Gidget Surfs Up At Bikini Beach
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If You Get This Message Part 1 free porn video
This is a short romantic story about connecting, disconnecting, and all of the
elements that come into play when two people fall madly in love.
If You Get This Message Part 1
(c) 2002 Deanna Lea
Monday, March 1st
Hello, my name is Deanna and I have a story to tell you about an amazing thing
that happened to me last year.
To be totally up-front, I need to tell you that I am a post-operative
transsexual. Ten years post-op, living totally as a woman. And I couldn't be
happier. So, when I met Dean a year ago, it came as a total surprise. I hadn't
been looking for anyone. As a matter of fact, I've been quite happy and satisfied
by myself. That's why this whole thing simply blew my mind. This is how it
happened...
I'm the development director for a Public Radio Station in Eugene, Oregon. Since
we operate on a very tight budget, I also serve as traffic and billing manager. I
use a traffic system to move our underwriting sponsors onto our broadcast logs.
Phyllis Marker, is our station manager and she fills in when I'm not available.
The old system had failed and we had just purchased a new system from Broad-Tek,
Inc. They said they would provide a customer service rep to help train our staff.
That meant Phyllis and me.
I had been in two meetings that morning and the rep from Broad-Tek was supposed
to arrive at 11am and we planned to work for an hour, go to lunch then spend the
rest of the day learning about our new software. I didn't walk into Phyllis'
office until 11:15 and I could tell by the look on her face that she was in over
her head.
He blew into my life like the vortex of a tornado, touching down on my heart,
only to turn me upside down
I didn't see him at first but when I came around the corner of the filing cabinet
towards the computer terminal I found myself face to face with my Adonis. There
he stood about 6' tall, not chubby, but leaning that way. His demeanor was that
of someone that simply took charge by his mere presence. His mid range soprano
voice took you to a place of sheer comfort. By not demanding your attention, he
captured your attention. He had blazing red hair and a well-trimmed beard and
mustache. But the really cute thing was the streaks of silver that blend into his
gorgeous red hair. It's bizarre, we haven't yet had a chance to communicate, yet
he'd taken over my life in one brief moment. I stood in the office totally
speechless, something unusual for me. Truth told I was like a giddy, giggly,
teenage girl. That's hard to except when you're past fifty.
He turned around and stuck out his hand and said, "Hi, I'm Dean Kramer, glad to
meet you."
Phyllis chimed in with, "Nice to see you could finally make it."
I checked my watch and apologized for being late, and assured them that I was
ready to learn. At the same time Phyllis suggested I take her place and try my
hand at the new program, and without hesitation, she was up and out of the chair
before I could open my mouth.
"Here, sit!" she curtly pointed in the direction of the chair. It didn't look as
if I had too many choices.
Right about the same time, Ed Grady, our production guy, and news director stuck
his head in the door and said, "Hey Phyllis, call on line 2." That was all she
needed to hear and I was left there to fend for myself.
Dean told me all about the functions of the new program and how it would provide
reports and information that would be valuable to the whole operation. He
suggested that I try entering a few contracts to show how easy it was
"Hit alt F1." he said, and a menu bar dropped from the top right side of the
screen.
"Now hit shift/control at the same time." and another menu popped from the
bottom.
The top menu was to set up a new contract and provide step by step instructions
from the very beginning. First entering control numbers and then cart numbers
with all the important details such as when the contract starts and ended.
Another feature included the dollar amount involved in the underwriting. It was a
total package, much more detailed then our defunct program.
The bottom menu was for entering the system in our logs and scheduling when the
underwriter's spots would air. This would save lots of time because we would no
longer have to download the traffic on a floppy disk, then transfer it to our
operating system. Everything was in one place, how neat!
It was at this point that my life became turned somewhat upside down.
While Dean was showing me several functions for the log, he reached with his left
arm down to my right hand, which was controlling the mouse. The closer he came to
me, the more there was a feeling I hadn't felt in years. For those few moments I
felt safe and warm and comfortable.
As he reached down, he brushed my boob and every nerve in my body went through a
tingling hyper-warp sensation. It happened so quickly, it was hardly noticeable,
except on my face. You see, I'm a blusher, even in my other life, I was a
blusher, boy oh boy, was this ever a flash back to the best of my blushing. Dean
moved my hand from one point to another, saying that I need to remember that each
time I started a new contract, I had to follow the menu format exactly.
That's when I heard big mouth Phyllis say, "Hey Dee, why are blushing?" I just
sat there and glared at her.
Now, you must understand, Phyllis and I are best friends. We've known each other
for nearly twenty years and she knows as much about my sorted past as I know
about all her little secrets, especially the little ones she keeps from her
husband, Dave, who by the way is a very sweet guy.
Phyllis then warned us that if we heard sonic booms, not to worry, she said,
"That loud grumble you hear is my stomach," which meant is was time for lunch.
We took Dean to lunch, and our chat was devoted mostly on the new software, how
it worked, some of the things it would and not do, and some little secrets to
make our job easier.
But it wasn't the words we spoke that created the heat, it was in our eyes. We
soon forgot that Phyllis was a third party. When Dean and I made eye contact we
went directly to each other's souls. You could feel it flow like opening the tap
at the sink, the water starts flowing and just keeps flowing until someone turns
it off.
In this case it was Phyllis that shut us down when she said, "I need to check
messages and make a few calls before we get started again, so if you two will
excuse me, I'll see you all in about 10 minutes." And then she left.
"That girl never stops working." is what I said as she made her way across the
school cafeteria and up to the radio station on the second floor.
Dean and I made small talk for the next few minutes, until I said, "I need to
find the little girls room, can you make it back upstairs without getting lost?"
Dean nodded his head with a yes and we parted company.
With the exception of rivets of deep tingling sensations, the rest of the
afternoon was a repeat of the morning. We entered contracts, wrote affidavits and
ran logs and reports. In other words, we did all the things this program was
designed to do.
At about 4:30 that afternoon Dean asked if we felt okay with the system and did
we have any questions. His flight would take off from Eugene Airport at 7pm and
he wanted to get back to the motel before heading out. Both of us told him that
he had done and excellent job of training. We also told him that if he was ever
in the neighborhood again, to please feel free to stop by. What happened next is
freaky, but it happened so trust me.
Dean turned to Phyllis and shook her hand in a very business like fashion. Firm,
but not overbearing. They exchanged business cards and other niceties, then she
left.
Then he turned to me and said, "Dee, it's been a real pleasure."
When our hands touched it was like electric current coursing through me. It's
sparks arcing through my body and welding my hands to his. I couldn't let go. I
knew at that very moment, if there was ever a person that was supposed to be in
my life, mentally, spiritually, physically, and emotionally, it was Dean Kramer.
Thursday, March 4th.
I had almost gotten over that brief encounter earlier in the week and was about
to call it a day. I checked my voice mail for any messages before I left, and
once again, the tornado touched down.
The sound on the other end of the line was unmistakable. That comforting mid
soprano voice of the man that had quickly entered my life.
"Hi Dee, I don't know if you remember me, this is Dean Kramer, I was in your
office earlier this week, helping you and Phyllis with your new traffic software.
Anyway, I'm not sure how to say this but... when we ah... shook hands, I felt a
very overwhelming sensation in your touch. Well... I'm due back in Eugene in
three weeks. So, if you get this message, I was wondering if you would you like
to get together again, maybe for dinner?"
Little did he know how much this call meant to me.
You could tell he was having a hard time as he continued, "I know it sounds like
I'm rambling, and I don't make a habit of doing stuff like this... But if you'd
like dinner, and you get this message, please call the toll free number on my
business card. I have voice mail too, so if I'm not in when you call, just leave
a good time to call you back."
The message ended with Dean saying, "I really hope you get this message."
***
This is the end of the first installment of "If You Get This Message." This short
story will have no overt sex acts, there will be no obscene language or innuendo.
It is simply a story about two people, now middle aged, who have crossed more
paths together than either will ever realize.
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