Romance is Where You Find It

I was warming up for my Saturday long run, just an easy mile or so, when I came up behind another runner. Looked vaguely familiar. As I drew even, she turned and it was Sandi Lipscomb, a former classmate from high school. We exchanged greetings and I said I didn't remember her as a runner.

"That's right, Jeff. Running is part of the new me. What do you think?"

"You look very trim. Have you lost weight?"

She smiled. "Thanks for the compliment. Dieting is a pain, but I only have nine more pounds to go."

I had slowed to her pace and was enjoying the conversation. She gave me a strange look and said, "Frank divorced me. Said I was a fat cow who couldn't screw, and he already had a new girlfriend."

"Wow, that's pretty nasty!"

"Almost from the start of being married to him, I knew it wasn't working, but the divorce was like a barrel of cold water."

"You are surviving?"

"Yes. Mom sat me down for a horrible lecture about being on my own. Said I had to turn my art into a living, and do something about the lousy body."

We went along for a ways, not talking. Finally, she said, "The formula for the new me says I have to ask a guy for a date. Waiting around for them to ask won't work." She looked across at me with inquiring eyes.

I decided to mess with the formula and said, "What if I asked first? I think I remember having a crush on you in sophomore year."

She laughed and waved a fist at me. "Liar! We have to do this my way. The book on divorce says I have to suck it up and not be afraid to ask."

"Ok. You've asked and I've accepted. When and where?"

"Oh dear, I'm so stupid. I'm supposed to have figured that out, aren't I?"

"Just this once, you get a pass. I'll pick you up at six on Friday night. Destination is a surprise. You are required to dress like we are still in college."

As I sprinted away, she was saying, "But..."

Thirteen miles later, I was winded, but still smiling from my encounter with Sandi. Should be fun, pretending we were back in school. I could revive some of my more boorish behaviors.

She looked great. It was a cool evening and the sweater set was perfect, along with the bobbed hair and skirt just longer than her knees. I dashed around the car to open the door.

"Gee, Nanci, you look really great tonight." She did a doubletake but folded into the passenger seat. By the time, I returned to my seat, she was in role.

"Oh Marc, this is such a perfect night. Are we going to eat outdoors?"

I had left the restaurant decision to now, trying to decide between the beer joint in the hills, and an upscale place in the redwoods. On a hunch, I decided upscale was in.

"Settle back, Nanci, we are definitely eating out tonight."

Ten minutes later, I pulled into the parking lot at Theo's, a well known eatery where my parents went for special occasions. Sandi/Nanci looked at me, eyes stricken. "Marc! We can't go here. It costs a fortune!"

I leaned over and whispered, "My dad is a fan of yours, Nanci. His credit card is in my pocket and he called the Maitre d' about not carding us."

Mario's greeting was warm, "Good evening, my young friends. So nice of you to visit." We were guided to an outside table with a wonderful view down an alley of tall trees. The waiter was there to hand out menus. A few minutes later, two icy cold martinis arrived without our having asked. Nanci looked at it, and then at me. "It's a martini. I've never had one!"

I couldn't tell whether she was putting me on or not. Our crowd wasn't into gin much anymore. But I raised my glass and touched hers, "To us."

My toast and a long sip just about demolished Nanci. "Oh Marc, this is too lovely for words. The martini is so smooth!"

The food was great and we chattered inanely about college things. The gin was working. Her big eyes got bigger and the voice softer. The chocolate decadence cake with raspberry puree was the final grand touch. We held hands while the mystery credit card was charged and we were free to go.

When we got to the car, I said, "It's very private here in the back of the parking lot, Nanci. Would you like to get in the back seat for a few minutes?"

My date carefully got an arm around my neck and hissed, in a low venomous voice, "I don't fuck in back seats, buster. Take us to my house and be quick about it!"

I drove fast, noticing the rigid posture in the seat next to me. I stopped out in front and she said, "Open the door for me, asshole, and follow me inside."

The date had fallen apart. I wondered what next. She slammed the front door behind us and pulled me along the corridor to her neat as a pin bedroom.

"The shrink said I needed to express my feelings openly, not bottle them up."

I couldn't believe the attack. Knocking me down on the bed, hitting me wherever she could. Screaming oaths about my miserable sexist self.

I ducked my head under a pillow and lay quietly until the blows ceased. In a couple of minutes, she said, "Stand up." Fingers undressed me. I finally opened my eyes to find a naked woman laughing at me.

"Scared you, didn't I? No back seat nookie? No thanks for the meal you couldn't afford? Get in that bed and close your eyes. I will be back."

In five minutes, she was pulling the covers back and straddling my hips. "You can open your eyes now. Take a sip of this."

The eyes were smiling and devilish. Things couldn't be all bad.

Holding the glass of fizzy something to the side, she leaned in for a long gentle kiss, then relaxed back against my raised knees.

"The longer we played those roles at dinner, the more riled up inside I got. It brought back all the lousy memories of frat guys hitting on me and expecting instant sex. So I decided the new role of vengeful coed feminist was needed. Besides, it fitted with my hard feelings about Frank."

We stared at each other for a long minute. I couldn't think of anything obvious to say. She was certainly right about obnoxious college guy behavior.

The glass found its way to the night table, and she cuddled quietly on my chest. Talk about role changes. I was completely befuddled.

"I'm really sleepy. Will you stay the night and hold me?"

I wasn't going to argue with that suggestion. She felt really nice up there.

There was morning sun in the room when I opened my eyes. But no Sandi. I needed to go and found the bathroom next door. Wandering down the hall to the kitchen, I discovered a naked chef, who said, "That was a terrible performance I put on last night. Will there be a second date?"

She felt good in my arms and I kissed under her ear. "You could audition for one of those shows with disturbed women in the cast."

"It's Saturday and I hope you don't have to go anywhere right away. We need a little time for you to straighten me out. Maybe a run too?"

If she was offering sex, I was taking some. The body reinvention felt good. She pushed her rear into my privates.

"Are you getting payback now, or later?" She wiggled in my arms and turned around.

"According to Frank, I need instruction in the bedroom arts." She had empathic eyes that were sending me a vulnerable message about whether sex with her would be any good. I decided that we needed to find out before things went any further. Frank was a first class jerk and probably wrong about Sandi.

The kitchen apron found the floor and I carried the wiggling body direct to her bed, where my hard cock found home plate with no talk and no discussion. She was tight and emotional.

"Damn, you are the first guy in there since Frank." She kept talking and I kept exploring. After a few gentle thrusts we were fully coupled up. I stopped and looked into the expressive eyes, which had a question in them.

"Wonderful tight cunt. Nothing wrong with it. Maybe the best I've been in."

"You are just being nice."

We toured the house, taking a lot of her weight on my big shaft, and stopping here and there to assume positions over the furniture. She was very juicy and getting agitated.

"Are you going to do this all morning?"

There was a convenient sofa arm. I leaned her down and swatted the buns as hard as I could.

SWAT! She howled as I said, "I thought you were needy." Four full strokes later she froze and wailed loudly, "Fuck. I'm coming. Coming, damn it."

Crouched over her back, my fingers entertaining the fine tits, I knew one more location and it would be the end for me. She was still shuddering, but the muscular body went over my shoulder and down the stairs. There was a deck with a convenient table. Before she could complain, I was buried again and staring into the eyes, which were very different from yesterday. Eyes which said she was fully speared and liked it.

"If there's something wrong with your screwing behavior, I don't know what it is. Come with me. NOW!"

I kissed her hard to prevent disturbing the neighbors. Finishing was amazing. I'd never had an athletic woman moving to climax with me like this, the both of us groaning as I spurted hot stuff deep inside.

Slowly, I walked back to the kitchen, setting her down carefully on the marble counter.

"Nasty fucker, who said you could make me come?" Her arms were around my neck, the gasping breaths slowing.

I found some cloths to clean up with. She was pink all over and saying, "Jeff, this is very bad. I haven't completed the exercises in the book but I found the right guy!"

I hugged her and said, "Don't get carried away. You haven't checked me out yet."

She gave me an incredulous look and I hastily added, "I mean, except for the sex part."

"You come with me." I was dragged to the shower, where both bodies were thoroughly cleaned. She drove a soapy finger full into my ass, saying, "I am checking you out!" And laughed until I did the same thing to her.

Toweling off in her bedroom, she said, "My weekend routine doesn't include clothes." The look was designed to scare me. "Unless there are special guests that require modesty," she added.

I could only take so much teasing, and hoisted her over my shoulder with swats at the fancy tough buns. In the kitchen, she was deposited on the table. "I will make breakfast. You are allowed to ask questions."

While I assembled the ingredients for Spanish omelets, she quizzed me about my life and lifestyle. I bounced the same questions back at her. Every minute or so, her hand summoned me to her side for a kiss. Mostly they went on her lips, but I noticed nipples stiffening, and directed my attentions there. As you might expect, something else was getting stiff.

"Do you have something important to do today? Other than tend to my needs?"

I served the breakfast and there was silence while we ate the amazing omelets.

She was full of compliments for my cooking and insisted on washing up. I did the drying, after which she guided me back to the messy bedroom. Sitting on my chest, she said, "You have done a lot of fixing for one date. Would you mind hanging around for more assistance?" The eyes sparkled with promise. I pulled her down tight and massaged her buns with probing fingers.

"I'm not sure I can keep my hands off the merchandise. What about a lunch hike to Lake Meredith?"

"Is it private enough for some loving?"

There wasn't an answer because I had fallen into a nap.

She woke me with kisses. "This is very nice, but the book says that divorcees should not rush into new relationships. I am supposed to take the time for us to get to know each other."

"They are just trying to warn you that second marriages fail about as often as first marriages. Why rush into marriage at all? You can be his mistress and order him around."

"What if he takes one order and boots me right out of his life?"

My fingers were playing up and down her back. Our eyes were laughing at each other in a vulnerable sort of way. "Don't believe everything you read in a book. I think I am falling for you."

Sandi put her head down on my chest and mumbled, "Damn."