What Happens Here...

"How do you even do that, sweetie?"

"Lots of, ugh, practice. Having you under me is cheating, though."

"I'm not gonna tell on you."

"It's OK, this isn't an Olympic sport."

Having her splayed on her back on top of me gave me room to reach down and rub my fingers along her labia and clit as I slowly pumped in and out of her. She moaned.

"If it was, I'd put you in for a medal."

"Gold, silver, or bronze?"

I could feel her giggles all the way through my body.

"Let you know when I finish..."

I sped up and quickly she did, with me right behind her. She rested for a couple of minutes, catching her breath, and then turned over and kissed me.

"I'd call that a gold medal effort."

The next morning I got up early and took a long hot shower. Ellen looked so cute curled up naked in the big hotel bed that I didn't disturb her. As I signed off the room service breakfast, I heard the shower start up in the other room, and Ellen moving around doing whatever girls do the morning after a big night.

She came out wearing jeans, boat shoes and a button down shirt. With her hair in a band, I would have taken her for the perfect repressed little preppie if I hadn't heard the things she yelled a few hours before while she was sitting on my face. She smiled at me and took a bite of toast and a sip of coffee.

"Well, I have to go catch the shuttle to the airport. You have my number, right? Thanks again for everything."

"Believe me, I'm glad this all happened. Call me when you get home, OK? I want to be sure there's no more adventures."

"Last night was enough adventure for a long time."

She wrapped her arms around my neck, gave me a lingering kiss, and headed out the door without looking back.

That night I got a text from her. "Home safe! Thanks again for EVERYTHING!" Then I had to make up a story for the executives I was having dinner with to explain the smile on my face.

Over the next few months we talked every few weeks when she wasn't too busy with law school. I hinted that I wasn't averse to some phone sex, but she didn't want to talk about that on the phone and I had to respect that. She did like getting my real world perspective on some of the stuff she was studying, and I enjoyed talking to her. Even aside from her remarkable sexual skills, she was a sweet, funny girl.

At Thanksgiving and Christmas she was too busy with family stuff to get together. Sometime in March, I started talking about her Spring Break.

"I have a cabin on the beach in Oregon. Why don't you fly out and spend a week here? I'll pay for the ticket if it's a problem."

She sighed and was silent for a few minutes.

"Mark, you're a great guy and an incredible lover. I'm always going to treasure the memory of that night. I need a relationship that's more than phone calls and a dirty weekend every few months, though."

"I'd like this to turn into a lot more than that, too. You'll finish law school in a year, right? I could get you a good job in Seattle with a few phone calls, and we can take it from there."

"Mark, in a year you're still going to be twenty years older than me. We've spent less than a day together. I don't see that as a basis to leave my family and friends and move all the way across the country. I hate to hurt you, because you really are a great guy, but you're not the great guy I'm going to spend my life with."

"That sounds pretty final."

"I've given it some thought, and it is final."

I sighed.

"What if I moved out there?"

"That wouldn't change the age thing. You and I are at two different stages in life. It wouldn't work out in the long run."

"You're probably right. Girls as pretty and smart and sensual as you are don't grow on trees, though. You can understand why I'd want this to happen."

"Of course. You're a ridiculously attractive man, and you make the horny nerds in this law school look pretty pathetic. I'm really tempted to keep this going. As I said, though, I can't see it working out in the long run."

"Well, I'm sorry about that."

"Don't be. We had a fantastic night together and that's worth something in itself. Talk to you later."

"OK. Sweet dreams."

I didn't hear from her for another two and a half years, and it was an engagement announcement. I ran a quick background check on the guy and he appeared to be responsible, educated, and well employed. Nothing there to object to, and he was only four years older than her. I shipped her a case of Perrier-Jouet with a note that said "Congratulations! Use this well." Six weeks after the wedding date I got the note back. Under my note she had written "Thanks! I did!". The little stick figure under it had a ponytail, one eye closed in a wink, and its legs were a horizontal line.

I never heard from Ellen again but I still have that note, where my current wife isn't likely to see it. She sometimes wonders why I get a reminiscent grin when we walk by the champagne section, but I never answer.