"You know Carla, I don't think this is something I want to do."
I had a bad case of buyer's remorse, and I hadn't even done it yet. It was just a feeling that I had.
"Lisa." She stopped, stood in front of me, and put her hands on her hips like a mother scolding a bad child. "We've been talking about this for what, a month, and we're finally here, and now you've got cold feet." Her voice went up an octave on the word now and I swear she rolled her eyes. Carla can be so dramatic when she wants to be. "Remember when we were making our New Year's resolutions? Yours was to find a guy. Valentine's day is almost here."
"And I'm entitled to change my mind."
"When's the last time you've had a date."
"I mean really, Lisa, it's not healthy for a young woman never to go out on dates, have a romantic affair, dare I say have sex."
She had a point. I had forgotten the last flirty, romantic evening I had. And sex was now usually between me and my favorite vibrator.
"I guess it doesn't hurt to talk to her. Just for a minute or two."
"That's my girl. Now, word of advice, don't argue with her, okay."
I raised my eyebrow.
"Personal experience, you'll have a better consultation if you're, let's say, 'agreeable'."
I entered the house not having any expectations. I'm an insurance broker, and look at four walls of a cubicle every day. Just the idea of entering an old Victorian house for a consultation with a psychic was an experience in itself. A young woman, about my age, moved us to a small room and seated us at a round table. A lavender scented candle filled the room with a subtle fragrance. There was soft, new age music playing in the background.
She startled me with my own name. I looked at Carla, and she shrugged her shoulders, telling me she didn't tell her my name. And before I knew it, she had flowed into the room and had wrapped her arms around me, giving me a warm embrace. The "she" was Gisela, Psychic. She was tall, thin, with her black hair pulled back from her face. She was dressed in slacks and a flower print blouse. She would not stand out in a crowd. I stiffened at first, then relaxed and tried to hug her back. And I was in her embrace. She finally released me and drifted to her seat. I looked over a Carla, and she looked so happy I thought she was about to wet herself.
"Well, my dear, we finally meet."
"I've been sensing you for a while, I could feel you, and I knew we would meet, and that we would talk. You have many questions for me."
Yeah. Like how did you know my name? Before I entered the house, I was skeptical. That rapidly changed to freaked out when she called my name. Carla coughed, and I looked at her, and she was nodding her head. Agree. I had to agree.
"I'm here for answers. My love life sucks. Is it going to improve?" I figured I might as well cut to the point, and eliminate the nuance of the discussion.
"Ahh, love," she said. She spread some cards onto the table and quickly pushed up various face down cards towards me. "Touch three." I did as I was told. "Now, I'm going to try to answer some questions, but you'll need to commit to some work." She took my hands in hers and closed her eyes. After a few moments, I closed my eyes. I felt the warmth of her hands flow into mine, and my chest warmed.
"Soon. Soon. I see a man, tall, slender. Quiet. Shy. Almost too shy. So shy, he will need encouragement from you to ask for a date. He is close to you. Not personally, but physically. Maybe a neighbor. Maybe a co-worker. But close. You can almost touch him." She opened her eyes. "But don't touch him too quickly."
Gisela was older, I had trouble guessing her age, but I thought at least sixty. She moved like a younger woman, and after dropping my hands, she walked to a table and returned to me. She motioned me to stand. She attached a small locket around my neck, and rested her hand on my chest. "Keep this close to you." She took a small flacon from her pocket, removed the stopper, and quickly whisked the scented oil on my throat. "Every morning, just a hint."
Warmth spread across my throat, not hot, nor uncomfortable, but slowly spreading warmth that seemed to cover my body.
"Sprinkle this on him, and he's yours." She took a small earthen jar and placed it in my hands. "Start your work now." She turned and started to leave the room. She turned and faced me at the door.
"And please do not repeat what you did with Justin."
That really freaked me out.
She left the room.
After a late night of complaining about guys and failed romance with Carla, I hardly had the energy to run to the closing elevator at work the next morning. I half threw my briefcase into the doors, triggering the sensor, and then getting a dirty look from everyone else in the too crowded box. Most of the passengers got out on the third floor, a few on the fourth and finally it was just me and a well-dressed man in the corner. He stared at the numbers on the wall in front of him and I glanced at him. He was tall. Thin.
"Feels like rain, doesn't it?" The moment the words were out of my mouth, I regretted them.
He turned and looked at me. He had beautiful azure blue eyes that seemed to see into me.
"They never get the forecast right. But, I think you're right."
The elevator stopped, the door opened, and he vanished onto the sixth floor. I stared ahead as the doors closed.
Would I have noticed him if I hadn't met with Gisela the night before? If she had not planted the idea of a tall, slender, quiet man? The elevator stopped at my floor and I made my way to my cubicle for the day.
That night, Carla stopped by my place for dinner. Carla shops at thrift stores for her clothing. She can spin ten dollars of recycled clothing into an outfit that most fashion magazines would gladly feature on the cover. I complimented her clothes, and we were discussing updating my wardrobe. She started asking me all about my day to start her make over project, and when I mentioned the brief encounter, she started firing question after question about the mysterious man.
"Carla, it was a fifteen second encounter."
"I've been with guys that lasted that long," she said.
"There's not much to say."
"You're right there. But what was he like?"
I realized she wouldn't stop unless I gave her something. "It's was," I paused a moment for effect. "It was ephemeral."
She nodded knowingly and sipped her wine.
For the next three days I paused in the lobby, hoping to another glimpse of the man, trying to be there early, hoping to catch him as he entered the building. I even got off on the sixth floor one day, only to find myself wandering the halls for ten minutes, looking at various offices with no clue which one he might be his office. Then it hit me. He might have been a visitor. Maybe he had an appointment that day. I slapped myself on the forehead, cursed myself for acting like a smitten school girl, and punished myself by walking the four flights to my cubicle.
That night I made myself a creature comfort meal and poured a tall glass of a nice Australian Shiraz. I overdid the garlic, but the fettuccini Alfredo was excellent, rich, and tangy and the perfect complement to the wine. It was so good, I had a second and then a third glass of wine. After cleaning the kitchen, I climbed into my lounge chair with a wonderfully trashy erotic novel and another glass of wine. It was a reasonably good story, girl meets boy, sparks fly, and then they fuck several times in the remaining half of the book. After the third sex scene in twenty pages, the book had the desired effect, and coupled with the wine, had gotten me really horny.
I made my way to the bedroom and put on my nightie and got into bed and opened the book again for the next scene. The woman was bent over the dining room table while the new man in her life fucked her hard and fast until everyone was happy. My hand reached down and I touched myself, my fingers lightly brushing against my lips, until my finger was resting on my clit. My left hand touched my nipple and made small circles around it as I started to rub around my clit. I slipped my finger into me, wetting it with my juices, and started to rub myself again. I stretched my head back, and thought about my elevator man taking me across the table, his cock thrusting into me. I rubbed my clit faster, and then rubbed my fingers across it faster and harder while I started to pinch my nipple.
It started deep in my pussy. A rush of warmth, like a river of warm water, and gushed through my back and then a shot of electricity up my spine to my chest. I arched my back, lifting up off the bed, as the spasm of pleasure racked my body hard and I stiffened to the pleasure. I collapsed into the mattress, my hand cupping my clit, and my breathing hard and deep.
"Wow," I groaned. And then I did it again.
The next morning, I felt like I had slept for a week and was out the door earlier than usual. I felt so good, I got off the bus three blocks from work so I could get some fresh air and exercise. The damn ground hog had seen its shadow earlier in the week, but the winter day was nice and I enjoyed the walk. Maybe it was the oil that I had Gisela had given to me. I had touched it to my throat for the first time that morning and the warmth had spread through me again just like when she had placed it on me. I pushed into the building, threw myself onto the elevator and almost into the arms of the sixth floor mystery man.
"Oh, I'm sorry," he said, getting out my way.
"My fault," I said as the door closed.
We were the only ones on the elevator. It would be a quick ride. I reached over and punched four different floors.
"Oh, I am so sorry. My hand slipped," I said, and gave an apologetic shrug. "I'm Lisa," I said, extending hand.
"Oh, um, Bryan," he said, moving his briefcase to the other hand, and extending his. His handshake was firm, and he looked into my eyes with his deep blue ones.
"So, where do you work?" I asked. I had about thirty seconds, and I wasn't going to waste any of it.
"Um, " he looked uncomfortable. "Wilson Securities." I waited for him to reciprocate. We were at the sixth floor.
"I'm at Global Life and Casualty. Stop by and see me some time."
The door closed. And I started to beat my head against the wall. What an idiot.
There's nothing like a complex, multi-party real estate sale with buyers and sellers in four states to get your mind off making a fool of yourself in front of a total stranger. I had a three o'clock deadline to insure all of the buildings, all of the buyers, and indemnify the corporations. On a budget. I worked through lunch and finally at one thirty I got up from my cubicle to stretch my legs when my phone rang.
"Marci, I said no calls until I got his thing done."
"There's someone to see you." She paused for a moment, partially covering the mouthpiece of the phone, then said "Bryan is here to see you."
My heart did a triple thump in my chest. I started to walk to the office foyer, but I went back to my purse, hastily splashed the oil on myself, and out to the front of the office.
"Um, hi," he said, looking down for a moment, and a blush came across his face. "Thought I'd come up and say hi during my break."
"Well, 'hi' yourself. It's my break too. Let me buy you a coke."
"You don't need ..."
"I'm not really buying, I know how to kick the machine to get it to cough up a couple of cans."
I tucked my arm into his and lead him out to the vending area. After a split second, I had come to my senses and wondered what the hell had come over me. Just grabbing a stranger and leading him around. My initial reaction was to take my arm back, but then thought it would seem like I thought he had cooties or something so I kept it there, feeling more and more nervous all of the time we walked to the vending machines.
Two quick elbow jabs to the vending machine produced a sparkling water for Bryan and a Diet Coke for me. I did not tell him that the kick was for show, the beverages were a perk of working in the office. It had been so long that I had been with a guy, I had lost the finesse of flirting. Unfortunately, I think Bryan was out of practice too. He spent ten minutes telling me about fixed income bond funds and the intricacies of tax avoidance. If anyone was listening to the conversation, they would have thought it was a geek convention of lonely business majors. We finished our drinks, and Bryan said that he had a deal to finish before the markets closed. I walked him to the elevator.
"Um, Lisa, I know its late notice and all, and you're probably already got plans, and it's sort of like amateur night, but would you like to go out for Valentine's Day?"
Tall. Slender. Quiet. Shy. Close to you. Damn, she had picked them all.
"Sounds wonderful." And the elevator doors closed in front of his beaming face.
For three days, I did not see or hear from him. I lurked around the lobby. I found myself taking my breaks on his floor and walking around outside the entrance to his office. I tried to find his name in the building directory and the firm's website, but it wasn't there. Nothing. No sightings. No messages.
The stress was getting to me, and every night before falling to sleep I'd think about him. Fantasize about him. The night before Valentine's I had gotten out another erotic novel and it only made things worse. After about a dozen pages I was in bed and had my dildo ready and I was going to take matters in my own hands. I closed my eyes, turned it on, and started rubbing it back and forth across my clit. It had been so long since I had used my classic hot pink vibrating dildo. I had missed it desperately. I slid it across my sweet spot, turning up the speed to medium and I started to feel the tingling spread across my lips. I brought the cock shaped tool to my mouth, and sucked on it for a second, then returned it to my clit. I turned up the speed to high and pushed it hard against me. Suddenly I came, there was no pretense, no warning, just a wave of pleasure that started in my pussy and shot like an explosion across my body so hard and fast it took my breath away. I barely had the strength to turn off my old friend. After a few moments, I got a tingle in my pussy. It started slowly at first, and then seemed to increase in intensity. I took the hot pink cock and put it against my lips and rubbed, slowly at first, I took it out, liked the head, and put it at my lips again and slid it into myself. I flicked on the switch and started to slide it in and out of my pussy. Faster and harder with each thrust, my other hand drifted to my breast and squeezed one and tweaked my nipples. After a moment I could only concentrate on the vibrating cock in me, it felt larger with each thrust, and I slid it in faster and deeper each time. I held it still and brought my other hand to my clit and quickly rubbed it, pushing down hard, no pretense of subtlety at all, just gritty, hard frigging, trying to get myself off fast, now, and my pussy started to throb and spasm around the dildo, like it would around a real cock and my back arched, pushing my head back, lifting my ass off the bed, pushing my pussy upward into the air, trying to take the hot pink cock deeper into it and a flash of warmth shot through my body and I collapsed onto the bed, my breath hard and fast, deep breaths. I pulled out the dildo, turned it off and drifted to sleep.
I felt like a new woman in the morning. I had no idea of the plans for the evening, and I dressed up for work and down for an evening out. I put a double dose of the oil on my neck, with an extra dab behind each ear. When I got to work I looked for Bryan but did not see him and had to fight the urge to get off on the sixth floor. I got to my cubicle to find a dozen daffodils on my desk with a card. The envelope instructed me not to open it until five o'clock. Like a kid waiting for Santa, it was the longest work day in my life. I watched the clock count down to five, and finally at four fifty seven I tore into the envelope. It had a sweet Valentine's card, not overly flowery, and a hand written note at the bottom.
"Bet you didn't wait until five."
I felt myself blush.
He gave me instructions to our meeting place and a small map. The map was hand drawn and adorned with pressed dried flowers and hand drawn hearts. It said to be at the destination by five fifteen. I had a choice of taking a bus, but the day was nice and there wasn't a bus in sight. I walked briskly, smiling at people who passed me. I got to the address on the card, a small independent book store. I had five minutes to spare.
All of a sudden it hit me. What was I thinking? I was going on a wild chase to meet a man I had met in an elevator, based on the tip of psychic. I had spoken to him for ten minutes and here I was on the streets with a scavenger hunt map in my hands. I looked up and down the street and didn't see him. Maybe it was all a hoax. Just seeing what he could get me to do. I was going to go home, read a good book, and call it a night early.
"Miss Lisa," a sweet voice called to me. I looked down and a girl, about ten was standing behind me with a single rose and a card. "This is for you." She smiled, turned and ran away.
"We're on an adventure," the card read. It had another address.
I'm a lot of things, and a sucker for romance is one of them. I looked at the address, thought about the best way there, and set out for it. There a young boy greeted me with another rose and a card. In the span of an hour, I had a dozen red roses and an equal number of handmade cards. Some had lines of poetry, others snippets from nursery rhymes. A dozen all together creating a small romantic booklet and a dozen short stem roses. The last one brought me outside of an apartment building.
"Miss Lisa," the doorman said, "Mr. Bryan is expecting you." He escorted me to the elevator, pushed the button, and gave me instructions to the apartment.
The apartment door was ajar and I knocked and pushed open the door. The lights were low and Frank Sinatra's rich voice filled the room with an inviting song. I closed the door, and put the flowers in the conveniently located vase.
"In here," Bryan yelled out.
I followed the clattering sounds from the kitchen. There he was, my tall, shy, thin date decked out in an apron and trying to manage several kettles on the stove. He poured a liquid into one of the kettles and a flash of fire shot upwards.
"Whoa," he said. "Calm down."
I asked if I could help, and at first he declined, but when he knew I was serious, asked me to pour some wine and attend to the salad. I left the room and removed my coat and returned to be a kitchen hand. I poured the wine and prepped the salad. He stepped away from the stove every few minutes to give me detailed instructions about the ratio of the ingredients and the arrangements of the lettuces and vegetables. He worked like a mad chemist at the stove, moving pots, adjusting flames, stirring, seasoning, and testing the various dishes on the stove. After about fifteen minutes of steady work, we pronounced the meal done and directed me to the adjoining dining room.
Playing the part of the maître d he seated me and described each course in a stiff French accent. We had a wonderful carrot soup with hints of ginger and dressed with shaved cilantro. The salad was a beautiful mosaic of colors and textures with toasted almonds. The entrée was handmade ravioli with a pumpkin sage sauce that made me want to lick the plate.
All through the meal, we talked incessantly about ourselves and our jobs. The shy man was gone, never to be seen again. Bryan was funny and witty, and had just created the best homemade dinner I had ever had. If I hadn't seen him in the kitchen, I would have accused him of having the meal prepared by a personal chef. We took our wine into the living room and he brought dessert, fresh fruit sorbet of kiwi, strawberry, and blueberry.