I'm Dating Our Mailgirl Ch. 01

"What do you paint?"

"Still life. And some seascapes."

"What about portraits?"

"I never was good at it."

"Too bad. I was going to get you to paint my portrait."

"Only if it was a nude."

"We'll have to see about that. You may have to get me awfully drunk. But what do you want to do the rest of the day?"

"Dinner and clubbing sounds great. But all I have to wear is that cotton dress I wore over here."

"You're not that much bigger than me, maybe you could fit into one of my dresses. What size are you?"

Nine appeared to be a 34-C in the chest compared with my 32-B. But for four hours we might be able to make one of my outfits work. I told her about a downtown street festival and we decided to attend. She put her cotton dress back on with her canvas shoes.

We got there about 1:00 and started wandering around. She occasionally would cling to me, putting her arm in mine. I was a little nervous about a blatant public demonstration of affection and fortunately she didn't do anything more that a couple of girls out for an afternoon would do.

We never did make it to any clothing stores. At about 5:00, I told her we needed to get back to my apartment to get ready for our evening. I brought out two glam dresses from my junior year in college. I could fit into one and the other one was just a tad bit larger. We showered, separately, but she made sure I saw her as she showered. Modesty dictated that I wear a thong, but no bra. 9 wanted to go commando. Her outfit really was tight on her and she needed at least one or possibly two larger sizes. But she was game. The hem on her outfit was extremely short, I mean like the bottom of her ass hanging out short. 9 was at least two, maybe 3 inches taller than me in addition to being maybe at least 5 or ten pounds heavier than me. Even though she made the outfit work, simple body anatomy meant her hem was a couple of inches higher on her than on me when I wore the outfit.

9 could not fit into any of my shoes. I suddenly realized her feet were her most unattractive feature. They were swollen and calloused. I told her we needed to get her a pedicure soon. I guess I made her self-conscious, she looked at me and snapped, "Well, your feet wouldn't be so pretty if you had to fun the equivalent of a marathon every day of your life." I backed off. I found her a pair of sandals with straps up her calf that she could fit into.

The hem on my dress came down mid-thigh, but my breast struggled mightily to sneak out from my top. But they just didn't have it in them.

I had lucked into a reservation at The Fruition and we arrived at 8:30. I had a pork tenderloin, and 9 had salmon. We started out with a sauvignon blanc. I told 9 I would be the designated driver. I would have two glasses of wine spread out over 1-1/2 to 2 hours, and that was it. But she was welcome to drink as much as she wanted. She gave me that coy little look that said, "Why, you're not trying to get me drunk so you can take advantage of me, are you?" I just smiled and sipped my wine. 9 kept tugging at her dress, trying to get it to cover her ass. I laughed. "You run around naked all day long, you couldn't wait to get your clothes off last night so I could bask in your nudity and all of a sudden you're September Morn." I was proud of my artistic reference.

Neither of us are big clubbers, so we asked our waiter if he could recommend a club within walking distance. He suggested the Club 869. He said he felt we would fit right in with the crowd. It was located at 869 Oak street. When we walked in, we could see about 1/3 of the crowd were lesbians, or at least women enjoying each other's company. 1/3 appeared to be gay guys and the balance were just gawkers slumming it for an evening. 9 and I looked at each other and I asked her, "Was it that obvious that we were carpet munchers?"

"Monica, I have a feeling we're not in Kansas anymore."

"Maybe the waiter just had his gaydar fine tuned, or I would like to think we gave off a certain vibe anyone could pick up on." I gulped, "Yesterday, I wasn't even in the closet, and now here I am out of it." 9 kissed me.

"Just enjoy it." Enjoy it we did, we danced, 9 drank and an occasional woman would come over and ask one or the other of us to dance. The women with tattoos were drawn to 9, maybe because of her 9 on her arm and the one on her breast it didn't take too much effort to see something on her ass. Maybe some of them caught a glimpse of the bold 9 on her ass when she was dancing or when she sat down and moved the hem of her dress from under her ass. Try as hard as she could, 9 could not keep covered up. She tugged at her hem all night long. I was approached by a couple of lipstick lesbians, my age, to maybe up to 10 years or so older.

One got me onto the dance floor. "My name is Patricia Brewer, what's yours?" I just answered Monica. I didn't what her to know too much about me. "You're friend's a mailgirl, isn't she?"

I asked ironically, "What gave you the clue?"

"You're a very attractive woman. You can do a lot better than her. I'm in the HR department at one of the city's leading firms. I have an AA degree from Phoenix University and I make $40,000 a year. I love eating pussy and having my pussy eaten."

"Well 9 has a degree summa cum laude in Art History from Bryn Mawr. She makes 50% moe than you, not that that matters either way, and I'm sure your shit stinks just as much, if not more, than hers does."

I went back to the table. 9 was on the dance floor. Another woman solicited my number but I managed to avoid giving it to her without appearing to reject her.

When 9 came back to the table, I told her the story of my being solicited and what I told the woman. "I just made up the part about you being summa cum laude. I hope you don't mind." She smiled, grabbed my hand, squeezed it and leaned over to kiss me, passionately. I really didn't mind this public display of affection, considering the surroundings.

At 1 AM we headed back to my apartment. I drove into the parking garage that occupies the bottom 5 floors of my building. My space is on the 2nd floor. We got out of the car. I guess the frustration of trying to keep her hem down all evening, the wine and drinks at the club or maybe just the discomfort of being clothed got to 9. She got out of the car and took off her dress. She walked in her sandals to the elevator. We got in. It was late enough that we probably wouldn't run into any of the other residents. If we could make it above the 5th floor, the top parking floor, we should be alright. At 1:00 AM not too many people who hadn't gotten on the elevator in the lobby or the parking garage would likely be taking the elevator.

Suddenly, my heart sank as the slowing feel of the elevator alerted me to the fact we were stopping at the 4th floor. Sure enough, an attractive couple in about their mid-30's stepped in. The man smiled, the woman maintained a stoic face. "Good evening", 9 said.

"Good evening", the man responded as his smile widened. Not another word was said. When we reached the 17th floor, we got out of the elevator. 9 teased the couple, "Have a pleasant evening."

"We already have," the man said. He turned to his companion, "17th floor. We've got to remember that."

The wife pointed a finger at her temple. "I've already got it right here."

"Good night," we practically said in unison as we exited the elevator. 9 started laughing hysterically. We had to walk about 50 feet from the elevator to my door. 9 was staggering. but was able to walk under her own power. She carried her, or rather my, dress and her sandals. But she still managed to impishly knock on the 3 doors between the elevators and my door. She laughed uproariously as she knocked on each. Fortunately, no one answered the quick rap except my next door neighbor who stuck his head out just as I unlocked my door and scooted 9 in. I think he might have caught a glimpse of her branded ass.

"Sorry." Then I lifted an imaginary bottle to my mouth as if I were drinking to offer some explanation.

We went into the apartment and 9 again laughed uproariously. I started to sit on the couch, but she grabbed my hand and led me to my bed. "The evening is still young." She threw down her dress and sandals and started to undress me. Progress was slow as she interrupted her actions by repeated kisses.

"Wait, dragon breath. I've got to brush my teeth." I proceeded to do so, then she followed me into the bathroom. As I gargled, she took my toothbrush and brushed her teeth. This was actually the 3rd time this weekend she had used this utensil of shared intimacy. Mental note to myself, buy 9 a toothbrush. We moved to the bed and proceeded to make mad passionate love once again. No one took the lead, we were just entwined like two snakes crawling over each other. Once again, her level of orgasm was much more intense than mine, despite my heightened arousal. As we came down from orgasmic high, I kind of looked at her and wondered aloud about that disparity in reaction.

"I'm pretty sure it's because of all the hormones they pump us full of."

"What?"

"Yea, the gruel they feed us at lunch each day has various vitamin supplements to keep our energy levels up and there are also female hormones to keep us in a constant, but low level of arousal as we make our rounds. They want there to be a lot of sexual tension in the air as we make our deliveries."

"What's in this 'gruel'?"

"Oatmeal and pulverized hot dogs."

"That sounds terrible. And that's all you eat all day? Or at least for lunch?"

"Yea, they also have it available when we begin our day and food service brings around a big container to the warehouse each evening. I don't usually eat it then, but a lot of the girls look forward to that final meal each night."

Once more she resorted to this dehumanizing imagery. The conversation was a real downer at the end of two glorious days and nights. I tried to hold back my tears as I let this description of her life sink in.

"Why am I consoling you? I'm the one who has to live this life."

"I know, I know." I allowed her to console me again with her kisses, and she generously bestowed her caresses all over my body until we fell asleep in each other's arms.

Sunday morning I get up before 9. I guess she was still groggy from an excessive amount of liquor consumption from the night before. I attended to my toilet and showered. When I emerged from the shower she was awake. She wasn't masturbating, technically, but she was allowing her fingers to arouse her pussy lips and her clit. I looked at her and asked, "Hormones, again?"

"That and my natural arousal from being with you." She ceased her activity and kissed me.

"Get your shower, there's a great cafe around the corner that serves a magnificent Sunday brunch." I found another one of my dresses for her to wear. It fit her because it was just a little throw on outfit for a quick trip to the supermarket. But we were going for utilitarian, not sexy. I chose something that was a bit more fashionable. 9 gave no outward sign of being bothered by the disparity in our fashion-ability.

The brunch was a buffet. Her tastes were more conventional, eggs benedict, croissants and jam, a berry compote, but my choices were a bite more reflective of my upbringing, even for a Southern girl, albeit one raised in privilege. Eggs Sardou, smoked fish and a terrine served on pita points. I'm sure 9 had been exposed to most of these items with her Bryn Mawr education, but I'm just as sure they weren't part of her regular diet, even during her pre-9 days. I fed her samples from my plate. She teasingly always grabbed my fingers and licked them clean. We giggled.

When we got back to my apartment, of course, 9 disrobed. Once more she looked at me and asked if I wanted to take off my clothes. I told her I was fine. We talked about various things. I told her about my studies for my MBA. I told her how I had studied dance all through high school. Somehow the conversation wandered to Johannes Vermeer. She told me the story of Girl with a Pearl Earring. I had seen pictures of the picture before, but did not realize the story behind it. There was a lot of speculation, who was she, was she Vermeer's daughter, his children's nanny, his lover? I was fascinated.

TROUBLE IN PARADISE

We had a quick supper and afterwards I said I needed to get her back to the "warehouse."

"No, please don't make me go back there tonight. PLEASE!"

"Look, you can't risk being fired. That's $120,000 down the drain. Disneyworld is closing, kids. Please exit the amusement park."

"I know I've got to go to work in the morning, But can't you just take me to work in the morning. I want to lie in you arms one more night. I want to nestle at your pussy one more time. I want to feel your tongue outlining my 9."

"No, I'm sorry, it's been great, but I would have to get up at 5:00 AM to get myself ready to take you to work so you could get there by 7:00, or actually 6:45."

"But I don't want to sleep on an army cot tonight. I don't want to have people staring at me when I shit in the morning. I don't want to have to listen to mailgirls writhing in pleasure in a double bed 10 feet from mine. Please! PLEASE!"

"9, This has been great fun. You have no idea how much I enjoyed it, but you've got to be realistic. Hey, tap on the breaks. We're not living together. We both need to take a step back and digest what has gone on this weekend."

"Are you breaking up with me?" I saw tears forming in her eyes.

"No, of course not. But I can't be taking you to work every morning. If you had a car, that would be one thing, But you've got to be considerate of me. I can't run a limousine service and disrupt my life just for sexual gratification."

"Is that all I am to you? Sexual gratification?"

"No, no, of course not. But I'm not going to give in to your little temper tantrum. I'm not going to let you put me on a guilt trip."

By now she was completely in tears.

I gave in. "Alright, just this once. I'll take you to work in the morning. Let's plan on meeting at the Loading Dock Wednesday after work."

"I can't do it Wednesday." I was shocked by her refusal. What other plans could she possible have. Was she breaking up with ME? "Some big muckety mucks are coming in. There's going to be a dinner and reception on the 42nd floor. Four of us have to be there to serve the food and drinks and generally to make ourselves available as eye candy."

I told you Seahawk Industries occupied the 21st through the 30th floor, but the executive offices and the executive board room and dining room were on the 42nd floor. "That sounds like a pretty cush assignment. I guess you're looking forward to it. Finally a decent meal. Can you sneak a drink or two?"

"No, and no. Absolutely no drinks and we can't even eat the table scraps. In addition, since the dignitaries aren't Seahawk employees, they aren't subject to the companies sexual harassment policies. They can grope us and poke all of our orifices with impunity. I got the assignment because I was one of 4 low men on the totem pole in terms of my demerit count."

"That sounds horrible. I guess you're going to want to see me Thursday. Will 8:30 work?"

"Yes, of course. Can I. . . ." She hesitated.

"Yes?"

"Can I spend next weekend with you? I promise I won't throw a tantrum Sunday night when you take me home."

I hesitated while I thought. "I still think we need a little space. How about just 1 night?"

She lit up. "Oh, thank you. Great! That's actually perfect because I have to work Saturday. Demerits again."

"We'll talk about it Thursday night. But I'll probably pick you up at the warehouse Saturday after work.

We made love one final time that evening. I guess I was starting to respond more quickly to her pleasuring me as I felt my pussy juices flow more quickly and freely. As usual, she was Old Faithful responding right on time with a burst of liquid pleasure.

I had set my alarm clock for 5:00, but I still felt rushed as I got ready in the morning. What a contrast, me taking over an hour to apply my cosmetics, meticulously pick out and don my outfit for the day, and 9 taking 5 minutes to put on her simple cotton dress. We left for the parking garage, and I drove us to work. .

She didn't throw a tantrum, but she quietly hesitated as she exited the car. We walked into the building together. She got onto the elevator for the 21 floor. When I didn't join her, she questioned why I wasn't going upstairs. Without thinking, I blurted our, "I'm going to get some breakfast." Damn, what a downer for her to hear how I would be enjoying a bacon, Gouda & egg breakfast sandwich, and caffè misto while she may only have time for a quick bowl of gruel.

We kissed openly in the lobby, but other than the security guard, no one was there to see us. I don't think he minded the mini-performance. As we kissed, I caught the red eye of one of the lobby security cameras reposition to capture our embrace.

I left for the coffee shop.

TO BE CONTINUE