Proclivities - Pt. 02: What Now?

Part II: What Now?

I awoke suddenly. Not typically how I wake up. This isn't my apartment! Daylight flooded the room and then my memory. Oh god! The things I did! The things I said! Panic set in. Where's George? What time is it? What must he think of me?

I did my best to calm myself. Looking about, I saw a digital clock on the nightstand. Almost ten? Shit! I never sleep this late. Then I spied the note next to the clock and nervously snatched it up.

Linda,

You were sleeping so soundly and peacefully, I didn't have the heart to wake you. I've left my robe on the bed for you. In the bathroom, you'll find a towel if you wish to shower. Also a toothbrush and toothpaste. If you need anything else, just poke around. When you're ready, come downstairs. There's coffee and croissants, if you're interested. Take your time, but I'll be counting the minutes until I see you.

Kisses,

George

How sweet! It nearly brought tears to my eyes and there's the robe, white terry and neatly folded at the foot of the bed. Still, facing him this morning would have its challenges. My behavior last night was so uncharacteristic. Maybe, the bigger problem is reconciling it with myself. He'd given me what I'd craved for so long. And then some! I'd never imagined I would ever follow through, and kept those desires safely secreted in my head. Did my desperation of not becoming Betty cloud my judgement?

His note seemed, what? Pleased? Unfazed even - as if it were all so normal? For him, maybe, but certainly not for me!

Having only noticed the brass bed last night, I took in my surroundings. Through the three windows opposite the bed, there was the sun drenched version of what I viewed last night. To the right, the same arrangement as downstairs, a gas fireplace centered on the wall, a flatscreen TV above it and windows flanking each side. I guess I shouldn't be surprised that a techie would love symmetry - the hardwood flooring duplicated, with similar oriental carpets and window treatments. Centered on the wall opposite the fireplace about fifteen feet from the bed were two doors, one of which I presumed led to the bath. In the corner to the left of the doors, was a large, sleek black desk with triple monitors on top, obviously his work space. With this view, it was no wonder he worked from home.

Damn, I gotta pee! Tossing back the covers, I sat on the edge of the bed - still in your stockings I see, and there are your heels standing next to the brass footboard. I don't remember taking them off.! My body clearly reminding me of the exertions from last night, I stood slowly, checking the worthiness of my legs. I gingerly made my way across the room. Oops, the door on the left was for a damned big walk-in closet. Opening the other door, I urgently stepped past a large, glass doored shower and sat on the toilet. Ah, relief.

Resting a bit to get my bearings, I looked around. What a fabulous bath! The floors in a black and white mosaic with white half-wall tile, a band matching the floor running near its top and capped in black. Above the walls were painted in a rich, deep burgundy. To my left, at the far end, a really big white claw-foot tub was surmounted by two large double hung widows trimmed in white. Oh to luxuriate in steamy hot water and gaze out the windows. I already knew it was an incredible view. I bet two could fit in there.

Across from me, and opposite the shower, a molded double sink vanity. Wood cabinetry, probably maple. The top resembling black marble, white veins running through it, bright chrome faucets, and a mirror running the length above. A large towel sat on the sink top. Reflected in the mirror, was the shower. Damn it was huge. A good six feet wide, the same black marble along the back and sides, showerheads at either end and fronted in frameless clear glass. Yes, I definitely need that.

Got to get rid of these stockings first. Damn, runs in both knees. Well, that's not surprising, and I rationalized it was acceptable collateral damage. Off they went and I just left them in a rumpled heap on the floor to be dealt with later. I flushed the toilet and stood. Oh my god! The mirror! Is that me? What a mess! My hair's a total bird's nest and my mascara had run down my cheeks, confirming last night's pandemonium. Off to the shower with you!

The hot water cascading over me was divine and, for a couple of minutes, I just savored it. After washing my face, I shampooed my hair and applied conditioner. I noticed a blue nylon scrubby and lathered it up. The slightly rough yet slippery sensations conjured memories from last night, my mind trying to rationalize it against how I'd perceived myself just the previous morning. Doubtless, I'd tumbled down a rabbit hole. But where did it lead?

I rinsed off, turned off the water, stepped out and grabbed the towel -- a rich purple, oversized and soft. Once dried, I wrapped myself up in it. Atop the vanity I spied a hairbrush, more of a guy type, but it would do, toothpaste and toothbrush, still in its original packaging. With my hair back to normal, I picked up and unwrapped the toothbrush.

Doubt flooded my mind as Betty's warning invaded. Did George keep a stock of new ones for his "guests?" Where did I fit in that metric? Would this just be a one night stand? Oh god, that would be so demeaning!

My lower lip quivered. No! This is no time for tears. Only one way to find out. With renewed purpose, I finished brushing, hung the towel on a bar in the bath, tossed the stockings in the trash, strode into the bedroom and quickly put on the robe. Tying the sash as I walked, I headed downstairs, but stopped short of the sitting room entrance and peered inside, suddenly fearful of...of what? George, dressed in red pajama bottoms and a black tee shirt was sitting at the breakfast bar in the kitchen, sipping coffee and reading a tablet. I stepped into the room and he turned.

With broad grin, he said, "Good morning. I thought I heard you upstairs."

I paused and issued a soft "Good Morning."

He motioned me over. "Pull up a stool. Would you like some coffee?"

"Yes, please," I replied as I sat next to him.

The counter held a stainless carafe, an orange juice carton, two glasses, a creamer, sugar bowl, two dessert plates and a small platter with croissants, butter and raspberry jam. He took a second mug, poured coffee into it and placed it in front of me with a spoon.

"Cream or sugar?" he asked.

"Sugar, thanks."

He handed me the sugar bowl, watched me stir some in and take a sip.

"Mmmm, good coffee," I said, but my eyes avoided his.

"Thanks. Are you okay?" he asked, genuinely concerned.

I took another sip, stalling for time. I really wasn't sure how to start.

"Can we talk?"

"Of course," he replied, "I was hoping we would."

"What does this all mean?"

"What does all what mean?" he repeated, perplexed.

"Last night. This morning. I mean last night, that wasn't really me. I'd never done anything like that before." The flood gates were opening. "Where do we go from here? Am I just another of your conquests that Betty was talking about? Will I ever see you again?"

As much as I tried to fight it, my eyes watered and a tears ran down my nose.

He picked up a napkin and gently wiped away the tears, deep concern filling his face.

"First, get some mental floss and clean Betty's vindictive rumor mongering out of your head. Conquests, what a crock of shit! Second, I beg to differ. That was you last night, wonderful, passionate you. All that happened was that you discovered something about yourself. Unless you switched with your stunt double when I wasn't looking."

I nervously laughed. I should have known better than to give credence to Betty's venomous comments.

"Besides," he continued, "what two people do in private is their own damned business."

"True," I replied, "but it wasn't exactly private."

"You have absolutely nothing to be ashamed of. As far as I know, embarrassment isn't fatal, and, more to the point, didn't you enjoy yourself last night?"

"I did, but you've got to believe me, I've never...it was so...I don't know..."

"Naughty?" he prompted. I just blushed. "So the real question is do you want to keep being naughty?"

"Yes," I croaked, as I considered the alternatives. I didn't want to live regretting saying no, but there was still the burning question. "And...am I your...bitch?"

"Right now, no. Last night, most definitely. But that was just us having a bit of fun. It's not twenty four-seven."

I nodded, "That's a relief."

"As to what now?" he continued, "While you were upstairs, I was sitting here thinking that I'd really like to get to know you better, but worried that you'd be looking to get the hell out of here as fast as you could and never see me again. As a matter of fact, I was relieved that you didn't sneak out in the middle of the night."

"Really?" I said excitedly. "I had the similar concerns about you, so yeah, I want to get to know you too."

He gave me a quick kiss on the lips.

"How about we start with breakfast?" he asked as he slid over the tray of croissants and handed me a plate.

"Great, I'm starving." I really was, having not eaten since yesterday's lunch, eagerly taking the pastry, breaking it in two, adding some butter and jam, taking a flakey, buttery bite. Uncontrollably, I devoured it quickly.

"Hmmm," he said playfully, "seems you worked up an appetite!"

"Wow, these are really great!" I added, ignoring his comment, despite its accuracy.

Obviously, George was as famished as I and once he'd finished his, he said, "Thanks. Made them myself."

"You made these?"

"Sure did. It's not hard, just takes time. Not this morning, I pulled these from the freezer and warmed them a bit in the oven. The next time I do, would you like to help knead my dough?"

"Sounds like fun." Grateful for returning to some of the banter I'd enjoyed at the bar, greatly easing my anxiety. "I'd knead your dough anytime."

In a surprisingly shy tone, George said, "So, if it's not too presumptive of me, I was hoping that we could spend the weekend together. I mean, you could go home, pack some things and I'll pick you up this afternoon. There's a Mallards game tonight and tomorrow's weather is supposed to be sunny and warm, so we could go sailing."

"That sounds lovely! I haven't been to a ball game in a long time - too long," I said, "but I know zip about sailing."

"Don't worry about that. I'll teach you. You seem like a quick learner," he said with a wicked grin.

"George, whatever do you mean?" I said, batting my eyes at him, overjoyed by his planning.

We both laughed heartily, as he stood, pulled me to my feet, embraced and kissed me. Damn! I'm getting really fond of that and was disappointed when his lips left mine.

Gazing down into my eyes, he said, "There is one more thing."

"Oh?"

"Do you remember what we agreed to if you were still here in the morning?"

I had to think for a bit, but his hand found its way to my pussy and stroked it through the robe. His face filled with mischief. Oh right, a Brazilian waxing!

"Well," I paused, his electrifying touch putting my reluctance to flight.

"Are you breaking your promise?" he asked as his hand squeezed tightly.

"How could I!" I assured, "But how, when, where?"

"Hold on," he replied as raised his hand slightly, fished his phone from his pocket and called a contact.

"Hi, Siu. It's George...I couldn't be better. And you?...Great. I was wondering if I could get a Brazilian waxing appointment with you this afternoon, like around 3 or 4?...No, not for me, for a friend...Linda...OK, four it is."

"Your wish has been granted," he said, very pleased with himself, as he ended the call and placed the phone on the counter.

I swallowed hard. "That easy, huh?"

"Anything for you," he said sweetly and picked his phone up again. "Whoa! It's already past eleven, so we don't have a lot of time. I mean, you need to go home and pack and I've got a bunch off stuff to do around here. How about if I pick you up at three?"

Digesting the plan and a bit stunned by my commitment, I was momentarily at a loss for words and he sensed my befuddlement.

"Yes?" he asked.

"A couple of things. First, what should I pack?"

"For tomorrow, some shorts, sneakers and a hoodie. Oh, and a bathing suit. Do you have a bikini?"

"No, everything I have is a one piece."

"In that case" he said, "scratch the bathing suit. We'll have to get you one that shows off your fabulous bod appropriately."

I had a feeling he wanted something very revealing, and my expression obviously exposed my concern.

"Don't worry, we'll be the only ones on board."

Right, I thought. Just like we were the only ones on the patio last night.

"Okay," I conceded, but inwardly excited at the prospect and his praise. "But no thongs. They feel like a permanent wedgie."

"Deal. And for this afternoon, you'll want to wear a skirt, doesn't have to be short. Again, no underwear -- after the waxing you wouldn't want panties anyway."

Concerned, I asked, "Um, is this no underwear going to be a regular thing?"

"Only when we're together," he quipped, "but even then, depending on where we'll be, who we'll be with and what else you're wearing. So, no, not always. And, of course, work doesn't apply. Is that a problem?"

"I guess not. As long as I'm not exposing myself in public."

"You won't be, at least no more than last night. As I recall, that got your motor running."

"It did," I confessed, "but that doesn't mean it didn't make me nervous too."

"Point taken, but rest assured, I would never, ever ask you to do anything that would put you in danger."

"That's reassuring...I think."

"Fair enough. So what's your address? That is, if you still want me to pick you up later."

"Oh, I definitely do. Just a lot to process at the moment," I said. I gave him my address, which he put in his phone.

"That puts you about thirty minutes away," he noted. "So let's get you your clothes."

My skirt and blouse were laid over a chair in the sitting area along with my purse. He retrieved them and handed them over.

"I'll be right back," he said and quickly bounded upstairs, returning with my heels.

"Aren't you forgetting something?" I asked.

"Like?"

"My underwear?"

"For now, they're mine, you gave it to me last night, remember? However, you'll definitely have an opportunity to model it for me sometime."

"Alright," I said a bit dejectedly. It wasn't so much that I didn't want him to have them as I dreaded answering Judy about where they were.

"Well then, get dressed."

After all that transpired last night, why was I reluctant to shed the robe and get dressed? The cold light of day? His being dressed? Or just the fact that so few men had seen me naked?

Sensing my reluctance, George untied the robe and slid it from my shoulders, bunching around my ankles. I knew better than to cover up.

"No need to be shy," he cooed, and, took a step back. "Yup, still takes my breath away. You did last night and even more so today"

He sat back on his stool and watched me get dressed. Why is this turning me on so much?

"Well, I guess this means I'd better get going," I said, once dressed, truly disappointed to be leaving.

"One more thing," George stood, pulled me close and gave me one his delightful deep kisses, while his hands slid under my skirt, grabbed my ass and forced my pussy against his thigh.

"Hopefully, that will hold you over," he teased as he released me. "I'll be at your place in just a few hours."

"I'm really looking forward to it."

George escorted me to my car and opened the door. I sat, slipped out of my heels and into the flats. I took out my phone and started maps to find my way home.

"Drive safely" he said with a quick kiss. "See you at three."

"Three it is."

I started the car, turned it around and headed up the driveway. I stopped at the end and checked my phone. George was right, about half an hour to get home, and after a couple of turns, I'd know the way.

Greatly relieved that last night seemed to be the beginning of something wonderful, I spent the entire drive joyously contemplating the delightful, yet surreal, situation. I parked in the lot in front of my apartment, one of about ten uniform brick buildings in the complex. It had never struck me as depressing before, as I recalled George's lovely home.

Judy, my roommate, was home. I'd known her since grammar school and she was a dear friend. However, she was a much more open about her sexuality and certainly had vastly more experience -- even if only part of what she'd told me on various occasions were true - but I had no reason to believe otherwise. I just hoped that she would not be overly curious about mine

I quietly unlocked the apartment door, which opened directly to the kitchen. Judy was seated at the kitchen table, having a sandwich and dressed in a white tee shirt and denim shorts, her cherubic face framed by long light brown hair. Although she was a bit overweight, it didn't bother her boyfriend as I'd often seen him fixated on her large breasts and the prominent fat nipples that no bra could seem to hide. Then it struck me; maybe she wanted to show them off. I'd never considered that before.

She looked up and, grinning broadly, said, "My, my, look what the cat dragged in."

"Judy, please... " I paused, at a loss for words, frozen with my sweater and pumps in hand.

"I just had to see your first walk of shame," she teased.

"I've got nothing to be ashamed of," I retorted, more sharply than I meant, but I didn't want to tarnish the euphoria I felt.

"Well aren't we touchy this morning, or what's left of it."

She was enjoying teasing me too much and I just glared at her in exasperation.

"Okay," she continued, "I'm sorry, so sit down and tell me all about this George fella."

I quickly fixed a cup of coffee, took another chair at the table, setting my sweater on it and my pumps on the floor. "Believe it or not he works at OTP."

"I thought you said all of the good ones there were taken."

"Yes, I did, but I'd never met him before last night."

"You hooked up with a guy you never met before last night? " Judy exclaimed. "That's not like you at all. He must really be something special!"

"That he is. Handsome, kind, polite, super smart and, this will blow you away, rich."

"You certainly stepped in it, but how is it you never met him? "

"He travels frequently and otherwise works from home. I mean, I knew of him. I'd seen his name many times and he's mentioned often enough at work, but I expected him to be much older, like in his fifties. My guess is late twenties."

"You've got to tell me everything!"

I related most of my night to Judy, his history with OTP, the house, the boat, but omitting the more salient details. She certainly didn't need to know how slutty...Oh my god! I'd never considered my behavior that way, but it didn't upset me. Somehow, with George it came naturally, moreover he treated me so fondly and respectfully this morning, Despite my effort to be brief, with Judy's questions, it was two thirty by time I'd finished my tale, as she managed to learn about the bathroom selfie, surrendering my underwear, getting stripped on the patio and his impressive cock. But I just couldn't confide about deepthroating or being his bitch.

"So, are you going to see him again?" she asked impatiently.

Lost in my sweet recollections, I didn't reply quickly enough for her.

"Linda! So are you going to see him again?"

"Most definitely. He's picking me up at three. We're spending the weekend together. He's got a rather full agenda planned. "

"So, you're going to spend the weekend fucking like rabbits? " she chided, but smiling simultaneously.

"Judy! We're going to a baseball game tonight and tomorrow, he's taking me sailing." I couldn't conceal the cat who ate the canary countenance.