[lmts] [1997-11-20] Limits [MF]
Limits, by Rajah Dodger <rdodger@hotmail.com>, Copyright (c)
1997. All rights reserved, except that electronic not-for-profit
reproduction rights only are explicitly granted with the
stipulation that this authorship and permission note must remain
attached.
Word Count: 2355
Cori's relatives and my coworkers were milling around the
funeral home, munching on celery sticks and green bean casserole,
and occasionally coming up to me to murmur something soothing and
useless. I was still somewhat in shock and denial since the car
accident, and I have no idea to this day what they said to me,
nor whether my replies made any sense.
I do remember when Kenneth from Accounting came over; Ken's
hobby was accounts receivable, but his real job as far as he was
concerned was the location and harvesting of attractive women. He
came up to me with his current brunette in tow. "Tough break,
old man," he said, clapping me on the shoulder, and turned to his
companion. "Blue, this is Green. Hey, your names go together!"
Ken was the only person who called me Green; it came from my
middle name. My parents, with an elegant sense of art and
sadism, had saddled me with Samuel Giuseppi Grunewald Franklin.
My friends called me Sam; I never claimed Ken was one of my
friends.
The woman by his side looked at me with something that
wasn't exactly pity, took my hands in hers and brushed her lips
against my cheek. "I'm sorry for your loss," she said in a husky
voice, "I know it's not a consolation, but there are others who
survive every day. Just don't try to rush things -- we all have
our limits. God grant you the strength you need to go forward."
And she brushed her lips against my cheekbone just under my right
ear.
Somehow, the feeling of her lips persisted through the
afternoon. And I don't know why, but her reassurance seemed to
mean something to me in a way that nobody else's comments had.
That night, in the big bed with the gaping empty spot on the
mattress, I managed to get to sleep with less effort and fewer
tears than I had managed for the entire previous week.
I ran into Ken a few days later and asked after his
companion, but he couldn't remember her. Typical of him.
*****
Time went by. I survived my loss in the way of men since
time immemorial -- I buried myself in work and shut out the rest
of the world. There was one good result of this; I earned myself
a promotion. Instead of being confined to a cubicle for eight-
point-five hours a day, I now got to (well, had to) leave town
frequently to visit the company's other sites. Getting out of
town was a blessing -- it reminded me that there was a lot going
on in life that I used to be a part of.
Six months of bland hotel rooms and HBO brought one
particular part of life to the forefront. One cold night in
Chicago, I left the hotel for a walk and came back with a trashy-
looking tabloid. I flipped through the back pages until I found
the heading "Health Services". There, along with a few
legitimately therapeutic massage studios, was a column and a half
of women who would be glad to "pamper" and "relax" me for a fee.
What the hell -- it was forty-two degrees outside, I was four
hundred miles from home, and I'd been both widowed and celibate
for almost a year.
I made several calls, just to find out what the going rate
and sales pitch were, and eventually settled on "Marla" who
described herself as green-eyed, 5'8", brunette and
"proportional". I gave her my hotel address and arranged to meet
her in the coffee shop that evening. After hanging up, I thought
about some possibilities and eventually bundled up some things to
go into the hotel safe. I set eight twenties into an envelope,
sealed that, and put another five twenties in my wallet. Then I
took a long hot shower.
I was in the coffee shop at five till nine, seated at an
open table with a copy of the Proceedings of the IEEE in front of
me. Not as Hollywood as a red rose, but just as distinctive for
identification. Promptly at nine, I was tapped on the shoulder
and heard a mellifluous voice say "Sam?" I turned to look and
was more than pleasantly surprised -- the woman at my table could
have been one of our district managers in her business suit and
briefcase, with what looked like crucifix earrings. I got up to
hold her chair, and when we were seated I discreetly passed her
my airline ticket and drivers license. My orange juice arrived,
and she declined my offer of a drink. She glanced through the
papers and handed them back to me with a smile.
I finished my orange juice as I noticed that her earrings
were the Egyptian ankh, not a crucifix. I rose and offered her
my arm, and she took it as we strolled through the lobby to the
elevators. She wore a faintly spicy scent, almost a reminder of
cloves. We got off at my floor and walked to my room, where I
opened the door and held it for her. "You can put your briefcase
over there," I said, indicating the low dresser on which I had
left the envelope marked "Marla". She looked in that direction,
smiled at me and said "Thanks," then set her briefcase down
unopened on the dresser. When she turned back to me her arms
were open, and I accepted the unspoken invitation -- taking her
into my arms for a warm embrace followed by a gentlemanly kiss.
"Is that all you asked me up for?" She inquired. I smiled
and said, "not exactly," and pressed my head forward for a more
thorough kiss, letting one hand trail down to fondle her ass. Her
side of the kiss got noticeably more enthusiastic after that -- I
guess she was looking for some sort of non-cop behavior.
When we broke the clinch, she headed into the bathroom and
returned with a couple of towels. "You might want to get
comfortable while I freshen up." That was fine with me; I was a
little bit nervous at the thought of disrobing in front of a
strange woman. Silly thought, since after all I was paying her
to be in my room. I nodded and she shut the bathroom door behind
her. I folded my clothes neatly over the top of a chair and lay
down on the bed, one towel under me, the other draped discreetly
over my bottom. "Okay," I called out.
I looked over my shoulder at her as she came out of the
bathroom. She had changed into -- no, she must have been wearing
under her suit -- a short black dress that swirled around her
hips and stopped just beneath her knees. I noticed in passing
that she had disposed of her nylons. The top of her dress wasn't
straining, but it justified her claim to be "proportional". Her
earrings and a simple gold choker completed the picture. I
whistled -- something I hadn't done in a long time -- and was
rewarded with a pretty smile and a graceful pirouette.
I lay my head down on the pillow as she opened her
briefcase. "Lotion or powder?," she asked. I shrugged my
shoulders, "Whichever you like. I've got no preference." She
replied, "Okay dear, powder it is." I felt her sprinkle the
powder lightly across my back, then climb onto the bed to sit
straddling the towel over my hips. Her fingers bit into my
shoulderblades, then went skittering across my back -- an
interesting sensation with the powder instead of the lotion. For
a good five minutes she alternated a good strong massage with
deft touches that woke up tingly nerves along my neck, arms and
sides. She then turned around and worked on my legs, paying
particular attention to the soles of my feet. Another few
minutes and I was feeling both relaxed and tingling from my heels
to my neck. She slapped me on the bottom and said, "Turn over,
sport -- the towel's optional."
I rolled over, tossing the towel to one side. I wasn't
particularly erect, but that changed as Marla stood up facing me
and pulled her dress over her head. I revised my estimate of her
age up to the early thirties. She wasn't wearing a bra, and her
breasts looked lovely tipped with big brown nipples. The only
thing she wore now was a narrow panty of forest green, and she
watched my cock grow as I looked her over. Her eyes twinkled as
she got back on the bed and scooted up my legs, finally sitting
astraddle my stomach with her ass rubbing against the head of my
cock. "You haven't done this before, have you?," she inquired.
"No," I said in some surprise, "did I do something wrong?"
She chuckled low in her throat, and reached back to fondle
my cock in her cool hand. "Oh, no... I think you're going to do
just fine." And with that she released my cock and leaned down
toward me, her breasts dangling on either side of my face. "Why
don't you see what you can do with these?"
I reached up and cradled her breasts in my hands, slowly
stroking her nipples with my thumbs. She closed her eyes, and
scooted back until she was sitting on my cock, trapping it in a
warm silk embrace. I took her left breast, put it to my lips,
and gave her nipple the deepest soul kiss I could imagine,
exploring the unfamiliar surface and taste with my tongue as her
hips began rocking gently from side to side. She tangled her
fingers in my hair and stroked the back of my neck as I switched
from her left to her right breast and gave it the same treatment.
I was finding it a little hard to concentrate because the way she
was rocking her hips was rolling my cock between her panties and
my powder-covered stomach, and there was more than enough
friction to get me fully aroused.
She pulled back from my mouth and cupped her breasts
briefly, then put her hands on my chest and teased my nipples
with her nails. All of a sudden the stimulation was too much for
me. "Uh-oh, Marla, I'm gonna..." and that was all I had time
for as my hips bucked under her weight and I started cumming. A
brief look of disappointment crossed her face, then she started
riding my cock, scooting forward and back and reaching back to
stroke me. Every little move she made just made my balls throb
and spasm that much more, and I was reduced to making incoherent
mouth noises...
The next thing I remember I was curled up on my side,
shaking and crying like a baby. Marla was spooned up behind me,
holding a damp washcloth against my forehead and stroking my leg
and hip. She was murmuring something like "There, there, hon."
When I could get words out I tried to apologize, but she pressed
her finger to my lips and shushed me. Then she took my head in
her hands and pressed her mouth to mine, no tongue, just a wide-
open caress of lips as she held me until I quit shaking.
She rolled me over and got me to lie on my back, then
cleaned the sperm from me with the washcloth and went into the
bathroom. I heard the water run for a bit, and when she came out
she had a bath towel that she deftly wrapped around me. She
kissed me on the forehead, and started putting her dress back on.
"I don't know who she was," she commented, "but you're not ready
yet to do this with someone else."
I had plenty of time to think about that as she quickly
changed from semi-naked bed partner back to professional
businesswoman. A snap of her briefcase latch and the thud of the
door, and she was gone -- leaving me with my tears and her scent.
I dreamed of Cori that night, for the first time in a while.
She seemed to be giving me a blessing.
*****
I went back to HBO for my entertainment after that. Truth
be told, I was more than a little scared at the intensity of my
reaction and the loss of control.
Last week there was another staff shuffle in the office and
our group got a new addition. It was the woman I remembered from
the funeral, and seeing her brought back memories of Cori, but
also the sensation of her lips at my ear. Somehow I knew I
wanted to know more about this woman.
I got the opportunity to have lunch with her a few days
later and asked her (out of curiosity) why Ken had called her
"Blue". It wasn't her name, which was Camilla, nor her eyes,
which I saw were green. It turned out Ken had played the same
game with her names that he had with mine -- where my middle name
was Grunewald (which became green), hers was Azul (Spanish for
blue). We shared the humor in that.
Camilla asked what I had been doing since losing my wife,
and I gave her an edited history covering my work, promotion and
travel. She looked at me oddly, but dropped the subject and we
moved on to other topics. We finished our lunch, which was
really very pleasant, and got up to return to the office.
In parting, Camilla suddenly hugged me tightly, her hair
brushing my ear. "I'm glad to see you doing well," she said
quietly, "You seem like a really nice person. I'm going to enjoy
working with you." When she straightened up, much to my surprise
she gave me a quick, warm kiss on the lips. Then she brushed her
skirt off and we returned to the office like any two colleagues
after an uneventful lunch break.
I think I'm going to ask Camilla out. I think I'm ready to
start living again.
/end/ 11-20-1997 Rajah Dodger (c) All Rights Reserved