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Rated: 18+ · Other · Melodrama · #1826357
Short story on how things may not seem as they really are.
The moment she came out of the kitchen to begin her shift, the eyes of every male in the place glanced her way. Even though she wasn’t young, late thirties or early forties, she had curves in all the right places. She stood approximately five feet three inches tall, 110 pounds, flowing red hair, emerald green eyes, a devilish smile, and was called Scarlet. Many of her customers, especially the males, just dropped in for coffee and small talk because she was a good looker and had a way about her that made them feel at home.

Why she chose to strike up a conversation with me took me completely by surprise. After all, I wasn’t any Adonis nor did I consider myself good-looking. I was just this skinny twenty-year old guy, with a slight case of acne.  But, I was on my coffee break and, let’s face it, what guy wouldn’t want to spend fifteen minutes or so chatting with a gal that looked like her. My day had not been going well, I still had two hours left before my shift was over, and so, I thought, why not? Both her company and conversation were welcome. While we chatted about this and that, eventually the conversation took a surprising twist. Some of her questions caught me completely off guard. 

Questions of a personal nature like: Whether or not I had a girlfriend? Did I still live at home? If not at home, did I have my own apartment? If I did have my own apartment, do I have a roommate?  Gee, I thought to myself, why all the questions? What could this beautiful woman possibly have in mind? I told her that, while I did not have a steady girlfriend, I had dated this one girl a few times but the relationship did not seem to be going anywhere.  No, I did not live at home but have my own apartment without any roommate. As a matter of fact, I said:  “My place is just a few blocks from here.” One thing led to another and before I knew it, she was asking if she might come by when her shift ended for a cup of coffee. Now I had to ask myself, was this really happening to me? Does she really want to come by for a cup of coffee? But then, being the looker she was, who was I to turn her away? My curiosity had been aroused. Who knows I might even get lucky!

Shortly after she entered the apartment, I offered her a cup of coffee but she said, “No thanks, maybe later”, as she walked over and sat on the edge of the bed. A few minutes later, she said she was hot and after I apologized that the apartment did not have air-conditioning, she proceeded to open the top two buttons of her blouse showing just enough cleavage to make the situation interesting. What is she thinking?  She started fanning herself and just as I was about to start up a conversation with her she motioned, by patting the edge of the bed, for me to come sit by her.

Was this really happening to me?  Before I knew it, I was next to her on the bed kissing the nape of her neck and then her luscious full red lips while, at the same time, fumbling with the buttons of her blouse she hadn’t undone and then the hooks on her bra. Just as things were starting to heat up, she stopped, stood up, and stepped away from the bed. She looked at me and said, wouldn’t you be more comfortable if you removed some of your clothes and while she was saying it began taking her clothes off as well. 
OK, I said to myself, I can do this. When we were both fully undressed, I looked at her and just took in all her beauty.  I was at a loss for words - her beauty was breathtaking! Before I could say another word, just like that, in a flash we were in bed next to each other, making love several times before we rolled over exhausted.

She sat up in the bed, lit a cigarette and was quiet for a few minutes before she decided to speak. When she did speak, the first question she asked was whether or not I enjoyed it? Did I enjoy it? Who wouldn’t enjoy making love to this beautiful creature! Naturally, I said yes. It had been quite a long time since I had been with anyone let alone someone as beautiful and well built as she was. I couldn’t have enjoyed it more.  “Good, she said, but we need to talk.” OK, I said as I got up, and went to the bathroom. I came back into the room and started making coffee so that we could sit and talk. She got out of bed, gathered up her clothing and went to the bathroom while the coffee was brewing. When she returned she asked that I sit down so that we could discuss a few things. “I’m concerned about my daughter. She is a senior in high school and has been seeing an older man.  I am sure, she said, that it is just a passing phase, but I want her to refrain from having sex until the evening of her marriage. I don’t want her to make the same mistake I made. I was foolish and had a child while I was still in my teens and look where I am today. Don’t misunderstand, I am happy, she said, but I want more for her.” 

Now I must admit, this was not the conversation I thought we might be discussing after what we had just experienced. Surely one night in the sack with me did not qualify me as being the one to seek advice from regarding how to make sure her daughter remains a  virgin!  Besides, if her daughter was in high school, what could I do? I had just graduated myself two short years ago. What do I know about when girls should or should not have sex! I’m a guy – we live for sex! That’s just what we do! 

But, my curiosity had been aroused! As I poured myself a cup of coffee, I turned towards her and asked, “Coffee, and if you don’t mind my asking, “What does your daughter’s sex life have to do with me?” She said, “No thanks on the coffee, I really must go.”  Slipping into her jacket, she walked towards the door, turned and said, “Listen, anytime you need sex, come see me, you know where I work, and I will be there for you, but?”

Whoa! Where did that come from? Was I that good? But! But what?

She came back over to me, slipped a piece of paper into my hand, turned, and walked back to the door, reached down to grab the doorknob on the door and without missing a beat, turned to me and said as she opened the door, “But, under no circumstances are you to ever have sex with my daughter!” and then left the apartment.

I stood there dumbfounded for a minute or two before I remembered that she had given me a slip of paper.  I looked down at the piece of paper to see what it said. Written on it was her name and telephone number. It was only then, seeing her name, not Scarlet as I knew her, but her full name, that I realized who she was. “She was the mother of the girl I had been trying to get to first base with!”   
Irwin Lengel © Friday, November 16, 2011 All Rights Reserved
© Copyright 2011 peoplewatcher (ilengel at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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