Proclivities - Pt. 01

"Wow," was all I could say.

"But the real kicker was one day after a similar ordeal that I can't even remember what it was about, she jumps up and yells, 'I hate you!' and stormed out of the apartment."

"Drama indeed," I agreed.

"Wait. It gets better. So I'm sitting there wondering what the hell just happened and figuring it's time to pack up my stuff, when she charges back in and asks 'Why didn't you come after me? '. Because you just said you hate me. 'Well if you really loved me you would have.'

"I see what you mean. Talk about crazy!" I said. What an absolute loon, I thought.

"So we tried to keep up the pretenses for another couple of months, but I just couldn't handle walking on eggshells, waiting for the next crisis and moved out. Just me and my clothes. Left everything else behind, including all of the furniture we'd bought together. "

"Holy crap. Sounds expensive."

"Sometimes, your sanity has a price and I really didn't want any reminders of her."

"I imagine not. So what did you do?"

"I found this little bungalow down on the water. A nice quiet location where I could think and sort things out."

"Did you succeed"

"I think so. For starters, I thought it would be best take at least six months off from dating. I wasn't a hermit, still went out with friends and went to parties, but most nights were spent alone."

"Most?" I queried.

"I didn't swear to celibacy. I wasn't the crazy one."

I laughed.

"I fell in love with living on the water," he continued, "and listening to the sound of the sun going down. Got a real chance to reflect on what had gone wrong, realizing that both Kim and Marcy had been teachable moments."

"So what did you learn?" I asked, looking for some insight.

"With Kim, maybe I took her for granted and didn't give her the attention she deserved. So, if I ever get serious with anyone again, to give it my all."

He paused for a moment, unsure if he really should continue his confession, as it were.

"So with Marcie..." I let my comment hang

"With Marcie, I discovered that there are things worse than being alone. After almost five years with Kim, loneliness drove me to stay with Marcie as long as I did. Desperation, drama and mediocre sex are not a sound basis for a relationship."

My eyes widened at this last revelation.

"Looks like I've overstepped a boundary here, so I'll shut up. I've said more than enough," he said apologetically.

"On the contrary, it wouldn't be fair to skip the ending. Besides, I really want to know what Betty got wrong, so far, you've more or less confirmed what she told me."

"Alright, but you've got to promise to keep it confidential."

"I'm no Betty!" I declared.

"I wasn't implying that! But you might be shocked."

"I'm a big girl," I replied devilishly.

"That you are," he grinned, giving me glance up and down. "As I said, I made up my mind to be fully committed to any long term relationship, but I also want to be damned sure it's the right one."

"So have there been any?" I interrupted. I really wanted to know if he was in one now.

"We'll get to that. Who's telling the story here?" he replied. I couldn't tell if he was perturbed or not, but a quick smile relieved my nerves. "But as I contemplated getting on with my life, I realized that nothing was going to work if I didn't look out for my own happiness. Be myself. Look for mutual interests and proclivities"

He paused a bit to let that sink in. I was pretty sure he was referring to sex and his raised eyebrow confirmed it.

"That and I realized that I truly despise flea markets, craft shows and holiday bazaars. I wouldn't be upset if you grabbed a girlfriend and went without me. I'm perfectly content to stay home and catch some sports or a movie on TV."

"What if I'd like that too?" I asked.

"As long as you don't ask when they're going to pitch a homerun."

I laughed and said, "I know a little more than that, besides I love it when they kick a touchdown."

"Point taken." Now it was his turn to laugh and I hoped my stock was rising in his eyes.

"So where was I?"

"Common interests... so what are yours"

"Let's see now...In music, I'm a bit old school, the blues, rock and some jazz. None of that monotonous un-cha, un-cha top forty dance crap. Movies, not so much new releases but again classics and can watch them multiple times and not get bored. Cooking..."

"You cook?"

"Sure. Outside of living with Señora Psychopath, I.."

I burst out laughing, "Señora Psychopath...that's a good one!"

"Trust me, she earned it. Anyway, I've been living on my own for over three years so with the help of some magazine subscriptions and TV, taught myself. Got pretty good at it. It's pretty much just chemistry. The trick is finding the right techniques."

"It seems when you set your mind to something, you do it."

"True...except in matters of the heart. My track record there is sketchy at best," he confessed, "but I'm trying."

"So nothing more recent?" Cut to the chase, dammit, what are you up to now?

"Okay, sure. Only one and it lasted just a few months. Not because of either of us. She's Korean. I met her through a mutual friend, but her parents were adamantly against their daughter being involved with a Westerner. So that was that. I guess it's been a year since we broke up."

"No one else? I asked, hopefully.

"No."

"Why is that?"

"A couple of things, I suppose," he said. "Probably my proclivities. That and since my bonuses kicked in on my contract, I've encountered quite a few who were more interested in helping me spend my money than me."

"Gold-diggers?"

"Bingo! But much to their dismay, they find out I've put a lot into my new house and the rest into a retirement plan."

"Oh, the humanity!" I joked and he smiled. "So aside from your money troubles, you've mentioned proclivities twice. What does that mean?"

"Come on! You're not that naive."

"No, I'm not," I confirmed. "I was just curious as to why that was an issue."

"Let's just say that opposed to what Betty said, mostly they've left me."

"Well that's a turnabout, but what makes them leave?"

"My, aren't you the curious one. Did you work for the National Enquirer in a previous life?"

"How did you know?" I could play along, "I have a perspiring mind and I want to know!"

He really laughed at that one. God, I was loving this banter

"Well...umm," for the first time that evening I saw him struggle for words, "how can I put this...there are certain, umm, grounds rules... "

"Oh," I said and decided to have a little more fun, "You mean like the monuments are in play?"

Pleasantly surprised by my knowledge of baseball lore, he smiled and nodded, but immediately, and obviously looking at my breasts, said, "Yours certainly would be. But no, it's more like I won't force you to do anything, but if you refuse; it's time to go home."

"That explains a lot!" I replied in complete surprise at his unexpected frankness. "Not much of a choice, though is it?"

"I didn't say it was easy. But it's not as awful as you might think. It's more about overcoming inhibitions, giving rein to your fantasies instead of keeping them suppressed. The really tricky part is having them in common with someone. However, you seem like a very nice girl, err...woman, and I doubt... "

"But you could teach me to be naughty," I blurted out, perhaps a bit desperately. I wasn't giving up that easily.

"I doubt our definitions of naughty share much in common," he warned and I knew he was giving me the opportunity to back out.

I was undeterred. "I guess there's only one way to find out."

"You sure about that?"

I nodded.

"Okay, but understand we'll work from my lexicon."

"I figured as much."

George pondered briefly, took out his cell phone and asked, "What's your number?"

Caught off guard, I didn't think, just gave it and watched him enter it.

"Please tell me that this isn't so you can call me some time," I said, using air quotes, and hoping not to seem desperate, but I'm certain that's how I came off.

"On the contrary," he replied, smiling wickedly as my phone started ringing and I reached for my purse.

"There's no need to answer that," he continued as I gave him a puzzled look. "Now that you have my number, let the fun begin."

"And how is that?"

"Go to the ladies room and send me a selfie of your, uh, monuments. And when you've done that, being me back your underwear."

"What?" I exclaimed, shocked. He certainly wasn't wasting any time. Or was he checking my sincerity? Either way, the moment of truth had arrived.

"I know you heard me," he said firmly, "The real question is whether you want to see how things go with me or go to your girls' night out."

"You weren't kidding when you said it wasn't easy," I replied as I retrieved my purse and pulled my sweater off the back of the chair.

"Did I scare you off?"

"No."

"Then, leave the sweater," he said softly, but firmly.

"But..."

"I said, Leave...The...Sweater."

There was no compromise here and I sensed that would be the theme for the evening. So off to the ladies room I went, entered a stall and locked the door behind me. Hanging my purse on the hook on the door, I reflexively pulled down my panties and sat.

What have I gotten myself into? I took a few deep breaths to calm my racing heart. That was a waste of time. My mind shifted gears. Isn't this part of your fantasy too? A handsome man having his way with you? God knows I've masturbated to this kind of scenario many times, but what he was asking is definitely beyond anything I'd ever conjured up! And...didn't he say that if I changed my mind, I could go home? Alright then, I'll do it!

I unbuttoned my blouse and pulled it open. So much for this outrageously expensive bra (and the lady at the shop who surprised me that I was a 34C, not a B). Taking my phone and setting it for selfie, I took the picture of my breasts encased in my bra.. Not bad. My pink, and obviously erect nipples were plainly visible through the lacey fabric. Okay, here goes. One monuments coming up!

I had just begun rebuttoning my blouse when an inbound message arrived. "Very sexy, but lose the bra!"

I wasn't totally surprised, but had hoped it would suffice. He'll be seeing them soon enough. At least that was myexepctation.

My trembling fingers fumbled with the cuff buttons, but eventually I got the sleeves off and my blouse tumbled to my waist. Thankfully, the bra was easier. But now, here I am, naked from the waist up, about to send a picture of my boobs to a man I just met, what, barely an hour ago? Yes, you are. Damned exciting isn't it? That was my aching boobs talking. Click. Oh my god! No mistaking you're turned on by this. Send.

I carefully folded my bra and slipped it in my purse. Ding! Another message, "Hall of Fame worthy, but a proper selfie includes your face."

Damn! Well, he's certainly a man of his word, overcoming inhibitions indeed! Okay, one more time. Click. Christ! Deer in the headlights is not a good look. Delete. Smile. Click. Kind of creepy. Delete. How about a kiss? Pucker up. Click. That's better. Send.

I pulled my panties from around my ankles. Another careful folding, and into the purse. Not much room in there now.

Ding. Now what?

"Perfect! Thank you."

Wow. Didn't expect that. I couldn't suppress a satisfied grin.

Oh shit! The door to the ladies room opened and two overly refreshed women began giggling about some less than desirable men they had just encountered. Oh well, that's certainly, not MY problem. I buttoned up my blouse and, just to restore some normalcy, flushed the toilet. The conversation ceased. Ignoring them, I quickly washed my hands and, a deep breath later, walked back into the bar. Paranoid, I believed every eye in the bar would be on me so I folded my arms across my chest, feigning a chill, when actually the opposite was true. A quick survey revealed everyone was minding their own business. Thank god!

There was George, right where I'd left him. He smiled most approvingly. Reassured, I joined him.

"That wasn't so bad, was it?" he asked.

"Easy it wasn't."

"But, you're okay?"

"I'll survive." I replied, but I could feel the blush rising in my face. "Can we go now?"

"Sure, but don't you think you should let your friends know that you won't be joining them? Plus don't you owe me something?"

"Oh shit! I totally forgot about that. Let me make a call. And can I give them to you once we get outside?"

"Sure, why not? Now make your call."

I carefully extracted my phone, making certain my underwear didn't get summoned with it. George peaked inside and smiled wickedly. Another blush for me.

"Hi Judy....yeah, I know I'm late, but I can't make it tonight. Sorry....No, everything is fine...Okay, yes, something better definitely came up...If you must know, George...Not now, I'll tell you all about it...tomorrow, I guess....You too. Thanks."

I had watched George's amusement throughout the conversation and said, "You enjoyed that entirely too much!" I couldn't help smiling.

"Perhaps I did. You ready?" he asked.

"Definitely."

I hung my purse on my shoulder and picked up my sweater, and, remembering his earlier admonition, kept it in my hand. It surprised me that he took hold of my free hand, and with a gentle squeeze, led me to the door. I walked as softly as I could to keep my boobs from jiggling, but they had a mind of their own, so I just focused on the floor to avoid eye contact with anyone.

Mercifully, we were finally outside and the door closed behind us. Tantalizing cool air rose within my skirt. I didn't expect it -- but I certainly didn't know what to expect at this point - when George pulled me into his arms, embraced me tightly. My breasts pushed firmly against his chest, my lips met his, parted, and welcomed his deep kiss. The best kiss I'd ever had, leaving me breathless and lightheaded. Or, perhaps, I was just horny as hell.

As he slowly released me, George asked, "So where's your car?"

I hesitated, lost in my emotions.

"Linda?"

"Oh, I'm sorry." I searched the parking lot, then pointed, "Umm, I don't see it, but it must be behind that black CR-V."

"That's my car. This evening must have been ordained," he joked.

Putting his arm around my shoulders, we walked the short distance, past his car and, indeed, I was parked next to him. We stood between the vehicles as I opened my purse to get my keys.

"I'll take those," he said calmly.

I handed over my underwear, startled by the unexpected eroticism of his hand lingering against mine. Did I unknowingly share his "proclivities?" Using the key fob, I unlocked my car and George opened the door for me. Without much thought, I turned to fling my purse and sweater on the back seat. As I did so, his free hand circled around, gently seized my left breast while squeezing my nipple between thumb and index finger.

"George!" I exclaimed and he relented. An odd mix of relief and disappointment washed over me. God that felt good, but we're still in the parking lot, dammit!

I sat behind the wheel and started my car. Just before closing the door, George powered down the window, then leaned his forearms across the opening, his face just inches away.

His eyes locked on mine. "I just wanted to know if they felt as good as they looked," he said, grinning broadly, "and they certainly do," as I savored the compliment.

He gestured at the black pumps on the passenger seat. "And what were those for?" he asked.

"I was going to put them on when I went out tonight"

"It would be a shame to let them miss the party. Put them on when you get to my house and for the ride home, raise up your skirt so your bare ass is on the seat."

Without a word, I complied, the short pile of the fabric emphasizing my nakedness as a shiver of excitement raced up my spine.

"Good girl, now unbutton your blouse."

"But..." I started to say. His look said otherwise, so I slowly and deliberately undid the buttons, watching as each one revealed a little more, but never enough to be indecent -- whatever that may be, given the line I'd crossed in the ladies' room.

"Very nice!" he encouraged, "Now buckle up and follow me. It's only about fifteen minutes, and I really don't want to lose you."

He turned, got in his car, backed out and very slowly drove towards the exit, his final words echoing in my head.

I followed, although I was becoming intimately familiar with the concept of distracted driving. Despite my efforts to keep my eyes focused on his car, I was repeatedly glancing down to make sure one of my boobs hadn't sprung free. The soft vibrations of the seat on my ass and pussy weren't helping either. I was turned on as hell and yet, he'd kissed me just once and only briefly touched me.

I can't say I paid much attention to our route or the time. I know we headed south, crossed the river and headed east along Squankum River Road. I could find my way home from here if need be, but was desperately hoping I wouldn't have to. At least tonight!

Soon enough we turned left into a drive that led through some woods. As I followed, black carriage lamps mounted on white posts switched on, illuminating the macadam before us and after about fifty feet, the trees gave way to lawn. Holy crap! Not a huge house, but lovely, a two story colonial with light grey clapboard, black shutters and white trim, similar carriage lamps glowing softly on its front. Welcoming...and...reassuring -- what an odd thought! I could get used to this...hold on girl, don't put the cart before the horse.

I could see that the drive led to two garage doors at the left front, but also continued along the side of the house towards the water and a parking pad at the back of the house, where George stopped. I pulled in beside him. Time to face the music!

As I exited my car and stood, I felt the cool night air creeping into my parted blouse, taunting my stiffening nipples. All in good time, I hoped, all in good time. George circled over to me and I said, "As much as I hate to admit it, Betty was right."

"What?" he replied as concern crossed face.

I laughed, knowing I'd tricked him, "She said you have a beautiful house," then adding, "but I think her real point was being miffed that she'd never been invited here."

"Can you blame me?"

"Hell no!"

"Phew! You really had me going there for a minute, but aren't you forgetting something?"

Honestly, there was too much crowding out coherent thought -- the man, the house, the state of my apparel -- how could I think? I just wanted to go inside.

"Your shoes," he reminded.

I opened my car door, picked them up and sat sideways with my legs out the door, removed the flats and slipped on the pumps. As cautious as I was, I'm sure he still caught some glimpses of my breasts.

I stood and closed the door.

"Lovely," he said, taking a step back and eyeing me head to toe.

Extending his arm to take my hand, he led me toward the back of the house. I tried to blame my unsteady steps on the heels, but I knew better. Up a few steps, we stood on a large flag stone patio which was encircled by a knee high brick wall, also capped in flagstone, all softly illuminated by recessed lighting within it. Nearest there were two rectangular glass topped tables under collapsed umbrellas, both easily accommodating six chairs. Further on, there were a couple of chaise lounges and two grills -- why two? The thought was fleeting. At the far corner, a screened gazebo extended beyond the patio.

"You could have some great parties out here," I said, trying to create a sense of normalcy and regain my bearings.

"I certainly do, but," he replied as he ushered me to the edge, "this is what really makes it all come together, the view."

I turned. He stood behind me as I took in the vista. I now realized that his property was a peninsula which extended about forty feet into the river, capped with a dock, to which was moored a sailboat. I'm no judge of such things, but it looked to be at least twenty five feet long. The far shore was about a quarter mile beyond it, maybe more.