Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32
[This is a continuation of the “job interview” role-play game with the two City College of New York students described in Chapter 1. The time period is September / October 1975. Just to be clear, the narrator had overlapping relationships with the two girls mentioned in the story, Michelle and Andrea.]
Prologue: A Midweek Date with Michelle
I did have a date during the week, but it was with the real Michelle. She knew I liked her alter-ego Erica so she arrived with her hair bun, most of the make-up and the black-rimmed glasses. Instead of a causal student look she had a blazer and a pair of slacks that would have fit the office job Erica had.
When we got back to her apartment in Queens I told her a story about my virginal freshman year. We were sitting on her couch as I said, “You remember my friend Paul, the ‘other Paul,’ as I call him?” She nodded.
I said, “Ok, since last year he’s been up at Boston University. He has a girlfriend named Lisa who was in high school with us. Last spring I was traveling up there on Amtrak to visit him; Lisa and my friend Mark were with me. We’re in the front section of one of those TurboTrains.”
“Yeah? I’ve never caught one of those.”
“So Lisa contrives somehow – it’s somehow necessary for her to sit on my lap for a few minutes. Which is, like . . .”
“Oh I get it, I completely get it.”
“Then she needs to sit on Mark’s lap for a while. I actually said, ‘Would you sit on my lap again?’ and she did for a little while.”
“Paul, she was really playing you. Maybe she didn’t quite know what she was doing, but I doubt that. And it really isn’t nice, it isn’t proper for a lady to place her hindquarters on a gentleman’s lap unless she’s truly serious about it all. So what is she like?”
“She’s on the short side, dark hair, nothing really unusual about her. She grew up in the same Bronx neighborhood where I’m living now.”
Michelle asked, “Was she just sitting there or did she did she really grind it in?”
“She was just sitting, making small talk.”
“So how stiff were you?”
“Sit on my lap and find out.”
“I see, you’ve got to get this Lisa out of your system.”
“Do we have anything here that resembles an Amtrak seat?”
“Probably this sofa would do. Was she wearing pants or a skirt?”
“Blue jeans, I remember.”
“I’ve got slacks on, that should work.”
She moved over and sat down on my lap; I put my arms around her waist.
“Did you hold her like this?”
“I don’t think so. I wanted to show I was, proper?”
She leaned over and pretended to talk to another passenger. “Excuse me, do you have a timetable I could look at?”
Then she started moving around on me while singing, “You leave the Pennsylvania Station at a quarter to four, read a magazine and you’re in MetroPark . . .”
“Yes but the trains are much slower now. Anyway, I’m getting the Lisa perspective on this. I can feel your erection right against my ass.”
That was my perspective on the train ride too.
She said, “You should have called her bluff on that. She was really being a tease.”
“How would I do that?”
“Just say, ‘Lisa, you have a really nice behind.’ Low-key, off the cuff.”
“What if she got insulted?”
“She was the one who went to you. I’m curious, what did she say about all this?”
“Not much. And in the aftermath I forgot.”
She started moving more vigorously on me, ” ‘Paul, I really can’t find a seat in the appropriate location for me. This damn Amtrak! You don’t mind if I plant my shapely little Bronx girl buttocks on your crotch, do you?’ And then, ‘you’re not a gentleman! You’ve got a boner!’ “
“Michelle, I would ride anywhere with you like this.”
“So where are we now?”
“Ah, New London, Connecticut?”
“Are we going to or from Boston?”
“I don’t know and I really don’t care.”
We worked out the role-play scenario so that her character Erica would phone me to confirm the Sunday appointment. On Saturday I answered the phone and heard a voice that was familiar yet different.
“Paul? It’s Erica Keller. I was calling about our meeting tomorrow.”
I tried to pick out what was distinctive about her voice. It seemed breathier, more softly-pitched than Michelle’s way of speaking. Michelle’s style was more direct, matter-of-fact.
We went into a couple of details about my appointment. She gave no hint about the intense sex we had had on her own desk a week ago. Could she really compartmentalize events like that?
On Sunday evening I was back on the tenth floor of the West 25th Street loft building where we worked. Erica’s greeting was canlı bahis a bit warmer than the last time but she made no move to kiss me or touch me. I noted that her suit was dark gray instead of blue but it seemed to be the same design in a different color. Michelle could confirm that for me later.
I noted a couple of other items. Her shoes had heels but these weren’t the towering ones that had given her trouble last week. The stockings were darker this time. I wondered what the situation was further up her legs. Otherwise Erica was the same as before. I wasn’t sure whether I should be using her first or last name so I said neither.
When we were seated in her office she said, “Let me see your application, please.” So it was going to be all business for the moment.
Since there had never been an actual application what I pulled out was the random piece of paper I had gotten last week. We would improvise whatever needed to be said about it.
She looked through it carefully, occasionally marking something with a pen. Was that the same pen that had been so lovingly treated last time? It seemed to be. There was another prop too; she had a can of soda with a straw sticking out. Was it there so some lipstick could be left on the straw? That was quickly confirmed. A few absent-minded sips later and there was red on the end of said straw.
She asked me inane questions, basically repeating what would already be written there. When she referred to City College I saw an opening to get some information about her. I said, “Excuse me, what school do you go to?”
“I graduated from NYU in June but I’ve been working here since last January.”
That would probably make her about twenty-two. I had already guessed that she must be a couple of years older than Michelle.
After a few minutes of this activity she said, “Ok, very good. I wish you had been a little neater, and I did mark a couple of typos.” She held up the indecipherable paper for me to look at. I didn’t feel like apologizing but she broke in before I could say anything. “Now I’d like for us to go out to the room and you can demonstrate your paste-up skills for me.”
I couldn’t stifle a sigh. What a pointless, time-wasting activity this was going to be. This was a skill I had already been using at work for months.
For those that may not remember the bygone 1970s, this was when photo-offset printing was still in common use. In later decades page layout went completely digital with programs like QuarkXPress and then Adobe InDesign. The 1970s were partially an analogue period with pages laid out on big pieces of cardboard called “camera copy.”
Once in the paste-up room she guided me to a project I had actually been working on the previous Saturday morning. I sat on the stool facing a steeply-sloped table, with the boards, waxed corrections, and proofs I would need spread out. She perched on the stool next to me. There was a little ledge along the bottom of the table and she put her soda can on that.
I glanced over at her; she seemed expressionless. Her knees were held tightly together. I visualized pulling her legs apart and finding out what the story was up there.
I picked up an X-Acto knife to start cutting the laminated paper with the corrected lines. These were waxed, not glued, so pieces could easily be pulled up and moved. Within a few moments Erica started talking to me and it was apparent that conversation was the real point of us being here.
“You learned paste-up at that college newspaper, right?” This was on both the résumé and the “application.” We had discussed it as least twice already.
There was nothing to say except, “Yes that’s right.” Then the questions started to get loaded.
“Paul, do you mind if I ask you a personal question?”
I didn’t say anything. I know from this point on I wasn’t looking at the project.
“What I wanted to know is, do you have a girlfriend right now?”
I decided to keep it simple. “There was this girl for a while last year, her name was Andrea, or I called her Andie.”
“You said ‘for a while.’ What happened?”
I briefly went through the true story of her returning fiancé, a story Michelle already know all about. In fact Andrea and Michelle were now on the student paper together. I was the one who had invited both of them to join. If God protects children and fools, He must have protected me because no drama had resulted from this recklessness.
“This was last year? How long were you with her?”
I doubled it, “Four months.”
Erica didn’t have all the data, but I guessed that she was calculating approximately how much time had gone by since I had been with a woman. Well, this assumed that last week didn’t bahis siteleri count.
I decided to add some poignancy to the situation, “I should tell you, she was the first girlfriend I ever had.” That happened to be true too.
“Oh wow, really?” She looked at me with genuine concern. I felt a surge of affection for her. I tried to remind myself, this is Michelle, this is actually Michelle.
I had to find out some of her story, “Erica?” She smiled; we were on a first name basis it seemed. “Erica, do you have someone significant in your life now?”
I could see a moment of hesitation, then pain on her face. “It’s been quite a while, about a year and a half now.” I could sense her sadness. She was a bit self-important at work, but yet – there had to be men who would gladly have her. I knew I would – hadn’t I already?
These damn roles; reality and fantasy kept getting confused. And yet I was always eager for the next psychodrama.
I decided to lighten up the game, “Hey, I’m sorry about your pantyhose last week.”
She dismissed it with a wave. “No big deal.” She brightened considerably. “I’ve got something much better now. Would you like to see it?”
My brilliant Michelle; she had ambushed me again. I rarely saw these coming.
Before I could respond she said, “Here, take a look.” She stood up and faced the table.
I remembered something similar from Andie when she was on a couch with me in a borrowed apartment. Now it was Erica hiking her skirt up. Michelle had been buying garters and stockings recently as she had proposed way back in January – her new warm weather gear as she called it.
She had a black garter belt with matching garters to hold up her dark stockings. Her panties were on top of these. This was an ample pair of underpants, sheer, tight, and, except for a black strip along the top, transparent.
“It’s got this, I think, fifties-sixties look. Like it?” I managed to look at her face. She was beaming at me.
Instead of answering, I moved to touch her. She dropped he skirt and moved away. “No, no, not right now.” If not now, when? Still, “not right now” implied good things in the very near future.
She was playful now. “Would you like a drink?”
I though she meant a soda. “What kind of drink?”
“I’ve got something here for us.” She retrieved a pint bottle of Jim Beam bourbon planted in the frame of the table. “I know we’re at work but still, it’s after hours now, wouldn’t you say?” I wondered if this was a spankable offense, perhaps one that didn’t require a warning first.
She was back on her stool as she took a swig from the bottle. She handed it to me and I did the same. If it had been a guy I would have shared a bottle just to be polite. With Erica it seemed like fun, sexy fun actually.
It was really time, I felt, to get into some deeper action now, to make a direct approach to her. I put her bottle on the table ledge and stood up. I tried to be very causal about it. My hand cupped her chin. Now all I had to do was come up with a pleasing compliment.
“Erica, you are a very attractive lady.”
Eh, that was a bit too formal; I could have done better. However, I figured that I should move beyond it. I put my arms around her and got ready to kiss her. Michelle always liked whatever bit I used to get her glasses out of the way. Tonight I pushed them to the top of her head.
While kissing her I put my hands beneath her jacket and rubbed her back. This particular session of smooching/necking suited me fine and I could have kept at it for a while.
But Michelle – which person was I dealing with here? Maybe both? Anyway Michelle was going to set the pace here, as always, and the pace had to be sped up. Without comment she reached down to undo my pants and take my cock out. Well, it had to happen eventually and this seemed like as good a time as any.
I tried to reach under her skirt but she said, “No, one thing at a time.” She gently rubbed me. I knew she was capable of getting me off without lubrication.
“Do you like this?”
Well of course I did. “Yes, Erica, it’s so nice.” Keep using her name, I thought.
She then looked perturbed. She did the unladylike action of spitting on her hand and using that to grease the skids. That still wasn’t enough, so she got on her knees and put her mouth on me.
Yes, Michelle, you were always the girl who knew what to do and then followed through on it. She was good at it too. Instead of merely jamming me into her mouth, she had a fine mixture of licking and sucking. Along the way she pulled it out and pointed to her mouth. I knew my instructions were to shoot it in from about an inch away. Meanwhile I liked holding that tight little bahis şirketleri bun of hair at the back of her head.
Our timing was pretty good. At the right moment I pulled back and did the last strokes with my hand. The first shot was well aimed, the second less so and some got on her face. She giggled; Michelle had never been squeamish when this went awry. Then she went back for some more sucking. The steps going down were almost as good as the ones going up.
When she stood up I did the gentlemanly thing and gave her a handkerchief for a clean-up. I knew what to do next.
I softly said to her, “Time to lose your panties.”
“Definitely, it’s time.”
My hands already under her skirt, lowering them to the floor. I got her back on her stool. My left hand was around her waist to keep her steady and my right hand was between her legs. By this point in my life I knew how women liked to be touched. Here I had that circular motion going around her “joy button” as one of her earlier characters had described it. I didn’t have to quite touch it, just push the area around it. Her expressions and the sounds coming from her let me know I had it right.
I expected to keep going until she came. Perhaps there would be a squirt or two for me to admire. But no, she couldn’t wait. “Come on, put it in me already.” My pants were already down so I could have done so immediately. But her stool was narrow and if she fell off during the heat of the moment it would be a long drop to the floor.
I said, “The couch.”
There was an ugly old green leatherette couch under one of the windows. In a few seconds we were on that with me on top. She did that Michelle thing I liked so much, digging her heels into my back and ass. And we made a lot of noise. Anybody coming in the front door would have known immediately what was going on back here.
Afterwards we spent a minute or two lying there with our own thoughts. I broke the silence, “So, do you think I’m getting the job?” This was the job I had already been doing for months.
“Of course, hon, if you want the job it’s yours.” She used “hon” again; that definitely was not a Michelle term.
I said, “I noticed that you never said anything . . .” How should I phrase this? “I mean about what we did last week.”
“I’m sorry, I should have. I get distracted by practical matters sometimes. But yes, it was truly wonderful.” I thought it best to not to mention the other part, the bare-assed spanking she gave me.
She then sent me a very serious look, “Paul, would you be my boyfriend? I’d really like that.” Wasn’t I already her boyfriend? There were two timelines for that: one week for Erica, eleven months for Michelle. I thought that not only was the job mine if I wanted it, so was Erica.
I said, “Sure I’d love to be your boyfriend.” And I love you too?
As we kissed I clarified some insights about her. There was some of Michelle in Erica, but there was some of Erica in Michelle too. She had used role playing before to reveal different aspects of herself. This time I was being shown that she had experience with loss, longing, and loneliness. Her confident New York girl side was a real part of her, but she also was vulnerable in ways I hadn’t seen before.
There was also a secondary issue for which I was being clued in by her new appearance and clothes. She was imagining a more mature version of herself and how she wished to present that. I wanted to discuss all this but I couldn’t until after the game was ended. Fortunately Michelle was an expert at devising an exit.
Erica said, “It’s really time for you to go. I have to stay here a bit longer to catch up on some things.”
When we started out of the room she said, “Damn, I almost forgot these.” She retrieved her underpants from the floor and smiled at me while putting them on.
She gave me a warm hugs and kisses send-off at the door. “See me soon, please?”
“Wednesday evening ok?”
“I can do that.”
“Erica. . .”
She gave me an aching look that I wished I didn’t have to witness. In the elevator on the way down I felt bad about having to leave now. Then I thought, get a grip, this is ridiculous.
I hoped Michelle would come down quickly and she did. I said, “Michelle, what are you doing to me?”
“I’m sorry, I know how intense these things can get. But I’m here for you right now.”
I felt better and I put my arm around her waist. “You’ve also got that amazing underwear.”
She patted her hip, “I knew that would be a big hit.”
“I think I have some ideas about you now, I’d call it what you are telling me about yourself through Erica.
“I think I know what you mean. Let’s get something to eat and we can talk about it.”
During dinner I found out that I guessed exactly what she had been thinking regarding loneliness and her image of her own future.
[Chapter 3 will be about a different game.]
Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32