One More Fuck

The Maggie I met at the airport on Monday was a gorgeous professional woman, strong in her position with the airport authority. Her vibrant red hair was pulled into a soft and sexy up-do. She wore a simple silk blouse and a sexy black knee-high skirt.

The Maggie on my porch this afternoon is her own kind of smoke-show. Her hair is down, cascading across her shoulders, except for cute bangs across her forehead. A pair of glasses rest on top of her head.

An orange Under Armor-style T-shirt with open-cut shoulders is straining to contain her boobs. Yellow yoga pants are straining equally to contain her gorgeous ass.

Equally colorful gym shoes (Hokas, probably) wrap Maggie's feet below tight and curvy calves that probably help create the amazing curvature of her ass.

Head Voice: (Holy shit, Randy! Do ALL your women look this gorgeous??)

"Hey!" I call out through the glass as I push the storm door open. "Just coming from the gym?"

Maggie breezes into the foyer. "Just heading there, actually," she says cheerily. "Your place is conveniently on the way."

Maggie knows my house well over all our years of working together. She preferred my house to hers (or the office) for late-night strategy sessions.

With that familiarity, Maggie heads straight for the kitchen and loudly plops a large, blue, official-looking packet of some sort on the island. Her phone, glasses, and key fob follow.

I'm trailing behind her like a puppy into the kitchen and she turns to face me as I approach.

"Oooh, c'mere you," Maggie half-coos and half-squeals as she wraps her arms tightly around my neck in a overly-grand hug.

She releases the hug after just a beat or two and gives me a quick kiss on my right cheek. Her arms are still around me though

"It's *so* good to see you again!" Maggie exclaims. "We have a lot to catch up on."

"We do," I concur. And then I gesture to the large packet on my kitchen island.

"But it looks like there's a lot here as well," I comment. "Would a beer make it easier?"

"Yes it would! I'd love one, please," Maggie answer the second question. Then, "Are you still drinking *our* IPA?"

"You'd better believe it," I reply as I set two bottles on the island. I pop the tops with an opener from the drawer. "Even with all the new flavors and iterations, it's still my go-to."

As Maggie and I got to know each other better through our work, we started discovering a remarkable number of things we had in common. Things like aviation, music, love of the outdoors... and beer.

Unlike many other women I know, Maggie has an appreciation for IPAs and craft beers that equals mine... if it doesn't outright surpass it.

She and I, together, claim to have been the first to discover what is now a very popular craft beer. And that's what I serve Maggie this afternoon.

"Cheers!" I remark as we clink the necks of our respective bottles together.

We both take a swig. Maggie swallows hers and delivers an exaggerated "Ahhhh!" As I swallow mine I gesture to the blue packet. "So, what *is* this?" I ask as the beer clears my windpipe.

"Oh, that's just your homework," Maggie submits. "I've already done mine.

"That whole packet (Maggie's voice drops into a deep-pitched comical narrative) signifies your understanding that you are being given permission to witness some of the most ground-breaking technology in the entire field of aviation... blah-blah, blah-blah-buh-buh-blaa-blah.

"You have to read it, then sign a certificate in the back pocket that says you've read it. At least it doesn't have to be notarized."

I'm smiling at the show. It is beyond Maggie's capacity to control her incredible personality. So she just lets it run free. And it's fun to watch.

Maggie notices my amusement and drops into a more consoling tone; "Actually, it's a very nice publication," she continues. "Someone in the Air Force PR office did a really nice job describing the needs and benefits of stealth technology in the battle theatre.

"Everyone who gets to "tour" the plane, like we will next week, gets one of these. It's kind of a souvenir."

Maggie swallows another swig of beer, looks into my eyes, and then smiles slightly.

"There's actually a little ceremony where you raise your right hand and everything. Then they present you with the documents... that you've already received and reviewed and signed... and that you've just returned to them.

"It's a hoot."

Then, through her sexy low giggle, "I'll take a picture of you getting sworn in if you want."

Then, suddenly, "Oh, shit!... that reminds me," Maggie exclaims as she reaches for her phone. "I have to take an updated picture of you for the documents!"

She grabs her glasses and her phone and glances around the kitchen for a clear background and decent lighting. Finding a place that will work, she directs me:

"Here. Stand right here. Don't let your beer bottle get in the shot."

I'm grateful that I changed into something nicer than my customary T-shirt for Maggie's visit. The government will see me in a respectful Greg Norman golf polo.

The picture is snapped and Maggie fiddles with attaching it to something on her phone.

"So," I wonder aloud to Maggie, "... this blue document thing is all I have to sign?"

"Oh, shit no," she replies. "I'm sending you an email right now. You still have DocuSign on your phone?"

She's referring to a digital signature program that businesses all over the world use every day. "I use it all the time," I reply.

"Cool," Maggie replies. "Check your email... I just sent something to you."

I pull my phone from my back pocket while Maggie takes a swig of her beer. My phone is buzzing as I retrieve it. There's an email notification on my home screen. "Yup... it's there," I confirm.

"Here... set your phone on the island," Maggie instructs. "It'll be quicker if I can see which document you're signing."

I do as Maggie directs me. I set my phone face up on the island. Maggie takes a position slightly behind me and to my right. She can look around my shoulder to see my screen. She sets her phone and her beer above my phone and to the right.

"Okay," Maggie instructs, "Open my email I just sent and just click on the link it gives you. I didn't send any text."

I do as instructed and the DocuSign link loads automatically. There's a document in a place called "Maggie's Room/Personal."

"Okay... click there," Maggie directs.

There's a blue circle that spins for several seconds... many seconds... indicating that it's a large form that's downloading..

"Wow... lots of pages," I murmur, while taking a swig of my beer.

"I should have warned you to pack a lunch," Maggie replies, swigging her own IPA.

The document finally loads, and Maggie steps into the driver's seat.

"All of these early pages are just asking for your initials," she informs me... like I didn't know already. "Your signature page will come last... just like on our contracts with our clients." Maybe her beer is getting in the way of her knowing that *I* know how these things work as well.

"Click here," Maggie continues. "Say 'yes' to that... click there... click there... 'yes' to that...click there... and there...

"Now they're asking about your security clearance," Maggie continues. "Do you still know your ID number?"

"Uhhhh... I might have it... somewhere," I reply.

Maggie swallows another gulp of beer and comments, "Yeah... I didn't have mine off the top of my head, either.

"Maybe it'll auto-populate. Hover over the box and see what happens."

I do as she instructs and a number pops into another box on my phone. I click on that box and the number appears in the document.

"That's a little scary," I say with amazement. "I haven't used that number in years."

Maggie swigs again from her bottle. "They know sooo much more about us than we think they do," she murmers.

Then: "Okay, keep going. Click there... there... there... there..."

There must be 150 pages in this document. In the course of all the clicks, I begin to feel Maggie very slightly... almost softly... pushing her boobs into my back and my side.

It feels warm. It feels nice. It feels... connective. My cock concurs with a tingle and the softest beginnings of a swell.

Finally I click my way to the last page of the document. There is a signature line which I also click on, and a digital scrawl of my name lands in the appropriate place on the document.

"Excellent!" Maggie exclaims. "Now click on that 'submit' button and your form will come to me."

I do as I'm instructed and a half-second later Maggie's phone buzzes on the counter, signifying an incoming message.

"That's probably it," Maggie responds. She reaches sort of around me to grasp her phone on the island.

I collect my beer and do a half-turn to my right while Maggie retrieves her phone and does a half-turn to her left. Without specifically intending to, we end up basically toe-to-toe against my kitchen island.

Maggie is confirming receipt of the documents and saves them to a folder on her phone.

"I want to send this to my Air Force guy right away," she says. "Do you still have the same Wi-Fi?... the same password?"

Over our years together Maggie and I finalized countless transactions from this house... from this very kitchen. I haven't changed any of the access information.

"Should still work," I reply with a swig of beer. My bottle is almost empty.

Maggie tap-tap-taps on the screen of her phone. One final tap and she looks up at me and says:

"Success! I just sent it to Mister Lieutenant Antsy Pants."

She sets her phone down, face up, and picks up her beer. "Let's see how long it takes him to respond."

Almost immediately her phone vibrates again. Maggie glances at the display, then looks up at me, her face beaming.

"He got it!" she exclaims. "Woo-hoo! You get to tour a B-2 bomber on Wednesday!"

Maggie lifts her bottle to mine and we again clink the necks together. We each drain the beer that remains and set our bottles down on the island. Maggie takes off her glasses and sets them next to her phone.

"Maggie, this is... just fantastic," I effuse. And I mean it. "I can't wait for Wednesday!

"I need to find a special way to say 'thank you.'"

Then... maybe it's the beer... or maybe it's not.

Maggie wraps her arms around my neck and firmly pulls me into her. I feel her boobs pressing into my chest.

"Maybe you could just kiss me," she whispers, "...and we can call it even?"

Maggie and I are standing essentially toe-to-toe, and now forehead-to-forehead. In my kitchen. Breathing our beer breath on each other.

This is a different plane of contact for both of us. Yes, when we worked together we would hug. Yes, when we celebrated life events, we would cheek kiss or air kiss. Yes, when we were consoling the other one, we would reach out and hold a hand. Or wipe a tear.

This is different. This is connective. This is filled with tension and potential and opportunity.

And this is what I've been waited for. For *SO* many years.

And as much as I've wanted it... as much as I've ached for it... I never got to experience it.

Now... today... it's happening, right here in my kitchen.

I'm not frozen... I'm relishing the moment. And maybe Maggie is, too.

Maggie makes the first move. Softly, gently, slowly, she closes the gap between her lips and mine.

As our lips connect, neither one of us makes any further moves. We both seem to be savoring the contact... the connection. The connection we both knew inside ourselves years ago that we *shouldn't* make... but the connection we both still wanted to,

But that only lasts so long.

Maggie takes a deep breath through her nose, and then the girl goes to work.

She first pulls away very slightly to moisten her lips. Then she opens her mouth to surround mine. She moves her lips around and over mine, pulling my lower lip into hers, then releasing it to continue to gyrate around my lips.

I react with my own motions and movements, capturing her lips with mine, sucking them into mine, alternating and mimicking her actions and motions.

After a few seconds of this, the first kiss stops. Maggie opens her gorgeous green eyes to look into mine.

She releases a small chuckle... like she's pleased with what she's found... and the second kiss starts right away.

This kiss begins the same, then becomes more passionate. Our mouths open. Our tongues find each other and then explore. Our arms get involved and slide slowly over shoulders, arms, asses.

It's pretty fucking nice. We match up well. Very well.

The second kiss stops. I return to a forehead-to-forehead posture with Maggie, staring into her eyes.

My breathing is rapid and I can't disguise it. "So, I guess now we can call it even?" I ask her softly.

Maggie whispers through a panting breath of her own: "No. Not even close."

The next kiss ramps up quickly. There is passion that is now flowing between the two of us. Maggie wants more of me and I want more of Maggie. Maybe much more.

I begin to explore with kisses across her cheeks, down to her neck, behind her ear. Maggie pulls me closer to her and I hear soft moans as she pushes her body into mine.

This kiss is escalating to something else. We both feel it.

I return to Maggie's mouth and simultaneously move my right hand to a position behind her neck. I then pull her body into mine with my left arm, while pulling my right hand firmly toward me. It's like I'm capturing Maggie and I don't want to let her go.

My right leg slides between both of Maggie's and our crotches meet in the middle. My cock is pressing hard against her mound. There's no way she can't feel it.

My tongue is moving wildly inside Maggie's mouth and her tongue rushes to join with mine.

Maggie isn't fighting it. She's melting into the feeling of being captured... being dominated... being kissed like there's no tomorrow.

And maybe being fucked, if this goes on much longer.

It seems as though it's time to make that determination.

The kiss breaks and Maggie pulls me into a deep hug. A full-body hug. My right leg remains between hers and we stand, now torso-to-torso, while we collectively catch our breath.

A few pleasant moments go by as we stand there silently. Then Maggie whispers into my ear:

"Randy, I remember some conversations that we had years ago. They were probably conversations that we shouldn't have been having at the time, looking back on it.

"Do you know what I'm talking about?"

"That's a pretty broad subject," I reply, because it is. "I'm guessing you're not talking about work stuff, but more personal stuff?"

"Uh-huh," Maggie replies.

"And probably about how we'd wish our spouses would do *this* or *that* to one or the other of us?"

"Yup."

"And what a turn-on it would be if I would do something for you that you'd like, and how exciting it would be if you would do something for me that I'd like."

"Exactly. And I remember that we got *very* much into the details of those... activities."

"So, that's the topic," I continue. "Can you narrow it down from there?"

"In one of those conversations... shit, probably more than one," Maggie says, "you tried and tried to convince me about what an awesome kisser you were.

"Do you remember that?"

"I think so," I reply. "I probably DID say it to you more than once."

Maggie gives a short laugh, relaxes her hug, and moves her head so we're face-to-face. She looks directly into my eyes.

"I have to admit something," she whispers. "I've always thought you were saying that just as an enticement for me to kiss you. And then that would lead to something else. And then *that* would lead to something *else*.

"I always thought you were just trying to get me in bed with you."

I return Maggie's gaze into her green eyes. "Well, that *was* our plan," I say somewhat sternly. "We were going to end up in bed every night of that conference. We were going to wake up together every morning. We were going to fuck like rabbits.

"Until you suddenly couldn't go to the conference, and I went alone."

I continue softly, "And then... after I got back... everything seemed to change."

Maggie returns my gaze and her face softens a little.

"Yes, yes," Maggie replies. "It did. And that's on me... I made that happen.

"And we need to have a long talk about that... but not today.

"What I want to say now," she begins... and then pauses. Her eyes drop away to the side, and then return to my eyes.

"I guess if I had known, then, that kissing you would be like we just kissed now... if I had known that it would make me feel like I feel right now...

"I guess I wouldn't have wanted to stop. Kissing you. Then doing something else with you. And then probably doing something else with you."

Maggie pauses and her beautiful eyes focus on a place deep within mine. Then:

"I guess I'm wishing... that I hadn't passed on that opportunity."

And Maggie kisses me again. Gently.

This was not what I thought my meeting with Maggie today would turn into. This was supposed to be about touring the aircraft. I had no intention of making out with my gorgeous former co-worker in my kitchen. I had no intention of re-kindling whatever feelings -- lust, desire, wanting -- we might have ever had for each other all those years ago.

But apparently, here we are.

And, the truth is, if Maggie wants to go upstairs and roll around on my mattress and get naked and... maybe even fuck me on this fine Saturday afternoon... if that's what SHE wants... well shit, I might not have the will power to resist.

I decide to leave the door ajar.

"Well... maybe there will be another opportunity," I say softly.

Maggie is still staring into my eyes. "I hope so," she whispers. "I'd like that."

And then she pulls me to her and kisses me softly again. It's a signal that this interlude -- however exciting -- is ending.

The kiss breaks, and Maggie looks into my eyes with a sly smile. She takes a deep breath and pulls away from me to collect her things on the island.

I scoop up the beer bottles and drop them in the recycle bin.

"So, lunch on Wednesday?" I redirect. "Your office, say... eleven-thirty?"

Maggie checks her calendar on her phone, then confirms.

"Sure. I have a planning meeting that's supposed to end at eleven.

"I'll make a call to a food-service guy who owes me a favor and have a place out of the way all set up for us.

"You still like Italian food?"

My Head Voice: (You... gorgeous women... and Italian food. I see a pattern forming here...)

I ignore him.

"You bet!" I answer to Maggie's question. "I'll skip my protein shake that morning to make room."

Maggie has collected her phone, glasses, and key fob and is moving towards the front door. I scurry along to catch up to her as she pulls the door open.

"Hey, Maggie, thanks for this opportunity... on Wednesday," I interject. "I'm really looking forward to it."

Maggie turns slightly to face me. She reaches up and gives me a brief kiss on my cheek.

"Me too," she replies. "See you Wednesday at eleven-thirty."

She pushes the glass storm door open and then stops. She turns back to me once again.

"Oh, and Randy..." she says, and then pauses. "Just to let you know...

"I know what I'm going to be thinking about... tonight."

Maggie turns with a flit and steps through the door. Then she skips down the stairs and to her car. She doesn't look back.

I don't follow her onto the porch to stand there and wave goodbye. I stay inside and softly close the solid front door. And then I lean back against it and take a deep breath... and release it.

Head Voice: (Dude, you want to talk about this??)

"Not right now," I answer... out loud.

++++++++ ++++++++ ++++++++

On Sunday evening Kate has the signal placed in her bonus room: One candle, instead of two, in the window that faces mine. We'll be doing some sort of sexual experiment -- of Kate's choosing -- tomorrow morning.