Promising Date

Computer technician Seymour Cousineau (32), was annoyed to be accompanying Fred Stiles to a domestic client experiencing problems.

The job was a fucking sub-performing laptop, not a complete company system gone AWOL.

He assumed that odd-ball diversion related to his position as being one of the best computer systems engineer of the 33 electronic engineers/technicians that his company employed, and he excelled at computer systems trouble-shooting. But why?

Driving the van with a senior technician Fred Cross beside him, Seymour complained about being pulled from his schedule of important clients to attend to this piddly domestic problem. It screamed of incompetence in job prioritized allocations.

Fed said laconically (probably having being interrupted from viewing images of leaking pussy projecting from his brain like a movie strip), "This is confidential my lad. Our client is the secret girlfriend of the manager of our emergency call-out dispatch team."

"But Glen is married, he wouldn't dare be involved in a sexual liaison like that?"

Fed sighed and said, "What Planet are you from, Seymour?"

Seymour's mouth clamped shut and he concentrated on driving through fairly heavy traffic and glancing at the GPS on-screen navigation map.

Fred swaggered up to the door of the ground floor apartment and pressed the buzzer.

A young woman of about 26 opened the door.

"Hi, you luscious beauty with awesome boobs, are you on for a date with me tonight?"

"How dare you," she seethed. "Get off this property or else I'm calling the cops?"

"Darling, why are you so hostile. You look longing for a long and thick length and..."

Seymour, who was taller and more powerful than Fred, grabbed him by the shoulder and spun him around to face him and warned, "You get away from here right now or I'll knock you into tomorrow."

"All right, all right," Fred blustered. "Give me the keys and I'm off."

The shaken young woman and Seymour watched Fred drive off, holding his arm outside the driver's open window and making an obscene gesture.

"Hold me," said the woman.

"I can't, I don't know you."

"My name is Karen, daughter of your client who was called away suddenly. She's a Wedding Planner. I'm 26 with a master's degree in Computer Science. Now you know me, so hold me as I'm still in shock from the unbelievable behaviour of that chicken-brain and unbelievably arrogant companion of yours."

"This is the first time I have ever worked with him."

"Hold me and comfort me unless you wish me to call the police and report I've been molested by an employee of your firm."

Seymour moved in smoothly and grasped her around the waist. She pulled that arm higher and placed that where it appeared to automatically cup her right breast.

She murmured, "I feel very much better already."

He smiled and relaxed, for once ignoring the fact that he was in breach of his company's protocol covering proper relationships between employees and the public.

Karen whispered, "You may touch me anywhere, and I mean anywhere. I'm so grateful to you."

However, Seymour's good senses prevailed and he pushed he away and said to take him to her mother's laptop.

"It's in my mother's bedroom," she said coyly.

"Then fetch it into the living room for me, please."

"Very well and what is your name, kind sir

"Seymour Cousineau."

"Ooh, if that French?"

"My forebears on my father's side, several generations ago, escaped persecution in France and relocated abroad."

"And did your most direct descendent became instantly infatuated by this beautiful wench who was holding her young sister's hand and watching the ship dock?"

"An impressive guess, but actually that relative, then 18, was taken to hospital for sea-sickness and acute dehydration where he met this beautiful young nurse who occupied her shift attempting to kiss him back into good health."

"Oh Seymour, what a romantic story."

"Indeed, the Cousineau's are known romantics and for rather flamboyantly adding colourful facts when recounting their family history."

"Karen, your cell phone number please and tell me the best time to call to ask when may I date you."

"Any time is good to call for that purpose," she said softly while tapping her phone number into his mobile phone that he handed her.

"Thanks," he said, wondering if she might have too much fire-power for him. But back to business.

"Karen, please be off and fetch that laptop for me."

She returned and said she'd had an attempted to restart it, without success.

"Mom is frantic because it's her business computer and contains all vital information that she's been a little lax backing up data."

"Why hasn't her computer been set-up to automatically back-up all new business files data additions to iCloud?"

"I suppose the technician she uses hasn't set-up for that to happen."

Seymour attempted to start the machine without success. He removed the loaded DVD and tried again and the machine booted.

"Omigod," Karen sighed. "Why didn't I think of that?"

"It's probably your mother doesn't like you touching her computer."

"Good guess," she said. "I suppose that DVD has become corrupted."

"Good guess," Seymour nodded. "I'll set up auto daily backup to iCloud at 8 pm, and to allow her to view the content on her iCloud account more easily on her smart phone. I'll leave a report of what I've done with the instruction never to turn off her Wi-Fi connection or close down her laptop before 8.30 to allow the daily backup to complete."

"Thanks, Seymour that solves the issues. I'll make us coffee while you finish up and then drive you to your offices because I'm going into the city centre anyway."

Karen and Seymour parted about 30 minutes later, as good friends already because she was so open and, so he thought, so fearless. And she appeared to have great tits.

* * *

Karen Bassett, who worked in the accounts department at a large legal firm, called her mother later that morning.

"Hi mom, your computer is fixed. The very capable computer trouble-shooter detected a fault that we overlooked, a corrupted DVD that blocked the start-up from functioning correctly. He's left you a written report and has set-up auto back-up to iCloud."

Janice asked, "What's iCloud?"

"You'll find it explained on the Internet or perhaps you could ask your married boyfriend when he's resting after banging you."

"Karen, I've asked you to stop mentioning him."

"Sorry mom."

"I suppose the computer guy left an almighty bill?"

"The docket says no charge, authorised by you know who, mum."

"Well, well. So, my incidental man's usefulness now has gone beyond sex?"

Laughing at her wit, Janice said goodbye and thanked her daughter again for agreeing to be late for work by staying at home to let the computer guy in to complete the urgent callout.

Karen was let wondering what dirty little secrets were on that computer as that was probably the reason her mother repeatedly told her daughter to keep away from her personal computer. Still, at least she'd inherited her mother's genes that made them both have a robust appetite for sex. It saddened her that too many females she knew moaned they never had found sex to be fun.

* * *

Two days later, Seymour called Karen.

"Oh hi, I'd worried you might not call. Oh, mom's computer is going well and she's slowly becoming a fan of auto back-up."

"That's excellent, Karen. Thanks for that info. Um when may I date you?"

"Oh, are you thinking of a date-date or to take me for a quick visit to a hamburger bar and then to taking me behind the hamburger bar building and to do you manly thing?"

"A date-date actually. The thought of engaging with your sexually hadn't..."

"It's okay, Seymour. It's just that I like being upfront with things and I urge you not to think negatively when you finally begin to think about me and sex in the same thought."

"Well after you saying that, sex and you are likely to be burnt into my brain."

Karen laughed.

"Omigod, you have humour. Now that's a plus."

"And what do you have, Karen?"

"Wouldn't you like to know," she giggled. "I'm free on Friday night. Do you have any suggestions? If not, sex is a great backstop."

Seymour said hastily that he was toying with the idea of inviting her to his apartment and he'd cook dinner.

"What, you're a guy who cooks?" she asked in surprise.

"Yes, it's a hobby of mine and my sisters occasionally invite me over to cook when they and their husbands have dinner parties. Both sisters know how to treat me and always seems to have a promiscuous hired maid on those occasions."

"And that's how you get sex?"

"Yes, a proportion of it. The firm where I work has sixty-eight female employees, and about half of them are nubile women. Some of the thirty-eight male employees including myself take advantage of the available dating pool. Usually you score with a yes each time you target a date and usually you don't have to ask for afters."

Karen said how sweet.

"Yes Seymour, I'll be delighted to be hosted by you. What should I wear and what would you like me to bring?"

"Just bring yourself and you are welcome to stay overnight if you wish."

Karen gurgled, "How sweet you are."

She said she had to go, there appeared to be a crisis developing with computerised accounts. The text she had just received was it was suspected one or more employees had tampered with them.

"Bye," she said, and that was it.

Seymour was aware every office had the occasional crisis and accepted her need to end their call abruptly.

He texted Karen details, including his address and sat back wondering whether she'd allow him to undress her or perhaps she preferred clothed sex, at least initially.

Mid-afternoon, Seymour received a reply text that simply stated to please reserve her an overnight parking space on Friday.

He shot a closed fist high into the air in delight and phoned for an appointment with his regular hairdresser.

He began writing a report, making several false starts because another part of his brain was thinking about what to serve for dinner on Friday.

* * *

Karen arrived at 7.33, three minutes late. She was an average looker for her age, her brunette hair was waved, her full lips were painted bright red, other make-up was minimal apart from the eye-lash extensions, the small ear studs matched the colour of her lipstick.

She was dressed in a high-neck white top, subtly over-printed in a dark-blue, random patterns Her light blue jeans followed the contours tightly of her shapely thighs suggesting involvement in some sort of fitness regime and she clicked over the polished wood floor in dark blue high heels.

"You look awesome," he said, noticing her nicely curved breasts with a lingering stare before leaning over them to kiss her. He aimed for the left cheek but she turned and took the kiss on her lips.

She sniffed.

He thought oh fuck, it couldn't be BO as he was freshly showered and had used scented soap.

"What's cooking?"

Relieved, he replied they would be eating Italian, or she would be eating bread and butter if she disliked Italian food.

"I adore Italian. How clever of you to guess my favourite dinner food after rib-eye steak and hot dogs," she said, draping an arm around his waist and patting his flat belly affectionately.

"We make a nice couple," she said, eyeing them in the mirror on the far wall.

"Oh my, look at you. You are deceptively tall. I'm almost six-two and the top of your head is level with the top of my ear," he said, thinking that would earn a tick.

"Have you only just noticed that?"

"Well sort of," he said lamely.

He waited for her to chortle and say she bet he hadn't just noticed her boobs but heard her say, "This is well-furnished apartment and very tidy."

So far so good.

"May I take your coat?" he asked, with the precision of a professionally-trained computer systems analyst, which he was.

For an instant, Karen looked at him as if expecting to be viewing a hallucinating idiot. And she then relaxed and said it was approaching late spring and she wasn't wearing a coat.

"Silly boy, for a moment I didn't realize you were joking."

Seymour muttered until she pointed that out, he didn't realize that either and he had no idea why he'd asked her for a coat that I could now see she wasn't wearing. What the fuck?

"Please take a seat."

"Where to?" she giggled.

He was worried that he might be breaking into a sweat. Why would she want to take the lounge chair anywhere? Omigod, he was so nervous about anyone wanting to come to visit him in his apartment that he was close to spacing out. She might be joking.

"Take it anywhere," he croaked.

"What? Omigod, Seymour are you not used to invited guests here and then worrying about whether they would turn up? If I'm correct, that has meant you have got yourself into a tizz."

He nodded

She said, "What, not even your own mother?"

"She remarried during my last year at university and went to live with her new husband in Canada. She's never been back to this country since then. I've never had visitors here including my two sisters. Whenever I've invited them here, they have either said I should go to their place or we should meet in town. I've concluded they think bachelor's pads are smelly and untidy.

"That's correct generally but is wrong in describing your pad, Seymour. It was an eyeopener to me, putting my housekeeping to shame."

"Really?"

"Yes really," Karen said, rushing to him and pulling down his head into her breasts and half-smothering him.

"Christ, Karen; you have gorgeous accommodating breasts," Seymour said, resurfacing to breathe.

"You're a really kind and thoughtful chap, the kind of man that I was becoming less and less confident of ever finding. Pull out a breast to take a good look at it, and later this evening I have something else to show you. My paternal grandmother agrees that I need a man who will allow me to love him and cuddle him affectionately because that's the type of female I am, Seymour."

He said solemnly, "My instinct tells me Karen that we could become a great match. We can spend time together in coming weeks to decide if that is so and whether you should move in with me."

She smiled and made him feel weak at the knees.

"That's a great idea, darling. Take me to the kitchen and show me what you have cooking for dinner. That will give you the opportunity to offer your guest a drink."

"Oops, I forgot my good manners. Your drink is coming up and after checking out dinner we can inspect the bedroom where you could sample the bounce in the bed. My guess is we will have time to indulge in a bit of frolicking."

"That all sounds good to me," Karen said, taking the outstretched hand. "What a delightful evening we have in store"

"Oink, oink," he grunted.

She giggled practically out of control.

The End