Reunion at 25

A story by XXscribbler

"Kristin Ann!"

The shout cut through the late afternoon heat and bustle and hubbub of Monterey's open-air street market. The attractive young blond woman in an Army Specialist's uniform spun about, searching. The voice was familiar enough to flip her belly.

The source was obvious -- striding tight-focused through the crowd in shorts and tee-shirt, just as brown and runner-lean as the last time she'd seen him some eight, maybe nine years ago. Her folks' best friend all her life.

"Mister Doctor Leroy" was her nickname for him. He had literally changed her diapers -- which fact he had been fond of telling bystanders when she was a kid. Leroy had for all intents and purposes been part of the family -- a sort of absentee uncle-confidant-brother-confessor, someone whose visits she eagerly awaited because she could talk with him about absolutely anything under the sun, no holds barred.

He'd lost touch with her only when the parentals had finally decided, years later than they should have, that a divorce was needed. No-fault, parents were still friends, but Kristin, brilliantly intelligent and wildly precocious, had never forgiven either of them, Daddy most particularly.

Leroy was thirty years her senior -- no, thirty two, less six days. He'd claimed she should have waited inside Mom until they could share a birthdate. She had carried the DAMNEDEST crush for him throughout her entire childhood -- and today's instantaneous wriggles deep in her belly said that just maybe it hadn't fully dissipated yet.

His face lit up when he saw that she recognized him instantly. She smiled at him and he almost died -- the gorgeous precocious 12-year-old was now 22 and simply stunning. A huge two-way bear-hug, family tradition, but very different now with her being a grown woman. Boobs changed hugs, as did a decade. And in-uniform or not, it was clear she wore no bra.

"What are you doing in Monterey, and in that UNIFORM?"

She countered: "What the hell are YOU doing in Monterey?"

He answered first. "Scientific conference. I'm staying in the Westin. I'll leave tomorrow about noon. What a hoot finding you here!"

She grinned broadly at him. "Me, I've just finished eighteen months of intensive language training at the Army's Language Institute -- I'm gonna be a SPY, against Korea, how about that! And I have to leave tomorrow, too -- shipping out for my very first real duty station. I'm just wandering about down here wasting time... my muster is at 0900 tomorrow, but I'm all packed up and ready to go."

They looked at one another, still largely disbelieving. It was hot out, and dry.

"Got some time to visit? Ever develop a taste for beer?" he asked.

"Eighteen months here with nobody to talk to, Mister Doctor Leroy, so YES, I could be persuaded!"

In the bar, they reminisced. Years of communal camping trips flowed past, the family dog, other trips and doings. Conversation with Leroy was just as she remembered it. Intense, funny, serious, wonderfully fast, a shared ability to express extraordinarily complex thoughts in an instant -- a millimeter of eyebrow and three words of a fourth-order pun to kill one line and open another. Topic after topic, wide-ranging, non-stop, usually with three or four levels at once. She knew she had missed this sort of repartee and the intense closeness and partnership it involved, but didn't understand how MUCH she missed it, how much it was built into her. Leroy had been part of her training in it from the day she was born.

It was glorious fun, this butting of her intellect against his, he being one of the few that could challenge her, and reciprocally she him - mental leapfrog, now her ahead, waiting milliseconds while he caught up, now the reverse, him grinning as she sorted through the tangled threads of an eight-word sentence. This conversation was like a draught of ice-water on a late-august Death Valley day. She was brilliantly aware of two important things -- first that she could still DO this, so her mind hadn't rusted shut. Second, Leroy was enjoying it every bit as much as she. Echoes and re-echoes.

Leroy looked at his watch -- it was suddenly seven, they'd talked for two hours. They were astonished at themselves. He had done his usual 10k run instead of lunch; Kristin had had a single taco at noon, and was ravenous. He told her, "You can't get out of having dinner with me, you know. My treat, too, of course. I'll bet I know how you take your steak." Her mother, his occasional (but intense) lover while Kristin grew from age six to twelve, ate beef only blood-rare -- bring her a steak with a warm center and it meant "send-it-back".

Kristin responded oddly - "Lean forward so I can see the top of your head, please." Totally puzzled, Leroy complied. She patted the crown gently and said "Very nice! Great hair, just like you've always had. Women envy you still, I'll bet! I think I'll accept the invitation."

He straightened and said "What the hell...?"

Her cat-and-canary expression let him know he'd just been somewhat had. "I was checking for a bald spot. You're over fifty now!"

Leroy shook his head: "I know there isn't one. And I'm in better shape than when I was your age. But if you'd found one, then what?"

Kristin told him "I don't usually go out to dinner with their owners -- balding generally means they're aging too fast."

Leroy caught the humor: "So -- if you'd found a bald-spot, it'd have been NO DINNER?"

She actually laughed gently at him, dazzling, wide, advertisement-perfect teeth, Clara-Bow lips, translucent skin, all haloed with dark blond hair, sticking her tongue-tip out at him briefly as she always had done as a little kid. If there were a sexual signal between them back then, that was it -- it drove him nuts even now, maybe more so than ever.

"Nope, of course not. Instead, I'd have said that it was a GOOD thing, that I go to dinner ONLY with men who have some balding, because it CAN mean that they're overloaded with testosterone -- which if properly channeled can be good, not bad. Usually bad, though. So the full answer is 'Accepted'. Now then, exactly where are we going?"

His hotel was three blocks away, there was a fine beef restaurant next door. She took his proffered arm as they walked. It was very comfortable being together. Completely so. This scenario could have fitted almost too nicely into some of her preadolescent daydreams -- it made her armpits damp, something the company of most men simply didn't produce.

He insisted on some semblance of privacy, got them a corner rear table sans immediate neighbors. He had been right -- "KC strip, please, blood-rare, seared with a cold center, baked potato loaded, Caesar. Thanks!" He doubled the order, asked about wine. She looked doubtful, he insisted. Between his knowledge and the sommelier's help with the cellar, they located a perfect dark chewy merlot, which she found extraordinarily likeable.

The conversation continued unabated: it was like a drug, she had missed it so thoroughly that she had denied the fact itself. If this was what she required in a relationship, then it was no wonder her world had been so unsatisfying -- it was obviously a rare artifact, and she'd been brought up to regard it as the norm, a necessity, an expectation. Unfair!

In that upbringing, Leroy had played a major part as a steady source of delightful, always-unexpected gifts -- books on all sorts of topics and people, strange collections of puzzles, thought-provoking musings.

Most importantly though, he once sat her down in an extended private moment when she was about eight and gave the gift of absolute freedom to discuss anything whatever with him. No holds or topics barred, no chance of it getting to her parents if she didn't want it. She had of course tested, found he was utterly serious and dependable. She used the gift extensively -- he had even extended it to letting her call him collect at any time she thought it important.

"How the HELL did I ever let that slip away?" she asked herself. It had something to do with the parental divorce, she supposed. At least the lapse coincided with it. She'd been an idiot, hadn't she?

Leroy excused himself for the bathroom. She watched him go -- tight legs beneath his shorts, back-musculature visible through the tee-shirt, anything but a 50+ year old body. He had a great ass, she thought, better than any of her pass-through boyfriends, and they were 30 years his junior! Or even more! She remembered how she had been drenched for years in unrequited (and not well understood) lust for him both mind and body -- most agonizingly when watching him emerge from the family pool with his single-layer Speedo bikini plastered to some critical underlying anatomy. Not to mention the time she had 'accidentally' been in his bathroom when he stepped naked from the shower.

She sorted through things mentally, asked herself a whole flock of questions most of which had no real answer, drew down her wine level by another half inch, and set free the top two buttons of her blouse. Her breasts were crinkly-hard all over, nipples nearly aflame where they slid against the lightly-starched and therefore scratchy uniform fabric.

Leroy settled back into his seat. There was something subtly different about Kristin, her body language had softened, her eyes seemed changed. It took almost exactly ten seconds before he noticed the buttons. She saw the examining eye-flicker, evaluated it, liked the results.

"So, tell me: after eighteen months here in Monterey, there's still no husband or boyfriend to see you off tomorrow?"

She sighed, shook her head, revisited her wine, looked at him across the candle-flame and said "Nope. You were right, you know, back when I was about ten or eleven. Remember our talk about me and boys and dating?"

He remembered perfectly.

"You told me I was going to have a hell of a time finding men I could stand, because they were all going to be dumber than me, and I wasn't going to put up with that for a second. You were right. Bingo! Bulls-eye. For a woman, having some intelligence, and demanding reciprocity, seem to condemn one to a lousy love-life. Some of my girlfriends are in the same boat -- we talk about it. The goddamned men who are bright enough are total losers in all the other dimensions. Every single time! So no, I get to sail off on my great adventure without an aloha-party."

He responded quietly "That's too bad -- wish I'd been wrong, but I'm not at all surprised. You've got a stunner of a brain, Kristin. I've known that since you were able to toddle. I guess it's true that a lot of men -- maybe most of us - can't handle really bright, forceful, competent women up close. It's too bad. Personally, I like my women that way. You met a couple of my girlfriends years ago, so you should know."

He shook his head gently -- "MAN, you used to give them the cold-shoulder, too! Jealous, you were, I do believe. Anyway, Kristin, I have always thought your intelligence makes you a much more attractive person, on top of you being awfully pretty physically your whole damned life! I've missed our interactions, you know -- a lot. You are one of my favorite people to talk with, anytime, anywhere, any topic. Always wondered why that just stopped."

She left the implied question dangle, took a final bite of steak, finished it slowly and with concentration, then looked at him again, slightly sideways, and said "They stopped because I got stupid. Major brain-fart, then too embarrassed to recover. Want to know a secret?"

Leroy thought he was going to be told why the cessation, said "Sure... if you want to tell me. What is it?"

She laid her hand atop his, looked him squarely in the eyes: the combination nearly undid him. Leroy had carried a very private and tightly controlled lust for this girl/woman since way before she got to puberty - and her outrageous flirting with him all her life hadn't helped things one bit.

"YOU, Mister Doctor Leroy, are the only man I have ever felt comfortable with or able to carry on a conversation with on an equal footing. And that includes Dad!" She watched his reaction, liked it, and chose to continue. "Another secret?" He nodded. "I had a crush on you my entire life. I'm sorry I never told you. And... I'm not at all sure it's completely gone. Isn't that a bit silly?"

His fingers curled to hold hers. They stared at one another and the rising column of candle exhaust between them made their eyes seem to flicker. Leroy found his heart going far faster than it should, pumping oxygen to the flock of butterflies in his belly. Beneath the table Kristin's naked toes found his shin, slid slowly down.

He 'Ahem-ed' and managed to get out "Not silly at all. I'm sorry I never told you I felt the same way -- but then, I was always in a much more difficult position - the 'responsible male adult' dealing with a most enticing young girl, and all that crap."

He leaned forward, laid a finger on her lips, slid it down her chin and throat until he caught the button-strip of the blouse, then slid the finger slowly down until finally it encountered a closed button. You have a most interesting way of wearing your uniform blouse, Specialist."

She went red, held his gaze.

"Kristin, if you don't stop me, you are going to find yourself involved in the goddamnedest kiss you have ever had."

She squeezed his fingers hard, dug her toes into the side of his calf, put on her best six-year-old voice. "Eeew! I'll taste like steak."

He tugged gently on the blouse to bring her toward him, leaned forward, muttered from six inches away "Me too. Won't be able to tell, and don't care. I've wanted to do this ever since you were about SIX! Damn me for a fool if I haven't."

As their lips finally touched, she slid the candle out from under their faces -- no distractions, please! She, too, had been waiting for this since age six or earlier --- it was about time!

The kiss lasted at least three minutes, made Leroy literally dizzy, and nearly flattened Kristin -- she wasn't certain, but perhaps up to that point she had just been revisiting her long-standing little-girl flirtation. She didn't expect that all those years of serious crush would collect in an emotional bucket and get slung at her in one great swoosh. He was the best kisser she had ever encountered, on top of all that. When at last they broke, she stared down at the table, murmured "WOW!', and then looked up at him. His eyes told her -- same reaction as hers to the kiss. A good thing --very good indeed.

He reached for her other hand and they silently studied one another, until Leroy asked "Dessert?"

She had already examined herself thoroughly as to motives, wants, needs -- a trait and habit instilled by her folks. "Yes." She said. "But I'm afraid that what I really want isn't available - at least, not here." He made as if to reach for the menu: she squeezed his hands, said forcefully "You don't need to check. It's not there. Trust me! I do know what I want. And I'm an adult now."

They met one-another's gazes solidly. A full thirty seconds passed. Then Leroy pulled out his wallet, did a quick computation, and dropped a hundred and a twenty on the table. She stood with him: his arm went around her shoulder. It only took two minutes to walk to the hotel. They kissed hard and long and wordlessly in the elevator.

Another minute and they were at the door of his room. She put a hand on his arm as the door opened, said "I can't spend the night, you know..." He looked disappointed, quizzical. "I've got no TOOTHBRUSH!" She'd gotten him again.

He grinned at her and said "You can use mine. Proprieties be damned."

Inside, they stood for a moment, Leroy behind her, arms around her ribcage, cradling the undersides of her breasts with his forearms. She rolled her bottom across his fully-ready erection, then reached up and back to hug his head to her neck, turned to plaster herself against him. Into his mouth she murmured "Aren't you going to finish unbuttoning this blouse for me? Aren't you even the least little bit curious about how I turned out? Last time you saw me, these were just bumps. Bumps or not, I remember how hard you used to look at me getting out of the pool -- but only when M and D weren't looking -- you were VERY circumspect! Of course, I used to study your Speedos, too -- an anonymous mutual admiration society, we were!"

Leroy stepped back half a pace, started to work on the buttons. "Contraception?" he asked. He could provide if needed. "Pill" was her reply. Kristin wriggled and shimmied, and was out of her skirt before the buttons were done. No hose, no panties. She pressed their crotches together hard, grinding gently, and cupped his head in her hands as his gripped her bottom -- a perfect fit.

She was dizzy. Almost little-girl softly, suddenly genuinely shy, she told him, "I'm deadly serious, Leroy, about the lousy love-life bit. Boyfriend/girlfriend thing doesn't seem to work very well for me. No very serious boyfriends yet, and I've tried several. I like men, not women. Never found a man able to make me come, although I can do it for myself no problem at all. I hope I won't disappoint you.... I'd hate to have that happen!"

He reassured her: "I doubt that'll be a problem, Kristin. It just sounds like you've never found the right man for you."

She eyed him, almost said "Oh yes I have, and here he is...right in front of me" but didn't.

Instead, she lifted his tee-shirt, and the gust of warm air, loaded with his instantly-remembered scents of body and deodorant, literally made her weak in the knees. She pressed against him, their chests finally naked to naked, as in so many of her imaginings. She released him from their next, amazingly prolonged kiss only when it was clear he wanted to head towards her incandescent nipples.

While he nursed and explored -- expertly, luxuriously, no hurry, no greediness -- she caressed his neck and shoulders and addressed the top of his head: "Like Mother like daughter, I guess, at least in the love-life department. Mom and I don't keep secrets from one another any more, you know. It seems she had the very same problem as me, I mean, not finding a man who could make her come. Dad certainly couldn't. I suppose that was part of their problem."

Leroy was barely listening, preoccupied with the nicest, and most responsive, set of breasts he'd encountered in years. That preoccupation lasted only about ten words into Kristin's next statement: he thought for certain his heart had stopped, at least skipped a beat or six.

"But Mom got cured of that "no coming" problem, you know. In just one evening, so she tells me. By a very special person. Not Dad, that's for sure."

Leroy bit gently on the nipple in his mouth while he thought furiously. It was he who had done that for Mom, about twelve years ago! It was one of his favorite erotic encounters, and she'd become instantly a hugely successful lover. She had just needed the right person, instructor, liberator. Presumably Kristin had a name to go with the occurrence -- she had just said "You know..." - so, what the hell was he supposed to do now?

Kristin put her fingers under his chin, pried his face free of her chest, straightened him up. She grinned at him. He'd been gotten yet again! "Damn, Mister Doctor Leroy, don't look so stricken! Mom told me all the details.... She seemed to be really happy to be able to tell me, and she did NOT make me promise not to ever tell you I know -- but then, she probably didn't expect THIS encounter any more than you and I did.

Anyhow, she told me about going out to sea with you for a week's research cruise -- I remember that, because you had taken Dad on one earlier, and they both talked about them for years. She told me how she had been so hot for you since long before she and Daddy married but you never tumbled! She said she just decided to hell with it, she'd force the issue, and about how you and she went down to watch the bioluminescence through the observation porthole, how she sat on your knee and practically masturbated against it while some other guy insisted on staying with you forever, and then the moment he finally left how all of a sudden you had her pants off and her butt against the cold, damp steel of the hull, and how you ate her to her very first mouth-climax right there and then.