Chapter 1
Clara Norris was the kind of young woman who made most of her female friends envious.
Not only was Clara a shapely, gorgeous young woman in her middle twenties. In addition, she had achieved a great deal of success in marriage. She had moved to Miami Beach mainly because of a terrible sinus condition. And mainly because she loved it where it was warm. She had lived most of her life in the East, and had gotten tired of the cold, which always seemed to cause her health problems. She was not basically a robust girl in cold climates, however, when she went to Miami Beach to recuperate, she always felt better. She finally decided to move there. As a practicing nurse, she immediately got connected with a hospital. While there, she met Dr. Louis Norris, who was a successful physician. The two got along well from the beginning, and soon Louis Norris, one of the prize catches of the entire hospital, a man the young unmarried nurses were always swooning over, married her.
After the marriage, she immediately abandoned her activities as a nurse. They bought a home in Fort Lauderdale, after which she set up housekeeping. They hadn't any children yet, but Louis Norris was hopeful of having some. He kept telling his wife, however, that at that point in time he was extremely busy. He wanted to wait until his practice was on the kind of a footing that he wanted before he started getting involved with bringing up a family.
Even though in a certain sense Clara had every reason to be satisfied, she also felt dissatisfied. Yes, she had the beautiful home, a handsome, successful, intelligent husband, a beautiful car, and a membership in a country club. But she wanted more. For one thing, she wanted to have her husband at home more evenings.
Sometimes when they would be sitting and having a Martini, she would listen as he got a call to return to the hospital.
"It's as if they can't operate that place without you," she said disgustedly one evening.
"That's just the way it is, my dear," he shrugged. "It's part of the life of a doctor."
Over the course of the last few weeks, Clara had taken to playing a good deal of tennis at the local country club. She wondered if any of that had to do with Fred, the young tennis pro. She had watched Fred play in a few major tournaments. He would have been one of the top players in the professional ranks, she had heard time and again, had it not been for the fact that he was not willing to work quite as hard as some of the more industrious players. Instead, Fred enjoyed having a good time, and every time that Clara played tennis with him, she wondered just when he sould seek to make a move with her. She talked with some of her female friends, women who were less attractive than she, and on every occasion he had made a pass at them. She kept wondering just why he had not made a pass at her. Clara did not know exactly what she would do if and when that happened. But she did know that as a female she was curious to at least find out what his approach would be. And she couldn't quite understand why he would make passes at other women and not make them at her.
One afternoon following a lesson, they walked off the court together.
"Your backhand is really improving," Fred smiled, running his fingers through his blonde, wavy hair. "As a matter-of-fact, your overall game is getting better. I like your forehand better, too."
"That's good o hear. Maybe after all this effort I'm gonna actually start to master this game."
"Just maybe you will," Fred nodded smilingly. "At any rate, how about me buying you a drink?"
"I'd like that."
They walked into the bar together, sitting down at an empty table. Fred immediately ordered a Martini. As Fred was halfway through with his Martini, he looked into Clara's eyes.
"You sure are a beautiful woman," he said. "You've got a certain class. The thing I like is that even though you've got it made and you're married to a prominent physician, you don't like to act better than anyone else. I like that."
"I don't feel I have any reason to act that way," she shrugged.
"I've known a lot of women with a lot less than you who have. It's refreshing to run into a gal who's got her feet on the ground."
"Thank you."
"Listen, I don't have any more lessons this afternoon. How about moving on to my place. We can have another drink there."
"Well, I guess I can do that," Clara said hesitantly, her heart pumping furiously.
"You sound like you're in doubt."
"It's not every day that i go to another man's place."
"I see. I mean, I don't want to subject you to any serious traumas. It's up to you whether you want to go or not. I'm not trying to force you. I want you to understand that. You're a beautiful woman, and I happen to respect you. So I don't want to try and bully you."
"Nobody bullies me," Clara smiled. "Well, all right. Let's go. As a matter-of-fact, I'm looking forward to it."
Fred smiled, gulping down the rest of his drink. They got up from the table and left the bar together.
He drove a late-model Porsche sports car. Clara followed behind him in her brand-new Cadillac Seville, which her husband had purchased for her only a few weeks earlier. She tried to rid herself of feelings of guilt. She had never done anything like this before, but, then again, she'd never felt this measure of desperation before either. The thing that got her was the way that she felt over the long absences of her husband, the week-end work, the evenings at the hospital the long, seemingly never-ending schedule. Here was a handsome young man who was available, and who wanted to spend some time with her. Just how far the relationship would go was something to be determined in the future. She knew that young Fred wanted to have sex with her. It had been obvious from the way that his eyes had focused on hers when he had asked her up to his place. She was no fool. She knew what he had in mind when he offered her a drink. But still she felt that she could break away if she wanted to. He would understand. Of course, the question that remained was whether she wanted to break away. She found herself stealing glances several times at his crotch, observing just how significant an erection he had as he sat there at the bar sipping the drink.
As for her, she felt waves of excitement throughout her whole body. She felt the wild sparks of titillation in her pussy, and she knew that she was badly in need of sex. It was just a question of how and when. Whether she would attentively wait for her husband, or whether instead, she would adventure for the first time outside of the matrimonial bed with another man.
Fred lived in a bright, cheerful condominium overlooking the waters of the Atlantic Ocean. There was a slight breeze stirring in the air as they pulled their cars to a stop inside of the subterranean garage beneath the building.
They took an elevator up to Fred's eighth-floor condominium. Her heart palpitated nervously all the while. She kept thinking that she would be seen by someone, and she didn't want that. Not when gossip was as widespread as it was throughout her chain of acquaintances.
Fred locked the door behind them, then walked over toward the wet bar.
"Nice place you have here," Clara said nervously as she sat down on the living room sofa.
"Thanks. I like it," he said.
He fixed the Martinis, then brought them over toward her. He held out one of the glasses, which she accepted. Fred sat down next to her on the sofa. She could tell from how closely he had chosen to sit to her just how fast he was choosing to come on. That coincided with everything that Clara had heard. She'd been told that when Fred was in the mood, he would come on ever so boldly. She still had enough confidence in herself, however, to where, if necessary, she could turn him off. But as he sat next to her and looked with great admiration into her eyes, she was finding that she did not want to turn him off. She kept thinking that it would be great to go to bed with him. He had one of those stares that could undress a woman. As a matter-of-fact, that was exactly what he was doing. He was mentally undressing her, and they both knew it.
She took a couple of nervous sips from the glass. Her fingers were trembling slightly as they pressed against the glass.
"Loosen up," Fred said softly. "It's not all that bad, honey. This is just nature taking its course. I know how busy some of these doctors are. Your husband's really busy, isn't he?"
"Yes, he is. But I don't want to talk about him. Not now."
"I understand. What a beautiful woman you are. Hell, you've got your physical urges. You sure do. You've got the same urges we've all got. You need some attention. I can see that you need some attention. And I'm willing to give it to you."
He leaned forward and slid his fingers through her hair. He moved his fingers back and forth, letting them caress Clara's hair. As his fingers kept on sliding through her hair, he pushed his lips forward. He let them collide with her tips.
Their lips remained firmly locked against one another for several long minutes. Fred then released his lips from Clara's. He pushed his tongue inside of her mouth. He engaged her in a wild, devastating French kiss. Back and forth he kept twisting his tongue, driving it with enthusiasm, allowing it to penetrate against her tongue.
Their tongues worked in a wild wave of sexual energy. The French kiss had r brought Clara out of her state of nervousness. Now, all of the sudden, she was loosening up. She was feeling much better about everything. She liked the fact that Fred was this energetic, and wanted so badly to provide her with the proper amount of sexual attention. After all, she needed it at that point. She was feeling a tremendous amount of nervousness over not getting properly satisfied. Now she had a panting, anxious young man in her very midst, one who was willing to give her all the attention that he could.
Fred jumped up quickly from the sofa after finishing the French kiss. Without saying anything to her, he immediately began to remove his clothes. He pulled off his white tennis shirt, then started to tug at his white tennis shorts. Before she knew, it, he was down to his shorts and his tennis shoes. He untied his shoes, kicking them off. He slid his socks off his feet, then tossed them aside. His last move was to slide his shorts down his legs, then off of him altogether. He reached down and began to toy with his long, hard, ever-so-throbbing penis. His eyes widened as he looked at Clara.
"Just look what's waiting for you," he several times.
"I love touching your nipples," he said. "This feels so nice. Damned, this is exciting."
Fred dropped down to his knees. He reached out and grabbed hold of her panties. He held onto the elastic, snapping it against her body several times. He then began to slide her panties down her legs.
"I'm gonna take everything off," he exclaimed. "Baby doll, we're gonna have ourselves a nice fuck. A glorious screw."
He kept sliding the panties down her legs until he pulled them off of her altogether. As she kicked off her panties, she looked longingly at Fred one more time.
"Kiss me," she whispered.
Fred moved toward her in a flash. He reached out with both hands, gripping against her breasts. He loved the solid impact of his fingers making steady contact with her tits. As he held on tightly, he pushed his lips against hers. He released his lips, then slipped his tongue inside of her mouth. Back and forth he worked his tongue, allowing it to manipulate steadily against her tongue. He loved the quick, stroking excitement of his tongue making sharp impact against hers. said. "Come on, honey. Follow my example. Get up and get undressed. Baby, I want you to strip. You want to strip. You know you want to."
Clara finished her drink. She jumped up quickly from the sofa. She knew down deep that Fred was telling the truth. She did want to undress. She wanted to completely let herself go with him. But the one thing she was fearful about was that she also would be plagued by a sense of guilt. In order for her to have a successful, she knew, she had to throw off all feelings of guilt. She had to concentrate on enjoying herself in the fullest possible measure.
She removed her white tennis uniform after she got up quickly. She pulled and tugged at it ever so nervously, then finally removed it altogether. She leaned over and untied her shoes, kicking them off. She stood before Fred in her panties and bra. He looked at her and whistled.
"Boy, do you ever look great," he said. "You're some kind of beautiful woman."
Fred moved quickly toward her. He undid her bra straps, then let her bra drop down toward the rug. Fred reached out and caressed her breasts. Back and forth his fingers danced, sliding against her nipples
When Fred released his tongue from her mouth, he looked at her and smiled.
"Let's get ourselves a nice shower," he said. "Our bodies are still pretty sweaty from the tennis. After we clean them off, then we'll romp in the bedroom. How's that for a scenario?"
"It sounds like you've got it all arranged."
"I sure as hell have. You've never had sex with anybody but your husband, have you? I mean, since you were married."
"How could you tell?"
"It shows. You wouldn't be this tight otherwise. Just let yourself go, honey. like you said before, forget about him."
"I'm doing the best I can."
To prove her point, she leaned forward, and let her lips plunge against his.