Shanice and the Questionnaire

Shanice was wearing: an orange printed mesh shirt, with a matching orange print cropped cami, and matching shorts. The shirt was a button shirt with long sleeves; the material was light weight. Shanice liked the fact the whole outfit was on sale. The shorts were: high wasted, were banded, were short without being to short, they hugged her hips and her backside, and they loosened up at the bottoms. She knew: he liked prints, he liked bright colors, and being outside gave her a chance to tease a little. She purposely rolled up her sleeves and unbuttoned the shirt so he could get a glance at her breasts; they were covered by the crop top. She wanted to see if he indeed liked her breasts; he often mentioned how he liked them. She accessorized with an orange and white tye dye baseball cap, a couple thin bracelets, an ankle bracelet, and was wearing white sandals with orange detailing. With it being so hot she didn't bother with makeup. This concerned her at first until she noticed he gave her the same look he did when she wore makeup. She was happy when he said her finger nails looked "cool." And he commented on her painted toes (she went to the nail salon the day before).

He was wearing: khaki colored cargo shorts, a short sleeved green hiking shirt, a blue baseball cap with an American Flag on it, hiking shoes, and a camouflaged backpack hung over his shoulders.

They stepped into a booth. She didn't understand any of the art. She watched her boyfriend interested in many of the paintings being displayed. She was happy every art piece was to expensive for him to buy. She found herself in front of a huge canvas. It was: one square, a dot in the middle, and four shades of yellow.

She called out to him, "Ryan come here."

He stepped over to her and asked, "You like this?"

She leaned against him, made sure her back was to the artist, and whispered; "What is the purpose of this? I don't get it."

She wasn't condescending or belittling the art. She just couldn't understand why anyone would call this art and then expect someone to pay the amount the artist wanted.

He answered honestly, "It's not about purpose. It's about feeling it."

She rolled her eyes. Looked at it again. She tried to "feel it" but just couldn't get it. She glanced over at the artist and was grateful he was answering a persons question. She pointed at the tag.

Ryan answered, "Maybe he's hopeful."

They both laughed. When she laughed she was looking up at him and was touching his arms. They left the booth holding hands. She adjusted her purse. She pretended to miss the fact he glanced at her breasts. This glance wasn't rude at all, it was the type of glance a guy gives when he likes a partner's breasts. She felt this was the first time a man she dated actually liked her breasts.

He found her so beautiful. He was having difficulty keeping his hands of her. She loved the fact she would just touch him; he never had a girlfriend who did this before. It was very reassuring. He found it comforting when she would lean up to him or just enter his space. If she suddenly stopped invading his space he would have felt something was wrong; even if he didn't know what it was. Even without makeup he loved her lips and her wonderful smile. The previous week was their first argument. It upset both of them but he appreciated her blunt honesty and felt it was a step in their relationship. They were working on their communication and their expectations of one another.

They made their way around the art fair. Shanice was getting irritated with certain white women. It seemed to Shanice anytime they went anywhere together white women wanted to pretend they weren't a couple. Talking to a few women who had dated white guys; they said they experienced the same thing. Shanice was still unsure on how to handle this. At one of the booths they entered this was happening. She asked about the price of a necklace and wanted to see it. It was in a locked case and Shanice couldn't see the price. The woman took the necklace out of the case but when Shanice asked a couple questions about it, the woman told the answer to Ryan. As Shanice was trying to figure out the best way to address this, Ryan beat her to it. He looked at the woman and stated, "I didn't ask you the question my girlfriend did. Address her." The woman became flustered. Ryan simply said to Shanice, "I think we'll find better jewelry somewhere else." Shanice left the necklace laying on the counter and they proceeded to enjoy the art fair. Shanice on their second date laid down the rule they would never allow anyone else's ignorance ruin their time; if they ruined it themselves that was different.

After a few more booths she stopped him, "I'm thirsty."

They stepped out of the walk way and she immediately went behind him. She: opened his backpack, took out a small cooler, zipped it open, took out the waters, zipped it back up, put the cooler into the backpack, zipped it closed, she took one, and handed the other to Ryan.

"I'm really not thirsty."

She simply said, "You need to stay hydrated."

They both stood there drinking the water. She took some sips. Then watched Ryan drink the whole bottle. She made a face. She stuck her bottle in a side mesh pocket of the backpack. She took his plastic bottle and made sure it was thrown in the proper bin; otherwise he would have just tossed it into any one of them.

She mentioned, "I like the cooler."

"It'll be necessary when we go camping or hiking. Plus It's cheaper."

Camping and hiking she was defiantly unsure about. She would agree to cheaper.

She was happy to see black artist booths. At one of these booths he bought her a necklace and matching earrings. She had the woman wrap it. Shanice placed it into the backpack. At a different booth she ended up asking the woman in the booth about some art work. She watched closely when Ryan asked the husband about a painting. She took note on how the centerpiece of this painting was the backside of a nude ebony woman. She was unsure of how she felt about this. She felt the woman in the painting was far more attractive than she was. She admitted this was art but there was no way it would end up in either of their places. She enjoyed another booth because the wife was black and the husband was white. It was obvious he was a "helper." The only things he did was ring people up and box things. Everyone needed to talk to the wife when it came to the art. Shanice enjoyed talking to the artist and her art; Shanice took the artists card. Since she started to date Ryan it was like interracial couples were suddenly appearing everywhere; it didn't matter what race they were. She felt it was like, when a person bought a car, and all at once they noticed how many people owned the same car. In a way this was comforting.

Ryan suggested they have their picnic. They enjoyed: setting out the blanket, preparing the food together, and talking about the art. When they were finished Shanice made sure everything was put away and thrown away; again making sure Ryan put the proper items in the proper bins. Ryan suggested they sit in an isolated area near some trees. She agreed because it was shaded. The beach was across the lake. The nearest art booth was about fifteen yards away. He chose a shaded area under a tree; he made sure there were no ants or bugs, he sat down, she set the backpack next to them, hooked her hat to the backpack, left her hair in a pony tail, and placed herself between his legs; her back was against his chest.

On a rare occasion they were sitting quit. They were thinking about how to bring up the topic of sex. She felt his dick get hard. This wasn't the first time. Whenever they cuddled watching a movie or were sitting close together she'd feel it rise. She could tell it was on the small size. This always reminded her of the guy she dated who was small; this was her worst sexual experience.

She felt she needed to be blunt, "What is the size of your cock?"

There. She asked it.

He answered in a matter fact way, "When erect it's just under five. Or to be exact four and seven eighths."

"Oh."

"When I'm around you it rises to the occasion."

He chuckled at his own joke.

She didn't find it funny. She: sat up, turned around, knelled in front of him, and looked at him. "We should talk about this."

"Okay."

"My worst sexual experience was with a guy who had a small dick. He was a terrible lover."

There she said it.

He looked at her and answered, "But that dick isn't my dick. Nor is it my tongue, my fingers, or my imagination."

She felt this was the time to address her reputation, "There are rumors of me sleeping around. I've slept with guys before we dated. But I didn't sleep with as many guys as everyone says. What do you think of me having partners before we dated?"

"What do you think of me having other partners before we dated?"

She never thought of it this way before.

She said immediately, "It's different for a guy."

He said bluntly, "I've never understood. When a guy sleeps around he's considered to be a stud. But if a woman likes sex and sleeps around she's a slut."

She was about to slap him.

He put up his hands, "Did you hear what I said?"

Seeing him suddenly protect himself stopped her. She took a breath. Thought about what he said.

When he recognized she wasn't about to slap him he let down his arms and waited for her response.

She started to tear up.

She sternly warned, "Never use that word."

He didn't like her crying. This was the first time he ever spotted her tear.

She was about to stand up.

He said, "Wait."

She found herself looking at him. She was brushing the tears away. She would now wait until hell froze over.

He wanted to touch her face and console her but knew this was the wrong approach.

He decided to meet it head on, "With me being in my mid forties and dated. With you being in your thirties and dated. With both of us never married and dating I'd be stupid to believe you never had sex before."

She let this sink in.

She pointed at herself, "What do you feel about me?"

She held in her tears.

"You are Shanice. A woman I've fallen if love with."

This was what she wanted to hear but it still blind sighted her.

He asked, "Would you cheat on me?"

She became angry, "Do you believe I'd cheat on you? After everything I went through. I can't believe..."

She stopped when he shrugged his shoulders.

He said; "You gave yourself your own answer."

She looked at him and relaxed.

He leaned in and kissed her.

For the first time they started to kiss passionately.

She: stopped, pulled away, looked at him, and stated what she felt needed to be stated. "I've been on the pill for two months. I'm not interesting in having kids until I'm married. I'm not sure I want kids. I'm an Auntie and a cousin. But I'm not sure I'd make a good Mamma. I just wanted to let you know."

There she said it.

"With me being older I'm not sure it's a good idea for me to have kids. If I end up with a couple that's okay too."

"I've tested myself for every sexually transmitted disease. I don't have any. Do you have any?"

"It's been seven years since I've had sex."

She answered, "Three for me."

"I'm sure we're both okay."

"I agree."

Now for the final step; to admit she was into kink.

He surprised her by asking, "What do you like?"

This through her off, "Huh."

"What do you like sexually?"

She believed he had heard about her past and was ready to ridicule her, "What do you mean what do I like? What's there to like or not like?"

He looked at her, "Do you like your nipples teased?"

She looked around, "Not with all these people around."

He surprised her by saying, "Get up a second."

This worried her but did so. She watched him: step over to the backpack, lean down, opened it, and pull out his laptop.

She held in tears. She believed the rumors wrecked everything before it started. She assumed he believed she was some dominatrix who would torment him or something. The conversation had gone so well. She was starting to believe she found the guy for her.

She ran up to him and asked, "What's the matter?"

He was surprised at her reaction. He hated it when she started to tear up.

He said, "I'd like to ask you some questions."

Expecting the worst she became defensive, "What questions? What are you a Cop?"

"It's not like that?"

"Then what's it like?"

"Do you see a plug?"

"A plug?"

"An outlet. I want to plug my laptop in?"

"You want to look up fantasy football stats?"

He looked at her, "I'd like us to go over a questionnaire."

"What?"

"I have all these sexual questions saved on my laptop. I want to go over them with you."

She gave him a face, "Questions? Why would I answer a bunch of questions? I can't believe this."

Before they ended up in an argument he put it out there, "I'm a guy who has fetishes and I'm into kinky sex. Before we have sex I'd like us to talk about it. The way I like to start the conversation is by going over these questions I saved from off the internet. There isn't a right answer. I'm just trying to find out if we're a match or not."

She started to cry.

He expected the worst.

He said, "I'd understand if you wanted to break up with me."

She grabbing the backpack. She pointed to a tent it, "Lets go over there."

The sign in front off the tent read charging station and free blue tooth. It was sponsored by some company.

She started to walk over to it.

She turned around and said, "Lets go."

He followed her. He loved watching her in the orange shorts and how determined she was.

Inside the tent was a plywood floor with tables set up. Each table had taped down power strips supporting both regular outlets and USB plugs. These cords were connected to the same generator system as the art fair.

She looked. There were people sitting at each table. The least thing she wanted was to discuss sex where people could hear. Even though she had no idea what this questionnaire was; if this was what he needed to discuss kink and sex she would make sure the laptop was plugged in.

She said, "There's to many people."

He answered, "I always bring my extension cord."

She immediately pictured in her mind: a long obnoxious orange extension cord strung across her living room, it went over an end table, on her couch, it was then connected to a small L shaped power strip (with it's own long cord), and he placed his laptop on her glass coffee table; the worst part is he unplugged one of her rope lights she had connected to a timer. This was what their first argument was about.

She said, "You think we could plug it in over there and run it outside?"

"We'd need shade to look at the screen."

She stepped out of the tent and walked around it. Close by was a huge generator. From this generator there were huge giant extension cords laid out in back of the booths to central locations. This is where standard extension cords branched off; each one led to one of the booths. Ryan spotted these large generators all around the fair. Further back there were four trees near one another; this created the shade he was looking for.

She looked at him, "For the first time I'm glad you bring your laptop everywhere."

"I only brought it just in case we needed to charge our phones."

"We could hook it up to your power strip."

"Yup."

She smiled.

He pointed to a long power strip with empty plugs, "There's a plug over there."

Looking at a different group of trees she pointed, "Would the cord reach over there?"

"We'll drag that picnic table over."

She looked up at him and said, "It'd be more private."

He asked, "We could go back to my apartment or to your house?"

She said in a serious way, "What happens if we find out we're not compatible?"

She held in tears.

He said, "Lets hope not."

They looked at one another.

She needed to get this over with. She walked the laptop to the picnic table. He followed. He was grateful the questions were on word files.

*** The Questionnaire ***

They: were sitting shoulder to shoulder, in front of them was the laptop, a mouse pad, a mouse, two bottles of water, the L shaped power strip was on the picnic table, their phones were connected to the USB outlets on the power strip, the power strip was connected to the twenty foot extension cord, and the cord was plugged into the outlet. She again admired Ryan's preparedness. She just didn't want this specific preparedness strung across her living room.

She was amazed at these word files: the patience, time, and effort it took to do this impressed her. She wondered why her boyfriend was working in a warehouse; it was obvious he should be doing something else. Once all of the files were opened she looked at the tabs. These tab titles made her realize she could discuss any sexual topic she wanted. She could have done it without the questionnaire but she was fascinated by it.

He said, "Lets start with the tab called general."

"Why?"

"I always start with this one."

"Okay."

He clicked on the tab that said "General" There was only a word file in this tab; he clicked it open. She could see this was set up like a big giant multiple choice test. It was obvious most of these questions were off of the internet but there were some he wrote himself. As geeky as this questionnaire was this told her a lot about her boyfriend. It wasn't the questions or the topic of these questions; it was the fact a guy would sit down and do this. So many of the questions were about what: she would like, what she felt, what she wanted, what did she think, what did she feel, what was she into, etc.

She pointed to a question and said, "C. You really think I'd fake an orgasm?"

"No. I don't want you too. If I'm doing something you don't like or is unpleasurable and you fake it then I'll think you liked something you didn't like."

"I won't."

"I won't either."

She looked at him, "You faked an orgasm?"

He answered, "She just laid there. The sex was so bad with her I just wanted it to end."

She found it odd a guy would fake an orgasm and but answered, "Okay."

He was impressed she was reading the questions. With every other partner he had to read them out load and he'd get: "I don't know," "I'm not sure," "Why would you ask that?", "Are you into that?" Etc.

She pointed to another, "C". "My butt hurt for days."

She looked at him,

"You didn't use enough lube?"

"I've read women who like anal prefer smaller guys."

He answered, "I had a partner who liked it. It's not a must for me. But if you are interested I'd suggest try a butt plug first. We'll make sure you are lubed up and I'll be careful. If it hurts we'll stop."

She smiled and answered, "We'll see."

The next few were pretty self explanatory.

She read the question and sat there. This question shocked her. She knew she could skip any question.

He had no idea what questions stumped her.

She pointed, "A"

They looked at one another.

She answered, "Yes I'm falling in love with you."

She was tired of the general.

She asked, "Could I have the mouse?"

Sure.

She clicked on the tab labeled "Toys." What surprised her about this tab he went to the trouble posted pictures. There was a description of each toy; not that they needed it. Underneath many of the pictures were questions. They had fun with this tab. There was some laughter. A lot of no way. Some serious discussion. She was surprised by seeing a particular one.

She pointed to it and said, "C"

He said, "Okay."

She held onto his arm, "You wouldn't feel funny about using an extender?"

"I hope we don't have to. But if it's something you need I'm for it. It is what it is."

This was the sort of thing she was shocked by.

She challenged him, "What about this? Are you for it?"