Wednesday Evenings with Babs Pt. 04

Then the next evening I'm at Liz's parents' house, down the hall in her bedroom. It was like going back to a high school situation. We had to make sure to keep the door open and always be aware of where her parents were in the house. Though they felt comfortable enough with me to 'let' me be with her in her bedroom, we made a point of generating just enough noise so that there were no periods of silence in her room that might make them wonder why it had gotten so quiet all of a sudden. There was always a certain tedium about this, one that to this point I had just accepted as unavoidable. Now I began to become annoyed with it and it became a struggle to keep that annoyance internalized.

I began to see Liz for what she was. She couldn't help it that she was just a young girl. Full of naive exuberance, she'd go on and on with a sort of 'we can have it all' innocence about our future. We're going to go to college, scoop up our degrees and proceed to set the world on fire. We're never going to settle for less than the best in anything. Of course, all she focused on was a hazily defined vision of an outcome, and not about all the steps to get there and any struggles that might get in the way. Her vision for our future began to sound like a schedule of assignments to be completed. Sometimes, as she was in the process of painting this fantasy picture I would sit there and my mind would wander off momentarily to thoughts of Babs.

Then there was the physical comparison.

Lizzie was cute to be sure. A real pixie with long brown hair and bangs across her forehead. To this day that is a tonsorial combination that I love most of all, though my color preference has evolved in the direction of dark red or auburn. She had big, lively brown eyes. Her lips were full and so kissably soft. Her skin, what I had been able to see of it, was smooth, soft and flawless.

Babs had lines radiating from her eyes, stretch marks splaying downward from above each of her boobs and on her abdomen. There was her aureola that had been darkened by pregnancy. The freckles that covered her shoulders and upper chest. The little moles that dotted her skin here and there. And while her legs were free of spider veins, she did have the slightest hint of cellulite on her ass cheeks. At an age when most guys might have been repulsed by signs of such 'wear and tear,' I found myself looking upon these flaws as badges of honor that were earned while coping with the ups and downs of life as an adult. It engendered in me a combination of respect, admiration, and no small amount of intimidation. I began to recognize that sexiness in a woman is not necessarily a product of skin free of wrinkles and hair free of gray strands. In ways both physical and psychological, she oozed a subtle, sexy presence that I found magnetic. An aura that can only be the product of experience.

To this day I wonder how I might have felt if I had the opportunity to see them side by side.

At the office there were obvious unspoken rules, so obvious it wasn't even necessary for Babs to load me up with a bunch of warnings. For one, I stayed as far away from her office as possible. When we might pass each other in hallways we might nod in greeting, but I would refrain from little things like winking at her. After all, you never know who might see me doing that and what suspicions it might develop in others. And never call her, ever. Simply put, keep your mouth shut and let her call the shots. If she never invited me to her house again, don't make the mistake of asking if there was a problem. In a way, having to keep such a radioactive secret made it all the more exciting for me. There was this 'walking a tightrope' feeling about it. I was her little fuck toy and at any time I could be disposed of like the garbage from last night's dinner. Of course, it never occurred to me that I might not be her only fuck toy.

Our little liaison did change one aspect of my work day, a personal activity I sometimes indulged in when lunchtime rolled around. After gulping down whatever I had brought or bought, I might leave our building and spend the rest of the hour walking the streets and 'girl watching'. There were plenty of sweet young things with long hair and even longer legs perched atop spiked heels. Hemlines were up then, way up, (There goes another mini-skirt) and during warmer weather, this ensured glorious, unobstructed views from upper-thigh on down. 'Checking out the chicks' was something I had been doing almost from the day I started the job.

Exposure, literally, to Babs, brought about a change in the 'targets' of such harmless 'reconnaissance'. I began to scan the landscape for the 'sexiest woman of the day who looks like she is at least forty'. As could be expected in any big city downtown business district environment there was no shortage of such lovely women. They dressed more conservatively, and in much more stylish fashion than the younger women, perhaps in part because they could afford to do so. They carried themselves with a grace and elegance that is the result of an accumulation of life experiences. I had this mental picture of making an ass of myself trying to flirt with some of them. I would probably have just stuttered, stammered and blushed. I had to be careful to not so much as catch their eyes so they wouldn't see me staring at them. It made me wish there was a small, inconspicuous camera I could acquire and use to discreetly capture candid images of them.

Next: A Steamy Reunion