Chapter 3
The minutes ticked away into hours, and Jenni continued to stare at the phone. Finally, she made herself go into the bathroom, but she came back and took the phone in with her. She turned the volume all the way up, and began to shower.
Sliding her sudsed hands over her body, she began to croon softly as she caressed her breasts and belly, and her fingers moved to her slit and her clit. She remembered again and again how she had given Mathew head, and the pleasure she had felt when she had thought he was sixty-nining with her, and entering her ass. She groaned as orgasms seared through her, and she slid down to her knees as she moved nearer and nearer a climax. Then, the phone rang, and she clawed the glass door open and pulled the receiver to her ear.
She heard a man's voice, but it was not Mathew's. It was a salesman trying to sell her window bars. Laughing sadly, she hung up.
She did not have the energy to move back toward her distanced climax, and she left the shower.
Her body half-dried, she put the phone on the bed, and dropped limply beside it. The light gleamed from the beads of water clinging to her flushed flesh. Her breasts rose and fell, her nipples erect.
She turned her head to look at the phone, and she chewed the inside of her hp. She had given up trying to understand why she was reacting the way she was, and now she was simply hoping that Mathew would call, and waiting for that call.
She dozed off, woke, dozed off, and found that she had lost all track of time. She thought about getting up and having something to eat, but she could not muster the necessary energy. One hand shifted atop her abdomen, and her fingers began to toy with the moist strands of her plume. She smiled to herself as her eyes began to close, and her fingers moved unhurriedly over her lush mound. Her breathing deepening, she eased her fingertips up and down her tingling slit.
Her legs shifted, and her juices gleamed in her slit. Her fingers pressed a little harder, and the tongue pink of her cleave showed. She brushed her hair back with the back of her other hand as her face moved from side to side. Her fingers glided through the sleek wetness of her splay, and her lips parted to a ragged moan. Her fingertips met the pulse of her clit, and she tensed. Her body trembled to the joy that flowed through her, and the tension went out of her.
Smiling weakly, she brushed at her face again as her fingers shifted within her cunny. Then the phone rang and she jumped, sitting up. She stared at the phone for a moment, and then took a deep breath before lifting the receiver.
"He-hello?" she said timidly, and she smelled her scent on the. hand holding the phone. She hoped Mathew would also think her scent was pleasing.
"Jenni?"
She almost cried out with anguished disappointment upon hearing Jack's voice instead of Mathew's.
"Jenni? You there?"
"Uh, yes, Jack," she said with a shaky voice.
"I was wondering if you feel like dinner tonight? At Les Filles?"
"I ... I'm not feeling too well, Jack. Sorry. Maybe later in the week?" she said softly.
"Sure. Not feeling too bad, I hope. I mean ... after last night."
"Oh, nothing to do with that," she said with a nervous laugh. "No, just the flu or something. I'll call you later in the week, and ... and we can get together," she said, hoping he took the hint to stay away for the rest of the week without becoming curious.
"Okay. Take care," he said, and they hung up.
She sagged back, letting out a deep breath. She felt pangs of guilt-not so much over her he, but due to Jack's trusting acceptance of it, and his concern.
"Damn! I'm acting like an idiot!" she shouted at herself, and slammed her fist down against her knee. "I'll call him back, and stop this nonsense about Mathew," she told herself, and forced her hand toward the phone.
The phone rang as she started to lift the receiver, and she let out a gasp, pulling her hand back as if bumed. Her heart pounding, she stared at the phone with dilated eyes. Her breath came raggedly between her parted lips as the phone continued to ring. Her fingers uncurled as her hand eased downward, and they gripped the plastic that was still warm from her grasp. The receiver lifted, and the buttons popped up, opening the connection. "Y-yes?" she said, forcing the words out of her dry mouth.
"This is Mathew," he said, and she sat up straight at the husky warmth of his voice, her breasts heaving with her excitement, her flesh flushed with it.
"Yes." She nodded without being aware of it.
"Meet me tomorrow," he said. "Eleven-thirty. Reardon Plaza. Room twelve-o-seven. Got that?"
"I-yes," she gulped, and the line went dead.
Her hand lowered as if the weight of the receiver had grown, and she stared at it. He had not asked how she was, only announcing himself, and telling her when and where to meet him. She would not go. That was all there was to it. She slammed the receiver down. And she realized that she would go regardless of what she would tell herself.
She looked toward the window, and saw that night was falling. The clock told her that it was six o'clock.
"Six to ... Seven-seventeen-and-a-half hours," she murmured as she realized how long she would have to wait. "Or did he mean p.m.?" she wondered with an expression of alarm, realizing that she would then have to wait more than a full day.
Shaking off the apprehension, she jumped up and began to go through her closet and drawers, looking at items and discarding them. For the next hour she tried on different clothing, trying to find what she thought he would like best. Finally, she decided to wear the best choice while shopping in the morning, hoping that she would then find something better.
Suddenly ravenous, she ate, her plush fanny twisting around on the kitchen chair. She moved around, grinning broadly, and finally began to tire as the adrenaline rush took its toll. She was glad for that, not wanting to go without sleep before meeting him.
Still, when she lay down after setting the alarm she could not fall asleep. The memories of the party and of going down on Mathew played over and over in her mind. Her hand wandered toward her damp slit and the pulse of her clit, but she forced it back through an effort of will. She would not lessen her arousal. And that battle wearied her to the point where she fell asleep. The memories turned into dreams that expanded on them, and she moaned. Her hand, freed of the restraints of her will, curled into the throbbing yield of her cunny.
When the alarm went off, she stared at it uncomprehendingly. Despite her hours of sleep, she felt spent. Forcing herself up, she reached out to turn off the alarm and saw traces of her dried juices on her fingers. Understanding why she felt spent, she remembered the dreams, and she shivered with longing for them to become real.
Her body bathed in water scented with oils and powders, and her hair washed and prepared, she applied perfume to her pulse points. She looked in the mirror, inspecting her appearance from every angle. Her body glowed, the alabaster flesh flushed with a rosy hue. She touched the full teardrops of her breasts, which were swollen, but she kept herself from touching the erect, shell-pink nubs of her nipples. Her hand trembling, she brushed the wispy curlings of her muff, and the light gleamed from them.
Wishing she knew more about his tastes,. she chose her underwear. She slid a pair of sheer, lilac panties up her long legs until the silk waistband rested atop her full hips. The nylon stretched down between her hips to a narrow V to cling to her full mound, pressing the chestnut curlings to it, and in another V that bared the outsides of her rounded ass cheeks, and pulled into their deep cleavage.
A garter belt of white lace around her slender waist, she drew stockings up her shapely calves to just above the centers of her full thighs. She debated wearing a bra, but decided against it.
She slipped into a shirt dress of pastel gauze, and then into heels. She turned before the mirror, and the soft cloth billowed out and up from her legs. The light behind her silhouetted her legs against the fine fabric, and her nipples and aureolas made the palest of shadows against the cloth that sensuously draped her body.
She stared at the clock, amazed that it was only ten o'clock. She had abandoned the idea of shopping, knowing she was too nervous. Now she had to wait, and the minutes seemed like hours. She stood, not wanting to wrinkle the dress, and her entire body tremored with arousal.
She arrived at the Reardon Plaza building at eleven, worried that she would be held up by traffic. She ordered coffee in the lobby shop, but did not drink it. Her eyes were fixed on the slow turnings of the second and minute hands of the wall clock. At eleven-twenty, she could no longer sit still, and she went up in the elevator. Trembling, she had a moment's doubt, but it vanished as the doors opened.
She felt dizzy as she moved along the hallway, following the numbers on the door. Twelve-o-seven was the last office, the end of the hall being dominated by a large window. She stared at the door, the sunlight gleaming from her hair and shining through the thin stuff of her dress. She moistened her lips as she looked at her watch, counting off the seconds. Her cunt was pulsing, and her clit quivered with a deep, constant throb.
The second hand touched twelve, and it was eleven-thirty. She took a deep breath, and knocked. The blood was roaring in her ears. Receiving no reply, she started to knock again, but let her hand touch the doorknob. She turned it, but the door was locked. Her heart began to pound, and she knocked again. There was no answer! He had meant p.m. She would have to wait another twelve hours! A little sound of helpless frustration escaped her, and her head moved from side to side. She twisted the doorknob, pushing at the door. She could not survive another twelve hours of such tension without becoming a nervous wreck! She couldn't. She pounded on the door, gasping, and she sagged against it with gasping moans. "Your watch is apparently fast" She spun around, her eyes moist, and she smiled with surprised delight as she saw him standing there. His eyes dropped along her body, which was clearly silhouetted by the light coming from behind her. He moved forward without expression, his eyes on his keys as he took them from his pocket.
She took a step back, and she watched his strong hands as he unlocked the door. He went into the office without a glance or a word. Uncertain, she moved into the doorway and followed him inside.