totally. He was sweating in anticipation to what was to come.

A few more steps and he was the threshold. Nicholas stood and looked inside. His mouth was ajar. Never did he think she would be like this, like this in the dim candle light, not so soon after admitting to being his admirer. He was spellbound. His nose could detect the hint of musk and vanilla, two smells he loved. Romantic soft jazz serenaded his ears were serenaded that sent his mind to sensual thoughts. Most of all, it was her, what his eyes saw.

Barely dressed in red lace and satin, her legs exposed, red lingerie, his weakness. It covered not much, but hid quite a lot. With each heavy breath, her large breasts strained against the delicate fabric. He wanted to leap quickly and pounce on her with animalistic fervor, but those thoughts flitted away.

He caught himself starting to drool. Calmly and quickly, he wiped the left corner of his mouth, hoping she did not catch it. A mischievous smile came to her face; she did.

"I see I make your mouth water," she cooed. With a twinkle in her eye, she turned ever so slightly, her hard, dark pink nipples pushing hard against the red lace. He felt an electric shock race through his body as a hint of areola showed in the mesh that moved.

"Oh, I guess you want to see more of these?" she toyed, cupping her large breasts and pushing them together. He was motionless, paralyzed by both her actions and sexuality. "Want to see more?"

A slight nod was all he could muster as sweat poured from his forehead. He began to ache, his pants strained by a growing demonstration of affection.

"Oh my," she whispered. "Looks like you do want to see more. Well then, come here and show me." She wiggled over and patted the bed. "Come here lover."

He needed not another invite. He slowly moved, ripping off his shirts. A few more steps, and his pants and shorts were also on the floor.

"Oh my," was all she could whisper as his arms wrapped around her, his lips meeting hers. His lips were hot, his embrace hotter. She moaned as she moved her body to reach his, to meet his.

"Oh God, take me," she whispered as his lips traveled to her neck, her weak spot. His hands answered her request; he removed the straps from her shoulders. Silently, he lifted himself off and pulled down her lace, exposing her chest. He lunged forward, taking as much a breast into his mouth as he could. No words came to his mind that could adequately describe how well she had hidden her chest's true size from him.

"Oh, sweet," she cooed. His hot lips cupped her nipple, his tongue flicked over it. "Oh God, I can almost cum. God damn it."

Her breathing labored more with each brush of her hard nipple. Her hips began to buck, her head rolled back. She pulled him down firmly, moaning for him to suck and suck hard.

Barely audibly, she cooed, "God baby, oh my God, baby!" She inhaled sharply relaxing her lungs. "You are making me cum," she panted, a stop between each syllable.

"Oh, yes!" She stopped bucking, her heart pounding hard against her chest; he could feel it wanting to come out. He paused for a moment to look into her eyes. A wonderful smile of contentment showed on both their faces.

Nicholas moved closer to her mouth. Looking longingly into her eyes, he kissed her lips. She moaned slightly, her hands placed lovingly on his back. Their lips met, an electric shock traveled through her body.

"God, you make me feel so good," she cooed, his lips moving to her neck. She arched her back as he touched her 'spot', the place that causes her to lose her inhibitions.

"Take me, take me now," she moaned when his lips reached her breasts. His heart raced when his mouth found her hardened nipple.

"God," was all she could utter as he worked on her body. Nicholas' mouth and tongue sucked and licked her bosom, his fingers massaging her thigh. She reached for his hand and moved it upwards, faster. He took the hint and found her wetness.

"Fuck me," she whispered, her hand now working on his hardness. Stroking gently, firmly, leading him in between her legs. "Fuck me, now!"

"Yes, yes Sweetie," he answered. Slowly, gently, he moved himself between her spread thighs, his cock sliding in perfectly.

"God, yes," she cried as her body reacted to this splendid, sweet invasion. She arched her back, rolled her hips forward, taking in him deeper. "Oh yes," she added as he bottomed.

He was speechless, he had nothing come to his mind. He never thought he would have another woman, not after what had happened to him, the deception and betrayal. Now, he was with her, and it was glorious.