Archive-name: SpecMome/grey.txt

Archive-author: Lysander

Archive-title: Grey





      Look, I know I'm not supposed to pick up hitchers. 

It's not smart for me, and it's not smart for the hiker. 

But it was a rainy afternoon, and the guy up the road looked

really dejected.  He was somewhat small anyway, and his

shoulders slumped over as he slogged through the mud.  All

alone in the half-dark like that, he reminded me of my cat

when I had rescued him as a stray from a sudden downpour. 

The kid had a yellow poncho on and wasn't carrying any bag

or even a gas can.  I supposed he was just walking some

short distance, and I could drop him off and be on my way in

five minutes.

      I pulled over and lowered the passenger window. 

"Where you headed?"

      The guy leaned down and looked in through the opened

window.  Except it wasn't a guy.  She was maybe twenty or

twenty-one, and she was soaked like she wasn't wearing the

plastic poncho at all.  If there's anything that makes my

heart melt more than a kitten in a rainstorm, it's a

beautiful young woman in a rainstorm.  The look in her eyes

told me that she knew it wasn't smart taking rides on the

back roads, even if -- or maybe especially if -- the car's a

Lincoln.  But it also told me she wanted desperately to get

out of the rain.

      "I'm going west," she said.

      Nice and specific.  "I'm going cross-country to

California on business."

      She considered that for a moment.  I tried to look

non-threatening, without looking like I was trying to look

non-threatening, you know?  I was concerned about this girl,

with nothing but what she was wearing, trying to reach an

unknown destination.  But if I frightened her off, I wasn't

going to do any good.  She looked into my face, then back

down the road in both directions.  Visibly, she came to her

decision.  "Okay."

      I unlocked the passenger doors and told her to put her

poncho on the back floorboard.  She did and got in, putting

her purse between herself and the passenger door.

      She stared out the window at the passing countryside

and at the patterns the rain and wind made on the glass. 

She could also probably look at my reflection that way, too.

Checking me out.  Obviously, she didn't feel like talking. 

That was fine with me.

      For about half an hour we were like that, me trying

not to look at her, her trying to hide the fact that she was

looking at me. I had the radio turned down in case she

wanted to talk, but she didn't want to talk.  But you know

how it is when two people are in a car, you have to talk or

the silence grows oppressive.

      "So what's west?" I asked at last.

      She finally turned her head to me.  "What?"

      "I said, 'what's west.'"

      "Oh.  My parents.  They live in Seattle."

      "I see," I replied, knowingly, but still in the dark. 

She looked too old to be a runaway trying to get back home. 

And she didn't have that tired, wary look I had seen in news

documentaries.  Maybe she was just down on her luck, trying

to get to a support system on her own.  I shrugged inwardly

and concentrated on driving.

      She didn't seem inclined to volunteer more

information, so I turned the radio back up.  The local

public radio station was on, and I heard the last minute or

two of something by Bach, I don't know which piece, but he's

one of the few composers I can recognize without a program. 

They thanked the sponsors, and mentioned my company's name.

I pointed at the radio and said, "That's me.  Or my company,

at least.  My name's Mark Ferguson."

      "I'm Grace," she replied.

      "Nice to meet you, Grace."

      "No, not 'Grace.' G-R-E-Y.  Grey."

      "Grey?  That's an unusual name," I commented.  "At

least it is around here."

      "Yeah, well.  My parents were hippies, you know?  The

way they told me, they wanted to name me after whatever the

sky was when I was born.  But they happened to be in

Seattle, and I was early.  They couldn't really name me

'Overcast' or 'Gloomy,' so--"

      "Grey," I finished, grinning.

      "Exactly."  She glanced at me and I saw her smile for

the first time.  Her lips curled momentarily and I caught a

glimpse of her white, even teeth.  Then she turned back

toward the window, and all I saw was her hair and half an

ear.  Her neck was thin and graceful, the left tendon

standing out clear as her head was turned.  Her hair was

unstyled, hanging straight down her back.  It was brunette,

I suppose, when dry, with golden brown highlights.  What I

thought was a man's scrawny body was, instead, a young

woman's athletic body.  Her blue work shirt was tucked

tightly into baggy army fatigues -- the old olive drab kind,

not the camouflage that soldiers wear now -- and showed off

high, pointed breasts and a stomach without an ounce of fat.

      She saw me staring at her, and she turned her head to

stare back at me.  Her face was... beautiful, but that

doesn't begin to describe it.  She had a high forehead and

intelligent green eyes.  Her nose sloped down and out, and

flared outward in wide nostrils.  Her lips were neither full

nor thin, and always seemed to be slightly open.  Her face

still retained some baby fat, but her high cheekbones were

just discernible.  It was a face that would age well, going

from pretty to beautiful to striking to handsome as the

years passed.

      I was getting uncomfortable, and looked away.  "The

airport's coming up in a while," I said.  "If you want, we

can call your folks.  I'm sure they'd be willing to wire you

a ticket to Seattle."

      Grey stretched out her arms.  "Thanks, Mark, but if

it's alright, I'll just tag along with you for a while."

      "Fine with me, but it's going to take about three

weeks for me to get to the coast."

      "What do you do, for a living, anyway?"

      "Oh, I own a small company that makes machine tools

for light manufacturers.  I make the machines that make the

machines that make the prizes in your cereal, is how I put

it."  She smiled at that.  "We just started writing software

for companies that want to network machines from different

manufacturers.  I'm not sure how that works, and my people

tell me that in a few years everything's going to be cross-

compatible, anyway.  I don't know what that means, either,

but it'll get a foot in the door for us."

      I looked at her and saw her staring out the

windshield, not listening anymore.  "Sorry.  I talk too

much, I know.  Just tired of the quiet."

      "Oh, yeah."  Then, for fifty or sixty miles, she told

me about her life.  How her parents had finally settled down

after she was born, settled down too much, in fact.  At

fifteen, she just got tired of her life, so she decided to

quit.  She hit the road, heading south and east.  She wasn't

a runaway, she said.  She just left home a little early. 

She knew the dangers, so she avoided big cities, where it

was hard to live and easy to get into serious trouble.  By

the time she was seventeen, she was in North Carolina and

had just sort of... stopped.  At least that was how she

phrased it.

      She floated around the state for a year or so, mostly

living with college students around the Triad and Triangle,

working in textile factories and restaurants.  Then she met

Randy.  She was in love, or thought she was, and moved in

with him.  He had a good job as an electrician, and they

were talking about getting married and starting a family. 

Then the recession hit.  People were afraid to build, and

Randy's jobs dried up.  There were bills to pay, more than

Grey could handle.  A friend of Randy's got him into selling

drugs.  It's the kind of thing that just happens.  Several

of my relatives had been busted for the same thing under the

same circumstances.  It's really not that big a step from

moonshine to marijuana to cocaine.

      Randy started using, and to pay for his own habit, he

had to sell more.  A way to make ends meet became a way to

make a living.  Grey was getting scared, and when Randy

started selling to kids, she got angry.  She decided to

clear out for good.  She took every penny Randy had, called

the sheriff and told where he kept the drugs, and left.  She

left her clothes behind and just walked out.  She hadn't

even decided to head back to Seattle until I stopped on the

road.

      Suddenly I thought of something.  "Grey, I'm

registered at some pretty expensive hotels for the next few

days.  I'd better stop and cancel those, and we can stay

someplace cheaper."

      "Don't worry," she smiled, as though at a private

joke.  "I got enough from Randy to pay for expense-account

hotels for a couple of weeks, and to buy some new clothes,

too."

      "You're sure?"

      "I'm sure.  Don't worry about me."

      We made small talk almost all the way to Knoxville. 

Grey turned out to be an intelligent, witty young woman. 

She was widely read as far as I could tell, history and art,

the sciences.  I never seem to have time to read more than

sales and R and D reports.  Once she opened up, despite her

name, she was very lively.

      As for me, she seemed impressed by my CD collection. 

She thought it was "cool" that "an older guy" like me (she

grinned widely when she said that; I'm only forty) would

like the Chili Peppers and the Hoodoo Gurus.  On the other

hand, I was amazed that she was able to sing along with

Battlefield Band.  I told her about my family, but she was

reticent to talk about hers, except to say that it had been

so long since she had seen them, that she wanted to work

herself up to going back home.

      When we got to my hotel, I escorted her to her room. 

I told her when my meeting was, and that I'd drop her off at

a mall so she could shop for whatever she needed while I was

busy.  She said goodnight, and I went on up to my own room.

      The next morning, we had a quiet breakfast in the

hotel restaurant (separate checks, she insisted) and left. 

I dropped her off at a shopping center off the interstate

and told her when I'd be back and where to meet me.  Then I

went to my meeting.  I don't like taking "fun" vacations, so

every year or two, I make the circuit of the company's

bigger out-of-state customers.  It's a policy that pays off

in repeat customers and a lot of word of mouth business, and

I can write off about a third of my vacation.  The meeting

went well, and I went back to the shopping center, only

half-expecting to see Grey there.

      But she was waiting for me, bags in hand, wearing a 

white blouse and knee-length dark red skirt, and medium

heels instead of sneakers.  She looked much nicer than she

did in the work shirt and fatigues and maybe a couple of

years older.  She stepped off the sidewalk and we put her

purchases in the trunk.  I complimented her on her new

clothes.  When she thanked me, she reached up to loosen my

tie a bit and said, "If I'm going to be travelling with you,

I think I ought to look the part."

      Okay, this was probably a perfectly innocent remark. 

But at the time, I wasn't sure how to take it.  On the drive

into Tennessee, I had certainly noticed how attractive she

was, and had wondered what she would be like as a bed

partner.  But then, almost every man thinks that about

almost every pretty woman he meets.  The fact that my

long-time lover and I had split up not long before didn't

make matters any easier.  But this girl was not even quite

twenty yet, half my age.  So I tried to put her eyes and

legs and the perfume she was wearing out of my mind.

      The next day was nothing but relaxation.  When I

vacation, I like to do absolutely nothing.  I'm not a work

hard/play hard kind of guy.  No golf or tennis, just sitting

by the hotel pool, reading a book.  As I said, these

meetings I had scheduled for the next couple of weeks were

mostly just to make sure everything was running smoothly, so

I didn't have any paperwork to wade through.

      At any rate, I was sitting by the pool, trying to

finish "The Creators" so I could move on to something

lighter, when Grey stepped up beside me.  "Are you nearly

through with that?" she asked.  I looked up to see her

standing above me, wearing a soft pink one-piece bathing

suit and matching knee-length wrap.

      I thumbed through the remainder of the book.  "About a

hundred more pages, I think."

      "Can I borrow it when you're through?  I left my copy

at Randy's about half-read."

      "Sure.  This won't take long."

      She dropped the wrap and sat on the lounge chair

beside mine.  She reclined and tilted her head back,

enjoying the warmth of the late spring sun.  Her eyes were

closed, so I took the opportunity to look closely at her. 

The suit was cut low front and back, and high along her

hips.  Her skin was smooth and just barely tanned on all the

parts I could see.  Her legs were well-toned, not too

muscular.  Her arms were the same.  Her fingers were

delicately crossed beneath her breasts and a smile played

across her lips.  I then noticed that her eyes were cracked

open.  I think I may have blushed as I turned my attention,

but not my concentration, back to my book.

      I had gotten through about half a page when Grey spoke

again five minutes later.  "Do you think it's warm enough

for a swim?"

      I considered.  She was probably quite beautiful when

wet but not moping.  "I think so."

      She stood and untied her wrap, facing me.  I looked at

her out of the corner of my eye while pretending to read my

book.  She turned and I saw the rest of her suit, what

little of it that there was.  It was one of those "thong"

suits.  I could see faint, almost invisible, tan lines

across her buttocks where she had worn a more respectable

bikini the previous summer.  She dove cleanly into the

water, feet and legs together, and for a split second, that

exquisite posterior was pointing skyward, filling my vision.

      I didn't burn with passion for her, I didn't want to

possess her body; nothing so cliched.  Part of me sexually

appreciated the display of her body, but for another part,

there was an aesthetic appreciation of the grace of her

movements, of the proportions of her form.  I found myself

to be tantalized more than anything else.  She swam possibly

a dozen laps, using different strokes.  I watched her the

entire time, and she saw me watching her, but I didn't turn

away, this time.

      When she came to the edge of the pool after her final

lap, I was waiting for her, towel in hand.  I helped her out

like a gentleman and handed her the towel.  "You swim

beautifully," I said, more softly than I meant to.

      "Thank you.  I--"

      "Excuse me, Miss."

      We turned to find that we had been joined by the

manager of the hotel.  When he had our attention, he

continued.  "Some of our patrons have requested that I ask

you to change into a less revealing swimsuit, or to not use

the pool."  I noticed two women, about sixty years old but

trying to look forty, sit down and begin talking and looking

in our direction.  Despite the sun hats and dark glasses,

they looked like they had just come from a DAR function.  It

was obvious that the manager approved of Grey's attire about

as much as they did.

      For a moment, I thought Grey was going to protest, and

I was eager to see it.  But she didn't.  "All right.  I was

going to have lunch anyway.  Would you join me, Mark?"  I

said I would join her shortly.  I wanted to stay and tell

this glorified desk clerk that I would be checking out and

not patronizing his hotel ever again.  But Grey's actions

made me forget what I was going to say.

      She had gathered up her wrap and tanning lotion.  The

wrap and towel were draped over her arm, and she swung the

lotion back and forth in the other hand.  Her route took her

right past the Daughters, but she didn't acknowledge their

presence.  But then the bottle of lotion flew out of her

hand to land directly in front of the women.  So Grey bent

to pick it up.  From the waist.  Facing away from the women.

She gave her hips a little shake, and the look on their

faces as she did that made me laugh out loud.  Grey winked

at me and continued on inside the hotel with the most

arrogant walk I have ever seen a non-feline do.

      I went up to my room, half-hoping that Grey would be

waiting in the hall for me, wearing that suit.  She wasn't,

of course.  I hopped in the shower to wash off the

sunscreen, dried off, dressed, and was out the door in

fifteen minutes.

      I went down two floors to Grey's room.  I could hear a

blow dryer running in her room, so I knocked harder on the

door than usual.  It hadn't been completely shut, so it

swung open smoothly.  I looked around the open door and saw

Grey staring at me in the mirror above the sink outside the

bathroom.  She was completely naked.  All I could see,

however, were those eyes, looking out of the mirror at me. 

The rest was just an impression.  I stammered some sort of

an apology and stepped back into the hall.

      Grey came out not long after.  Again, she was dressed

conservatively, but her dress highlighted her figure. 

Neither of us said anything about what I might have seen.  I

wanted to tell her that she looked beautiful ÄÄ and she did,

in a belted navy dress and white half-jacket ÄÄ but I feared

she would take it as a reference to my view of her naked. 

If I had had more confidence, I would have, but I was

looking for a clear, a very clear signal for her.  Mainly

because I didn't want to look foolish before her.

      Lunch was filled with wonderful conversation.  I

suppose the food was delicious, at least Grey said it was. 

But all my senses were concentrated on her.  Sure, it sounds

hackneyed, but it's the truth.  I was terribly fascinated by

her.  It wasn't really love, though the physical and

emotional attraction was there.  No, I was interested in the

totality of Grey.  Her laugh and wit, the way she whispered

when she thought she might be overheard even though all we

were talking about was my intinerary.

      I realize I haven't mentioned much about Grey's part

of our conversations.  That is because I find it impossible

to isolate a short fragment for illustration.  I could

relate her explanation of why she both loved and hated the

rain.  About taking her general equivalency diploma and

taking a semester of college just because people might

otherwise think she had quit high school because she

couldn't handle it.  About her theories on the cyclic nature

of history -- I think we argued that one the whole time we

were on the road.  Which do I pick and which do I ignore?  I

can't, so all I can do is give an overall impression of

Grey, which built up slowly, evolved over the weeks, until I

had this complete picture of a woman I was happy to call my

friend, and possibly more.

      The next week went much like this.  Little Rock and

New Orleans.  Scintillating conversations.  More probably-

innocent remarks from Grey, and ambiguous feelings on my

part.  I found myself staring at her more and more.  A few

times I think I caught her staring at me.  One day, out of

the blue, she brought up our relationship, if I can call it

that.  We were watching a pay-per-view movie in my room when

she just asked me flat out, "Mark, how come you haven't made

a pass at me?"

      This was making me uncomfortable for some reason. 

Maybe I thought my sexuality was being questioned.  I tried

to joke my way out of it.  "Just never got around to it I

guess.  Would you like me to make one now?"

      But Grey was having none of that.  "I'm serious.  I've

been with you for ten days now, and not once have you asked

me to spend the night in your room.  Hell, you haven't even

put your hand on my knee in the car."

      If she wanted a serious answer, I would give her a

serious answer.  Of course, I had been wondering myself why

i hadn't tried anything.  "Look, Grey, first of all, I'm

twice your age."

      "That hasn't stopped other men."

      "Then there's the fact that, when we first met, I

thought I might be taking advantage of your vulnerability."

      She was actually indignant for a second.  "I am not

some helpless puppy who needs your protection."

      I held up my hands in a conciliatory gesture.  "I know

that now.  But by the time I figured that out, I thought we

were more friends than anything else.  I just didn't want to

damage that by making some kind of unwanted advance."  Yeah.

When was the last time you heard a guy say "we can still be

friends?"

      The conversation just seemed to die after that.  The

movie ended and Grey went to her own room.  Idiot!  I yelled

at myself inside my head.  I couldn't have asked for a

clearer signal than that, and I had blown it.  I didn't

think that Grey was the type of woman who would throw

herself at a man after even such a half-hearted rebuff as I

had given her.  So I resolved to stop thinking of our

relationship as anything more than friendship.  I had just

talked myself out of a potential lover, I thought. 

Naturally, my ambiguity resolves itself right after I shoot

myself in the foot.

      Dallas was covered in conventioneers.  We were late

getting to the hotel and discovered my reserved room had

been rented.  Naturally there was nothing for Grey.  An

hour's search found one hotel room (in Dallas!), so I gave

them my credit card number and we followed the directions. 

It was a small motel that the interstates had ignored, but

there were double beds and the room was clean.  Grey seemed

to take the change in accommodations well.  I, however, was

worried.  Here I finally had her in the same room with me

for the entire night, and I had as much as told her I wasn't

interested.  How was I going to act calm?  How could I

broach the subject?  You know, Grey, I've changed my mind:

I'd give my left arm to sleep with you.  Sure.

      So I told her I was going to look up an old friend and

would probably be out late and she should just go to bed

without waiting up.  Of course, I didn't have a friend; I

just didn't want to face the next couple of hours with Grey.

After cruising around and getting lost, I found myself in

the parking lot of one of those big strip clubs that cater

to businessmen.  Big mistake.  The last thing I needed to

calm my nerves was to be in the middle of a big room filled

with horny convention-goers and twenty to thirty naked

women.  The shriners or plumbers or whatever the hell they

were were crude and obnoxious, but they had lots of cash, so

these tanned, bare-breasted beauties kept parading past me.

      They grow 'em big in Texas, and if they don't grow

'em, they can make 'em big.  But there was this one girl. 

She had straight brunette hair and comparatively small

breasts.  Other than that, she didn't look much like Grey. 

But I had her do a lap dance anyway.  Great invention, lap

dancing.  You can't touch her, but she'll touch you, except

where you want her to touch you.  But that was okay, because

I was thinking of Grey.  I imagined Grey's hands on my face

and chest.  I looked at my watch and saw it was midnight. 

Grey would probably be asleep, so I gave the dancer a

generous tip and left.  I could at least be in the same room

with Grey, watch her sleep, listen to her breathe.  I'll bet

she's beautiful when she's asleep, I thought.  Of course,

she's beautiful when she's awake.

      She was beautiful.  And she was awake.

      She was watching something on television, a movie, I

think.  She was wearing a floor-length dressing gown of pure

white, and her hair shone.  "Did you see your friend?" she

asked me.

      "Uh, yeah, I saw him."

      She stood to turn the television off.  "I can't seem

to go to sleep.  I'll just go in the bathroom and read, so

you can go to bed."  For some reason, she was more stunning

than ever, standing there in the dim light.

      "No need.  I can handle a few more hours awake."

      "Oh.  Okay."  She sat back in her chair, and I sat on

the bed.  We just sat there, saying nothing for the longest

time.  I thought she might be as tense as I was.

      "Mark," she said at last.  I sat up, doing my best to

look attentive.  "I know how you feel about me.  But I'm

afraid I don't feel the same way.  So I think it's best that

I go on alone."

      Jeez.  The only thing worse than having Grey beside me

and being afraid to touch her would be not having her beside

me at all.  "Grey, you don't have to... I mean, I can

control my feelings for you."

      She stared back at me, dumfounded.  "But you said you

weren't interested in me.  Didn't you?"

      She was attracted to me, too.

      The weight on my chest disappeared.

      "Yes, I did.  No, I...  I mean, I did, but I didn't

mean it.  That is, I wasn't sure how I felt, or how you felt

about me.  So I took the safe way out."

      Like in an old melodrama, we were in each other's

arms.  We just held each other.  I was relieved more than

anything else, because the self-torture was over.  The

passion could come later.  Right now it was enough just to

know that I had her, that my feelings were reciprocated.

      But the passion couldn't wait for Grey.  Her mouth

sought mine, and, finding it, clamped tightly to my lips. 

The morose young woman I had picked up in the rain, the

vivacious young woman who had captivated my imagination, had

become the passionate young woman who was crushing me in her

arms.  How many more Greys were there?  I was eager to find

out.

      I returned her kisses with equal fervor.  We nibbled

on each other's lips and exploring tongue.  I inhaled her

perfume.  Perfume?  I gently pried Grey's delicious body

away from mine.  I looked at the dressing gown in a new

light.  With trembling fingers, I untied her belt.  The

satin robe fell open to reveal Grey, dressed for seduction

in a camisole and panties, garters and stockings, all white.

      "I wasn't sure if I wanted to seduce you or not," she

explained, somewhat bashfully.  "I wanted to, but I wasn't

sure if it was what you really wanted.  You know?"

      "I know.  I know exactly.  When did you get these?"

      She actually blushed, the first time I'd ever seen her

do that, and she was heartbreakingly beautiful.  "That first

day in Knoxville.  I had an idea."

      I chuckled and pulled her back to me.  I let my hands

roam over her.  Soft satin and silk, soft skin.  I felt warm

fingers unbutton my shirt, soft moist lips against my chest.

"I suppose the swimsuit was for my benefit also?"

      I felt her head nod against my shoulder.  "And the

open door afterward.  But you were a perfect gentleman, damn

you."  She nipped at my chest with her teeth.

      I laughed in surprise.  I took her tightly by the

waist and threw her on the bed.  I landed on top of her,

hands and knees on either side of her, my weight just barely

pressing down on her.  "I suppose you want some kind of

barbarian, hmm?"  I growled menacingly and ripped at her

robe.  Of course, all I did was pull it off her shoulders. 

She just giggled.

      Then she gave me the most serious look she had ever

given me.  "I just want you."

      We kissed again, long and deep.  Grey pulled my shirt

off my back and tossed it away.  She ran her hands up and

down my arms, touching nothing but the hairs.  I never knew

my arms could be an erogenous zone, and maybe they're not,

except with Grey.  She explored every curve of my torso

while I kissed her.  My shoulder blades and the crook of my

neck, every vertebra, even my "love handles" and short ribs.

I was uncomfortable but still highly aroused by the whole

thing.

      She unbuttoned and unzipped my pants, and I kicked off

my shoes.  Awkwardly, because I didn't want to break our

kiss, I slid my trousers and underwear off.  Now I wanted to

do her.  While I find sexy underwear erotically and

aesthetically pleasing, it's much more fun to take them off.

I sat on the bed and she stood between my legs, her

nylon-clad legs just barely brushing against my erect

member.  Her dressing gown floated to the floor, forming a

small cloud around her feet.  I untied the fastenings of her

camisole from the bottom up, to prolong the delicious

waiting before I finally saw her breasts.

      Ah.  They were everything I imagined them to be.  They

stood straight out from her chest, two rounded-over cones

not large enough to sag even a millimeter.  The slopes

formed two pink nipples that were extensions of the breasts

more than separate features.  I placed my mouth over the

left one and sucked on it.  Her skin tasted like spring, of

some soap other than the antiseptic kind in the motel

shower.  Sweat was just beginning to form along her sternum,

and I licked the moisture up on the way to her right breast.

I twirled my finger around the areola of the one I had

abandoned while I nibbled on the one in my mouth.  Grey

moved her hands up to my head and rubbed circles through my

hair.

      Then, taking my hands in hers, she moved them down to

her hips.  The garters had tiny ruffles on them, something I

hadn't noticed in the poor lighting.  Her panties were on

the outside of her garters, but I wanted to save them for

last.  I unclipped the garters from each stocking.  It took

a nice bit of feeling around since my eyes were closed so I

could concentrate on the taste of her skin and the sound of

her heavy breaths.  When the stockings were no longer

attached, I worked the clasp on the back of the belt and

pulled the garters through the waistband of her panties.

      Again, I took her by the hips and laid her on the bed.

I pulled the low-heeled slippers off her feet and placed her

stockinged right foot on my shoulder.  I ran my hands down

her leg until I reached her stocking top.  I willed myself

to go no further.  Using my palms, I rolled the stocking up

her leg, while weaving long patterns with my fingertips

along the wondrously smooth flesh of her leg.  When one leg

was bare, I repeated the process on the other leg, and it

was even harder to stop my hands from moving up beyond her

stocking top.

      All this time, Grey had been playing with her breasts,

cupping them and rubbing her hands along the undersides,

tweaking the nipples.  Her hands made a few abortive

movements down to her pelvis, but she was apparently forcing

herself to wait like I was.  But I would wait no longer.  I

took the waistband of her panties in the hooked fingers of

each hand and pulled them down her thighs.  I kept my eyes

on the stark white silk.  I wanted no half-glimpses of her

sex.  I wanted to see all of her at once.

      Grey was not so patient.  As the panties passed her

knees, she groaned in frustration and tried to kick out of

them.  Unfortunately, I was bringing my face down to kiss

her leg at the same time.

      "Oh, my God.  Ohmygodohmygod!"  Suddenly Grey was like

a little girl who has just broken on of her mother's crystal

glasses.  My nose was numb, but I felt a trickle of warmth

on my upper lip.  I couldn't help myself.  I burst out

laughing.  I laughed so hard I couldn't sit up.  I collapsed

on my back, still laughing.  My nose wasn't numb anymore; in

fact, it hurt like hell, but I laughed.

      Grey had gone into the bathroom and now returned with

a damp cloth.  She tried to wash the blood off, but I

couldn't stop my head from moving as I laughed.  Now, I feel

like a jerk over the whole thing, but at the time, the

incongruity of events had me in hysterics.

      Grey stood over me, hands on hips like a frustrated

mother hen.  "What's so funny?" she demanded.

      I had finally been able to catch my breath.  "It's

just that... the first time in my... life... I've ever had

someone bloody... my nose... and it's the woman I love." 

Then I burst out again.

      But Grey didn't see the humor in it.  She pushed

against my forehead to hold me still.  I was now completely

out of breath, so I didn't resist much.  She wiped away the

blood.  She touched my nose gingerly.  "Not broken," she

muttered.  It wasn't bad at all.  Already the blood was

clotting in one nostril, and the pain was almost completely

gone.

      In all the confusion, I had gone soft.  But looking at

Grey's nude body, seeing her completely for the first time,

was causing things to stir again.  Grey saw the process, and

decided to help it along.  She took my cock in her cool

fingers and stroked the underside.  Her fingertips felt like

silk as they roamed over my lengthening shaft and wandered

down to my heavy scrotum.  Grey looked into my eyes as she

masturbated me.  She got on the bed.  She spread my thighs

and lay on her stomach between them.  Propped on her elbows,

she moved her head closer to my erection and flicked her

tongue out.  My cock jumped in response, making Grey smile

playfully.

      Still fondling my balls, Grey moved her opened mouth

slowly to the head of my cock.  Then, even more slowly, she

moved her wet lips over the crown.  Heaven.  Her tongue

performed wonders on my flesh as her head went down on my

cock.  And down, and down.  She didn't take me into her

throat, she just moved so slowly that it seemed like she

did.  What she could not cover with her mouth, she stroked

with her hand.  And all the time, her tongue moved around

and around the head of my cock, and down an obscenely long

stretch of the shaft.

      I could do nothing but lie there and moan.  My thighs

twitched a few times, and my cock flexed in Grey's talented

mouth, but other than that, I was paralyzed, fearful that

Grey's mouth on me was a dream I could not recapture if I

woke myself by moving.  Faster than I am used to, my cock

began to get that particular pre=orgasmic rigidity.  My cock

became so sensitive I imagined I could feel each individual

taste bud on Grey's twirling tongue.

      Confession time.  It had been a long time since I had

been able to go more than two rounds in a night.  Time and

familiarity had taken their toll in my last relationship.  I

ran my fingers through Grey's hair and told her that, if I

came now, I would probably only be able to get it up once

more that night.

      Grey removed me from her mouth.  Still lightly

stroking with her hand, she said, "That's all right.  We'll

have tomorrow night."  And she kissed the seeping head of my

cock.  "And the night after."  Kiss.  "And the night after."

Kiss.  "And the night after that."  Then she did swallow me

completely.  For a second at least.  I felt her begin to

gag, and she quickly backed off.  She sucked harder and

stroked faster, with more pressure.  Harder and faster,

harder and faster.  Now only the head was in her mouth, and

her hand was a blur on my shaft.  I was in sweet agony as

all my senses focused on the cubic inch of my cock head.

      Then I exploded.  Literally.  All the sexual tension I

had felt the previous week, all the self-torment, left me as

the semen fired from the head of my cock into Grey's mouth.

Grey let out a muffled sound of surprise, and, bless her,

made a valiant effort to swallow everything I had.  But I

suppose I surprised her, for the first spurts ran out from

between her lips and dripped down to my balls.  In a second,

she was back in control and was able to swallow, and then to

suck the dregs out of my rapidly softening cock.  Lastly,

she moved down to lick up most of what she had missed.

      For a few minutes, she tried to get me back up, but

was only half successful.  So I got up from the bed and

motioned her forward.  When she was lying where I had been,

I moved between her own thighs.  Her sex was lightly covered

in dark hairs, straight, not curly.  Her labia were slightly

open and glistening with moisture, smooth and pinkish brown.

 Her clitoris was exposed and slightly larger than average,

based on my own experience.  Like everything else about her,

it was beautiful.

      I moved in closer to her pussy.  I blew gently on her

and heard her giggle lightly.  Sensitive, good.  The only

regret I had was that I was unable to smell her musk

clearly.  Her scent was mingled with that of my own dried

blood.  But, as Grey had said, there was tomorrow night.  I

moved my tongue down to her inner thigh, just where it

joined her pelvis.  I licked up and down the crease a few

times before I moved further inward.  As I moved closer to

her pussy, I lingered longer at each portion of her flesh.

      At last, I was at my goal, what I had been dreaming

about for the past nights.  I flipped my tongue over the

left labia, making it move in and out.  Then I traced it's

length downward, then up the right side, stopping just short

of the clitoris.  Then back down again, and up the other

side.  Several times I did this, always avoiding the

engorged bud.  Grey's hands were again in my hair trying to

pull me up.  I didn't resist.  Now, I was at her clit, and I

attacked it with my tongue.  I lashed out at it from all

sides.  I brought lips and teeth into play, sucking on the

organ and scraping it with my teeth.  Each new element

brought a new and louder gasp from Grey, who was otherwise

non-vocal.

      I stayed down there, licking and sucking on her pussy

the entire time it took my cock to recuperate without any

other stimulation.  Fortunately ÄÄ or unfortunately,

depending on your point of view ÄÄ this took about half an

hour, and two or maybe three orgasms.  My hands were busy on

Grey.  I had one to three fingers inside her pussy, stroking

in and out at differing speeds.  The other hand roamed over

her breasts and along her stomach and thighs.  I even

managed to work a finger between her clenched buttocks and

into her tight anus.

      When I was finally fully hard again, I raised myself

above Grey.  I kissed her lips and her tongue darted into my

mouth.  "Put it in," she whispered.

      "You do it," I answered.

      I felt her raise her legs until her knees were against

my ribs.  Her hand sought and found my cock and placed it at

the entrance to her opening.  I let myself sink into her in

one smooth movement.  At last.  We both moaned.  Slowly, I

withdrew, leaving only the head inside her.  Then I eased my

hips forward until our pelvises touched again.  Slowly, but

inexorably, I built up speed.  Her walls gripped me like I

had never felt another woman do.  God, she was tight.  And

wet.  And hot.  And wonderful.

      Grey wrapped her arms around my back and her legs

around my waist.  She pulled me tight against her, almost

like she was trying to pull me completely inside her.  Her

little nipples bored into my chest and her heels ground into

my lower back.  I actually had to fight her to withdraw

again, so I could enter her again.  I worked my arms under

her and pulled her to me.  I let my weight rest upon her,

and she seemed all right like that.  Now only my hips and

head were moving as I rhythmically fucked her and kissed her

entire face.  We didn't say a word as we lay there, as much

of us touching the other as possible, but our kisses said it

all.  Grey's hands and feet, her quivering stomach, told me

all I needed to know.

      It was happening.  Much sooner than I wanted.  I could

feel myself getting closer to climax, but I couldn't stop

myself.  I pushed my feet into the bed and thrust up into

Grey with my whole body.  Our mingled sweat let me move

smoothly along Grey's body as I felt lust take control of

me.  Faster and still faster I pounded into Grey.  Part of

my brain realized I might be hurting her, but the lizard

brain, the visceral instinctual part didn't give a damn, it

only wanted orgasmic release.  Grey let out a little cry,

not in pain but in passion.  The lizard was taking over her,

too.  So I stopped resisting myself, and thrust madly into

her.

      The room was filled with animal grunts and squeals. 

Absently I noticed that my nose was bleeding again, dotting

Grey's cheeks with my blood.  I licked it up, the bitter

taste driving me ever harder forward.  I couldn't keep this

up much longer; something had to give, eventually. 

Something did.  My cock had reached that point where it's

painful to touch and painful not to touch.  It was so

sensitive even Grey's wet pussy felt somewhat abrasive. 

Less than half a dozen strokes and I was gone.  The cum

poured out of my cock into Grey.  It was, quite literally,

the best orgasm of my entire life.

      I held still on top of Grey as all my energy drained

out of me into her.  I couldn't move; my arms and legs were

dead.  I rolled off of Grey, but still held onto her, so

that were on our sides facing each other.  My head was

between hers and the pillow and her hair was in my mouth and

nostrils, but I didn't care.  The French don't call it "the

little death" for nothing.  Grey and I panted across each

other's neck as the sweat cooled on our bodies.  My cock

shrank and fell out of her.  I knew I was finished for the

night.

      I don't know how long we lay there, holding each

other, not speaking, but eventually I rolled away from her. 

I was exhausted, but Grey got up on one shoulder and looked

down at me.  She rubbed a little blood off my upper lip with

her thumb.  I didn't feel any more leak out, so there was no

need to get up and clean my face up.  "Mark?"

      "Yeah?"

      "Did you mean what you said before?"

      "What's that?"

      "That you loved me?"

      I thought back.  Yeah, I had called her "the woman I

love," hadn't I?  Had I stepped in it again?  Would I

frighten her off if I told the truth?  Would I drive her

away if I lied?  Nothing for it but to hope.

      "Yes, I meant it."





                     to be continued...



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