The reunion

The reunion

"...and of course, like all startups, it is funding that will determine just how much further we get with our prototype, which is of course why I am here, and thankyou again for your time."

The "shark tank" address closed on his underwhelming pitch for reworked, over hyped AI farm software - just before my eyes rolled to the back of my head and I began to dribble with boredom.

Some mandatory half-hearted hand clapping saw him off the stage, only just before we moved to the next fund seeker at our annual agri-tech startup conference. But it was not before I exchanged glances with Zara across the aisle, receiving a warm empathetic smile as a fellow boredom victim.

It crossed my mind as I basked in her generous smile that I really needed to keep friends close, and enemies closer in her case. Her South Island startup was aiming firmly for the same ground that had made my own company so successful over the years, delivering innovative software systems to make dairy farmers' lives a lot easier amongst the muck, milk and dark that often made up much of the dairying day.

Our careers had intercepted and looped around each other over the years. Starting back at university, hanging out in the same crowd, random drunken Friday encounters at the pub- even the occasional flirty kiss that had never gone any further, both reserved despite the inevitable surges of early twenties hormones.

Time, distance, and relationships had meant we'd gone our own way for over two decades, so it was a welcome addition to our annual get-together to chance upon her at one of these gatherings three years ago.

But then it had only been a fleeting, distant glimpse.

I had been wrestling with the reality of a recent divorce after 15 years of marriage, preoccupied and juggling finances to keep my infant startup business afloat and growing. Zara had appeared pale, distant and a bit lost in the crowded event, and not to be found after it was over.

But tonight, the same infectious burst of laughter that would roll through a crowded university pub greeted me at the post-conference happy hour. I knew whose it was before we had even made eye contact, her head tossed back, all brunette curls and white teeth, her face aglow as she gripped a colleague's arm in a fit of laughter.

If her laughter hinted her presence, then her body radiated it. Her firm, slim frame had matured with time, her almost boyish figure now deliciously curved, still trim, well maintained and as attractive as ever, and one its owner was clearly comfortable in, and happy to reveal.

Her smart black skirt-jacket combo lent her a professional air, an expensive silk blouse discreetly and tastefully highlighted her lovely firm breasts. Her fit looking calves were accentuated with a nice pair of heels. It was indeed the Zara that had been the subject of many unrealised late night university fantasies.

"Twenty-five years Zara Smith! It's good to see you again after all this time -you look....good," I said, hoping I wasn't lingering too long on a "good" to be overly creepy.

She just took a step back, running her eye north to south over me, with a wicked grin on her face.

"Roger Davies, look at you, my God - what happened, where did those years go? And how come you didn't get fat like everyone else around here?"

Maybe it was the buzz of the one post-presentation beer I had had, but I felt I'd flown back across those 20-plus years, landed back in that uni pub again.

Just like it usually was then, it was a Friday. But this time I was going to finally be able to have the confidence to do more than offer her another drink. The only thing was the woman before me looked even better, if that was even possible, than she did all that time ago- curvier, less angular, more, well...womanly.

"Holy shit this place is boring the tits off me - let's get out and get a decent drink somewhere else, what do you say?" she asked me in her direct fashion.

What could I not say, and so we stepped out into the southern winter's night, the cool air prompting us to inadvertently move closer together.

Without even considering it, I put my hand around her waist drawing her closer, savouring the definitive curve of her hip, enjoying the outline of her firm, fit thigh against mine, and her lack of protest.

"So, what's good in this place? I can't say I have spent much time in this part of the world for the last few decades...and on that note, what the hell have you been up to all these years? We have a lot to catch up on - I think."

"That we do", I granted as I opened the door for her to a small wine bar.

Tucked in a side street, it was a sharp contrast to the industrial grade conference bar we'd just fled. Cosy and intimate, the air filled with Snow Patrol and the quiet murmur of couples in earnest conversation.

As I returned to our table with a couple of glasses of pinot, Zara unabashedly assessed me - a sly grin that would have made me blush 25 years ago injected a slight buzz to the bar's understated atmosphere.

"You know, I have often wondered where you have been, what you have been up to, how come we don't seem to have stayed in touch?" she said, her glass of pinot poised at those lovely, full lips as she re-crossed her stockinged legs.

"Well, seems we are now as much on the same side of the industry, if not opposites when it comes to doing business in it. But hey, you are hardly the worst looking opponent I could wish for, I teased.

"But seriously, I saw you across the same conference hall, it must have been about three years ago. You looked -,"

"Blood awful" she interjected.

"Well, I was going to be kinder and say 'a bit drawn and stressed', but your words, not mine. I tried to find you after but seems you had shot through already."

"No, I was in no space to be staying any longer than I had to. My husband had died only two months before, the business we were in was proving tougher than I had expected, and I just felt completely, well...disconnected really, from everything. I was finding it particularly hard to see the point of anything at that stage."

She caught the look on my face of sad surprise to learn about her husband, a man I had never met.

"What-"

"Cancer - short and sharp, which is a small mercy, for him as much as me if I am honest. But at 45, it's hard to find the upside in that, it really is," she said, a distant look in her eye as she sipped her pinot.

In that moment she had that same sad, lost look I had seen across the crowded conference room three years ago. Without considering it I leant over, giving her a strong comforting hug.

"I'm so, so sorry, he was a very lucky man while he was here," I whispered in her ear.

"Thankyou, that means a lot," and she kissed me on the cheek, pulled back, looking me in the eye with a smile like the sun coming from behind a dark cloud.

"Anyway, Mr Davies, that's my tragedy, what's yours? You know most of us have had at least one by 50!"

"Hmm, you know, the usual -divorced, trying to keep the boat afloat and stay sane, that sort of thing," I offered.

"Divorced! I never thought you would have that in you- did you play away?"

"No, no, it was nothing like that, well, not really, but it might have become that.

"We were never able to have kids, my fault, not hers, and we thought we had dealt with that. God knows, it was not through lack of trying and we'd even considered adoption. But we got to that point where it was just looking too late- she really, really wanted them, and it seems, she found someone who would make that possible.

"But if I am honest, that's a good front story for a failure, but there was more. I think once we knew it was definitively not going to happen for us, those cracks really started to show.

"Kerry, my wife, she did the maths, and she figured another 20-30 years with me was not the best use of her years. It was all reasonably amicable, and ironically, easier without kids involved."

In the course of my recounting, Zara had leant closer, sipping her wine, and fully engaged. I could not but help appreciate the dark cleavage her silk blouse captured so artfully, hoping my glance was slight, as I effortfully pulled my gaze to her dark, enquiring eyes.

"Wow, that really sucks, it's a tough one not being able to have kids. We grow up thinking it's almost a right to have them. As women we often wait longer than we probably should to really start trying, thinking they are just like that bit of duty free you pick up on your next trip away- until it's not."

She put her hand on my knee, gently grabbing it as she leant towards me.

"She really didn't appreciate what she let get away you know Roger."

"You are too kind, as always Zara- my tragedy is mild compared to yours, and you seem to have coped remarkably well in the circumstances."

She leant back in her chair with a sigh.

"You do not know half of it. The saving grace has been our two daughters- they got to enjoy, and experience a father who really was everything a good Dad should be, and it shows in what they are like as grownups - they are kind, smart, funny, just like he was.

"So, I see a lot of him every time I see them, which is quite a bit these days, they both work here and not in another hemisphere like most of my colleagues' kids at this stage of their life."

"I think we could both do with another drink after all this confessing," I said, taking deep breath as I made my way to the bar, absorbing Zara's news and, guiltily, considering her relatively newfound widowed, status.

Setting the glasses and myself back down in the cosy bar chairs, the flames of the nearby fire shimmering against our glasses full of southern hospitality, it struck me fortune may have given me a second chance with this wonderful woman.

"Not going to lie, I have always really regretted all we did not do when we knew each other all that time ago Zara- it's always stalked the back of my mind, we were good company for each other,it just seemed we never really moved to the next stage."

She gave me a slow, knowing smile, stretched, and then sat up placing one hand gently on my thigh.

"It is really not too late Roger, you know that don't you? We are both grownups and have a rare freedom many grownups don't get.

"We should celebrate that, you know.

"No one is being betrayed, no one is being hurt. Far from it, we'd be good for each other right now, better than we would have been 20-plus years ago," she said, her dark eyes serious.

Her hand moved from squeezing the top of my thigh and wandered higher, her thumb grazing the head of my hardening cock through my jeans. She focused on the swollen tip, gently lingering, rubbing firmer, prompting me to lean forward towards her, lest the couples in our midst get wind, and jealous.

"In most cases I would not ask you to stop but keep that up and I will pop out of my jeans," I croaked.

Laughing, she slowly slid her hand away as she threw back her head, a wide lascivious grin on her face, her half full pinot glass tipping precariously floorward in her other hand.

"I saw you looking at my tits as I shared by life's tragedy with you, you insensitive oaf", she gently punched my arm. She must have caught my look of horror.

"Hah, I'm just kidding you - well the oaf part, but I know you got a good look at my tits. But, honestly I can't say I didn't welcome it, by the way.

"It's been a while since I have really felt like I want to um, 'engage' with anyone. Shit, I even considered changing teams just out of curiosity a while ago," she grinned.

"Really, playing for the other team- do you think you would have enjoyed it, or regretted it?" I asked, intrigued.

"Well, once you get to our age and stage, there's no real rules are there? We've made most of the money we will ever make, kids if we had them have left for their own lives, we are as successful in our jobs as we'll probably ever be. So, who would really care? It may have proven quite liberating - who knows?"

"I am just trying to avoid imagining you with another woman, and how that could go- and of course the odds of being in on that," I added.

She laughed hard at that.

"There is no way I am letting you slip by for another 20-plus years Roger, it's been too long, and even less way am I sharing you, at least not tonight," she said, a wicked glint in her eye.

I caught my breath at that, having the frisson I thought was building confirmed, relishing what our mutual feelings would bring to the rest of the evening in this cold southern town.

"I'm thinking, we should consider moving somewhere more conducive where I am not likely to 'slip by' again - what do you say?" I asked.

"Well Mr Davies, really, it's whatever you say! You know something I liked about you back then was your quiet way. But at times it would drive me, and a few other girls nuts, wanting you to just take the lead.

"But nowadays well, we're all so much more equal- aren't we? No need to wait around."

Her hand had drifted again to my thigh, gently gripping my jeans as she looked me in the eye, massaging the inside of my leg as she took a last sip of her pinot.

"Come on, let's go."

As the bar door shucked us into the gripping cold, I pulled her close and as a group of party goers noisily passed us heading downtown. She leant into my ear.

"I really, really want you inside me tonight, and you know what? I am already wet thinking about it".

I pulled back in mock shock, her dark eyes dancing mischievously as I took a firm grip on her delicious backside, enjoying the flex of it as we continued to walk down the cold darkening street.

"My God woman- you are sooooo demanding, and presumptuous- we've barely met!"

She snorted a loud laugh as she returned the favour, one hand in the back pocket of my jeans gripping my butt.

Rounding a corner towards our hotel I pushed her into a darkened alley against the brick wall. She leaned into my mouth desperately locking her lips onto mine as I pushed my hardening cock against her.

But rather than ripping into each other in the cold twilight, we let our mouths do the work, tongues languidly intertwining enjoying the lingering tang of pinot, lightly flicking lips as I let her gently suck the tip of my tongue, forcing me to adjust my now rock-hard cock vertically as I began to grind against her warm core.

"You know, I could almost just let you fuck me right here in the street right now, pull up my skirt and slide that cock in without even taking my panties off. Now that would be one for all time wouldn't it," Zara exclaimed, reaching down the front of my jeans to begin massaging the swollen head of my cock.

"Careful, that gun just might go off if you keep playing with it", I joked.

She eased her hand away but let her hips grind against mine. I gently massaged her generous breasts through that gorgeous silk blouse, her nipples hardening against my fingers.

"We really, really should stop here, it's not far to our room," she said.

"Yes, we're grownups, and should be acting accordingly," I mocked her.

She pulled me back to her, hiking herself up my hips, her strong legs wrapped around me as she grabbed the back of my head and pulled my head down to her blouse.

Pushing her firmly back against the wall, fumbling with the buttons on her blouse, I ripped the last three off in my haste, finally to push my face against the lace of her bra, relishing the soft warm flesh it encased.

Suddenly a light down the alley snapped on, all yellow phosphorous in the winter dark.

Zara quickly dropped back onto her heels as I pushed us up against the wall, just as the light flicked out, I caught her flushed excited look before she tucked her rudely ripped blouse back into her skirt.

"Here, take my jacket."

"But you'll freeze!"

"No you will, or at least you'll freeze your tits off out here and I am only just getting started there - besides it's only a short walk back. Also, I don't want anyone thinking I am walking my hostage rape victim in her ripped blouse out to a lonely farm to bury her!"

Quickly we made our way back to the murky twilight as town warmed up for a big Friday, rowdy locals hitting their favourite pub while we headed somewhere more conducive to the current running between us.

"Let's get a drink in my room, I think my one is better than that box you've got here. Besides, I want to take a shower and warm up."

"I thought that was a little warm up Zara -not sufficient?" I joked.

She turned grinning excitedly as she unlocked her hotel room door, pushing her delicious butt back against me as I grabbed her around the waist.

"You really are a lot more expressive than I remember you. You were always sort of that strong silent type at uni, hard to gauge, harder to draw out. Adulthood's been good to you, we really did miss out didn't we?" she observed.

"Well, as you said, there's time to make it up, no victims here."

"I am just going to jump in the shower. Pour us a couple of drinks, I am not sure what's in the fridge, but I will keep to pinot if there is any," she said as she took off her non repairable blouse in the bathroom.

Sitting on the bed I was afforded a mirrored view of the wonderful reveal occurring there.

Zara had already kicked off her heels and had unpeeled her stockings. As the steam from the warming shower grew, she delicately shimmied her generous smooth butt, letting her dress slide down her calves. She lightly stepped out of it and repeated the same wonderful motion as she removed her skimpy lace G string.

I was not sure how much she knew I could see, or how much she cared as she unclipped the matching lace bra, letting her gorgeously generous breasts hang free. They were still remarkably firm, with wide darkened aureoles and distinct nipples that stood out firmly, maybe lingering from the earlier excitement.

Enjoying the voyeurism of the moment, I lightly rubbed myself through my jeans as I watched her enjoying the steaming shower, lightly soaping her pussy that sported a tuft of hair above the gentle swell of her lips. I noticed how her hand lingered there with the sponge, the light exhalation of pleasure she gave as she massaged herself for a little longer than needed.

By now my cock had sprung the top of my jeans, and unbuckling my belt and unzipping my fly, pulling down my boxers, I took my swollen rod and began gently stroking at the site before me.

I marvelled at her smooth skin, the gentle wash across her breasts and hips, letting my cock bloom to its full length as I gently worked the swollen head in response to the vision before me, feeling the inevitable surge of my orgasm staring to trundle closer.

Suddenly Zara shut the water off, and I awkwardly moved from the mirror's line of sight, cock bouncing while she grabbed a towel off the rail, dried herself off before donning the room's complimentary bathrobe.

Shoving my cock back into my pants I got myself together and grabbed two wine glasses and mini bottles of pinot off the shelf- not quite Gibbston Valley standard, but somehow, I did not think we would be drinking much tonight.

"Ah, now that's much better- what do you think Roger?"

I turned, savouring her finely tuned figure wrapped in the robe, tantalisingly revealing delicious flesh from mid way up her smooth strong thighs, and generous cleavage down. A tasteful, expensive set of pearls encircled her smooth neck, her hair was mussed up from the shower, with brunette curls tumbling damply to frame her face.

"Well Mr Davies, do you think, have I kept the years at bay?" she asked.

I could only stand there, glass and hand, and pants fortuitously done up, gazing at this ripe, gorgeous woman who I had known as barely more than a teenager all those years ago.

"My God, you really are stunning - how is it that we skipped all this time?"