Mr. Confetti Man 04

"Thank you, young man," she smiled at me, "boy scout or not, you saved my life today Trust me, I needed this deal. You have been wonderful. Thank you again.....so much!"

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I was expecting an e-check or maybe even an old fashioned paper check from Thea, but nothing came. She had my number but I didn't have hers. I knew where her office was but I wasn't about to go dunning her for the money I paid for her clothes. I didn't even see her at "The Grind". Besides, in terms of my resources, the clothes I bought her were about what I'd pay for a gift to someone nice...a nice, nice gift albeit, but not a major expenditure. I had it chalked it up to a loss and satisfied myself that I had actually done some a good deed.

A couple of weeks passed before I got a call from Thea. I didn't recognize it because she hadn't given me her number, I had just her mine. I usually don't answer unknown callers but I took a chance and took the call.

Thea: "Hello, this is Thea_____. Did I get the right number? Drummond_____?"

Me: "Yes, Thea, you did. I'm so glad to hear from you. How have things worked out? The real estate deal...and all that?"

Thea: "Wonderfully, Drummond, spectacularly well! That's part of why I'm calling. Well, to tell you about that and to thank you again for your help that day. Well...and, of course to pay you back for your outlay of funds for my 'emergency' wardrobe."

Me: "That is very kind of you, Thea, but entirely unnecessary. I considered the money I spent a contribution to a good cause, your business success. I am always a fan of success."

Thea: "You are far too humble, Drummond, and I insist in showing my gratitude. I would like you to go to dinner with me at 'La Maison Blanche', I'm sure you know the place. You were such a savior that day. I really must do something to show you how much I appreciate you and what you did.....Please?"

Me: "Thea, how could I refuse an invitation as gracious as that? Of course I will join you for dinner there. Do you have a day in mind?"

Thea: "If it doesn't disrupt your busy calendar too much, how about tomorrow night, 8:00PM? We can have an elegant supper and chat. I am looking forward to it. Until then?"

Me: "I can easily arrange that. Yes, I will see you tomorrow night there. Thank you so much. You have been so very gracious."

The next evening, I dressed in my very best. My Wall Street business duds were a couple of years out of date but still fashionable...and the still fit me, despite my now relaxed life style. A lot of the business world today works in "business casual" or downright "casual". Oddly, it seems that the higher up the tree one is, the less formal business attire is a necessity. The thinking is: I make so much more money than you so who you are criticize my attire; I'll come in a T-Shirt, Blue Jeans, and Flip-Flops, if I want to! Well that works on a certain level, but my brief--and profitable--career on Wall Street started conventionally, with approved, staid, business suits. Later...well...yes, my mode of dress relaxed. Now...what the hell...Wall Street is behind me, I'm secure, and I really can wear any damn thing I want!

La Maison Blanche' is THE dining place in my city. Its prices are three times higher than the next best restaurant; then again, it's clientele makes three times the money--or more, far, far, far more--that the patrons of those other dining establishments. I almost felt like I should take a limousine there but drove my five year-old SUV, not caring what the parking valet might think of it.

I arrived at 8:00 on the dot; Thea was fashionably twenty minutes late and she did arrive in a chauffeured car, though not a limousine. I was conservatively dressed; Thea was dressed to the nines! She reminded me of a diva or movie celebrity on the far side of her career who still wanted to be noticed. She accomplished that.

Thea was known at La Maison Blanche'. The maître d' greeted her as she were an old friend and ushered us to our table. Now, don't think of this table as you would one in a coffee shop. This was what is called "chambre séparée", a table inside a booth enclosed on three sides with a curtain to cover the fourth side. This was indeed THE venue for an "intimate" supper. Thea didn't miss a trick.

I am not going to bore you with the menu, the wine list, the dessert cart, the after dinner liqueurs, and the imported on-site roasted coffee. It's not that I am a stranger to those things but a connoisseur I am not. I recognize when those things are good but don't ask me to identify them. It took us all of an hour and a half to finish our meal--delicious hardly describes it. And finally came the coffee.

Thea told me her life story. I'm not going to recount the entirety of it, but I will hit the high spots. She was born into a immigrant Greek family. Original surname had fifteen letters in it and would be virtually unpronounceable without help, hence her current, simple last name that she adopted. She said her original name wouldn't fit on a business card so she had to find one that would.

Her father was an enterprising fellow and made a lot of money...and then he lost all of it...and made it back again. Being an only child who adored her father, she soaked up all of the business acumen he had, and put it to work for herself and him after her father lost all of the family money again. She practiced the successful business principles and shunned the "lose the family fortune" ones. Thea's mother died many years before Thea's father and he left her a considerable sum when he passed away, She didn't wish to continue in his businesses and sold them off. This, on top of his other assets, gave Thea a head start on her own career.

On her own, she built a very successful real estate operation, mainly now in the commercial area...with, of course...some very high end personal clients. Let's put it this way, there were a lot of low seven figure deals that she farmed out to associates for a percentage. She figured that the payoff wasn't worth her time for most of those. She usually had bigger fish to fry, e.g., the deal she had cooking the day we met. That deal closed, by the way, netting her a princely...or should I say a queenly...commission.

After our meal, Thea pulled out an envelope from her clutch purse. She handed it to me and said, "Drummond, here is something to thank you for your help that day. I don't think we would have closed that deal if you hadn't helped me."

I opened the envelope and saw a check...yes, and honest to goodness paper check...in the mid-six figures. Now, I was not unimpressed at her gesture but neither was I overly impressed. I dealt in sums many times that on a daily basis. But I understood what she was trying to do, though I don't think she and correctly assessed my financial stature to begin with. I paused for a moment trying to figure out how to play this.

At length I said, "Oh, Thea! You are too generous..too...too generous. I had no conception that my simple acts would have the significant consequences they did. I really don't deserve anything close to this. What a marvelous gesture it is, though...and from the heart I can tell."

I let that sink in for a moment, then said, "Thea, I have always thought that life and fortune has been far more kind to me than to many folks. That's why I understand the spirit behind your gift...generosity is not enough of a word. But, Thea, let me suggest this: my cash outlay for you that day amounted to $860.15USD. Simply repaying that to me will square our accounts. In good conscience could not ask for any more.

But, there are many who, as I said, are not nearly as fortunate as I...and certainly far less fortunate than you. So, if you would permit me, I will cash your check, subtract $860.15 and donate the balance to the "Kindness Shelter" in your name. That way there is gratitude all around. What do you think?"

Thea broke out in a smile wider than I had ever seen before. It was joyful, the polar opposite of her frustration and anger that day at the coffeehouse. She said to me, "Drummond! You ARE a boy scout! You are an adorable man! Thank you!"

When we got up to leave, I commented to Thea, "Have I missed something? Do we not have a bill to pay? "

"Oh, Drummond," Thea chuckled, "it all goes on my tab. I dine here often enough to have one and the management figures I'm good for it."

The maître d' hustled over to see us out saying, "Ms. Thea, I hope everything was to your satisfaction tonight? It is always a pleasure to see you and I hope to see you again, soon. Have a wonderful evening."

"Thank you, Renard," Thea was pleased, "Yes, everything was au-delà du délicieux, beyond delicious. Thank you again."

I saw Thea slip "Renard" a crisp, folded $100 bill as he helped her with her stole.

When we walked out the door of the restaurant, I fully expected to see a car waiting for Thea. I gave the valet my ticket and a $10 bill and waited for my car. I looked at Thea and asked, "Thea, did you call for your car? Are they late? Shall I check for you?"

Thea smiled a "Mona Lisa" smile and said, "Why Drummond? Isn't it customary for a man to drive his date home after dinner? I wouldn't expect less than that from you, dear man!"

Well, they die was cast. I was to chauffeur Ms. Thea home.

Thea lived in an area not too far from Conchita but in a building even more opulent, if one can imagine such a thing. Thea lived in the penthouse, which I'm sure she owned, which was secured in much the same way as Conchita's. Keypads, card keys, security cameras....I'm surprised there were no retina scanners. After parking in the ultra-secure garage, I saw Thea to her door--SIX floors UP!

Once at Thea's door, I said to her, "Well, Thea, this has been a wonderful evening. You have been so gracious. I will get that money into the mail to the "Kindness Shelter" and make sure you receive an acknowledgement from them. Well, then, I'll bid you a good evening...er...night! Just a thought, though, will I be able to get out of here without being arrested and summarily cavity-searched?"

"Oh, Drummond, you are so much the gentleman," said Thea with her enigmatic smile again, "come on inside and have the proverbial 'nightcap' before you go. Please?"

I have seen many luxury houses with less space than Thea's "apartment". It had four master sized bedrooms, with a full bath for each, a complete kitchen, a wet bar, a spacious living room, a comfortably sized TV room, and an office. Everything sparkled. She told me later that she had a personal assistant who's wife was the housekeeper/cleaner. She owned a smaller apartment for them one floor down so they could be available to help her virtually at any time.

Thea went over the wet bar, then turned and asked me, "That 'nightcap'? What would you like? I've got just about everything. I think I'll have a cognac. You?"

"Thank you, Thea," I responded holding my palm out, "I don't see a DUI (Driving Under the Influence) in my future, so if you have some sparkling water, I'm good with that."

Thea poured three fingers of a very expensive cognac in a snifter and uncapped a bottle of imported sparkling water for me. She directed me to the couch...well one of the couches...in the living room. As I sat down, she placed the drinks on the coffee table and sat on the couch with me...not too close, though.

Her legs were crossed, and she rested one elbow on her leg, and her chin in her hand. She looked at me for more than a moment, then asked, "I'm too old, aren't I?"

"I'm sorry?" I answered, "too old for what?"

"No, I'm just saying I'm too old, otherwise you would have made a play for me, at least a pass at me? So, I'm too old, right? Too powerful? I scare you? Or, are you really that much of a boy scout? You're think you're too young for me? Or What? I'm not sure..."

WOW, that was a lot to unpack, so I started at the front, "Thea? I have no idea how old you are. I don't think you are 25, but you could be 30...35 maybe...tops. (Of course I lied, I knew full well Thea was 46 years old...I had done my research!) You don't need to tell me how old you are...you can keep it a secret. But if you are talking about S-E-X, I have made love to women older than you...and of course, younger too. Does that answer your question?"

"One of them," she said, "too powerful? I scare you?"

"Thea, I don't know how to break this to you but I enjoy powerful women. You are so much more interesting to me than a woman who, nice as she might be, has no real sense of herself or what she can accomplish. Manipulative, malicious, spiteful and vindictive women make me cautious; once I find that out about them, I give them a wide berth. They are their own worst enemy, I've found."

"So, Drummond, you're a boy scout, then?" Thea was fishing, down to her last bit of bait.

"I am hardly a boy scout, Thea, and you may find that out," I couldn't help the grin on my face, "but, let's just say that I am discerning... judicious. You have been asking me a lot of questions...but let me ask you a question...fair is fair...O.K.?"

She nodded in the affirmative, so I said, "Thea, I am going to preface my question with a statement... I believe, whatever age you might be makes no difference, that you are indeed a powerful, self-possessed, capable, successful woman.

What I don't know...but I will ask you...is whether are you willing to be in a 'NSA'...'No Strings Attached'...personal, and sexual relationship? If you are willing to meet me as an equal, then I am willing to do the same for you. No games. What might your answer be?"

She rose to her feet, picked up her brandy snifter, and said, "Drummond, my bedroom is the one on the far right, the corner room. Would you like to join me there?"

I followed her into her room, a lushly appointed bedroom, lots of lights and lots of mirrors not exactly like the classic bordello...but close. There was a large bed facing the door, a "California King Size", to be specific that had an ornate silk or satin quilted duvet on it. Thea peeled down the duvet so it was folded neatly at the foot of the bed.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, she slipped off her fancy high heel shoes and set them near her nightstand. She looked up at me as if to say, "Your turn", but I just stood and watched her. I sensed this made her uncomfortable so I slipped out of my shoes, too.

She got the picture and turned her back and said, "Unzip me, Mr. Boy Scout!"

I did, and that exposed firm, smooth, deeply colored flesh, transected by a bra strap...a "three hooker" just to be specific. She shed her dress but carefully hung it up so it wouldn't wrinkle. Then she turned her head and over her shoulder gave me another "Your turn" look. I took off my suit coat and draped over the back of one of two chairs in the room. Her look turned to a pout. I just shrugged my shoulders and said, "One for one!"

With her hand over the shoulder, she pointed at her bra strap and said, "This is a 'two-fer', Mr. Boy Scout!"

I step over and unhooked her brassiere---pop, pop, pop--and she let it slide off over her arms, back still to me and a look of sly triumph on her face. I could tell her arms crossed in front of her would mostly conceal her boobs. She gave me another look and I undid my tie, took off my dress shirt and stopped, standing there in my undershirt. She shook her head and gave me a little glare. The undershirt had to go. I pulled it off over my head. Her eyes widened. Although I was in pretty good shape, I never thought my chest was particularly notable. Her eyes told me otherwise.

She let her arms drop to her sides and turned to face me. Now it was my turn to have my eyes betray me. Her breasts where magnificent! They belonged to a 46 year-old woman but were remarkably firm for someone that age. D-Cups for sure and, naturally, gravity had its way with them but they were not in any way saggy. There was a little droop to the sides but that was nothing to me if not sexy. Her areolas were modest sized and dark red; her nipples were already erect...they made my mouth water.

I nodded at her again and looked at her panty hose. Off they came but not the thong she was wearing underneath. She did a little pirouette after her hose came off. Her legs and but were as firm as the rest of her...maybe a little droop to her fanny...but it was a sexy droop. Of a "'muffin top" there was none; her tummy soft but firm, if you know what I mean. I took off my socks. That produced another glare from her so I unbuckled and unzipped my pants and, mimicking her pirouette, I turned around and put them on the chair with my suit coat and shirt.

So there we stood both in our underwear--she in her thong and I in my "tightey-whities". I almost laughed because it reminded of those Western movies and TV shows where the gunfighters did their walk-down before the shooting started. Thea and I were facing each just about the same way. Who was going to "draw" first.

I looked at her and said, "You first!"

She looked at me and said, "NO, you first!"

We both broke into smiles at the same time, so I said, "I'll tell you what...You can take off my 'tightey-whities' and I'll take off your thong...at the same time...Deal?"

"Deal!", she said.

We embraced, and started to kiss. Instantaneously my cock started to come to life. She couldn't help but feel that against her. She drew in a quick breath and moved her hands inside my underwear and fitted my hand around my stiffening shaft. She gave another little gasp and with her off hand teased my briefs down over my butt and over my thighs.

There wasn't much to her thong but I managed to do the same thing to her that she was doing to me. She had a lush, nicely trimmed bush under her thong. I could sense warmth and wetness close at hand...literally...just as she could feel the hardness of my cock. My briefs slipped down over my legs down to my feet and I stepped out of them; Thea did the same.

We both started to crouch at the same time. My goal, of course, was to get my mouth down to her pussy; her goal was to get her lips around my cock. It was almost comic...she giggled and I chuckled.

Thea broke the stalemate saying, "It's time to get into bed, Boy Scout. Let's rub some things together and see if we can start a fire. Agree?" I nodded my head and we tumbled onto the bed together, laughing like a couple of kids.

It was almost inevitable that we would wind up doing a "69" since Thea was interested in my cock as I was interested in her pussy. I've always found being on the bottom myself works best for me and my partner, too. She can lower her pussy down on my face and adjust the pressure and mobility to suit her. It also makes my cock easier for her to suck...she has more control of her technique that way. So there we were, both happy to be in our respective positions.

Thea had prominent labia with "butterfly" lips. This was not in any way a turn off for me; it actually gave more to play with. It seemed to me that larger labia created a larger area of sensitivity for a woman, adding pleasurability to oral sex before clitoris contact took place. It was fun finding them there in the midst of her lush pubic hair. Doing "69" it was difficult for me to get my fingers into play so I had to depend on my lips and tongue to do the work..."work"? Hardly, it was all fun and I enjoyed it immensely.

My partner was a natural cocksucker. She knew how to tease, how to massage, how to deep throat and when to do which. Thea's mouth was warm, just like her pussy was deliciously warm. She could get my cock all the way into her mouth and down her throat without a hint of a gag. It takes some real breath control to do that...and she had it. I really had to exercise some restraint to keep from cumming almost at once. (....Bottom of the 6th, two on, two out, even count, and a knuckle ball pitcher on the mound....) Besides, I had my own task at hand...or, more specifically "at mouth".