Lightning in a BottleChapter 72 Nine Days In August
- 3 years ago
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Only diehards eat outside at Au Bon Pain in Copley Place on a hot August day, but hot days of any sort were going to go away real soon, so Lisa and I put our trays on the table and collapsed into the sauna.
"So how was Maine?" she asked.
"The usual."
"No, come on. Tell me what you do up there while I'm sitting in the bowels of the library trying to read records written by semi-literate medieval clerks. I know what you do when Jack and I go up, but what do you when it's just family, or only normal people for guests?"
"OK. Nothin' much. Go to the beach. Work on the garden. Get dragged to parties I don't want to go to. Hang around the gallery and talk to some weird artist. Play with kids. You know. Goof off."
"God, you're hard to talk to sometimes! So when did you go to the beach, and how was it?" Lisa exasperates easily.
"The beach? You know how the beach is. Except that on Tuesday I had five kids with me, aged six to 10. My Judy and four guest kids. It was fun. I went in for about ten minutes until I was numb up to my waist--the water's only 60 degrees--then sat and read a book with one eye while I watched the kids with the other. Yelled at 'em when they started to go too deep or began to take swings at each other. They don't have nerve endings, you know? They stay in the water for hours."
"Then you went home."
"Yeah. What else?"
It really was too hot. Still, there was a breeze, and when I got really too hot I went in the water and got knocked around by the waves until I was soaked, and that cooled me down. Finally, though, it was time to go home. I was mildly curious to get online, call up the writers' group, and see who was trashing who. Whom.
The kids were totally shot, of course--that's the real aim of these expeditions. I only had to threaten to break one elbow to get them all together. I put on my nice coverup, the long purple one with the big yellow buttons down the front, folded up my chair, collected my towel and book and car keys, and we all headed back to the van.
This takes about half an hour, even though it's only maybe a hundred yards. The kids have to yell at each other, throw sand at each other, wrestle a little, and so on. They drop their baskets and shovels and have to pick them up. Somebody wants a popsicle, so we all buy popsicles. It's a slow process. I was just standing there half the time, waiting for them to calm down and walk another few steps. I wasn't really in a hurry, after all.
We hadn't been going more than a minute or two, though, when I got this idea. I stopped, leaned over, and unbuttoned the three bottom buttons of the dress. Results were immediate. As I started up again, fairly large portions of leg stuck out through the opening in the front. A guy who was scanning the area let his gaze go right by me, then quickly switched it back. He stared until I was past. By the time I got to the car I'd been ogled by at least fourteen men. I counted.
This was odd. Maybe six hundred nearly-naked women wandering around, and these guys look at my legs peeking out of a long skirt. My favorite interpreter of male behavior--he's one himself--says getting a look at what you're not supposed to see is much sexier than just looking at what's on display. Well, I got a kick out of it. Only a little kick, but what are you gonna do when you've got all these kids in tow? A strip tease?
"OK, if the beach wasn't exciting, tell me about the party. How was that?"
I'd known Lisa for some time, but still, I didn't know her that well. Seemed like she was getting awful pushy.
"Oh, it was all right. This past Sunday the in-laws dragged us to this cocktail party in Ogunquit. Rich people's house. Nice house, actually. We had a few drinks and got bored and went back to the camp."
"Hi, Janey," somebody said. I looked over and waved.
As parties go, it was only average. Nice edibles, fairly good background music, some clothes worth looking at, but the guests, all told, amounted to a washout. Could have been the Lexington High School PTA. I had already decided not to get drunk, which was practically the only sane thing to do other than leave, because I had to get up early in the morning and feel presentable. That left one option--figure out how to produce some excitement on my own.
The living room was full of stiffs, male and female, discussing post-modern art, and various wives talking about people who weren't there. Some of the men were doing that, too. I know all I need to know about the first, and the second is not a subject, since I didn't know most of the people under discussion. So I walked through the French doors onto the Bartrams' patio and looked across the Marginal Way at the ocean. Given that I was wearing a backless cocktail dress (calf length, of course, with no bra), I figured I'd be cold, but the sun was still up and the breeze had died down, so it wasn't too bad--just a little cool. Unusual for August. Ideal.
Glancing around, I could see that four or five other bored souls had fled the field before I did. Gerry Bartram had put a bowl of punch on a glass-topped table with some hors d'oeuvres and few bottles of wine and whiskey and some mixers. I saw Nate Greenberg off to one side with a blonde I didn't know. He winked at me and went on talking earnestly with her. Silently, I wished him luck.
Then I felt somebody put a hand on my bare back and found myself looking very closely at a guy I'd never seen before.
"I'm ever so pleased to meet you," I said.
"The pleasure's all mine," he answered. "I'm Jake Barnes."
You can't exactly shake hands when a guy has his hand in the middle of your back and you're standing there holding a wine glass and looking for escape routes, so I decided to await developments. He asked if we hadn't met somewhere before. I was struck immediately by his originality and intellect. So I told him I didn't think so, which was designed to show him that I possessed the same virtues.
Meanwhile, the hand was still on my back. Even without the breeze, I still wasn't exactly warm, so the hand felt pretty good. When it started moving, slowly, but clearly with purpose, from the back toward the front, I gave him credit for chutzpah and wondered just how foolhardy he was.
Foreign fingertips had just managed to creep between my skin and my really nice cocktail dress when I remembered something I'd been told by one of my e-mail friends who likes to talk dirty. I decided my quest for excitement was well under way.
"Excuse me," I said, turning suddenly to my right. This little maneuver effectively shoved his hand right under my dress and on top of a nicely rounded, if small, right breast. I stopped dead, just long enough for him to register what had happened. Then I turned back to my left, and just as effectively pulled the guilty hand around to its former position, the middle of my back. I smiled innocently.
"Oh, my!" I said. "What did you say your name was?"
"Jake Barnes," he said. He had just the tiniest hint of pink in his complexion.
"Oh, yes. I'm Jane. My husband is somewhere in there." I gestured vaguely in the direction of the doors.
"I'm glad to hear that," he said. "On the whole, I'm glad he didn't see that cute stunt you just pulled."
"Me?" I said, looking shocked. I do shocked quite well.
"Yep. You," he said. "Not me. You." He gave me an evil smirk.
What could I do? My clever friend had said I was supposed to say something like, "Watch it, Buster!" right after I did that little trick, but I'd forgotten to do that, and now this amiable-looking man was accusing me of some kind of twisted exhibitionism.
"Couldn't have been my fault. It was *your* hand." I was looking very serious. I do that even better than shocked.
Smiling, he said, "I reckon you're right--it was definitely my hand. If I hadn't had my hand in the middle of your back, where it is right now, by the way, it couldn't have happened. So it was my fault."
"Exactly. All I did was turn just a little bit, like this--" I repeated the maneuver, with the same result as before. I really liked that hand a lot, right where it was. But I turned back, and the hand slid away. "I just innocently turned to look at somebody, and there you were, groping me good. It's terribly embarrassing." I smiled.
"Yeah," he said, "I'm embarrassed, too. I've got an idea--come over here to the table a minute." His hand pressed gently on my back, as if we were dancing, and propelled me toward the table. Once there, he let go of me, picked up a wineglass, and filled it from one of the bottles next to the punchbowl. "Here," he said, handing me the glass.
"But I already have a drink!" There I was, standing with a glass in each hand.
"Yep, you do, one in each hand." He moved around behind me and stood on my right, with his left hand on my back. I looked at him, puzzled.
He pointed off to my left. "Look over there, " he said.
I did. Suddenly another hand was on another breast, only this time it was moving, gently, and I was getting a feeling that doesn't come from two-fisted drinking. How do these things happen to me? But this one had, so I thought I might as well enjoy it. I stood there for at least thirty seconds before I turned back toward him, automatically removing the intruding hand.
Then he was behind me, and *both* hands had somehow found their ways to my chest. I just had to lean back on him for a minute while I swiveled my eyes around to see if anybody was watching this disgraceful attack. Nobody was, so I leaned back a while longer. Then I straightened up regretfully, and pirouetted out of range.
"Look, Jake," I said, putting the extra glass on the table, but keeping the full one, of course. "Why don't we sit over there on that bench and just consider this whole thing a little, huh?"
"Fine with me," he said. "I like considering whole things." So we went over and sat on the bench. I put at least ten inches between us.
"Do you always introduce yourself by inspecting boobs?" I asked.
"Only to lovely women," he said. "And then only if they facilitate the inspection."
"Forget the lovely," I said. "Facilitate, huh?"
"Yeah, facilitate." He smiled that very nice smile again. He was wearing a wrinkled white linen jacket and dark blue trousers with a red and blue striped shirt. About forty-five, I figured. Or maybe forty and well-travelled.
"OK, let's forget facilitate for a while," I said. "Just who the hell are you?"
"I'm a friend of Gerry's from a long time ago," he said. "I work in the oil fields out in South Dakota, but I come to Maine whenever I can."
"Married, of course."
"More or less."
"What a coincidence!" I said. "Me, too. I mean, more."
"I think that's a facilitating circumstance," he said thoughtfully. "Like, right now, I'm less married, since my wife is in Boston. What would make you less
married?"
"Oh," I said, thoughtfully. "Well, actually, the fact that my husband is in there flirting with a dear friend of mine sort of makes me less married."
"Very foolish man. I feel myself getting so less married I'm hardly married at all." He got up from the bench and walked over to the table, where he poured himself about two fingers of Scotch. Then he came back and sat down again.
"I've noticed that if I drink certain magic potions that makes me even *more* less married."
"Funny, a couple of glasses of wine seems to have the same effect on me." I smiled and sipped.
"Have you been here before? Know the layout?"
"This is my first time," I said. "We've known the Bartrams from the art shows for quite a while--they're really my in-laws' friends. This is the first time they've asked us to a party."
"Let me show you the guest house, then. I'm the current guest."
"By all means. I wouldn't want to miss the opportunity to examine the decor."
He stood and offered me his hand, which I took, then he led me through the French doors into the living room, then back through the kitchen. Naturally I let go of the hand as soon as I stood up--wouldn't do to parade through the dinosaur museum holding hands with a stranger. I noticed that the conversation hadn't changed much. I didn't see Bob, my husband. Nor my friend Nicole. Maybe they'd found something exciting somewhere, like in the library. This was a nice, big house that probably hadn't cost the Bartrams a dime over two million. I noticed that they bought the local artists' pictures, but they also had a couple of modest Picassos and a Chagall hanging in places where they wouldn't get missed. I thought it might be nice to be rich.
We went out the back door and down a tree-shaded path about twenty feet to an adorable little stuccoed cottage. Jake opened the door and we stepped in.
"Oh, my!" I looked around. "This is really nice!"
"Yeah. I think they built it for their fancy friends, but Gerry makes an exception for me. Come on, I'll show you the rest of the place." But I just stood there gawking at the antique furniture and the modern sculptures tastefully stuck here and there.
"You're not a fancy friend?"
"As long as you can fill your tank for twenty dollars, I am very not fancy. More like poor. And they keep on discovering more oil in these cheap places and I get less and less fancy. I'm lucky to have a job."
"What do you do?"
"I'm a divisional v-p, which means I get to go out in the field and bug the guys who really work." Then he smiled. "But right now I'm just a guy trying to make friends with a tall, lovely woman."
How nice! I love to make new friends.
"Is there anything to eat in that kitchen?"
"Sure. Cheese, bread, I don't know. Are you hungry?" He managed not to look too disappointed.
"Well, yes. Let me check the fridge." So we went into the kitchen, and I found some chips and dip and some little plates to put them on. "This'll do," I said, heading back for the living room. I put the food on a coffee table and sat down on the couch.
Jake went back toward the kitchen, saying, "I'll bring the booze." He
reappeared in a couple of minutes carrying two glasses.
"Red wine for you, seltzer for me." Then he sat down next to me and leaned back. I started in on the dip. "I hate to mention this," he said, "but you got me feeling awfully less married back there, and now you're acting more married again."
"I noticed that," I said. "When your hands were inside my dress I felt less married, but then I made you take them out, and I felt more married again."
"Have you ever thought that women are a little odd?"
I was busy chewing on a chip full of some kind of semi-liquid cheese, but I turned to look at him.
"Odd?" I thought a minute. "No, I don't think so. For instance, it seems reasonable to me to feel less married when some nice man has his hand on my bare boob. Doesn't that seem reasonable to you?" I filled up a chip with goo and stuck it in my mouth. Then I took another one, stuck it in the dip and then leaned over and held it in front of him. "Want some?" I believe in sharing.
"Sure," he said. "Feed it to me." He leaned forward and opened his mouth like a little bird. So I fed the little bird the loaded chip. He chewed thoughtfully. I just took a quick glance at his crotch and wondered what was in there. Food
sometimes has that effect on me.
"Why are you so tall?" he said, just as if he were making sense.
"Because it says I'm five feet eleven on my passport. They don't seem to like fractions."
"And how much do you weigh?"
"It depends on who I'm talking to," I said, reaching for a piece of celery that time. If you eat corn chips, then eat a piece of celery, you probably won't get fat. "Very few people have the nerve to ask outright."
"I just asked. So how much do you weigh?"
"Twelve stone. About. How about you?"
''Eighty-nine kilos. Know any more word games?"
I was furiously trying to multiply 89 by 2.2 in my head, which normally wouldn't have taken a nanosecond, and having difficulty. I suspect that was owing entirely to the consumption of about six ounces of red wine. I gave up, noticing that however much it was, it was nicely distributed through his shoulders and chest, anyhow. "Sure. Tu parles français?"
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It was Friday night around six, and I was in the grocery store -- not the big chain store, but the little one that was more expensive but had nicer produce. I’d gotten hooked on salad and was trying to lose some weight -- maybe ten or fifteen pounds, nothing amazing. I wasn’t serious about it, but I liked the raw veggies, and the pickled this and that and a bit of lunchmeat and cheese. Whatever. I was carrying a basket, because I don’t generally need much, and filling a cup from the...
Everything had been packed the suitcases were sitting near the door. They had showered and bad had breakfast at the cafe. Now they sat on one of the beds. Kathy didn't want to go, but she had no choice. The money was running out. She was aware her daughter didn't want to leave either. Sharon dragged about as she helped get things together, and when they had breakfast, she kept looking around, out of the window, toward the garage. Kathy wore a fresh, bright yellow dress with thin straps...
Als ich meinem Mann durch die riesige Glasscheibe des Abfluggates ein letztes Mal zuwinkte, merkte ich zu meinem Entsetzen, dass ich mich frei fühlte. Ein halbes Jahr würde er nun auf einer Großbaustelle in Brasilien verbringen, die er als Bauleiter beaufsichtigen sollte. Oft hatten wir über seine Abwesenheit gesprochen, und nun, als es so weit war, spürte ich nichts von Traurigkeit. Als er durch den schmalen Gang, der zu seinem Gate führte, verschwunden war, drehte ich mich um und genoß die...
I remember Erewhon. I remember the crenelated turrets, towers and spires overshadowing a city of unheralded bends and unexpected corners and alleyways. I remember the cobbled streets, the gaslit esplanades, the flint-studded churches, the winding river, and the expansive city square. I also remember the soaring modern edifices that truly scraped the sky and which reflected one on another; the multi-lane highways—sometimes slow and congested, occasionally empty and open, and most often dense...
Mature"Dad, what are we going to do?" asked Vicky. She had come back up to the front after putting her daughter down for a nap. "I don't know, baby. I just don't know. I wish Jason would have called back by now. I really think he's the one that's got to help us." "Dad, if you had just listened to me and shut up, we wouldn't be in this situation." "Baby, the people deserve to know the truth about what their government is doing with their money," Robert said with conviction for what...
You don't think it's a big deal that you fucked your own brother?" was all Sarah's mother could say. The moment the sentence left her mouth, she realized how absurd it was. Sarah rolled her eyes, "It wasn't like that! They were just hookups. We followed the rules. It is NOT a big deal!"With their parents panic stricken at finding out about their hookup arrangement, Sarah and her brother sat at the kitchen table, waiting for the lecture to stop. Sarah even had the audacity to check her text...
"I grabbed one," Holly said animatedly, feeling well enough to sit up in her sick bed, "and slapped my hands together to kill it!" Alana and Haley, along with Elaine, Tabatha and several others, listened intently. "I had little specks of fiery dust all over my hands, like it exploded or something when I crushed it," Holly explained, describing her ordeal in great detail as demanded by the queen. "Then it ... kind of ... all came together, in an instant, and it was whole...
Tonight I was at a friends pool party at his apt & it was kicking good as everyone was drinking,laughing,& enjoying the party as I was chatting w/some people I've come to meet from the party I excused myself to take a hit of some Ice to snap my buzz on an even minded level I go around the apt bldng to take some hits & I was interrupted by a female voice saying put your hands up this is the police as I turn around & see this female walking to me w/a big grin on her face to ask...
Note: Sorry the first thread is so short and uneventful, but there isn't really much I can do before you tell me your sex and orientation. If there is a particular path you like please let me know through feedback, or adding to it. What a shit way to start your first week at college. You missed orientation, you missed move in day, you missed the big Freshmen bash, and you missed the first day of class. And why? Because you had to go to a funeral of some distant relative, who you never even...
BedtimeAfter untying Melissa, Erik picked her up and carried her into his bedroom. She complained that she could walk, although she wasn’t sure that was true. Serena hurried ahead of them and pulled down the sheets. Erik laid Melissa in the middle of the bed. Serena got in one side and Erik the other. They both snuggled up against her.As they hugged around her and pulled up the bedcovers, tears began to well up and run across Melissa’s face, dropping onto the sheets. “I’m sorry,” she stammered....
BDSMA year ago I was sitting on top of the world. I had a $350,000 house, a voluptuous wife named Amber, a successful business that we owned, a boat, a Harley and a generous bank account. And then like most men that have it all, I screwed it up royally by having an affair with my best friend Paul's wife. Paul has been my best friend my whole life. He's a very successful black doctor who is married to a gorgeous blonde stacked white wife named Devon. When Amber found out about the affair, she went...
Wanda the Witch. That was what they called her at Bradford High School. Not because she was ugly or anything like that. In fact, quite the opposite was true as she was one of the prettiest girls in school. She couldn't remember exactly when she got the nickname. It just began when one of the girls at school joked that she must be a witch as every time anybody got on her bad side, weird things would begin to happen to them.And, unfortunately today was one of those days for Daphne Cones. Daphne...
It had taken her a long, long while to fall asleep that night seeing as she masturbated for her very first time. The exhilaration, those sensations while she orgasmed, and when she felt that cum as it oozed down her thick sumptuous thighs had her feeling most unusual. However, regardless, Shelly felt incredible! Shelly wanted to do what she’d just done again. Maybe not that night but she’d do it. She knew she’d do that for sure, she told herself. She just knew she would for sure. And then she...
It had happened to my daughter and me. It was during a summer when my daughter was about sixteen. My husband was away at work and our black neighbor was helping me with one thing or another. With one ear I knew that my daughter was in her room with the door closed. But my own salaciousness was taking the best of me. This being a hot summer day, he was shirtless and wearing thin sports slacks. His abs were fabulous. I had on pair of tiny white cotton athletic shorts that were a size to small...
InterracialKhloe Kapri tells you just how she wants it in this hardcore scene from Dirty Talk 7. Khloe is looking totally hot in her pink latex panties with matching top and fishnet gloves. She’s rubbing her nipples as she tells you all the nasty things she wants you to do to her. Khloe wants your cum and knows how to get it, this little cock-addict is willing to do the work to get what she wants. She takes off her panties and rubs her pussy before twerking for the camera and showing off her perfect ass....
xmoviesforyou"Would you like to come out to me?" For a full second I could not believe I had heard properly. It was a beautiful July Sunday morning out in Long Island -no later than 9:00 I'm sure, because I hadn't yet read the brick-like Sunday supplement, it was still nestled unopened in my lap-- I was lounging at the pool taking in a few early morning rays before the day became too sweltering. Because the creature-and that's what it is, a creature-had plopped down beside me. Come to think of it...
We soon established a pattern. During the week I did my thing with dripping taps, sticking doors and collapsing shelves. In the evening I revisited my youth helping Jenni catch up with studies; the college recommended study materials and she took very seriously her opportunity to get a head start. We read classics and contemporary fiction, studied English, French and Spanish grammar (quite a departure for me. As I think I mentioned before, I speak only English with a smattering of foreign...
Do your job. Do your job. I wish I could think clearer than I do. I wish I could see things better than I do. Sometimes, when you can see everything, you miss the things that matter most. My job? Seeing. And I see a lot. In fact, it wouldn’t be an understatement to say I see everything. Everything important, anyway. I stare down the screens packed into a small room, and make sure nothing bad happens. Security. Of course, nothing bad ever does happen, but maybe it’s because people...
Sex With StrangerRon and Barbara spent almost three months of real-time in the cubes talking with Steve at leisure about physics. An hour or two at a time, of course. Barbara found herself willingly seduced by him. She downloaded herself into both cubes so that Ron would have a lover too when he visited. Cindy added herself to the fold of both cubes. She enjoyed Steve's conversation and intellect as much as Ron and Susan. She also very much enjoyed his lovemaking. The cubes had a profound effect upon the...
First story. For as long as I can remember, I have always loved the sight of women in nylons. All through school there were those teachers, that 25 years later, I can still remember their specific outfits. Miss B in her purple jumper with white nylons. She used to sit on a desk in front of the class and pull up her stockings. Miss C who always seem to get a run in her nylons and she would have one of us boys place a piece of tape over the run. Miss W, short lady, nice breasts, always wore...
The summer after college graduation, I got a rather mindless job, staffing a stockroom at the University biology labs. For a couple of months, it was such a nice change of pace: working 8:30 to 4:30 each day handing out supplies, delivering the mail, applying postage to the outgoing packages, etc. At the end of my shift, I would cycle back to the 100 year old house in which I was sharing a three bedroom basement sublet with 3 other students: Robby, Mike, and Laura. To be honest, we hardly...
VoyeurI have recently acquired this beautiful, sweet, modest, nice, and cute girlfriend. Well, one of these past nights I had a romantic dream about her. …I was walking down an empty road and came up to a rather large house. I opened the door and walked in. I didn’t see much, only a couch and TV. I walked up and sat down, turning on the TV. A movie was on, but that doesn’t really matter. After two minutes, my girlfriend(I’m not putting up her name, sorry) walked up and sat down next to me, leaning...
Trip to the Mall (episode 4) Normally I will do anything to avoid a shopping trip to a mall, but when a truly beautiful and super sexy girl asks me to go then I GO! Jennifer from the Christmas Party wanted me to meet her friends and go to the mall with her. Jennifer came to the door when I rang the bell wearing a denim mini skirt and black stockings, high heeled clog shoes, a tight fitting sweater and big sexy earrings. I of course was in my usual casual attire, wrinkled baggy khaki pants,...
College SexAbout a month or so ago I was at the supermarket doing my weekly groceries trip and as I headed to the register, I noticed the bag boy was already waiting. I had noticed that for the last several weeks, he would always come over and bag my groceries for me and even take them out to the car when things were slow at the store. He was very friendly and outgoing with me and I enjoyed it. Most of the time he would complement me on my car and how nice it was. I found it kind of strange but being that...
Gina Ferocious has come to Private Specials, Elegant Young and Anal Loving 3 and she’s decided it’s time to get in shape by hiring personal trainer Nick Moreno for a one on one session. However this young beauty has more than a normal workout in mind, she wants to get hot and sweaty back at home with her favourite thing… anal! Watch Gina on www.private.com as she offers up her big natural tits and tight wet pussy to lucky Nick, warming him up with a blowjob and some rimming action before taking...
xmoviesforyouChapter 9 - The BitchSo Shanika found herself standing in the luxurious lobby of the main house. Wooden paneling, fine carpeting, and a high ceiling complete with a glass chandelier. She stood at the front desk with her head hanging down. Naked, except for the two sets of shackles that fastened both her wrists and ankles as well as the steel slave collar around her neck, the black slave girl contrasted dramatically with the the opulent surroundings.Debbie stood behind the desk, her gray jacket...
Allie lay on the bed, panting for breath – her brow damp with sweat. She was far more than damp elsewhere, as she recovered from a powerful orgasm. She’d knocked the remote for the camera off the bed during her throes of passion, but fortunately, the guy on the other end of the connection wasn’t asking for any special views. He seemed as content to watch her in the afterglow of her climax as she was to enjoy it. Her vibe lay next to her hip, still slick with her juices. She’d barely found the...