A Journey Resumed
By James Bellamy
Chapter One


"Francesca?!!"

"Uh ......yes?"

The voice was vaguely familiar.  But, Francesca 
couldn't quite place it.  She disliked phone calls 
that started with this guessing game.  It made her 
uncomfortable - someone familiar enough to use her 
first name, but not quite recognizable.

"I'm just calling to see if I'm still the only person 
who is allowed to call you 'Frannie'?"

"You're kidding me!  Emma? .. Not good old Em?  It 
can't be you, .. really?"   She felt a strange 
excitement mixed with incredulity.  Emma, her best 
friend from ........ how many years ago .............. 
Twenty, twenty-five? 

"Yes!!!!!"

"Good grief, how long .......... How long has it been?  
I guess it is, can it be ....twenty years?  I remember 
you as an annual post card from Paris, or Timbuktu.  
Good grief, how are you?  I mean, where are you.  How 
did you find me?  All those questions!!!!!!!!"

"Well, I am back in the USA and just visited the old 
home town, found your Mom still there and 'Voila', 
here I am practically on your doorstep!  And stop 
asking me how long it has been, you snot, it will make 
me feel old!  And I'm not, by the way.  Bet you're not 
either, right?"

Emma had been her best friend up until the age of 17 
when her family moved to, first, Texas, then Paris, 
then someplace in the Far East.  They had long since 
lost any real touch with each other.  Francesca 
thought of her sometimes, relishing the memories and 
sometimes feeling creepy about the "growing-up" 
insecurities they had shared.  All the old 
neighborhood childhood games, going to camp together, 
figuring out boyfriends together, it sprang back 
easily and sometimes uncomfortably, but mostly it was 
a warm place to retreat to.  She missed that kind of 
friendship in adulthood.

"Right!  I'm still just the same, haven't gained a 
pound or formed a wrinkle.  Lucky, eh?"

Their easy laughter still came bubbling to the surface 
quickly, easily, like a warm friendly spring flooding 
over them.

"Well, where are you, Em?  Are you really here?  Here 
in Chicago?  Where?  How can we get together?  You 
better not be kidding me!"

"It is a little strange, babe, but we just moved here; 
here to Chicago.  I live about ten blocks south of 
you!  I just walked in the door and couldn't wait to 
call.  Can you come over here? Can you come now?  We 
need to catch up, big time!  I'm literally dying to 
see you.  Say you'll come!"

"Why not, I really planned to get at that laundry, but 
I guess I could break the date!  How do I get there?"

The taxi ride was a short one.  Just ten blocks down 
Outer Drive Parkway.   Francesca passed her mind's eye 
over a fairly normal childhood of fond memories - 
slumber parties at Emma's house, sharing intimate 
details and questions huddled on her bed in the big 
pink bedroom that had been their home and haven from 
the world.  She felt a strange tingling as she thought 
of it.  

Really, Emma had probably been the first person she 
really felt love for  -- probably only recognized now, 
from the vantage point of maturity and a well-
developed understanding and appreciation of life.  
Yes..   love, that was definitely the word for it. 

 "Now what is it going to be like.  God, what if we 
hate each other?  What if we are bored?  Think of all 
the memories sullied!"   She couldn't get over the 
excitement of seeing her again.  "Mustn't raise the 
hopes too, high," she thought.  We've both gone off 
and found our part of the world, both changed in god 
knows what ways."

The door to Apartment 1510 opened immediately and a 
still willowy, now blond, grown up version of her 
friend Emma wrapped her in a welcoming bear hug.  

"Frannie - you look wonderful," a big kiss followed.  
"I promise that's the last Frannie' I'll utter, 
promise!"

"Emma, look how you grew up.  God, you're a Vamp!"

She led the way to an opulent sunken living room with 
deep pile rugs scattered over a white carpet.  Emma 
handed her down two steps and into the arms of a large 
curved sofa, so soft and plump that Francesca felt 
engulfed.  

"How about something to drink?"  Her smile was just as 
it was when she was fifteen -- wide, full of teeth and 
warm.

"Yes, please, white wine would do fine?"

Over a bottle of Chablis, their conversation sprang 
immediately back to life in spite of the years that 
had passed.  It was amazing, especially considering 
that they were seventeen years old the last time they 
were together.  It soon seemed as if there had not 
been a lapse and really, they filled in the gaps with 
fast talk between reminiscences of growing up.

In a pause between stories, Emma finally said: 

"You know, I worried that we would have trouble 
talking after all these years, or that we would have 
grown in completely different ways!  But, look, we 
haven't stopped talking and it's already eleven 
o'clock.  Especially since our prime interest the last 
time was sex and boys, sex and boys!"  Her peels of 
laughter were infectious.

'Right, and look we haven't even talked about that.  
How's your sex life, Em, wasn't that the way we used 
to say it?"

Emma got up to get more wine and Francesca couldn't 
help admiring the full beautiful curve of her bottom 
under the tight white slacks.  It was simply a 
beautiful bottom, an artist would kill to be able to 
paint the curves.  She shook herself.  

'Whoa, what is that about? she asked herself, laughing 
quietly to herself.  She also noticed that two buttons 
on the silk blouse were unbuttoned.  "Weren't they 
buttoned before? she asked herself.

"Well, since you ask, pretty good, I'd say.  James and 
I have been married for lo' these past fifteen years; 
fairly compatible, I'd say.  You've not married?  How 
about lovers?"

"Well yes, they've come and gone, haven't found one 
yet I couldn't live without I guess!  No one I found 
worth giving up my privacy for.  Some very nice people 
though, for the most part.  Maybe I'm too fussy?"

"Ugh, can't be too fussy about that subject!  Anyone 
currently?"

"Not at the moment, I seem to need an occasional 
celibate season, I guess that's what I'm in.  Sound 
crazy?"

"Nope, being married has its down side, though I think 
we are fairly happy.  It is a long time between 
........... well, how should I say it. .......... You 
don't get exactly stale, but something like that.  
Sometimes you want something new and different to 
happen and it usually doesn't.  At least you can pick 
your poison  -- even change it!" she laughed.

"Yes, go onnnnnn!  That sentence sounds like it needs 
a "but........" at the end."

"Well, it doesn't matter really whether you are 
married or not, if your bod says I want a new 
adventure, you will eventually do it, won't you?  I 
mean it just makes it a bit more complicated to be 
married, eh?"  Emma was getting borderline 
philosophical.  She laughed and shook her head.

"What is going on, Em?  Come on, you can tell me."

She slipped off her shoes and swung her feet up on the 
couch, slipping her nylon covered toes under 
Francesca's thigh as if seeking warmth.  They had each 
done that same maneuver back in the old days; a sign 
of affection and intimacy.  Francesca felt the same 
warm glow it had given her years ago.  She waited for 
Emma to continue.

"Oh, never mind, what are we getting serious about?  
Remember when we were twelve you were trying to decide 
to let Billy Bowman play with your boobs or not?  We 
sat there and play-acted for practice and I played 
Billy?  Then I put my arm around your neck like in the 
movies and put my hand on your tit?"

"Yes, then we fell on the floor giggling so much that 
your mother came up and wanted to know what was so 
funny?"

"Yeah, I was afraid she'd decide to throw a bucket of 
water on us!"  Emma guffawed.

"You must have been good, though, because I remember 
that on the next Saturday, Billy got his dreams 
fulfilled!  I thought he was going to have a heart 
attack, he was so surprised!"  Francesca squeezed the 
arch of Emma['s foot, strangely attracted by the sleek 
nylon and warmth of her friend's foot.  She withdrew 
her hand quickly, regretting the squeeze a little.  
Then, embarrassed at the feeling, she put her hand 
back and squeezed again.  They looked at each other 
and smiled happily.

"It is nice to be together again, isn't it, 
Francesca?"

"So, how about this James guy you married?"

"Oh, You'll like him; I'm sure.  He's a true Texan.  
All oil man, as they say.  He's funny, easygoing, and 
actually quite sexy.  This sounds like a joke but is 
actually true.  The only compatibility problem we have 
had is size!"  Emma giggled wildly.

"Size?"

"Yes, size, you remember when you had that theory that 
a boy's penis size could be predicted by the size of 
his pointer finger?  Well, wait 'til you shake hands 
with James!"  

They fell about laughing on the couch, ending in a 
mutual hug.  Francesca was aware of her breast 
brushing Emma's and felt her nipple bristle at the 
touch.  It was strangely erotic, touching this old 
friend even in this casual way.  At least it should 
have been casual.  "But why this ticklish feeling in 
my stomach," she wondered.

Francesca had her coat on, ready to leave, when the 
door swung open and the Texan himself strode in like 
the Marlboro man stepping off his billboard.  

"Hey, howdy, where y'all headed?  I'm James, and you 
would be the famous ......... Fran .....cesca????"  He 
waited expectantly, his big open smile and craggy good 
looks immediately making her feel comfortable, to say 
nothing of the sincere blue eyes smiling into hers.   
He held out his hand and she took it.  Its size 
dwarfed hers and she turned to Emma to greet the 
expected laughing face.

She slipped her hand around his pointer finger and 
squeezed.  The two women laughed and leaned against 
each other, weak from giggling while James stood by 
with a quizzical look.  

"Inside joke," Francesca, managed to gasp.  "Good to 
meet you, James.  I'm too embarrassed to explain, but 
I'm sure my best friend won't be able to keep her 
mouth closed, so next time we meet I'll be embarrassed 
again!  .............  Promise you won't hold it 
against me."  

They nearly had to hold each other up with laughter as 
poor James stood helplessly wondered what the hell was 
going on.  He felt strangely left out.

"Hey Frannie, remember at girl scout camp we had the 
sex lecture and got scared that everyone would think 
we were queer if I kissed you, my very best friend.   
And I said I'd have to take you behind the door to 
kiss you?  Want one behind the door before you go?"  
It had amused them then and here tonight, the memory 
was fun again as Emma squeezed her behind the door and 
planted a slightly wet kiss on her lips. Again that 
tingling in her stomach.  What the hell was that.  A 
childhood crush revisited?  Good god, not with another 
girl? 

Francesca was a little perplexed as she stepped onto 
the street and stood waiting for a cab.  A frown 
crossed her forehead as she pondered the evening.  It 
had been a sheer delight.  What a treat to find that 
the years could melt away and reveal an apparent soul 
mate.  Seemed impossible, but there was nothing about 
the evening that wasn't ............... well, ...... 
terrific.  Impossible.  But what about the tingling 
sensation she kept getting from the closeness, and 
especially the touching..........?

The cabby opened the door and asked "where to, Miss?"  
she started to get in, then stopped.  "Sorry, I 
changed my mind."  She slammed the door.  She had 
spotted one of those white horse drawn hansom cabs.  

"I need a new adventure, is this where you start? She 
asked the driver.  

"You bet, hop in!  What's your pleasure?"  He dropped 
the lap robe across her lap and tipped his hat before 
swinging up to his seat.

Francesca leaned back into the seat, inhaled the crisp 
fall air deeply and thought over the events of the 
evening re-living the stories from her teen years.  
She put her feet up on the other seat and leaned back, 
her hands in her lap under the robe.  The glow of the 
streetlights cast their shadows as she passed.  She 
found herself unbuttoning one button of the tailored 
dress, rubbing slowly across her stomach and then 
fondling the tuft of curls marking her prominent mound 
of Venus.  (She giggled at the old-fashioned romance 
novel term).  

Slowly, she pulled her slip up until the warmth of her 
mound was under her fingertips, the silkiness of her 
panties enhancing the sensual feeling.  Her finger 
slipped under the elastic and lace and found it's way 
to the center crease of her body.  

As she parted herself and slipped the finger along the 
very wet valley, she muttered.  "I thought so.  You 
tramp!  All lady on the outside, but a tramp 
underneath it all."

"Beg pardon?" the driver turned.

"Oh, nothing, drive on!  Just muttering to myself."  
She thought, 'if you only knew.'  

She gazed at the stars and continued her stoking and 
found her clitoris, now rigid and longing for 
attention.  She was very moist, ........ she loved the 
feel of the creamy thick juices lubricating her way.  
With the other hand she pulled the blanket up and 
cupped her generous breast, remembering how her nipple 
had tingled when they had bumped accidentally.  'It 
was accidentally, after all, that was the right word, 
wasn't it?'

They hit a bump, her legs tensed, and then she felt it 
beginning.   Her fondling finger, rubbing from side to 
side rapidly now, was bringing a rising warmth, a 
rattling, raging shudder up from the root of her 
clitoris, up over her mound, the point of her body, 
into her stomach and now exploding behind her breasts 
somewhere.  Francesca clamped her legs together and 
hung on as the big shudder of orgasm cascaded around 
her body.  She tensed her shoulders, seeming to 
squeeze her large breasts together for their combined 
pleasure.

"Ohhhh!" she heard herself gasp, her eyes closed in 
pleasure.

"We're here miss.  How did we do?"

"I beg your pardon?" she started, looking at him 
quizzically.

"How did we do? .......... I mean, at starting your 
new adventure?"

"Oh,........." she laughed, "Well, we'll see.  We'll 
see. Very promising so far, though.  Very 
promising!!!"

She turned to go, then came back. 

"Excuse me?  Could I shake your hand for luck?"  He 
extended his hand; she found his pointer finger long 
and thick.  She smiled at him.  "Have a good one!"

End of Chapter One

Comments to jbellamy@renman.net

 







 



  
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