Tueday #5 ~ A 1940’s Romance Series

Shouldn’t You Call First?

Well it is only Thursday by the time he shows up at my house. Claiming temporary insanity, he says that the day started with a T so he immediately thought it was Tuesday and he blames me for not being able to think straight. No need to waste time on the bus when he could come straight to my house, he reasons. I roll my eyes as I stand at the door wondering what to do, but his scent tells me I have no other choice but to let him in. I was just about to leave to go to the Ladies Auxiliary meeting when he showed up at the door, standing there looking so cute with his pleading eyes. I invite him inside, and I drop my purse on the small walnut table by the door and hang our jackets up in the closet. Then I lead him down the hall, where I sit down at my gossip bench. I grab the telephone off of the receiver and hold up my index finger to let him know I will be just a minute. He stands across from me for seconds before he is on his knees in front of me. As he breathes down my neck with his hot breath, his hands fondle the sides of my body. They run up and down my curves and spend a lot of time on my hips and waist. I manage to call my girlfriend and catch her before she leaves to tell her I have come down with a terrible headache and to give the ladies my best, as I would not be able to make it.

Mr. Stunning smirks at me and whispers, “I know just the cure for a headache.”

I barely hang the phone up when he lifts my legs up and slips my high heels off. Working his warm hands up my legs, he stops at my garters and unclasps them from my stockings. The ease with which he removes these convinces me that he has either studied them to figure out exactly how they work or has had many lovers in his bachelor years. Since he had all those library tables full of books at his house, I decide to believe he has studied them. He looks up at me with his devilish smile while he rolls my stockings off my feet. He stops to admire my toes for a minute, and then his hands are back underneath my dress feeling around to see what else he has to remove. He pulls up my Christian Dior girdle and pulls my panties down my legs, stopping to admire my feet again. Then, his jungle look comes over his face and I could tell that he has been wanting me every second of the last two days. I, too, have been consumed with passion but have decided I should not act needy, as I did not want to give him the wrong impression. I had talked myself out of dropping by his house as if I was lost in the neighborhood.

I am looking down the hall at my front door thinking I need to replace those lace curtains with ones you cannot see into the house if I am to be entertaining Mr. S at my gossip bench. I try to get up to take him to the bedroom, but he has no patience. He pins me up against the wall and lifts my leg up to his hip. Good thing I have been doing my leg exercises, I think as I hold my leg up while he fumbles to remove Mr. Sexy and thrust him inside of me. My head starts to whirl at the speed he is going, but in a good way. He whispers in my ear “I needed you!” while he presses up hard against me and the wall. Still glancing at the lace curtains, I wonder if my nosy neighbor will come over to see who is visiting.

“Oh dear God, keep her away, please,” I pray in my head. His thrusting is making my head spin more and I decide I don’t give a fuck who comes to my door in the heat of the moment. Maybe it would do her good to see this; after all I imagine she hasn’t been properly fucked in several decades. After about five minutes of hard fucking I can tell the animal in him has given way to his passionate side. He bites my ear and pulls out and asks, “Where is your bedroom?” as he looks down the hall. I tell him, “Last door on the right as I excuse myself to the bathroom to put my diaphragm in. I come in and find him in his boxers and a shirt. I slip off my dress and girdle and help him remove his shirt. He unhooks my bra and begins sucking my nipples hard and soft with gentle biting in between. It sends rushes of fluttering movements into Mrs. Purr-Tongue. The rush of chemicals into my brain tells me this is so much better than any meeting would have been. He devours every square inch of me as if he has been planning the feast for days. He knows exactly when to speed up and when to slow down. There is no teasing, there is only a complete feasting of my body, mind and soul. He makes me cum over and over licking me and thrusting inside of me. He is in total charge of my every move, I feel like a rag doll being flung around and bent this way and that way. It is amazing, it is freeing, and I love this loss of power. Exhausted, sweaty and messy we collapse on the bed unable to say a word to each other. Finally, I say, “I definitely do not have a headache now.” He laughs and says, “Me, neither.” He pulls me in tight and kisses me sweetly on the cheek with his eyes closed.

I whisper, “I was right.”

“About what?” he asks.

“When I first saw you on the bus, I knew I could have fun with you.”

“Oh boy, did I ever think I could have fun with you the minute you walked past me on that bus,” he confesses.

“Why” I ask?

“Everything about you. You had this sophisticated way about you, but then this beautiful soft smile when you smiled at the older lady sitting in the front. You smelled amazing as you stood next to me and you looked lost in life in a good way. You were carrying several packages and instead of stressing over the task at hand you simply put your packages in the seat and sat there looking cute. Bouncing up and down your breasts wiggled and taunted me. Then when I caught you staring at me and you gave me that sexy show with your lips I was hooked,” he admits.

“Had I not needed to get to court that very minute, I would have followed you home.”

“Wow, I didn’t even know you were watching me until the lips.” I laugh.

“Well, you were sitting there methodically playing with your goatee just as you are doing now, and all I could think was dirty thoughts about your lips, your fingers, your hands, ” I confess. “And darling, you have not disappointed me.”

“You little vixen you,” he says as he rolls over on top of me and kisses me passionately.

I look at the clock, and it is already 4:30. “I am sorry, darling. If I knew you were coming I could have had something in the oven for us to eat.” I frown at him as I say it.

“Shouldn’t you call first?” I smirk.

“I have better things to do at that gossip bench than talk to you on the phone.” He winks.

“No worries my dear, I have a reservation at a really fancy restaurant at 6 pm. All we have to do is while away another hour before we leave,” he says with an ‘I’m-so-on-top-of-my-game’ look. He rolls me around on the bed rubbing his hands up and down my naked body. The hour goes by so fast as we lay in bed sharing our lives with one another and making sure we have touched, kissed and smelled every inch of each other. At one point, the doorbell rings and I am sure it is my nosy neighbor. We hold still as if she can hear us move, and when she knocks after ringing the doorbell several times, we burst out laughing, holding our mouths so tight as we shake. Finally, whoever it is goes away and I suspect will tell the world that I am entertaining a gentleman in my house and not answering my door. ‘Oh, the scandal of it all,’ I think to myself and giggle. I have never been one to care what people think of me. Too many rules in society have ruled people’s lives in the wrong direction. I talk about this with Mr. Stunning and he agrees with me. “You are one unique woman,” he says as he squeezes me.

I can tell the madly-in-love phase was coming on fast with Mr. S. I think to myself: take it slow and enjoy every minute as this will only last so long. Finally, we get up and get dressed. I freshen up while he pours us a drink. Every chance he gets he has his hands on my body, and I do the same. It is as if we are oxygen to each other and every breath requires touching the other person’s body.

“Where are you taking me?” I ask.

“It’s a surprise,” he says as he raises his eyebrows.

“Am I dressed ok?” I ask.

“You look Ravishing,” he says with glimmering eyes. And I smile and wonder if we will ever know each other’s real names. We walk outside and my neighbor is watering her lawn across the street watching my door with interest. I wave and she comes running over.

“I came by earlier,” she says all out of breath, “and there was no answer.”

“Oh I am sorry,” I say. “My friend here was sharing a new record on his DT-48’s which is a headpiece you wear the stereo on your ears and can’t hear while you are doing it.”

“Oh I have heard about those,” she says. “May I see them?”

“ I am sorry Eileen, we have a dinner reservation, so maybe another time.”

Mr. S winks at me and smiles into his hand covering it pretending to cough. Eileen looks bewildered and wonders what to say next. I say goodbye and she walks off unhappy with her predicament.

He opens the door to his car, and on my seat is the most beautiful bouquet of roses I have ever seen. I am touched by his thoughtfulness.

“They are so beautiful and smell amazing!” I say over and over as I bury my nose in them on the way to the restaurant. He puts his hand on my leg and says, “You should always have beautiful things, and I am happy to spoil you with them.”

“Well, the next thing you need to buy me is some headphones,” I say, and we both start laughing hard.

As I ride to the restaurant, I wonder what the catch is. Am I jaded? Why do I think this is too good to be true?

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