Chapter 11
THE FOLLOWING TUESDAY EVENING I mustered my courage and dialed Judson Edwards' number. It wasn't in the book, but information had given me the dope.
"Hello," he said, pleasantly, in that deep virile voice.
"This is Diane," I said, my throat dry. This was the second time I had ever called a man. I could get hurt again.
"Well!" he answered, very pleased.
"Just wanted to let you know I'm now legally free," I said, almost dryly. "Sorry I was stand-offish when you came in to the office the other day. It hurts to eat crow, but I do apologize."
The legal papers had been signed on Monday, in the attorney's office. John wasn't fighting the divorce. I had been assured that it would breeze through the courts.
When he didn't answer right away, I went on. "I suppose you're all dated up, though. I hear some of the local gals are on your trail."
At a newspaper office one hears most of the scandal
-more than is printed in the columns. I was getting talked about, too. And propositioned. Several characters, married and single, in the advertising department evidently thought a recent divorcee was in need, and they were so right.
He chuckled. "I've been thinking too much about a certain girl-you."
I felt a sharp thrill. I laughed. "Are you planning a campaign?"
"Yes. I've tried to call you, but your number's not listed. I can understand why. That's why I dropped by the office. Incidentally, you're very decorative there."
"They call me Miss Bountiful," I said, giggling.
"I can understand why."
"Well, I'm tickled that you have noticed me, a little," I said, as provocatively as possible.
He laughed again, pleasantly. "I'd like to start this campaign soon. What about tomorrow night?"
My heart thumped; my thighs felt warm and itchy. I remembered when I had seen him that first time.
"All right," I said. "Any idea where you plan to go?"
I caught the excitement in his voice when he answered. "What about dinner and dancing at the new supper club?"
"Pulling all the stops, huh?" He knew I'd love it.
"For a girl like you, the best is none too good, Diane."
"Flattery will get you somewhere," I laughed. "What time?"
We chatted awhile longer. It was all set for eight o'clock. Ob, I felt wonderful. I was happy now that I hadn't sneaked a date with him; this was right, proper. We could appear in public. I'd be proud to be seen with him anywhere.
The Cocateel was agreeably shadowy and intimate. We dined by candlelight. He picked a table for two way back in a dark corner, near the dance floor.
He looked good in a suit; some outdoor types don't. He was at least thirty-five, which I didn't mind; he had a smoothness of manner that reminded me of Paul's, except that Jud was more virile, more of a man. Jud had been around a little; I wasn't out with a greenhorn.
I was beginning to realize how infrequently John had taken me out. A girl needs soft lights and sweet music and dancing once in a while. I was shivery all over.
I had bought a new dress for the occasion, short-skirted, with two tiny shoulder strings holding up the bodice. I'd had it reshaped at the shop to contain my oversized breasts, and the way his dark eyes lingered on them, I knew I hadn't gone to all that effort in vain.
During the meal we had time to get acquainted; he liked his work, he liked the outdoors. Sparkling burgundy added to my feeling of 'lan; I felt glowing. We didn't mention the time I had called him and propositioned him in the cocktail lounge; he apparently wanted to start out new.
Couples were starting to dance to the juke box; I begged him with my eyes to take me out on the floor, and naturally, he did. The first dance with a guy can be very illuminating, and this one was. He was strong, agile, and his aura of maleness made me all fluttery inside.
I nestled my titties on his chest, of course. The other couples were dancing close, so pretty soon we were cheek to cheek; my hand trembled in his firm, sure grip. His arm around my waist had a delightfully possessive tightness. I couldn't resist flattening my hips to his loins. I was glad I had lost more weight; I'd never be slender, though-or exactly pretty, but my mirror had told me I was still young enough to be fresh and healthy-looking. I had curves some gals would never have. And if you think they don't count you're just fooling yourself!
"Having a good time, Diane?"
"Wonderful, honey."
Corny? Well, maybe, but it was like that old expression, feelings counted more than words. I was buoyant with anticipation. I let my girlish needs communicate; an inward sway of my bottom, a squeeze of my hand, a firmer press of my boobies on his chest.
I felt the rise of his prick under his trousers. I shivered.
"Let's get out of here," he said, huskily.
"I'm with you, Jud."
"Keep your eyes straight ahead."
Our former rather light mood prevailed out in his car. I left my light jacket open so he could look at my titties, and I failed to object when he left the dash lights on bright. I sat close and didn't tug at my dress at the hemline. He ogled my slightly parted and nyloned thighs so closely he nearly backed into another car; I laughed.
His smile was warm, intimate, hungry. "Am I supposed to be a gentleman on our first date?"
"Oh, be as impulsive as you wish, Jud."
"My impulse right now is to drive to my apartment."
"I'm not screaming a protest, honey."
Once out on the highway that led into town, his right arm slid around my shoulders. We weren't a couple of teen-agers. I encouraged him by nestling my head on his shoulder and squeezing my left thigh against his leg. My thighs just accidentally drifted open a bit further.
He pulled up in front of a new, modern four-plex. I was so anxious for a kiss, he hardly had the lights off and motor cut before I was breathing on his throat.
The way he held me, with sureness and that certain possessive manner he had used on the dance floor, sent hot waves zipping through my body. He took my eager mouth the same way; my lips fluttered open and I shivered again. He nibbled at my mouth, tasting it, flirting the tip of his tongue around; I wormed as close to him as I could.
When his tongue finally swept inside, deep and rough and virile, I felt a wave of longing so fierce and sharp I shuddered. My legs opened wider, without conscious effort, and cozy stings of desire heated my whole being, from toes to fingertips. This big, brawny guy had it for me; I had known it since the first time I had glimpsed him, out there in the woods; I had been dreaming about him, I had even made a fool of myself over him.
I coiled my tongue around his; I boldly caught his free hand and drew it to my burning titties. The crazy steering post was in the way, but he made out all right. No more of this shy, meek business; I was crazy about him and I had to show it.
I felt my nipples poke out against the hug of my bra, and sweet tingles centered in my pussy. I touched his trousers; oh, they were standing up, way up. Shaping the outline of his prick seemed the most natural thing I had ever done.
His tongue stroked delectably, slowly, as the heat mounted. His fingers slipped inside my d'colletage, inside my bra, onto the bare, silky flesh-right where I wanted them. Funny thing how one of my shoulder strings came untied, at just the right time. And wouldn't you know, I had a front-opening bra.
In seconds my right tittie was receiving generous helpings of hot, searing caresses, and my tender nipple swelled, stinging, burning. I gave and gave; all the hungers I had banked inside for so long, that Paul hadn't really fed, blazed through my being.
"Damn!" he breathed, into my open lips. "Damn ... let's get inside."
I nodded, shooting my tongue into his mouth as a further promise.
When we climbed out of the car, his hand on my arm, I had the decency to draw my jacket over my bulging breasts, but no one was around to care. As soon as the door was open, I shrugged out of the covering. One lamp burned at the end of a comfortable-looking sofa.
Then, it was almost like on the dance floor, but with interesting additions-his tongue in my mouth, my boobies being cuddled. The wine sang in my veins. I curved my hips against the tent in his trousers. Feverish tremors cascaded along my body. He might think me a hussy, but I was willing to risk it.
He released my mouth and whispered.
"You sweet, adorable creature!"
"Just keep on keeping on, honey," I answered. Now my other shoulder string was undone, my bra wide open. He looked down at my titties, while he caressed them, and I felt the tent pole grow more rigid.
"These are mine now. You know that, don't you, darling?"
"Yes!" I cried, shivering. My panties were moist; my whole body ached for complete possession. The urgency wasn't only in my pussy; it was all over. I was aglow with need. I curved my burning mounds forward.
"Honey, you can have them any time you like!" I breathed.
Brown fingers on tender nipples, making them spike, making them swell out, like ripe grapes; rich tingles coursing along my body; the nearness of him, the man-odor that seemed more potent than anyone's; a rising, voluptuous fever; seeing his mouth come down to take a burning peak into his mouth; his hands lifting my shortie skirt, sliding in on the hot flesh, whipping my need higher, higher.
I shuddered and gripped him and the inevitable happened. The tide of my girlish yearnings broke. I gasped and panted, pushing hard against his hardness, and just as his hand claimed my pantied cunt, I went off. And I do mean, off!
"Ohhhhh ... oh ... oh ... ohhhh!" I cried.
It was dreamy and wild and sparkly; my nerves simply exploded.
He swept me to the sofa, cuddling my puss, and the heavenly quirks tossed my body, jerking my hips in coital thrusts making my titties throb.
I sank back on the sofa, still panting, finding my hand on the rise of his trousers.
"I didn't realize," he whispered, into my parted lips.
"I ... I'm sorry, honey."
He nipped at my lower lip, his hand still cuddling my pussy. "You sweet, young thing ... don't you worry about that! I'm highly nattered."
Impulsively, I drew his ear down to my mouth. "Honey, just play with me and play with me! I'm starved!"
"It's been a long time for me, too, darling."
I giggled, pressing his trousers. "We aren't going to be too serious about things, though, are we?"
His fingers wandered along my opened thighs, on the yielding flesh. "No. A sense of humor is something I didn't have ... before."
I knew he was talking about his previous marriage.
"I didn't, either," I said.
He smiled. He looked down where my nylons banded my thighs, at the exposure of thigh between them and my hiked-back skirt.
"I don't have any imagine nighties for you to wear, Diane."
I arched my breasts toward his mouth. "I guess we can make out without one-this time!"
His lips opened, taking a taut nipple inside. I quaked, lacing my fingers in his hair. His fingers danced along my legs, seeking out sensitive places.
I know I won't need Terri any more, or Sally or anyone else, I thought airily. But I still have to prove to him, and myself, that I'm not a Lesbian.