Long Distance Relationship Ch. 01

This is a love story, pure and simple. This first chapter sets the story and its foundation of facts and feelings. While the sexual tension is strong in this chapter, we won't get to the sex until the next chapter. But I think the sex will be fulfilling to all who have the patience to wait. Enjoy the build-up, and feel free to comment. All authors love feedback on what they write.

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I met her on Facebook - you know, one of those random greetings of "Hi!" from some woman you don't know but who saw you online and decided to chat with a stranger. I immediately clicked on her name and saw her personal page, and especially saw the beautiful thirty-something woman looking back at me. So I responded with a "Hi!" of my own. I know that almost all of these random chats with a stranger actually involve a woman from Ghana or Nigeria who only wants money, but I decided I had some time to waste. So I jumped off into water that was much deeper than I ever expected.

And here we are, three months later, still staying in touch. We had been messaging over the Internet for several months, and in all that time she never once asked me for money. Even more importantly, she was obviously and clearly a real woman: intelligent, sincere, caring, and just plain fun to chat with. Our feelings for each other had grown into a warm and loving friendship, about as far as they could grow with a span of about 6,000 miles between us. So I decided that the next step was for one of us to visit the other. Since she had a complicated living situation, she suggested that she come to America and visit me. I agreed, and we made plans for her to fly to Orlando for a week.

Many times during the arrangements, and while I waited at the airport for her flight, I marveled at what I was doing. Over the next week, I expected to spend several thousand dollars on a woman I had never met. On the surface, this seemed really stupid. I must have told myself this a hundred times. But in my heart it made all the sense in the world.

As I waited for her flight to unload, I thought about how I looked. I was tall, three inches taller than six feet, and I weighed the same two hundred and twenty pounds that I had weighed for more than thwenty years. My dark brown hair was cut to a medium length, barely covering my ears. I worked out at least once a week and I jogged about five miles almost every day, so I was still in good shape for my forty years. I had been divorced for almost fifteen years and I cooked most of my meals for myself so I could choose healthy foods to eat. Overal, I believed I was above average in looks, but I still couldn't help but feel a moment of anxiety that she would find me acceptable. But I had sent her a number of pictures of myself over the past three months and she had reacted positively to all of them. So I tried to calm myself and trust that she would like what she saw in real life.

When she arrived in the Orlando Airport from the airside terminal, I recognized her instantly - she looked just like her pictures, only even more beautiful. There was an excitement in her eyes that I had not seen before and her face had a smile wide enough to swallow a bananna sideways.

I was a little uncertain how to greet her, but she solved the problem. "Mark!" Her scream could be heard all over the airport. She ran the last few feet that separated us, squealed loudly, and jumped into my arms. The hug was tight, holding me against her. The kiss was a lot warmer than I expected - it was the kiss of lovers. And I savored that kiss for more time than was necessary.

When I finally pushed her to arm's length, it was not because I wanted the kiss to end, but because I knew there were a couple hundred people watching us. Orlando is one of the busiest airports in America, and possibly the world, and not all of the hundreds of people there were approving of a long and passionate and VERY public kiss like we had been sharing. I figured there was an entire week to finish that kiss, and I pushed us apart with reluctance, totally amazed at my self-control.

So I held her at arm's length and looked at her. I mean, I looked at her all over, up and down. And I was in awe of what standing before me. This was no sweet and innocent girl; this was a beautiful and sexy woman of thirty-two years! While I knew what to expect, still she surprised and amazed and thrilled me.

Dawn was wearing simple blue jeans, although they were so tight on her that they might have been painted on. I was certain she had to have help putting those things on, and I briefly wondered about that. Then my eyes continued their journey up and down her body. The jeans looked great on her and they showed off her slim waist and her beautifully full hips.

She wore a simple top, a loose tee shirt that was a floral print in warm tones of green and brown. Her tee shirt was not tight across her chest, but it did show that she had at least some shape hidden under her blouse. While I appreciated the morality and even the practicality of wearing a loose tee shirt on a long trip halfway around the world, I found myself wishing for just a second that her top was a little tighter. Then I reminded myself that I had promised to be a gentleman during her visit, and I put that thought out of my mind.

Dawn had her hair done up on top of her head, almost like a braid wrapped around and coiled on top. As we talked in excited tones and held each other's hands, she started telling me about her very long and very tiring flight. And while talking, she took the time to pull some pins from her hair and shake it loose. Her dark brown curls fell down her head and cascaded across her shoulders wonderfully. I thought to myself that it was a wonderfully sexy move, and it really made me appreate her physical beauty in ways just not possible through pictures.

I suggested that we go to Baggage Claim and get the bags and she nodded. But as I took her hand and pulled her toward the Baggage Claim area, she tugged back. As I turned toward her, she pulled me into another kiss. This one was long and slow and totally hot. I totally lost track of time.

We somehow found ourselves at the Baggage Claim carousel just as the bags started to wind around the kiosk. After a couple minutes of watching, she pointed out her two suitcases, one large and one small one, and I grabbed them and we headed toward the parking lot.

When we reached my car, she asked me what type of car I had. Apparently she didn't recognize the new model of Jaguar, the F-Type, as they call it, so I proudly showed it off to her. I don't splurge on many things for myself, but this thing was one time I went all out. In my opinion, the new Jaguar F-Type was the most beautiful Jag in many years, and I have always loved Jaguars. I had always purchased used cars that were in great shape. But when my last car finally died after six years and I discovered I had some extra funds available, I decided to go for it. And I have never questioned my decision for a second - I loved my Jag, and I drove it a lot just for the fun of it.

As small as the Jag's trunk was, there was plenty of room for the two suitcases, but I threw the small one in the back seat on the offchance it might be needed before we got to my house. Then I opened the passenger door and let her into the most exciting car I had ever owned. I let myself into the driver side and we were off.

We chatted the entire trip to my house, as I tried to handle traffic. But I just couldn't keep my mind on the traffic. I kept thinking about her, and her coming to visit me, and the coming week. I am not sure how we made it through the 55 minute drive, but somehow we arrived safely.

As we drove into my driveway, she commented on how beautiful the outside of my house was. I was rather proud of that because I did all the lawn care and landscaping myself, both choosing and planting each bush just where I wanted it.

So I was proud of the outside. But as I grabbed her bags and we walked toward the front door, I found myself becoming a little nervous. I had decorated the inside of the house, too, and I was not sure she would like it. I felt my house was perfect for my tastes, but I had been told it was a little masculine. My response was always, "Well, I am a masculine kind of guy." Yet, surprisingly, I found myself wanting so much for her to like what I had done with the place.

We walked through the front door and stepped into the main hallway, she stopped dead in her tracks. She rotated without a word, looking closely at everything. And I became nervous at her silence, fearing the worse.

Without warning, she squealed and jumped into my arms again. "Oh, Mark, this is the most beautiful house I have ever seen. And I get to spend a whole week here! I am so blessed. Thank you, Mark!" And she kissed me again.

I found that I was liking the fact that she kissed a lot.

So I dropped her bags and showed her around the house.

My house was in a U-Shape. Down the right "leg" were the three guest rooms with their two bathrooms, along with the small formal living room. The center, or base of the U, was the kitchen and family room. And the left leg was the dining room, my "library" and my master bedroom suite. The legs of the U-Shaped house surrounded the screened-in pool and patio area on three sides.

I showed her everything down the right hall. Then we went back toward the front door. Just off the front entranceway in the base of the U, was the kitchen and family room. The family room was my main room in the house, where I had my stereo system and my large screen television, and where I did most of my entertaining. The main wall of the family room was all sliding glass doors that opened into the screened patio and pool.

The pool was surrounded on three sides by the house, and the open end looked out to the golf course behind the house. It was a nice arrangement, and I loved it. I could stand in my kitchen and look toward the back of the house and I could see the entire family room, and through the glass doors I could see the pool beyond the family room.

I showed her my library at the base of the left leg, where I spent a lot of time reading and working. And then I showed her my bedroom with its very large bathroom, making up the rest of the left leg. Then we walked back to the "guest wing" as I called it.

"Which bedroom would you like for the next week?" I asked.

She looked straight into my eyes and smiled sweetly. "So I have to choose one of these rooms? Clear on the other side of the house from you?" She paused, waiting for a response from me.

"Well, Dawn, we have already discussed this in detail. I have said ever since I invited you that you were not coming here for sex. I was not inviting you to my home so we could have constant sex. I was inviting you to my home so we could spend time together. We both have agreed that the next step in our relationship would involve some real emotional commitment, and the process we need to go through over the next few days would become complicated and maybe confused if we were to become sexually involved. So, YES, Dawn, your bedroom is on this side of the house." My voice was firm, but as I looked her in the eyes, my resolve almost melted.

Then without a word, she walked to the nearest bedroom and gestured for me to place her bags inside.

"This one will be closer to the kitchen, and to everything else of importance in this house." Her eyes glinted with humor, and with something else I could not identify.

Placing her bags on the bed, I said, "I will give you some time to freshen up after your long flight. There are towels in the linen closet behind the bathroom door, and a soft bathrobe is hanging on the back of the door for you to use if you want it. I will be in the family room when you want to come out." With that, I quickly kissed her cheek and backed out of the room, closing the door behind me.

Half an hour later she silently walked up behind the couch and put her arms around me while I sat there. "I really like your house, Mark. In fact, it feels like more than a house. So, let me say that I really like your HOME, Mark." And she just stayed in place, hugging me from behind. After a few seconds, I realized that I could feel her breasts almost wrapping around my head and pushing against my ears. The feeling brought a flush to my face and I felt light-headed. I could hear my heartbeat in my ears, and it was obvious from the sound that my heart was NOT being lazy at that moment in time. I searched for someting to say and it took several seconds.

"Well, uh, sweetie, uh, I was thinking of preparing a light meal for tonight, and maybe watching a movie on the big screen. But I figured that you would be very tired so I thought you might want to get a good night's sleep. We can begin your awesome fun-filled vacation tomorrow, if that is okay. Sound good to you?"

"Sounds great." Her voice was airy, almost dreamy. " But right now I just want to sit and relax and soak up my beautiful surroundings. And maybe have a glass of wine. In fact, you have talked so much about your favorite Champagne that I would like a glass of that, if you don't mind."

Reluctantly, I got up from the couch, removing myself from her warm and soft embrace. I paused long enough to catch my breath, and then walked into the kitchen.

I had expected her request, and I already had a bottle of Crystal Champagne in the ice bucket. Plus I had a chilled bottle of Biltmore House Pinot Grigio and an open bottle of Chateau St. Michele Cabernet Sauvignon on the counter, in case she wanted either of those. They were both favorites of mine and I had an ample supply on hand. But the Crystal was my absolute favorite way to share alcohol, and I had ordered an extra case of it on the chance she would like it. I liked it enough to have ordered two cases, but it was a very expensive Champagne.

So I poured two glasses of the Champagne into the flutes I had next to the ice bucket. I picked up the ice bucket and the two flutes, and balanced them carefully in one hand. Then I took her elbow and urged her to the couch in the center of my family room. It was ideally situated to see the pool area and yet sat directly in front of the large TV.

I set the two glasses and the ice bucket on the low table in front of the couch, and then handed one of the glasses to her, after filling both with the Crystal. I picked up a remote control and pressed a button. Quiet music gently filled the room with the lilting tones of Cheryl Barnes, one of my several favorite jazz artists.

"I am truly thrilled that you are here with me, Dawn." I clinked her glass in a toast, and we silently sipped the bubbly liquid.

She reached out to gently hold my hand while we enjoyed the champagne

We savored the Champagne and the silence for several minutes, just relaxing. After a few minutes and without a word, she leaned forward and reached for the bottle to filled our glasses again. Then, instead of sitting where she had been for the last several minutes, she slid over and sat next to me, relaxed and leaning into me. At her height, she fit perfectly under my arm, and I lifted that arm and placed it around her shoulders. Again, we sat in silence enjoying the pleasure of each other's company and the Champagne. I realized I was very much in danger of falling totally in love with this woman if I wasn't extremely careful.

After a few minutes, I noticed that her breathing was slow and regular. I gently removed my arm, got off the couch, and walked into the kitchen. I had planned on pan-seared salmon, with a spinach salad. I waited for the pan to heat up, then laid the salmon in extra virgin olive oil, along with a small amount of butter just for flavoring. I sprinkled some sliced almonds in the pan, and sauteed everything for about four minutes, turning the salmon at the halfway mark. Then I dropped a large handful of spinach leaves and a light sprinkle of olive oil into the pan, pushing the spinach leaves around to make sure each one was coated in the oil. I waited about 90 seconds until the spinach leaves were just wilted, and then served everything on two plates. I added some sun-dried tomatoes and hot raspberry vinaigrette dressing to the salads, and topped them with crumbled bacon. I carefully carried the two plates and salad bowls into the family room.

"Sweetheart, are you awake yet" I called gently, as I set the dishes on the low table in front of the couch.

It had been a long day for her, sitting in a cramped airline seat with a magazine in her lap for almost 12 hours. Now she had taken a relaxing hot shower, put on the robe I had left for her, and sat next to me listening to some soft jazz. This, along with the Champagne, had been too much for her and she had succomed to the sleep she had been putting off for too long.

So I gently placed my hand on her shoulder and woke her up. She sat up rather quickly, embarrassed that she had fallen asleep on me. I noticed that her robe fell open a little when she sat up, giving me a perfect view as I stood in front of her. I quickly looked away, feeling rather sheepish about the amount of skin she was showing. I couldn't really see very much, but I could see enough that I knew I really wanted to see more.

"And THAT was not why she is here!" I reminded myself rather sternly. And I sat down next to her to enjoy the meal.

As much as my emotions were becoming involved in this relationship, I realized that the physical side of our relationship had been non-existent so far. Heck, she hadn't even sent me a picture of her in a bikini. So I was uncertain if straying into the physicasl side of the relationship would ruin the deep friendship and growing romance that we had. I realized that I just didn't know how to face this issue, and I was going to have to guess on the conservative side to protect what we already had seen grow between us.

Dinner involved almost no conversation. She was quite hungry, and I was in something of a turmoil, so the silence seemed on the surface to be quite natural. When we finished dinner and I was picking up the dishes to take to the kitchen, Dawn took my wrists and pushed them toward the table in front of the couch. Obviously she wanted me to put the dishes there, and I did so with a question in my eyes. Then, still holding my wrists, she pulled me toward her and in seconds we were making out on the couch.

We were kissing, just gentle kisses. She was leaning into me with her wonderful breast pressing against my ribs, sitting under my arm on the couch, with her head back and her lips easily available to mine. And we were listening to the music and kissing. I always knew that I loved kissing, and I discovered again WHY I loved kissing while I held her in my arms. I felt her hand reach behind my head and her fingers played with my hair while we kissed. I really love that, and I moaned softly to show my appreciation.

I was reaching across her body to put my hand on her shoulder when it accidentally brushed over her breast. I froze for a second, hoping that would not offend her. Instead, she moaned softly, suggesting that she did not mind it. Truthfully, I said to myself, that was an accident. Besides, the thick material of the robe made sure my hand never really made contact with her breast. So, I hoped, she wouldn't be upset with me.

And I finally realized why there was turmoil in my heart and mind. I had claimed so strongly that I was inviting her to visit me so we could see if this relationship was really going to develop into something permanent. And I had claimed so strongly that I was not inviting her here for a sexual holiday. But I also realized at that moment that it was going to be a struggle to live up to those statements. The truth was becoming clear to me, and I should not have been surprised by it: I really wanted to fully explore this incredibly sexy woman. Things were not going to be as simple as I had expected them to be. In fact, things were going to get very complicated very quickly, if I was not careful.