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"May I speak with Randy O'Toole."
"Umm, Randy here."
"Good evening, Randy. My name is Gabriella and I am the compromised Luddite. I enjoyed your letter."
"Thank you. Gabriella, what a beautiful name.
"Thank you. Ah, I'm sort of at a loss for words but your letter intrigued me. If I read between the lines, it's quite different, you know, from most replies to my ad."
"You read correctly, Gabriella. I am a most curious fellow."
"Well, ah, this is a little embarrassing but I have to ask. I hope you don't think I'm rude or premature in asking a very personal question but can you live up to your name?"
Her laugh sounded mischievous and just slightly stressed.
"I don't feel you're rude. I'm just surprised that..."
"Let me explain," she interrupted.
"I'm looking for a friend and lover who has the energy and inclination to satisfy me. I'm an oversexed, type "A" personality. I rarely hold back when expressing my feelings about what I think is important and sex is high on my list. I feel I should warn you so that we don't start down this path only to stumble over a problem later."
"Are you a sexaholic, Gabriella?"
"What does that mean?"
"Are you addicted to sex? Is it an obsession?"
"Not at all. I just don't want feel like I'm part of an Amateur Night act. Well, um, when I want sex, I want it with a lover who pays attention to detail. My details, if you see the picture."
"Paying attention to the details is very important."
"I'm a little embarrassed to be talking about sex first off but really I don't want to waste time with a Dandelion. I want a Daffodil, right out of the gate. I don't want to just horse around."
"Nicely done, Gabriella. You're feeding me my own words. I like that," I laughed softly, feeling complimented.
"Oh. Tell me why you named your cat Marcus Aurelius?"
"He was a very imperious kitten."
"What do you look like, Randy. Are you a large man?"
"Is that another sexual question, Gabby?" I chuckled. "May I call you Gabby upon occasion?"
"Yes, you may. You're a tease, aren't you."
"I'm much too stodgy to tease very often."
"Sure you are," she drawled. "Now answer my question."
"I'm a little over six feet and shrinking and weigh about 190. Now, close your eyes and describe me. What image pops into your head?"
"Big artist's hands. Long, strong slim fingers. Mmm, that gave me a tingle. Sorry, should not have said that."
"It's okay. You are a tiny woman but you have a high energy aura. I can almost feel your warmth here with me. You are more sensual than sexual. Most of the time."
"Mr. O'Toole, what, in your humble opinion, makes you different?"
"I'm learning to tune in and share."
"I have to say you'd be a rare one."
"Gabriella, I need to put another log on the fire and my wine glass is empty. Would you care to join me here this evening?"
"You weave an enticing web, sir."
"I'll not suck out your vital juices, dear."
"Drat. Just a little bit maybe?"
That got her a big laugh. "I'm not the only tease, it seems."
"I don't tease. Give me directions."
Chapter 2Gabriella wore her light brown curly hair pulled close against her head. A French roll formed a tight bun at the back. She wore a white turtle neck sweater tucked into the waist of tight black jeans under a short black blanket jacket. Nicely packaged for show and tell but not blatantly inviting.
She stood under the porch lamp, her smile cool, eyes dancing nervously.
I opened the screen door and she stepped gracefully inside, holding out her hand.
"I am Gabriella Aarons, sir. I'm very pleased to make your acquaintance."
I took her tiny hand in mine and bowed slightly before releasing it.
Her eyes darted around, taking in the dining room to her right, the living room to her left. She tilted her face and peered up the carpeted stairway for a moment. She cataloged wood paneled walls and old heavy furniture. Her nostrils flared as if savoring the faint smell of wood smoke that lingered. She made me think of a cat cautiously checking out a new residence.
"Beautiful little house. Have you had it long?"
"Thank you. Twenty years or so. May I take your coat?"
She shrugged out of her jacket. It fell down her arms and she caught the collar behind her butt with hooked fingers. I heard keys jingle. Full, unfettered breasts wobbled under her tight sweater.
"Beautiful little body. Have you had it long?"
"Thirty seven odd years. You like?"
"I like," I laughed softly and turned to hang her jacket on the hallway coat rack.
"Give me your shoes please."
She heel and toed and her flats plopped to the floor. I bent and picked them up.
"Size four?"
"Yes. Narrow. Very hard to find."
"Would you care for a glass of wine?" I asked as I put her shoes on the rack next to mine.
"Whatever you're having is fine."
"Would you like to see the kitchen?" I smiled invitation into her pretty eyes.
"Love to." She threw a soft delighted smile back.
We walked side by side down the hall to the kitchen doorway. I gestured for her to go first. She stepped daintily past me, peering around the room.
"Oh, this is a nice kitchen and so very modern. I was expecting more antiques." She put her hands on her hips and swiveled her torso around to smile at me. I slowly slid my eyes up from her round butt to her profiled breast before moving on to her eyes.
"Mr. O'Toole!" She chirped a little laugh. "Are you checking me out?"
"Yes, Ms. Aarons. I certainly am." I grinned at her.
"This looks very functional." Her eyes scanned my body. "Do you enjoy cooking?"
"Very much." Feeling amused by a possible double entendre.
"You didn't mention it in your letter."
"I thought I'd save something."
"I'm glad you did. I like little surprises. Why are you not involved with someone?"
"Benign neglect."
"What do you mean."
"I was involved with someone for a long time but I didn't pay attention and she, we grew apart."
"Do you still love her?"
"I love what she once was. What we once had."
"Mmm, still friends?"
"No, she's too far away. Physically and emotionally. Come sit up here." I patted the counter top.
"Sure." She hopped up and twisted on the counter to face me as I pulled a wine glass from the crystal rack.
"Red okay?"
"Fine." She toyed with the red stained cork, rolling it under her finger tip.
"How about you? Why are you not connected with someone?"
"I am, sort of. I've had a ten year, very committed relationship but it's with a woman and I need more now." She firmed her lips as if to show her determination. "Lori and I are breaking it off in a friendly way. Bed death. You know?"
"Happens. More what?" I stared into her suddenly wary, questioning eyes.
"Conventionality, I suppose."
"Mm. Not as exciting but..."
"You okay with this?" she interrupted.
"Mostly. Give me a bit and I will be."
"Shocked you?"
"Just a little flustered at your quick honesty. You don't waste time, do you, Gabriella?" I smiled large.
"I need to find a better way to say 'life's too short'. That's so tired."
"I like 'Do not go quietly into the dark night'. Fireplace now?"
I held out my hand. She put her soft hand on my palm and squeezed for a moment.
"I see you are a reader. I like you, Randy O'Toole."
I squeezed back.
"I like you too, Gabriella Aarons. You are very direct."
I felt an urge to scoop her up in my arms but just held her hand as she jumped to the floor. I proceeded her to the living room, wondering what other surprises she would spring.
"Take the couch while I put on some music. The Irish Tenors okay?" She moved to the far end and sat carefully, balancing her wine goblet in one hand.
"God, yes. I love that big eared guy. I'd love to grab those ears and hold on tight while he 'sings' between my legs. I'd be singing too but it would be bad harmony." She laughed, slightly embarrassed and gave me an ardent look. She sucked in a deep noisy breath and blew it out explosively between pursed lips.
I couldn't help but shake my head at her and laugh, "I'll sing for you, Gabby. Any time." Trying to be as direct as she.
"No, no. There's something else I want first." Her wide, tight lipped grin promised much.
"Let your hair down for me?"
"Thought I just did."
"I want to see you with your hair down, not your pants. You have beautiful highlights."
"You have a gift, don't you. I mean you notice!"
I moved to the couch and sat sideways at the far end. She put her wine glass on the rug and raised her arms, her fingers fluttered for a moment at her bun. Puffy nipples proud under her sweater. She raked her fingers up and into her hair, slowly fluffing it around her face. She turned to me with her eyebrows up and a little tight smile.
"Nice. Very nice. You're a beautiful woman, Gabriella," I said her name slowly, savoring each syllable. "As beautiful as your name."
She retrieved her wine glass and slouched back sipping, her lips sensuous on the rim of the glass. Her eyes spoke to me with some heat.
"Come here." She spoke the command softly, firmly.
"No." I whispered sharply.
"Are you going to make me come to you?" Her voice a soft purr.
"No." I drawled. "You have a story I want to hear."
"And what do I get in return?"
"My real name."
She lurched upright, almost spilling wine. Her mouth formed a faux "O" of surprise.
"Tell me now." The wary look flashed again.
"Randolph Fabio O'Toole-Barone," I said, voicing the e at the end of Barone. "My mother was Irish. My father's family are Sicilian."
"Oh, God. Windsong and firestorm in the same man. What do we have, multiple personalities?"
"'Fraid so. Though my wife accused me once of inheriting the vices of both and the virtues of neither."
"Where did she come up with that?"
"I'll never tell. It was a rather racist context."
"So now I've got to tell you about Lori, hm?"
"Yes, please."
"Okay but first tell me why you used such a sexually connotative name."
"Maybe I'm not prescient but sometimes I get little hunches. You wrote question mark WJF plus you used the word 'omnivore'. That's why I gave you just half my name. Does that make sense? I think my sense of humour was a bit twisted that day."
"I'm not sure if I would have replied to Randy Barone's letter. You came off as just another nice, sort of, anal retentive."
"Thanks. That's damning with faint praise."
"Now you're showing off."
"I guess. Now will you tell me about Lori?"
"May I pee first?"
"Sure. First door on the left," I said, gesturing toward the hallway. "Light switch is on the outside wall."
She carefully put her wine glass on the floor and stood, arching her back and giving me a half smile. Her eyelids drooped into a slow blink.
I locked eyes with her, straining not to gawk at her tits. Proudly displayed, it seemed.
"I like 'em too, Gabby. You don't have to flash me."
"Will if I want to." She started tugging her sweater out of her waistband. When it was free, she crossed her arms and lifted up and over her head in one quick motion. She must have heard my sharp intake of breath for she chuckled through her sweater. Her nipples were bright pink puffs on pear shaped breasts. I couldn't put the word 'tits' on her. Her belly was rounded and lightly tanned. Her breasts were startling white.
"You like my little pillows?" she asked sweetly as she jerked arms free of her long sleeves.
"Not so little."
"Almost a C cup. They just look larger 'cause I'm a runt."
She threw her sweater on the couch back and tiptoed across the rug to stand before me.
"Not bad for an 'old broad', hey?"
"There are quite a few 'young broads' that could envy you."
"These are two of the reasons Lori wanted me." She cupped her breasts and pinched her nipples.
"Gabriella, you are a hell of a re-affirmation of my love of 'uppity' women."
"Where'd you get that line?" she laughed with a little snort.
"Berkeley bumper sticker."
"Oh, of course. I need not have asked." She shook her head and chuckled, low and throaty.
She popped the button of her black jeans. She had to suck her belly in to make room for her thumbs.
"This button was left open for these last few months."
"Mmm? Gained some weight?"
"Hey!" she squawked. "I was advertising my availability to the community." She mugged false anger.
"Oh." I understood which community she referred to.
"I didn't get no satisfaction," she sang softly. "So I thought I'd play it straight."
She unzipped and started shoving tight jeans down over wiggling hips.
"Why the strip show?"
"'Cause it's been too long since I had a real live cock in me. I'm going to need it bad soon." Her voice was almost a snarl. "I hope you are very, very horny."
"You'd make a dead man horny. If I don't get my mouth on your breasts real soon now..."
"Not very original but I like the message, thank you. I don't want rigor mortis, I want rigor vita."
I could only groan and shake my head at that one. I love Jewish women. Witty, articulate women, actually.
She bent and pushed her jeans to her ankles. Standing, she put a hand on my shoulder for balance and started shuffling her feet out of the tangled jeans. Her breasts bobbled in my face. I resisted the urge to scoop her into my arms and suckle.
"You've great legs." I stroked a brown muscular thigh. Her skin was silky.
"Yoga and Aikido."
"You said you had to pee."
"I lied," she said, pirouetting half way round.
"Nice buns, girl."
She bent slightly and wiggled the nice buns for me.
"Okay. Now it's story time." She danced back to her end of the couch to sit facing me, leaning against the arm. She stretched her legs towards me and leaned to find her wine glass. I was fascinated by the liquid sway of her breasts.
I scanned up and down, from her face to her tiny pink toes and back.
Louise
- 06.03.2020
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