I decide to give the runner a few hours to contact me. I feed the cats, take a shower and decide to go out to eat. I feel like I need protein so I go to the local Colton's steakhouse. I'm undecided on what I want. I'm only a little hungry, mostly because my stomach is already full of butterflies. I know I should eat something but I'm anticipating the runner contacting me and am almost nervous.
I order a small steak and mashed taters. The waitress brings me some rolls while I wait. I take the time to look around the restaurant. All I see are couples and families. It reminds me why I hate eating out alone. Even though I'm mostly content with my life the way it is, besides not having sex with someone besides myself or something with batteries, I sometimes feel inadequate that I haven't even had a serious relationship in almost twelve years of dating. I'd rather live with just my cats but that doesn't mean I want to be celibate for the rest of my life.
My order arrives. I've been dwelling on my self pity. It's not really intentional but I need to finish. If I try to just stop, it will come back later and I'll have to dwell on it longer. As I cut my steak and methodically eat my supper I think of past family gatherings. My cousins in my age group always seemed to have a new boyfriend or girlfriend that they liked to talk about in our teen years. They were all engaged by the time they were twenty or so and married a year or so later. Most of them have kids or planning on them. Every time I go to those family gatherings I have to avoid questions on the subjects of my marriage and kids. They're getting worse every time. It's become easier to make my excuses and just not go. No one understands my decision to just have, at most, a steady, but casual, boyfriend. No one I've told about my decision to one day have kids on my own, without a husband, understands that either.
By the time I finish my meal and the waitress brings my check I've finished my little pity party and it's almost 7pm. I pay my bill at the register and decide to give the runner a little more time. I don't want to go home yet though so I decide to go downtown to a little shop to buy some new lingerie.
The shop closes at 7:30 so I have to hurry my browsing, something I don't really like to do but this time I see what I want after just a few minutes of looking. It's marked down 75% because it's a winter style and the shop is trying to make room for the spring styles. I take it off the rack and just admire it for a minute. I check the size. It'll fit. I take it up to the counter, pay, and go back out to the 'vette. The shopkeeper locks the door behind me.
I take my time driving home, drawing out the anticipation. I pull Ms. Peacock into the garage and take my new nightie into my house, pushing the button that lowers the garage door as I go in. I go to my bedroom, take off the light jacket, heels, long gypsy skirt and long sleeved peasant blouse I'd worn to my dinner. I wasn't wearing panties or a bra. I'd been thinking about watching the runner on the bridge as I'd dressed earlier and was feeling a little sexy and a lot turned on.
I took the nightie out of the little paper bag the saleslady had put it in. It's a baby doll style, snug across my breasts and falling loosely underneath them. It's barely long enough to cover my ass. It's white with satin triangle cups, a tied halter neck, and sheer mesh under the cups. It has snug elastic under my breasts for a little support and a handkerchief hem, coming to points in the front and back. I put on the matching satin g-string and walk across my bedroom, watching myself in the full length mirror on the back of the closed door of my en-suite bathroom. There's nothing 'frumpy' about the way I look tonight.
It's almost 8:30 by this time so I sit at my desk and touch the touchpad on my laptop, making the screen come back to life. I'd closed the windows before my shower so I clicked on the internet icon, waited for the window to come up, and clicked on my email. I opened the inbox. There was a message from Clairise and one from an unfamiliar source. The subject line contains a simple 'hello.' I feel the butterflies in my stomach double in size and triple in number. Oh my god, he actually emailed me!
I clicked the subject to open the message, take a deep breath, and read the two short sentences.
--Hey there, I hope you like what you saw. You've seen me and mine lol...tell me about you and yours.
I let out the breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding. His note is short and to the point but at least he was interested enough to contact me. I realize that I didn't even have time to write in my little note today whether I was a man or woman so I hit reply to send him a detailed description of myself. Letting him know that I definitely am a woman. The screen changes and I start to type.
--Hey, yourself. I did like what I saw, very much. To describe myself, my name is Dorothy but only my mom calls me that. Dottie is what I prefer. I'm 5 feet 6 inches tall. I have dark brown hair that reaches my waist. My eyes are mostly green with a few brown flecks. I wear glasses with transitions lenses. My skin is a little fair but I tan easily thanks to a Native American grandfather. My breasts are a size 36C and my waist is a size 13. To put that into more male terms, my waist is about 34 inches. I have a little bit of a belly and my hips would make a nice handful. My thighs brush together when I walk but they're soft. My entire body is soft. Today was a rare occurrence but I'm very glad I went to the trail. I keep a schoolteachers hours so evenings and nights will be when I check my messages. If my description of myself is of the type of woman you might be interested in, let's meet in person. I'll let you decide where.
I reread my message. It lets him know I'm interested and that I'm not a little skinny stick of a thing. If that's the type of woman he's looking for then I've given him the opportunity to tell me some reason he can't meet me. If he doesn't mind a curvy woman then I'm hoping he'll meet me. Watching him stroke his cock today on the bridge has made me more horny than I've been in a long time. Just sitting here remembering is making my pussy tingle. I don't want to finger myself tonight though. I want to wait to orgasm until I've got the runner underneath me. I close the windows on my laptop, close it, and go to my bed to slide between black satin sheets.
I go to work the next day, managing to keep my excitement from showing to my coworkers. I give a scheduled test to my American lit class. I try to hurry through it. I want the day to be over so I can get to my email. The students are all finished a few minutes before class is officially over so I gather up the last group of tests, put them in my briefcase to take home for grading, and hurry out of my room, barely taking time to lock the door as I go to my car.
I break the speed limit during the fifteen minute drive across town. I press the button on the garage door opener and drive the 'vette inside. I hurry into the house and make quick work of feeding the cats. I do my usual evening routine, taking off my suit jacket, heels, hose, and garter belt. I put a personal pizza in the oven and go to my laptop, opening it, typing in the password, and connecting to the internet. I take off my blouse as I wait and go to the bathroom to turn on the bathtub.
I click the internet icon, and when they come up I click the email, then inbox buttons. I see another message from him! I click on the subject line to open it. When I see the message I start to realize that the runner is a man of few words.
--I'd like to meet you. How about the parking lot of the trail? You decide when.
A short and to the point message. I look at the time it was sent. Just two hours ago. I'll send him a reply, eat my supper, and grade my 10am class's tests. My tests consist of matching, fill in the blank and one short answer question. They don't take very long to grade. I move the mouse to click on the reply button.
--Are you free Friday night from about 7pm? And the rest of the night?
I hit send just as I hear the timer on my oven ding, indicating my pizza is done. I leave my laptop open and go into the bathroom to turn off the water. I dribble some magnolia scented oil into the water and light a few magnolia scented candles. By the time I finish eating my bathroom should be filled with the scent of magnolia blossoms.
I make quick work of the pizza. It's four meat and I'd forgotten to pick off the pepperonis before I cooked it so I do that when I take it out of the oven, tossing them out the back door to my cats. I take out my pizza roller, cut my pizza into four pieces, and sit down at my kitchen table. I take out the test papers from my briefcase and grade as I eat. These are the midterm tests so I have my key handy just in case I forget the answer to a question, which is very unlikely. By the time I've finished my pizza I've got my first class's graded. I throw my paper plate in the trash, leave the papers on the table, and walk back to my bedroom. The screen on my computer is dark so I touch the touchpad to bring it to life. No new messages yet. Damn.
I take off my bra, suit skirt, and panties, tossing them into the hamper with my suit jacket and blouse. I'd left the nightie I wore last night draped across my unmade bed. I'll wear it again tonight.
I walk naked into the bathroom, turn my radio onto a mixed rock station and step into the water as Ina Kamoze starts singing about the hot stepper. My tub is slightly sunken, has a step so I can get over the side more easily, and is big enough for two people to fit comfortably. I settle into the hot water and lean my head back against my little inflatable pillow. I sit for a while, listening to the radio and replaying the events of yesterday afternoon in my mind.
I shake off my reverie and take the washrag and bar soap off the side of the tub, place the soap in the middle of the washrag, and rub up a good lather. I take my time washing my body, enjoying the rough feel of the terrycloth against my skin. I finish washing my body, pull the plug on the drain, and step out onto my dark red bath mat. I walk over to my shower stall, turn on and adjust the temperature, and close the door behind me as I get in to wash my hair.
I don't delay any longer. I step out, wrap a towel around my hair, another around my body, and go to sit at my computer. I have a new message. I click on my inbox and see that it's from the runner. I open it. It's another short message.
I hit reply and send him a message that will let him know without a doubt that I'm interested in a sexual encounter.
--Are you prepared to let me be in control? And let me do whatever I want? You can give me a safe word but unless you say it I'm going to do anything I want. Up to and including a little pain. Can you handle that?
I hit send and look at the time. I've got to get the test papers graded tomorrow and it's 10pm already. I didn't realize how fast the time had gotten away from me. I take the towel off my hair and rub it dry enough that it won't drip. I change my mind and don't bother with the nightie. I slide between my satin sheets completely naked. I revel in the feel of the slick satin sliding across my skin. It's almost decadent. I fall asleep and dream of things I want to do to the runner. My last waking thought is: 'I still don't know his name.'
I spend my Thursday grading tests, doing what little laundry and small household cleaning I have, and trying not to open my computer too soon. I worry a little about the runners response to my wanting to be in control. Some men are not comfortable with giving up control to a woman.
About 4pm I can't stand the wait any longer. I have to see if he's left a message. I open my laptop, connect, and go straight to my email inbox. He's sent another message! When I open it I see the short and to the point message I've come to expect.
--I'm prepared to let you take full control. I'm sure I can handle all you got.
Hitting reply for the last time I type my response.
--Then meet me in the parking lot of the main entrance to the trail at 7pm Friday evening. You can follow me to my house.
I hit send, close the windows on the screen, and shut the computer. I think about his choice of words; 'take control' instead of 'have control.' That opens up a lot more possibilities. The pain I'd actually been talking about was my nails digging into that juicy ass and maybe a bite on his shoulder. When he wrote 'take control' I started to think that he'd try to be in control at first but I'd have to do something to him to make him do what I want.
The next day is Friday. It's even more difficult to disguise my anticipation than Wednesday. I have to be at work at 9am for office hours. Not many students ever take advantage of this time so I usually use it to organize my thoughts about whatever discussion over whichever book the students are supposed to have read. Since poetry is over, I'll put them in groups to discuss the latest reading assignment. I don't have to try to lecture the whole class period that way.
I make it through the day, leaving as soon as I get my things gathered up. Love Shack comes on the radio as I wait in the line of vehicles headed off campus. I'm almost giddy from anticipating tonight. For some reason, I'm not worried that the runner won't show.
It's 4:30 by the time I get home. I don't have much time. I feed the cats, take a few chicken strips out of the freezer, put them in the oven to cook and run to my bedroom to strip off my pant suit. Even though I hurry through a shower and shaving, it's 5:15 by the time I'm done. I towel off and go to stand in front of my closet. I have no idea what to wear.
I walk back to the kitchen and make quick work of the chicken strips while I think. I want to look sexy but not too easy. Even though he already knows I'm a sure thing I don't want to look like a street walker. I go back to my closet and get one of my tops with minimal support. Men always like it when a woman goes without a bra. This one is white, spaghetti strapped, the cups are little triangles, and the bottom part of it is in the loose baby doll style that hides my belly. I debate on whether to wear jeans or one of my long gypsy skirts. I settle on a skirt, but not one of my long ones. The one I finally pick out is light blue with a few little silver spangles on the front and only comes a little past mid thigh. I don't bother with panties and slip on a pair of sandals with low heels that lit up. I brush my hair out, leave it down, and don't bother with make-up.
I check the time, 6:50. Oh my god I don't want to be late! I almost run out to Ms. Peacock, barely giving the garage door time to open before I'm backing out, pushing the button on the remote to close the garage door again, and speeding down the street. The usual time it takes me to get to the trail from my house is fifteen minutes. I make it in eleven this time.
I see the little black Mazda as soon as the parking lot comes into sight. It's parked in almost the same spot as before. I pull up on his passenger side and kill the motor. I watch as he gets out of his car and walks around to my door, opening it for me.
"Hello," he says.
"Hi," I say as I get out of my car. I offer him my hand, saying "I'm Dottie..." He takes my hand and uses it to pull me to him. He wraps his arms around my waist as he starts to kiss me with so much pent up passion I have to wonder if he's been without a woman for a while. Maybe this is just the way he kisses and I'm the one who's about to drown in desire.
I come to my senses briefly, saying "I don't even know your name yet."
"Jason," he says after a few seconds thought. I smile, thinking that I've already made him almost forget his own name.
"Well, Jason," I tell him, "it's fitting that we should meet on Friday the 13th. But I don't think we need to fuck right here in the parking lot. Follow me to my house."
"Ok," he says, sounding a little out of breath. He slowly releases me to walk back around to the drivers side of his car. I get back in my 'vette, start it, and head out of the parking lot. I make it home in ten minutes this time, Jason right on my tail. I pull into the garage, leaving the door and the house door open so he can come in. I hear him pull his car up beside mine in the double garage, the garage door close and the house door close as I walk quickly to my bedroom.
I've barely slipped out of my sandals when I hear the bedroom door close behind me. Jason puts his hands on my shoulders and turns me to face him. I read his intent in his eyes a second before he lowers his mouth to mine in an easy kiss. It feels like he's exploring my taste, just barely dipping his tongue into my mouth. Almost hesitantly, I reach out with my own tongue to brush against his.
That seems to flip a switch in him. He's no longer just tasting me; now it seems like he wants to eat me alive. He turns me around so my back is to the door, sliding his hands down my arms to my wrists, raising them above my head and pinning both with one hand. I start to struggle. I'd planned on being in charge and I thought he understood and accepted that. I realized then I really would have to take control. He wasn't going to give it up easily.
I try to take my wrists our of the prison of his hand but only succeed in making him push his body against mine, pinning me more securely against the door. My lips feel almost bruised, he's kissing me so hard. He finally takes his right hand away from my wrists to join his left in kneading my breasts and pinching my nipples, hard. I feel myself getting wet despite myself.
I try to push his shoulders but it's about as useful as trying to move a wall. Jason's about 5 or 6 inches taller than my own 5'6" and has the broad shoulders a man is supposed to have. My brain is oddly able to appreciate this yummy fact while I struggle to gain the upper hand.
After many long minutes he finally takes his mouth off mine. I'm relieved and disappointed at the same time. My disappointment turns to almost painful pleasure as his mouth replaces his right hand at my breasts. His right hand goes to my skirt, reaching inside the waistband and searching downward towards my pussy. I can't help but spread my legs in invitation. As his mouth sucks and bites at my nipples, he pushes two fingers inside my, by now, dripping wet pussy and brushes his thumb over my pierced clit. It's almost enough to make me cum but that's not what I want. If I cum now, I won't be able to later.
He's had to shift his body a little away from mine to be able to bend down and nibble my nipples. It put just a few inches of space between our bodies. I use the opportunity to gain leverage for my hands to shove him a few more inches away from me. He's distracted by my breasts and pussy or it wouldn't have worked. I act fast so he won't have time to prepare or defend himself. I shift my weight to my left foot, raise my right, and slam my right knee into his balls with every bit of strength I have.
He grabs himself with both hands, almost doubling over as air rushes out of his lungs. I can hear him struggle to just breathe as he leans a shoulder against mine.
"I told you I was going to be in control. You tried to not let me be so I had to give you a lesson. Are you ready to let me be in control now?" I feel him nod. "Good. I want you to take off your shirt and go lay in my bed on your belly. I want to touch you."
He obeys, walking a little stiffly. He's already taken his shoes off somewhere. He sits on the edge of my bed and takes off his dark blue t-shirt. I see a bulge in his jeans. Even after what I did to him, which must have hurt like hell, he's still hard. I'm surprised but pleased. He stretches out on his belly in the middle of my bed. I take furry handcuffs out of my bedside drawer and click them around his wrists and my headboard. He doesn't protest.