Valentine's Day didn't usually hold much significance for me; I can think of only one that stands out and it happened my senior year in high school. My boyfriend had climbed up the old Sycamore tree in my backyard, rapping lightly on my bedroom window whispering, "Valentine Delivery Jenn." His delivery was a bottle of massage oil. We'd had a great time "massaging" each other into the wee hours of the morning until my little sister walked in wondering why my bed was squeaking. I had to bribe her with my allowance every week after that until I left for college so that she wouldn't tell my parents. Now I'm 28, and for the first time since that memorable high school affair, I was looking forward to February 14th.
This year I knew Valentine's Day would be significant for one simple reason: I would be with Mark. Well, that had been the plan, anyway. We'd made a reservation at our favorite Italian restaurant, a quaint romantic little place called Giovanni's that had great wine, soft candlelight, and delicious home-made pasta. Our first date had been at Giovanni's, so it was a special place for us. While I would usually consider going out to dinner on Valentine's Day run-of-the-mill, being with Mark was never ordinary. The after dinner celebration, I knew, would be particularly memorable, putting the high school adventure to shame. Dinner at Giovanni's, then each other for dessert at his place; I had been looking forward it all week.
"Still delayed," Mark groaned into his phone. He was on a business trip to Boston, a city he'd most likely try to avoid in the winter from now on. A Nor'easter had barreled through the "City on a Hill" leaving it inundated with snow. He'd been gone for a week, which had seemed like an eternity. We had been pretty much inseparable over the past six months; I think this was the first time we'd been apart for more than a day. Until his absence I hadn't realized how strong our bond had become. I ached for him, to see his smile, and to tell him about my day and hear about his. I longed to have his strong arms around me, to taste him, to stare into his eyes as he slowly entered me, feeling my slick heat stretch to accommodate his thick length. I wanted him home badly.
The last time we talked he'd finally had good news: "We're in line for take-off. I'll make it back, but late. I called Giovanni's and rescheduled for next weekend." On a whim I had decided to email a picture of myself to his Blackberry in the sexy outfit I'd bought to wear out to dinner. "Check your email before take-off. I'm going to send you something," I'd said. He could enjoy looking at my tastefully fitted strapless black dress for his "in flight entertainment". The dress hugged my curves in all the right places and clung halfway down my breasts revealing a tantalizing view of my cleavage. He was quite fond of my breasts, so he would love it.
In his absence, I'd made plans to go dancing with some friends at The Red Door. "Beth and Sandi?" he asked, irritation in his voice. "Kelly too," I replied. Beth, Sandi, and Kelly had been my once a month clubbing buddies before Mark and I hooked up. I could understand Mark's displeasure that I would be spending Valentine's Day out on the town without him, but I hadn't seen my friends in a while. Hopefully the photographic visual would put an end to his irritable mood. Along with the photo, I emailed him the link to the club's website so he would know where to find me when he got home. By now he was cruising somewhere around 30,000 feet and I would soon be at The Red Door instead of having my romantic dinner with Mark.
Once at the club, I wasn't sure if joining my friends had been the right choice. I wasn't used to the singles "market" atmosphere anymore and it felt weird. Maybe it would have been better to curl up in Mark's bed and watch a movie. When I had called Beth earlier to complain about my screwed up plans, she had insisted that I go out dancing. "Come on Jenn! Spend the evening with us," Beth had said. "Mark won't be home until late. It will be like old times!" I love to dance, so it had seemed like a good activity to get my mind off missing Mark. I'd agreed to go, but had insisted that Beth drive in case Mark made it home in time to pick me up.
The Red Door was one of our favorite dance spots. As usual we were greeted with bright flashing lights and a fast steady dance beat. We downed a few drinks and then hit the dance floor together for a set of over-synthesized 80's music. After returning from a quick trip to the rest room I saw that my friends had hooked up with dance partners, so I sat by myself and sipped another cosmo, nursing a light buzz. At least they were each enjoying their Valentine's Day with someone of the opposite sex. I sighed.
I felt sort of guilty being in a club on Valentine's Day when the only man I wanted was stuck on a plane somewhere over the Continental United States. My mind wandered, wondering what he would do to get me squirming and moaning under him tonight. I felt that familiar throbbing pulse between my legs. God, I hope he got home soon. It had been a long week without him.
Luckily Mark could fly on his company plane. He would have plenty of leg-room, decent food, and a big reclining seat. But it was a long flight from Boston to Seattle and he would probably be exhausted by the time he got home. If he was too tired to fuck me the way a girl should be fucked by her man on Valentine's Day, I would just have to take charge, push him back on the bed straddling him, and ride his hard shaft feverishly until we both exploded in delicious release. Mark usually preferred being the dominant one in bed, which I loved, but variety is the spice of life, right? Yes, I could definitely loosen him up after the long flight, tired or not. I'm sure he had as much pent up sexual energy as I did after our week apart. We hadn't gone more than a few days without sex since we'd been together. I was hungry for him. My sex life had definitely taken a turn for the better these past 6 months.
I have always liked sex, but I never used to think frequently about it. Sex with Mark was so incredible that I now thought about sex all the time. I've only been with 3 other men in my 28 years. I am a relationship kind of girl and have never been into casual sex. None of my past boyfriends satisfied me the way Mark did. Not even close. I honestly hadn't realized what I was missing. Before Mark the sex had been okay; I'd have the occasional orgasm here and there, which I obviously enjoyed, but with Mark it was glorious every time. I was assured orgasmic satisfaction either by his cock, his wickedly talented tongue, his fingers, or any combination of the three.
One boyfriend, Nick, a handsome architect I'd dated a couple of years ago, had tried to convince me to talk dirty during sex, saying things like, "Screw my hot wet pussy with your big dick." The passion wasn't there, so I'd felt like an idiot. With Mark I had no choice about being shy or not trying new things. With Mark, I did utter naughty things now and again. I couldn't help it. He worked me into such a hot frenzy that my body and mind reverted to some sort of instinctive animalistic response. I craved sex with Mark. I needed him, just like I needed food or water. Our sex was frequent, passionate, varied, and noisy. I was happy to be in any position my body would allow as long as he was filling me with his lovely stiff cock.
I used to think that Mark's being older (34) and more experienced was why he was so good in bed. I assumed he'd spent his 20's sowing his wild oats like most guys, satisfying his young hormone filled body, harboring an amateur concern for his partners' needs. By grad school I imagined him being more conscientious of a lady's pleasure. Mark was now an experienced and thoughtful lover, but I realized that what we had together required more than just his good technique or self-control. The chemistry that flowed between Mark and me was irrepressible and so deliciously hot. Just being in the same room with Mark made me weak in the knees and wet between my thighs, even after 6 months. Neither of us had ever felt this heightened level of sexual chemistry before; it was pure feverish lust from the start.
The start was nine months ago when I was attending a lunch meeting at St. Andrews, a local private high school. The school had hired me to help plan their upcoming auction. (I run a home business that coordinates fundraising events for various organizations) My stomach dropped when Mark walked in the room . . . similar to the feeling you get when you take the big plunge on a roller coaster, when your heart rate accelerates and you feel like your breath has been knocked out of you.
Mark was tall and athletically built. His lithe controlled gait gave me the impression that he played sports. His lean muscular build suggested something requiring endurance and strength-soccer or lacrosse maybe. His beautiful blue-green eyes had widened when they saw me, then he'd smiled, his eyes holding mine while he reached out his hand in introduction.
"Hi. My name is Mark. Mark Owen."
"Jennifer Rossi," I managed to stammer. As I leaned over the table to shake his hand, he took in my appearance. I noticed him glance down the opening of my white blouse that showed just a peak of the plump graceful curves of my cleavage. His eyes traveled back to mine, then he quickly looked away, clearing his throat and reddening slightly. I motioned to the chair directly across from me. "Please have a seat," I said, inwardly pleased that he'd taken more than a cursory notice of me. "We were just about to get started."
Mark was an alumnus of St. Andrews, class of '93. His attendance at the meeting was due to the fact that he was donating a private flight to and from Hawaii on his company's Gulfstream G250. I listened to the sound of his voice as he discussed amenities of the jet. It was husky, and he spoke in a thoughtful, intelligent, and confident manner. I couldn't keep my eyes off of him.
"I think we should all take a field trip on your plane so that we can vouch for its comfort," I quipped, "Maybe a quick trip from Boeing Field to B.C.?" We all laughed. His eyes were beautiful too, framed with thick dark lashes; when he smiled, they shined. His dark hair was cut short, sporty, and his face was lightly tanned like he spent time enjoying the outdoors. All together it made for quite a sexy package.
I noticed that he was trying to nonchalantly check me out too. I caught him staring at me and his eyes crinkled up in amusement at being caught, one corner of his mouth quirking up in a mischievous smile. I returned his look coyly with my pretty ice blue eyes, one of my best features. My girlfriends had always teased me that I had "bedroom eyes" because they are so large and expressive. I typically wore mascara and a bit of eyeliner to accent them. Thankfully I'd taken the time this morning to look my best for the meeting.
I stood up to present the auction timeline I'd put together on a flip chart, giving Mark a chance to let his eyes wander. Being 28, I was proud to still have the body of a collegiate. Like most young professional women my age, work took up most of my time, but I still committed to exercising regularly. It gave me energy for my long days at work and kept me feeling good about myself and, well, sexy. A few of my old college friends had let themselves go once their careers were in full swing, but I hadn't taken that path.
While I am no beauty queen, I have always been happy with my appearance. I am a bit on the sporty side, my legs long and shapely thanks to the competitive tennis and soccer leagues I played in. The lines of my body are sinuous; breasts, waist, and hips flowing into the each other gracefully. While I don't have the triple letter eye-popping chest of a Hollywood star (thankfully), my breasts are quite a handful for most men. Every male who had ever seen them in their naked glory usually gave them their immediate, rapt, and undivided attention . . . a benefit I enjoyed immensely. They hadn't failed me today either; Mark had noticed them first thing.
I watched Mark's lips as he discussed the dates that the plane would be available. "We don't plan work trips over major holidays, so all of those dates are open," he said. His lips looked soft, yet firm, like they knew just how to kiss a woman. I imagined what it would feel like to have those sexy lips kissing me . . . kissing, and licking, and sucking down my neck, his strong hands wandering, unbuttoning my blouse, and slowly exploring my unknown territory. I suddenly realized that someone had asked me a question and I was jolted back to reality. "Sorry, I missed that. What did you say?" I said feigning hearing loss. Lord, how could I be thinking such things during a work meeting? What had gotten into me? I adjusted my laptop screen and struggled to focus my attention for the rest of the meeting.
As the meeting came to a close I had one last agenda item to cover. "I have one more position I need filled," I said, "Does anyone know of a good person I can train as next year's procurement chair?" As part of my job I offer to train my clients so that they can run the fundraisers themselves after I leave. St. Andrews could choose to retain me as a consultant, but they wouldn't have the expense of hiring me full time again.
"I would love to take on that challenge," I heard Mark say. "I think this project will be very rewarding for me." He had looked directly into my eyes as he'd said those last four words. I felt butterflies in my stomach as I answered, "Great. I'll email you my proposed meeting dates and we can try to mesh our schedules." I smiled, clicked my laptop shut, and adjourned the meeting. He must have liked what he saw.
Mark emailed me immediately the next day saying that he could attend all of the meetings. We saw each other weekly after that. Mark was incredibly sharp and a fast learner. He had a lot of contacts in the community as a result of his business connections, so he was perfect for the procurement position. "Is there anyone you don't know around here?" I asked one afternoon. "I grew up in the area, so I have a lot of longtime friends. Work connects me with a lot of people too," he replied smiling. Charismatic and smart – I was liking this guy more and more. Our furtive glances gradually grew bolder each week as the chemistry flowed silently and electrically between us. Several months later, after our last meeting, Mark invited me join him for dinner at Giovanni's. We have been together ever since.
Together except for on Valentine's Day, that is. I wiggled uncomfortably as I watched my friends dance under the flashing lights. The sexy new hot pink and black bra-thong ensemble I'd bought for the occasion chafed under my black strapless dress. "For the love of Peter, Paul, and Mary," I muttered under my breath, "Why didn't I change into something else?"
My intention had been for Mark to tear my bra and panties off leaving them strewn across the floor, or wherever they happened to land. I hadn't planned to wear them for hours, let alone dance in the flimsy things. The French satin and lace lingerie wasn't made for extended wear. It offered a tantalizing view of my breasts, pushed up and jiggling with every movement, my nipples erect and begging for attention. The lace-trimmed panties delicately framed my pussy and hid a little Valentine surprise. I had waxed for Mark, leaving a neatly trimmed triangle pointing the way to my hidden silky smooth pussy lips. I couldn't wait to see his expression at the discovery and to feel his tongue lap hungrily at my sensitive soft surprise.
I checked my iPhone hoping Mark's plane had landed, but my inbox was empty. When I looked up from checking my messages, I noticed a young man standing in front of me, smiling, holding out his hand in an invitation to dance. "Hi. I'm Brad," he said. "It's just plain wrong for a pretty lady like you to be sitting alone on Valentine's Day. Would you like to dance?" What a line, I thought smiling to myself. He must be a young one. Not wanting to hurt his feelings, I accepted. "I'm Jen," I said, "Maybe for just one set."
My intention had been to dance with just my girlfriends tonight, so I felt a small pang of guilt. I pushed the feeling aside. It's not like dancing with some random guy I didn't care about was cheating. It was just dancing for goodness sake. I slipped my phone away and stepped out onto the dance floor. I might as well keep myself busy instead of staring at the table fantasizing about Mark. After all, it wasn't really fair of me to expect my girlfriends to stick by my side the entire night and not have a little romantic fun themselves. It was Valentine's Day after all.
Brad and I had been dancing for a while when I started feeling uneasy. I noticed him staring unabashedly at my low cut strapless dress watching my breasts sway and bounce as I danced. I glanced down and noticed my nipples poking through the thin cotton fabric of my dress. On no! I hoped he hadn't been staring for too long, but he probably had. I honestly hadn't been paying much attention to Brad, not wanting to give him the wrong impression, but apparently from the dazed look on his face I had been leaving quite an impression. I had been in my own little world enjoying dancing to some really good music. Damn push up bra! It was serving it's visual purpose, but not for the man I'd intended. I hope Brad didn't think I'd been purposely putting on a show for him.
As soon as the music set ended I looked over toward our table hoping my girlfriends had ordered another round of drinks giving me an easy excuse to escape. I froze in shock, my body flooding with heat, as I saw Mark standing stiffly next to our table. He was dressed in his hot designer denim and a trendy dark purple dress shirt, unbuttoned slightly with the sleeves rolled up. His hands were stuffed in his pockets and I could see his arm muscles straining, veins popping out on his forearms. Mark's beautiful eyes, glowing with displeasure, glared dangerously at my fitted dress, my dance partner, and then at me. I quickly excused myself and ran over to him, throwing my arms around his neck, inhaling the fabulous spicy/musky scent of his cologne and body heat mixed together. "Mark! You made it!" I exclaimed.
He pulled me tightly against his body, wrapping his arms low around my waist, and kissed me long and hard, his tongue forcefully meeting mine. The taste of his mouth and the feel of his tongue sent my pulse racing. A warm glowing wetness flowed between my legs, feeling more slippery than ever on my newly waxed folds. Before breaking our kiss, Mark's hands slowly moved up my sides, discreetly brushing under my breasts as he pulled away. I looked up at his handsome face and noticed him looking past me giving Brad a possessive warning stare. Brad's shoulders slumped in defeat and he quickly disappeared into the crowd of grooving bodies to find his buddies.
I was a bit taken aback by Mark's response. He had never shown any signs of jealousy or possessiveness before. He turned toward my friends and I saw that they were all grinning stupidly at me with knowing looks in their eyes. While I didn't share the intimate details of my sex life with my girlfriends, they knew it was hot and good. Mark politely excused us by saying, "You girls are great. Thanks for keeping Jennifer busy tonight. You won't mind my stealing her away?" He turned to look at me, a predatory gleam in his eyes, as he secured his arm around my waist, and pulled me toward the door, handling me more forcefully than he ever had before.
Mark shuttled me to his sleek black sports car in silence. He opened my door, and shutting it aggressively behind me. I didn't quite know what to make of his mood and couldn't believe he was mad at me for dancing with another man, well boy really. We saw each other exclusively and it wasn't like I had been stepping out on him. We focused on maintaining honesty and trust in our relationship and we'd never doubted each other. I hoped tonight I hadn't ruined that trust. Mark hadn't told me that he loved me yet, nor had I spoken those words to him, but there was no doubt in my mind that I was in love with him. I always believed he felt the same way, but suddenly I felt insecure. I wouldn't have spent every free moment of the past 6 months by his side unless I wanted only him. Surely he must know that?