tagNon-EroticMy Problem Ch. 03

My Problem Ch. 03

byDaiquiri Girl©

Over coffee Sunday morning I knew my problem was eliminated when I yelled at Kara. The tension was gone yet I sighed as my eyes remained focused upon the same black mark on the way. The price was my valued friendship with Kara. Before a raging fire in den I curled up on the sofa. Tears welled up. Much of what was said needed to be said, but said differently at a different time. Rarely my anger controls me. Regretfully at that moment I lost control. Why I went off still haunts my spirit.

The pained look upon Kara's face rightly continued to cut me to the core. I felt more alone than I have ever felt in my life. Daiquiri purring on my lap was my sole comfort. The loneliness, alienation was my just punishment. The "if only" thoughts were haunting. If only I had not befriended Kara. If only I had remained detached. Why did I allow myself to care for Kara and Tim? If only I had refused to be enticed by Kara's offer.

I resisted the temptation to apologize to Kara to apologize by reminding myself I needed to have for fortitude or I would become too involved again. I had become too enmeshed in their marital life and Kara's game. Cold detached distance was the order of the day.

Another temptation I resisted was to email Rene. Kara had deleted all recent and all early correspondence. But she had deleted some fourteen pages of junk mail. It was clear Tim had also been using the email address for registrations. There within a long list was a message from 2004. I smiled with satisfaction and started typing, "Rene, you do know me. I am Kate. You have not heard from Tim because at his request I took control of this address. Here is a link to a story as to why. I am out of the picture and advise you to stay clear too. If you want to email him, Tim's address is ...." Then my better nature overcame my baser nature. I was sending it in anger. This was not like me. I hit delete and felt at peace. And I was not sure I would ever email Rene. She is dead in his mind and heart, and should remain in the grave.

I continued to be melancholy. Kara is truly a good woman. She is intelligent and thoughtful. She is very passionate about her family and friends. We shared so much and provided each other volumes of support.

I had also become good friends with Tim. He served as my quiet rock standing in the background. He was invaluable in settling matters with my father's estate. As I grieved he listened patiently to my stories. When I was frustrated with co-workers he listened and his insights help were invaluable. He reminded me of my grandfather in Missouri which may be one of the reasons I liked him so much.

I reminded myself to forget Tim. I had walked away yesterday. "There are many other single men out there" became my mantra. If I kept my eyes open and allowed enough time I could to find a man who would stir both my heart and mind. Ben and Pat reminded me I needed someone to love and cherish me.

Shy of 4 that afternoon the telephone rang. Tim asked if his wife visited me the Saturday. Kara was moody but she was not giving him an explanation other than mumbling. He apologized when I mentioned we spoke. He regretted for giving me an inappropriate glance that had been seen by his wife Thursday night. He was sorry for creating tension between Kara and me. He vowed he would be more careful and limit his contact with me. He would do what he could to heal our friendship.

Cutting him off I assured him the difference between Kara and I had nothing to do with him. I told him his wife was not angry about anything said or did toward me. He replied he was not sure. Trust had been lost and she now was seeing innocent things in a negative light. He said he will seek his wife's forgiveness. When I hung up I collapsed upon my bed weeping. If only I had turned Kara's suggestion down flat I would have no heart ache.

An hour later having difficulty concentrating on reading Angelo's First Families I headed to a local lounge. I needed a different set of walls to upon which to stare and different sounds to file my ears. Being around others without being with them would help. Unfortunately within 15-minutes I was hit upon by a twenty-something man and moments later another offered me a drink. I refused both.

I continued feeling sorry for myself. Twenty another minutes later a late forties/early fifties man offered me company. I glared at him. He kept trying to strike up a conversation even though I was not responding. Watching the Olympics while consuming my second daiquiri the man just kept trying to hit on me. Finally I moved to another stool while I muttering, "men, all they want to is a fuck."

Almost immediately a mid forty-something woman sat on the stool beside me. Taking my hand and leaning over she whispered, "do you want men to stop hitting on you?" I nodded. She whispered she could stop it all. Again I nodded. "When I come back from the washroom I will kiss you on the cheek then we will move to a booth. That should end it and we will protect each other" she said.

Before collecting my thoughts she was gone. Suddenly it dawned on me that her plan was to make it look as if we were lovers. Was this a harmless ploy or part of a greater design?

Finishing my drink I recalled the words of one email to part one. The woman noticed that in part one I expressed a desire to taste sex with a woman. It was not intended. My mind wondered if she was right. Maybe she detected a subconscious desire seeking fulfillment. My mind was awash with those thoughts when I felt a hand take mine.

Lifting my eyes while turning my head, I felt feminine lips kiss my cheek. Speaking loud enough for several men to hear she said she had missed me. Wendy quietly introduced herself as we walked hand in hand toward a booth. Wendy explained that she had flown in earlier that afternoon from Indianapolis. Rather than having her husband risk driving in from Charles Town to pick her up she was spending the night at the motel across the street. The plan was for him to pick her up from the motel at 6:00 and for her to take him to his office.

Nancy and I shared several drinks together while talking about why men hit on any women they see available in a lounge. I groaned there seemed to be a dozen or so stranded men in the lounge seeking female comfort. She nodded and said that is why she has continued to touch my hand and arm. We laughed at each other's stories of how women are different from men. Responding to her sympathetic spirit and touches she drew from me why I was sitting alone at a bar. Her understanding and pithy comments lifted my spirit. I was no longer thinking about my problems. I was starting to feel good again. Three hours and five drinks passed quickly.

I was laughing at her story about her husband's fragile ego when she blurted that her husband treats her sometimes as if she was just a piece of property. I agreed many men see women that way. She laughed that it was sometimes nice to be used completely by a man and to be out of control for a night. I was unsure how to respond and remained silent. "Speaking of property, two men by the bar look as if they are about to head our way. I am in no mood to be property tonight." Before I could turn, her free hand moved to my chin. Looking me in the eyes she quietly whispered, "this will keep them away." To my amazement she leaned forward and kissed me on my lips. Though the kiss lasted only two or three seconds my pounding heart and confusion made it seem much longer. My mouth did not part, but her tongue running across my lower lip hinted of more to be offered. When she drew back she whimpered "wow, I did not expect such a reaction." I did not know if she was referring to her own reaction or me.

Before long we left our partly finished drinks behind and I was walking to her motel room. My gate was erratic. I was tipsy, tipsy from too many drinks. And tipsy from my pounding heart and light headedness. The experience of kissing a woman and her gentle touches did not help either.

I will not get into the details as such a description is not the intention of my reflection. That evening I was soothingly and willingly seduced. Her touches and kisses were much unlike a man's. She took the pleasuring initiative in introducing me to female lovemaking. My body responded. My heart danced and my body swooned at the pleasure being experienced. I closed my eyes and enjoyed the moment.

Far too long I denied myself sexual release and pleasure. Overhearing Ben and Pat making love helped flame my desires. And that desire was tapped by Nancy. As she did so I recalled various erotic romantic stories. The thrill of living one out drove me to greater heights. I knew I would not close off my sexual desires. Tim denied this opportunity a week ago to be my lover. Now a woman out of nowhere was drawing my sex life out of hibernation. All these thoughts flowed back and forth in my mind as she drew me up climax mountain with her mouth and tongue upon my womanhood.

Words fail to describe how it felt to suckling her breasts. It was both erotic and comforting. Having my hand guided upon another woman's sex and playing with the crux of the source of life was not offensive. Admittedly it as enjoyable as playing with a man's hardness, but the memory of it energized me.

She sensed I was not ready to return the oral pleasure. She was content to allow my fingers to become moist with her womanly essence and to use them to draw forth her moaning releasing. Though controlling the release of a woman was different than a man's, I felt as equally satisfied. Maybe it was the newness and the difference of it all. There was a look of passion and urging in her eyes as she slowly moved toward that moment when a woman's spirit is overwhelmed and seems to become detached from her body.

For the first time since leaving Wyatt I slept cuddled in a bed against another person. The curves and softness was different yet enjoyable. I longed for a male body to hold but a woman's was a lovely substitute. As the fog of sleep came over me Tim's face and voice came to my mind while Wendy's smooth soft hand rested upon my breast. I moaned inwardly feeling warm breath crossing my face as I feel asleep.

Waking a little after 6 the next morning I found myself alone. Then I recalled Wendy saying her husband was picking her up at 6. I noticed she had folded my clothing and placed them on the table. Upon the pile was a note, "Kate, I wish I could be here to awaken you this morning. I really hope this will not be our only time. I would enjoy taking your to new heights. Thank you for allowing me to be your female first. Love Wendy."

I lay there recalling the prior night. Being with Wendy was an emotional and touching experience. I allowed myself to be seduced. Yes, I had too much to drink. Yet, I knew what was happening and went willingly. My unknown female emailer was right in her reading. My conscious mind now knew the curiosities of my subconscious. When the opportunity presented itself, and with alcohol reinforced courage, I ceased it.

Wendy was gentle and understanding. She drew me forward step by step. She knew this was a daring step for me. She made me feel like I was the only person who mattered to her. As we lay entwined in our after passion I learned Wendy had eight affairs over her seventeen years of marriage. Six were women. Her husband did not know of her affairs. His male ego would be threatened by her seeking female lovers. He would feel that she was doing it because he was not a good enough lover, not for desire to be with a woman and experience female loving.

Would I do it again? The memory of Sunday night aroused my curiosity for more. That said, would I do it with Wendy? The note provided her email address, but no telephone numbers. Evidently she was being guarded and taking few risks. It is ironic that I left Wyatt because of his philandering ways with women. Now I am "the other woman". I did not like it, but that is what I would be if I met Wendy again. All day Monday the irony of it all played upon my mind.

An hour and a half before heading home on Valentine's Day, a potted red mini-rose bush in a white planter with a red bow came to my desk. The large card read, "Katie, thank you for a memorable evening. You are a precious woman. The power of your sensuality is surpassed only by your generous heart. Within you is a volcano of passion seeking release. I saw it your eyes that night. I hope you felt it too. My wish is that your passion and strength of spirit will find full release."

"Though in the scheme of life our time has been mere seconds, I feel we have known each other for an eternity. There was something by the way you looked that night that took my breadth away. Your smile and the glint in your eyes caused my heart to leap. When you first touched me hand I wanted to embrace you fully and to protect you from all harm. My heart wanted to reach in and take from your heart an unspoken pain I saw in the back of your eyes. Though I could not stay with you until the sun brought forth its warming light, I departed into the darkness with a heavy heart and a tear in my eye. My first love still means more to me than I could ever express and I will not put our relationship at risk ever again. My heart and life will forever belong to my first love. None will be able to replace the joys, passion and love that are grounded in youthful days."

"Yet on this day of love I cannot let my thoughts go unspoken. I still see your smiles and your tears. My heart desires nothing less than to apply a healing balm and to be your protector. Your soft round face is burned into my mind. Your laugh and sweet voice dances in my ears. Being with you feels so natural. Thought I wish we could become best friends and kindred spirits, I acknowledge that wish is not possible. In am conflicted in my thoughts about you. While I would like to think you feel the same, such a hope may only be one of my unrealized dreams."

"You deserve only the best. Nothing further will be said unless you return an expression in the coming days. Lacking a clear message or sign I will do nothing more. I made that mistake once and I will not make it again. I will tuck the memory of that night and our conversations in the sweet spot of my heart."

"May these flowers recall a cherished evening. May the mini roses grow in your home as they reflect the beauty of your face and spirit. May they remind you of your sensuality, your beauty and strength. May they encourage you to unleash your passion and unleash your heart that you have kept chained too long. At heart, your lover."

Initially perplexed as I had not given Wendy my address or telephone number, I realized I told her where and in what department I worked. I knew it was unsigned to protect me. She must have paid a premium to have such a lengthy message included printed onto the card. Wendy was good, very good indeed in continuing her seduction. She was well down the road to capturing my heart. I could read between the lines that she was saying she wanted to be with me again. I want to give myself to someone. Wendy walked through the door to captivate my attention. Tim and Kara are away from the front of my mind.

Being gently seduced warms my heart. A smile came upon my face. I was the focus of someone's amorous intentions. Wendy reached in with words I needed to hear. She knows my heart even though we just met. Before I heard the voice of our department's secretary, I clutched the card to my breast thinking, "I have a lover. I have a lover who has touched my heart!"

I could not fault Gina for being curious as to the man who sent the flowers. I avoided the question by asking her for a report on a spill in Nigeria. There was no way I was going to say that the roses are from another woman.

Though alone Valentine's night, my spirit was quieted by the warmth of knowing I am loved. Lately, my life has been on a roll coaster. Wendy has pulled the break, allowed me to get off, and given me new opportunities to experience tenderness, desire and pleasure. I had been trying to get my mind around what happened Sunday. The flowers overcame the last of my issues. I am no longer feeling guilty for having a female lover. I quietly smiled at the lack of concerns about no longer being a nice girl.

The night with Wendy was tender. That night along with the roses provided me the physical and emotional release I needed.

It seemed only natural to start this reflection on Valentine's evening, an evening of love and passion. I am amazed how things have changed in ten days. Then I was participating with Kara to attract her husband's desires. Back then Tim filled my thoughts. Being in his arms and to experience his passion and kisses was my dream. Now, my thoughts have turned to another. Wendy's seductive letter was drawing my heart to her. My problem is how much to give myself to this new experience. I still earn for male passion, touch and hardness. For now I am pleased to have Wendy's words, touch and lovemaking skills draw forth my sexual desires and passions.

While I want to repair my relationship with Kara, I will not play her games. If we do repair her friendship I have walked away from Tim. I am surrendering myself to another, albeit a woman. As far as Tim is of concern, fortunately he has not been aware of my interest and feelings for him and any feelings he has had for me appear to have been more lustful in nature. I am not in his heart and for that I am thankful. My feelings will die as my desires for love and passion for another bloom with the rose bush.

The first draft helped me to work through my thoughts enough to send a Valentine's email to Wendy. "Wendy, or should I say dearest Wendy for what I am saying? Thank you for Sunday, for not only coming to my rescue, for her understanding and for introducing me to a new world. Your gentleness and kisses are so different than what I have ever experienced. You worked through my initial awkwardness to bring forth pleasure I have long suppressed. Your roses and note touched my heart. I almost cried that you thought so much about me to send them. Without reservation I want to be with you. I am longing for more of your sensuous touches. I am surrendering myself to you. Yes I want you to teach me more about female lovemaking, and to introducing me to more new experiences. I want nothing less to give you my full passion in return and to thrilling you. Wendy, I am yours for the teaching.

Your face and womanly body are vivid in my mind. Between now and then I will find ways to increase my longing to see and make love to your body. Again, I am yours to be taught and for your pleasuring. Katie." The last thing I wanted to do was send a mixed or unclear message. Seeking to be as clear as possible I told her to take charge and I wanted her to be my teacher.

The next day checking my emails at noon I noticed a message from Jeff, Tim and Kara's youngest son, reminding me of the time of his high school band concert on Thursday. I cursed under my breath for making the promise to be at the concert. How Kara would react concerned me. The last thing I wanted was a public scene.

Thursday I slipped into the back rows as the first jazz band was playing its first item. Over on the right half way up sat Tim and Kara. When the first two concert bands started the stage change Kara moved into the seat beside me. She patted my hand as she said "thank you for coming. Jeff will be happy to see you after. He thinks the world of you. Thank you for what you said. A best friend says what needs to be said, even if it is painful to speak and hear. A best friend is willing to risk the friendship. Thank you for being you and kicking some sense into me." Before I could form my thoughts on this unexpected turn she left to join Tim. She gave me my space.

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