Aimme's Wish: A Dark Spark

New posting in the Phoenix portion of a national dating site:

'Hi, I am Aimee, new to Phoenix, new car, new job, new everything! If you are a gainfully employed male, between 27 and 37, in shape, with a good sense of humor, drop me a note! In the mirror I see a bored girl, looking to be overwhelmed by a strong, new force. Help out this girl!"

This dating site bragged that a video gave the reader a better impression than three dates. But evidently Aimee did not want anyone to divine that much information from her. She just posted her photo, made from about four feet away. She was smiling, doing the victory sign, evidently at a football game.

Aimee sported medium length sandy colored hair. She appeared to be in her late 20s. It looked she was roughly 5'4" with a great body.. Likely early braces formed her perfect teeth that highlighted a pleasant, open face. She reminded me of Ginger Zee, on ABC.

With a cute pic attached, queries would bury her.

Feeling as futile as a limping coyote eyeing a young deer, I responded. To give myself any chance, in the subject line I entered "Helloooo Aimee! Pic attached!" I did not post a pic or a profile on the dating site. I just sent it to her. The last girl that said she enjoyed water sports on this site later told me she at least liked to dance in the shower.

Email to Aimee, via dating site:

"You are cute! You remind me of Ginger Zee, the morning weather lady on Good Morning America on ABC! I am Ross, 32, divorced, no kids. I would love to buy you a drink. Let me know if we can meet sometime. Ross."

After no response, in a couple of days, I forgot about Aimee. Over the next two weeks, a para-legal slept over three nights at random. After a late night with friends, Susie was still conked out in my bed when I checked email.

"Helloooooo Ross!" from Aimee flashed in the subject line.

Email to Ross:

"Hi Ross! Sorry I am just now getting back to you. Ginger Zee, uh? That is quite a compliment! I have received a couple of hundred queries at least. A girlfriend scolded me for posting my pic. I am new to this. I have not had much luck. A lot of graphic responses, let's just say. Plus, hardly anyone correctly spells anymore.

And all the shortcut r's and u's. Okay for texts. But if a person does not have time to write a decent email response responding to a dating website post, that person would not have time for me. So, if you are still interested, tell me about yourself. You are cute, too!"

Email to Aimee:

"I am 5'10", 175. Played college baseball and I still work out daily. You can see from my pic that my hair and eyes are brown. Are your eyes blue? They appear to be.

I am an attorney. I hesitate to mention that, since I do not know if that helps or hurts, lol! I have various hobbies, but I don't want to bore you with that. My offer stands, to meet you at Starbucks or a watering hole, and buy you a drink. Or you can call my cell [number given]. I hope to hear from you soon. Or, if you want to correspond a bit, tell me whatever about yourself that you are willing to share."

Email to Ross:

"Thanks for responding, Ross. Well...as my posting mentioned, I just moved here. I had a transfer offer from my company that was really enticing. Maybe I would not have left San Diego if I had not recently divorced. No kids. So, I thought I would try Phoenix. If I don't like it here, my situation is unique. I can likely return to Cal. Most people do not have that flexibility. What kind of attorney are you?"

Email to Aimee:

"I am a bad-ass-don't fool-with-me litigation attorney. Well, that is hopefully not too much of an exaggeration. Even if you don't like attorneys, I am at least in your posted age range! What are your hobbies?"

E-mail to Ross:

"I played soccer at Pepperdine. So, I guess that makes us two jocks. I am 29. I am a technical writer for a Fortune 500 company. My dad taught me golf. My ex-husband taught me tennis. But I am rusty at both.

I sorta lied to you, ho ho. I have met a couple of men on this site. One date for both.

Not bad types, but they did not curl my toes. I am coming to grips that I guess I am looking for a bad boy. I have never had one, unlike most girls. My ex and my boy friends prior to that have all been squishy beta types. I am not asking you to be anything you are not.

Let's try this: on our first date, what exciting thing could we do besides meet for a drink?"

I hesitated. I have my private pilot's license, and have access to a couple of planes. But she might not be confident about my flying skills. And a couple of hours flying with someone I did not hit it off with would be hard on both of us.

Email to Aimee:

"What about a hot air balloon ride? A friend a half hour away will take us up. We can have some wine and cheese and enjoy the view."

I didn't mention that I really wanted to take the ride. But Susie was not keen on the idea. A bankrupt client, who owed me money, would give us a first class, free, nice afternoon balloon trip.

Email to Ross:

"Hmmm...I am thinking this over. Maybe so. But for conversation, let's go another way. Sexually, what could you do for me, which perhaps might be new? I have led a sheltered life. This is for discussion purposes only.

You might not like my looks in person or you might not like me on general principles. Let's just assume there will be a mutual "hot" attraction. And not immediately, but soon, lol, our attraction leads to whoopee. I am waiting with baited breath for your erotic response, ha ha."

Email to Aimee:

"Aimee, you have my cell number, if you want to talk. I think I am good in bed, but I don't have enough imagination to propose anything new. I have access to a friend's cabin cruiser on a lake a couple of hours from here. We could make love on the water. In college I slept on a water bed. I called it Victory at Sea. My girlfriend for two years called it Disaster on the Waves."

Aimee did not respond promptly, as before. I regretted my attempt at water bed humor. Depreciating one's sexual abilities generates a cheap laugh, but in totality, is not good. I watched for a response from Aimee for a couple of days. Perhaps she was traveling. Or, testing another candidate. Likely she would respond, with a mournful dating story. I would at last ride to the rescue

Three weeks went by. More sleepovers with Susie. But nothing from Aimee.

Email to Aimee:

"I regret that I have not heard from you lately. Have you ever been on a date with two guys at once?"

Email to Ross, within minutes:

"No Ross, I have not been on a date with two guys at one time. I barely handle one on ones. Have you?

I don't mean have you dated two guys at one time, lol. Have you and another guy been on a "date" with one girl?"

I hesitated. The evidence was clear. With the normal repartee, I had struck out with Aimee. But discussing my life's wildest fling with her seemed to be the only way forward.

Email to Aimee:

"I have not been on dates as much as arranged threesomes. All have been with one male friend. He usually lines up the lady. I have a couple of times."

Again, I paused. Did I really want to do this? She said she wanted to try something new. Did she know what the new was? Perhaps Aimee did, but did not want to admit it. Or perhaps she did not know what she wanted.

I added, "My friend is a Black stud. He is the star."

E-mail to Ross, within seconds:

"Tell me about your Black friend."

Email to Aimee:

"He is 31, very dark. He is 6'5", 260, muscular, big not overdeveloped arms, large chest with six-pack abs, shaved head, smooth handsome face, a good dresser. He played defensive end in the PAC 12 Conference, graduated. He still lifts weights 2 or 3 times a week."

I thought some more. Would the addendum help or hurt? Might as well go for it. I added "Nine thick inches. "

No response from Aimee. I showered, fixed coffee. Still no response.

Email to Aimee:

"Still online?"

Email to Ross, within seconds:

"I am still processing this. Are you exaggerating? Some puffery involved here? I have never dated a Black guy. I have wanted to. Thought about it a lot...but I married young. And there are not a lot of Black guys where I hang."

Email to Aimee:

'No puffery. And he considers himself to be a stud horse."

Email to Ross:

"A stud horse? Please explain."

Email to Aimee:

"He has a prize stud horse. He earns big fees to let his horse breed expensive mares. My friend thinks that he, himself, is a potent, superior breeder, with great bloodlines, just like his prize stud horse.

These days, for animal breeding, the semen is usually captured and shipped. But for cutting horse breeding, most of the time it is still done the old-fashioned way. The mare to be bred is put together with the male stud horse."

Email to Ross:

"Oh, you don't know how your friend's attitude floats my boat. I would likely still be married if Steve and I had been able to have children. The docs checked us both out. There was no biological reason that I could not conceive. But it did not happen. Steve's frustration grew, mine too. The frustration eventually totaled our marriage.

I am not bringing children into this world without a ring on my finger. But your friend sounds like a strong force that I need, that perhaps I have been searching for, to give me a spark, to get me out of my rut. Are you offended? I am not saying that I am not interested in you, too."

Email to Aimee:

"No, I am not offended. And it is hard to embarrass me at this point. He is the boss in the bedroom."

No response. A few minutes passed.

Email to Aimee:

"Still there?"

Email to Ross:

"I am confused. Since I have never been in a threesome, maybe I am missing something. What do you mean that your friend is the boss in the bedroom. What about democracy? Lol. "

I felt uncomfortable. Perhaps I should have not added that.

Email to Aimee:

"Forget about the boss in the bedroom part."

Email to Ross:

"You have me curious. What do you mean that he is the boss in the bedroom?"

Email to Aimee:

"In regular dating situations, I am normal. Don't you think so? But in this threesome, I am the stud teaser. The jokester." I hoped this satisfied her.

A long thirty minutes later, my phone rang. I answered.

No words, but hard breathing on the other end. "This is Aimee," her voice a whisper.

My heart pounded. Long way from reeling her in, but I had her nibbling.

"I am very, very, glad you called."

More silence. "I am shocked that I worked up the courage to call. I doubted I could do it."

"Well,,,Ross...where do we go from here?"

"Do you know Starbucks on Camelback?"

"No...but I guess I can find it."

"Why don't we meet there tomorrow at 7 p.m.? If that is not good for Vic, I will let you know."

"Vic...so that is his name. I have been thinking about what his name might be. Okay...if I don't get cold feet."

"How will I know you?" I asked. For a moment I forgot about her photo. She did too, evidently.

"Let me think...I will wear a sky-blue sleeveless blouse."

"What color is sky blue?"

More hesitation. "The color of the sky."

Dumbass! "Oh yeah, obvious. My bad. I will see you then!" She was not in the mood for small talk. I did not want to risk screwing things up.

I arrived fifteen minutes early. At seven sharp, she strolled in, saw me wave, smiled, and re-arranged her shades to the top of her head.

She was gorgeous, as if her dating site photo was made on a bad day. About 5'4", with a knockout body carrying a nice, slightly above average-sized chest, with olive skin. Her sandy hair was bunched in a twist. Indeed, she looked like Ginger Zee.

Sher sported a white, mid-length skirt, the promised blouse, and golden pumps. Earrings with turquoise inlays swung, with an accompanying pearl necklace. A bracelet and rings adorned arms and fingers. Daddy's money screamed.

She shook my hand and smiled. She looked a little embarrassed. "Ross, it is nice to finally meet you."

"Same here. Any trouble finding this place?"

She sat down. She looked around, eyeing the crowd. Neither of us ordered. "GPS and i-phone directions are the greatest thing, since, well, something! I have been near here, but not on this street, I don't think!"

"So, you do you like Phoenix?"

Aimee grinned. "Yeah, but being from San Diego, the heat takes some getting used to. You know what they say, folks here think they are in heaven in February and in hell in August."

I laughed. "I had to get to the heat, too. I moved here from Colorado Springs."

She sighed, looked around again. And with her elbows on the table, she placed her fingers on her forehead, and waggled her head, with an incredulous look.

"I cannot believe I worked up the courage to come here! I may bolt for the door at any time!"

I laughed. "Relax,"

She rubbed her neck, as if to release stress.

I noticed her Tri Delt pin. Likely at her age, she was involved in an alum chapter, at least back home.

I asked "Do you know why Tri Delts do not like group sex?"

I pointed my finger at her. "All those thank you notes."

She smiled but did not chuckle. "That is definitely true of Thetas. And you? Takes a Greek to kid another Greek."

"Fiji. From even one of the even wilder than usual chapters."

"What college, Ross?"

"Acuna Tech." There is no such place.

She did not hear me. She was checking out a well-built Black guy at the bar.

"Aimee that guy at the bar is not Vic. Not as big as Vic. Not as good looking, either."

She ducked her head and slowly looked around. "So, I figured Vic is somewhere here checking me out. But if that is not him, I do not see another possible Vic."

I reached for my phone. I nodded at her. " I have it on vibrate."

I answered, or pretended to. "Yes, that's too bad, Vic. Yep, I will let her know."

"That was Vic, He said he had an unexpected Zoom meeting. He said he is very sorry. Hopefully he can meet you another time. Like, real soon, just not tonight, unfortunately."

Aimee's smile froze. She tried to hide her disappointment. She chuckled and shrugged. She waved her palms and shook her head. " I totally understand. Happens to me too."

There was an uncomfortable silence. Finally, I offered, "Look, I know you came her to meet Vic. But as you can see, I am a verrrry... charming guy. Let me show you a good time."

"Yes, that would be great!" She smiled.

I took her to an outdoor bar, with a decent local band. Tacos and beer. We talked about our families and jobs.

The next evening, I took her to see the Diamondbacks, the local major league baseball team. Her dad played college ball. She was knowledgeable and a fan.

I again offered the balloon ride. She declined. I again offered the cabin cruiser outing to a lake. She said no.

Two more dates ensued to outdoor bars, with dinner. I offered to take her to a NFL preseason game. She opted for another Diamondback game instead.

Every chance I got, I admired especially how she filled out a pair of slacks. From a family of jocks, and a soccer player herself, she had a natural hard body build, without help from weights. Some might consider her five or so pounds on the heavy side, but to me, she was just right.

As we dated, she was catching the local sun rays. She now had an Arizona tan, deeper than a San Diego one. Her tan lines were pronounced, even around the ever-present gold necklace.

She never asked about Vic. This was strange, considering the only way I talked her into meeting me was telling her about Vic and our threesomes. We had no trouble making conversation.

But there was always a tentative feeling with her. It was as if she was island hopping and she would not be on my island long.

We finally wound up in bed. What a knock-out body. As I had observed from admiring her fully clothed, naked she was built, not an inch of fat. A small landing strip of pubic hair, defying the present totally shaved preferred version. She had a small gold chain around her belly button that likely never came off. Her breasts were medium-size. Perky.

I sucked one beautiful nipple, then the other, like a new-born.

I gave a good account of myself. Patient, decent foreplay. Then a rousing, missionary good fucking. I lasted a good five minutes, by my estimation.

Her head was resting between my right shoulder and chest.

"Well, lover boy, you finally worked your charms on me. On the fifth date. You have to admit, I was not easy."

I grinned. "Sixth date."

She laughed. She started counting, air marking each one. "Yeah, you are right. I was not counting when we met at Starbucks. But counting that, six."

Aimee snuggled on my right side. Her right hand ran across my chest.

Mental images of a threesome with Vic kept running through my head. I couldn't shake them.

"Would you still like to meet Vic? I have not called him in a while."

She did not react to that. "Oh, not really. I am having a good time with you."

We pecked on each other for a while. I still could not shake the threesome images.

I said, "Maybe we can meet Vic for a drink. I would like to show you off. And I doubt you would like him anyway, the more I think about it."

She still did not react.

I turned to her. "So, what do you think?"

A few moments went by. "Makes no difference to me. Your call."

A few more moments passed. "I will call him and see if we can meet at Starbucks."

She kept rubbing my chest. Finally, she propped her head on her left hand, and stared at my eyes.

"Describe Vic to me." Perhaps she had forgotten the email.

I had it memorized. "31, very dark, 6'5", 260, muscular, large chest, small waist, six pack abs, shaved head, smooth face, diamond stud earring but no tats, good dresser, deep voice, dominant, college linebacker, still works the weights."

From experience with other girls receiving this info, I was sure that her demeanor would change. It didn't. Instead, during the tale, I was becoming erect. She noticed.

Her hand went to my cock.

Her face searched mine. Moments passed. "Anything else?"

I swallowed hard and cleared my throat.

"He has a nine- inch, thick cock. Actually, a shade more than nine inches."

She said nothing, not even a sigh. Finally, she asked, "How do you know how big it is?"

"He had already come twice. A fashion designer or interior designer, I forget, pulled a cloth tape measure from her purse. She measured it, starting at the base on the top, not the bottom."

With her hand, she turned my face to hers. Her eyes bored into me.

I kissed and rolled onto her. As I entered her, her hands gripped my neck. We were both more passionate than the first time.

She whispered, "Bury it baby, really bury it."

I dutifully buried my 5 1/2 inches. Glad to serve you, ma'am.

I do not know if Aimee came. If so, it was not evident. Women and the truth do not always jive when the subject is orgasms.

------------

Vic, Aimee, and I agreed to meet at the Starbucks on Camelback, again on a Tuesday at 6 p.m.-two weeks after our original meeting. Amy wanted for she and I to arrive 30 minutes before Vic, to, as she stated, "discuss things."

Aimee was again stunning. She wore a sky -blue blouse, her favorite color, but this one had short sleeves. Her skirt was dark blue. The golden pumps, swinging earrings with turquoise inlays, a pearl necklace, a bracelet, and two rings completed the ensemble, same as the first time. The girl overdressed, even for baseball games. It appeared she had gotten an hour of sun that day.

Again, I marveled that I made love to this stunner a couple of evenings earlier. But I also had an urge to see her and Vic hook up. As they say, I felt strongly both ways.

Aimee smiled, friendly as usual. But there was a subtle shift. She was not treating me as a potential beau. Not flattering or giddy any longer like someone in a budding romance. I was a source of information. She wanted as much as she could get. And fast.