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Changes occur, sometimes dramatically but more often subtly or nuanced rather than cataclysmic. A bond formed between Rachel and me. Not a chain inexorably linking us, but a sense that we were not just two individuals but a duet whose actions were choreographed either by reason or necessity.
Summer segued into a comfortable fall which abruptly became winter. My Nebraska upbringing girded me for harsh weather and a winter in Baltimore was hardly harsh compared to Nebraska. However, I was not prepared for the constant harping about ‘wet’ cold versus ‘dry’ cold. Rachel, who was from the south, always had a comment on the ‘chill’ in the air.
We spend more and more time together but did not make specific plans. I maintained a minimum wardrobe at Rachel’s, but I still kept my apartment. Also, we maintained the professional separation that working in the same office dictated. We did not arrive or leave together and did not confine our office socializing to only ourselves. For emphasis, I walked to and from work; Rachel arrived and departed at a credible offset in her decrepit sports car. We attended and left office functions separately and if one of us was not available to attend, the other always participated and mingled.
To co-workers and acquaintances our relationship was businesslike, platonic, innocent, and transparent. I maintained my prim and conservative everyday routine. Rachel continued to with her bohemian, quirky, yet responsible lifestyle. We aroused no suspicions. On the occasions we spent our off-hour time together, I caught the light rail and traveled to a pre-planned, out of the way stop, where we met.
Rachel maintained her routine of competing in races and triathlons; frequently leaving early on Friday and not returning for the weekend. I would occupy my time as I had done before I met Rachel. In all outward appearances, our lives were distinct and unattached, yet harmonized.
Our time together was comfortable, discreet, and passionate. In her place or mine, away from prying eyes or the curious, we indulged ourselves. We unabashedly shared our bodies our lusts and our desires. Afterwards we lay naked beneath the covers and talked of our dreams and drifted to sleep wrapped in each other’s arms. Rachel always fell asleep before me and awoke after I did. These moments or minutes, when she was asleep and yet we clung to each other were my Nirvana. The satisfaction I obtained by lying by her side joined only by the naked seam that that welded us from our calf to shoulder is difficult to describe; it was transcendental. The feel of her skin, her aroma, the sweat and stickiness carried me to dreamlike hinterland.
And so it went, week after week. We accommodated each other during Holidays. We both flew home for Christmas holiday, and both abruptly returned after two days. New Year’s we stayed warm together at a secluded cabin in upstate New York, far from friends, acquaintances, and gossips.
It flurried occasionally during early January but caused no real inconvenience and then the weather abruptly turned raw. Snow fell weekly 5 – 7 inches each time and then melted the next day or two. The sidewalks, streets and alleys were perpetual slush fields. My walk to work was an exercise in sliding on sidewalks and dodging skidding traffic in the roads. It was also a time of quiet pleasures. Long evenings nestled beneath covers followed by lazy, languid weekend days in libraries, coffee shops and out of the way bars.
The snow began in mid-afternoon the right before the three-day weekend. Most businesses closed early, and the roads were soon clogged with frustrated commuters. Rachel stared at
her car in the parking lot which was quickly vanishing beneath a blanket of snow. “I’ll never get through this shit” she said in disgust. “The first chunk of ice that falls off the bus in front of me will get wedged under my axle and hang me up” she proclaimed to the cluster of employees making their ways out the door. “I reckon I’ll take the train tonight.” She shook her head as she turned away from the door. As she did, she caught my eye with a wink and a wry smile.
I bundled myself in my coat and pulled my hat down over my ears and walked out the door. Rachel and two co-workers were standing on the stoop surveying the snow and the parking lot.
“Walking to the light rail?” someone asked me.
“I pass it on my way.” I declared, not anxious for company.
“Mind if we join you?” The rhetorical question excluded a negative answer.
“Sure.” With that the four of us slogged down the hill to the stop. At the shelter, the two tagalongs bid goodbye and crossed the track to catch the northbound train. Rachel stayed on the southbound side, and I continued up the hill. I was a block away when the warning horn blared and the ‘ding, ding, ding’ of the crossing guard bell made me look over my shoulder. I watched as the northbound train waited for the riders to exit and board and then pulled away. Huddled in a group still waiting for the southbound was Rachel. The crossing guard gate Şişli travesti lifted. Rachel cut herself away from the crowd and trudged across the tracks and up the hill towards me. My spirits rose.
That night we shared a survival dinner on the floor of my apartment complete with an assortment of cheeses and a bottle of red wine. When we finished the bottle, Rachel placed it on its side between us on the floor and spun it. The bottle slowed and came to rest with the tapered end pointing towards me. “You first!” Rachel announced and reached across to begin unbuttoning my blouse. I laughed as she continued until it lay on the floor. Rachel proceeded to follow suit. We did so until we lay on the floor naked and shivering.
Under the covers we shared each other with enthusiasm. Satisfied, with the snow sticking against the windows, we floated off to sleep. I awoke when Rachel shifted on her side with her hip leaning against me. The streetlights reflected off the falling snow vaguely illuminated the room. I mused as I stared into the dark, letting my imagination relive the events of the evening.
Rachel rolled on her back and snuggled under the cover. I closed my eyes with utter contentment as I slid over until our bodies touched and let my hand drop softly on her thigh.
“You’re awake” she whispered with a sense of surprise.
“Of course. I always wake up when you make the slighted move.”
There was a long pause. “I didn’t know that.” She commented as she placed her hands behind her head and stared blankly at the ceiling. A somber silence, more silent than two people sleeping, filled the room.
“What are you thinking?” Rachel asked.
“Nothing much. Just sort of daydreaming at night if that makes sense.”
“Do you mind if I say something.” Without waiting for an answer, Rachel continued, “I owe you an apology, but I don’t know how to start.”
“You don’t owe me an apology. I can’t think of what you need to apologize for.”
“Please. Let me continue. Since I first met you . . .” her voice trailed off, “I never wanted to do anything to hurt you.” She paused again and I sensed she was waiting for me to interject, but I didn’t. I leaned on my elbow and stared across at the faint silhouette of her profile.
She continued. “You are as good a companion as anyone could wish for. You are not clinging or demanding and do not fawn but always attentive. You have your own personality and sense of self. You do not require constant attention. You do not question my actions or my motives. You are a pleasure to be with. I do not deserve someone as you.”
From my vantage point at her side, I noticed a slight quiver. I felt something slipping away but I did not know what and I did not know how to stop it. I verged on panic but refused to give in to my emotions. Stoically, I waited for her to continue.
“I do not have a career. I have a job which lets me pursue what I want to do. I decided some time ago I needed more money than this job provided. Back in the past an opportunity presented itself and I took it. I do not regret it, but I feel I must explain it.”
This was not well rehearsed. A rambling stream of consciousness that attempted to explain something I did not know. I was uneasy but decided to wait and let everything unfurl.
Rachel drew a deep breath. “Have you ever wondered about the races I run? Why I need to stay overnight for a morning or afternoon event? Aren’t you the least bit curious?” She touched a nerve. I was curious; puzzled why she did not ask me to join her. Did she think I was that disinterested? I decided not to show my cards and let her play the hand.
“I was not always competing. Most of the times I did, but sometimes I did not. If I asked you to join once, you may have wanted to be asked all the time. I was not prepared to let you share that. As someone once commented; I sometimes buccaneered on the windward side of the law.”
“What do you mean by that?” I quizzed. I could tell she was grappling for an answer. “Why don’t you just say it?” I demanded. “Whatever it is won’t change by having me dragging it out of you.” I was taken aback by my sudden assertiveness. Rachel noticed and cringed, clutching the covers close to her.
A few seconds which seemed like hours passed. “I’m a call girl. I work for an escort service. In vulgar terms I am a whore. Not one to sit on the front stoop and solicit, but a whore none the less.”
I was a bit amazed but not astonished. I recalled a comment she made after my night with Visnow; “not the first time I engaged in a sexual enterprise for money”. At that time, it had a portentous ring, and it stuck in my memory ever since. Now as I revisited the comment, it took on a new meaning.
“You are shocked? I think I should leave now.” She rolled to the far edge of the bed, stood, and began to walk away.
“Wait! Don’t go! Don’t go!” I pleaded. In a panic I sprang from the bed and confronted her. A sudden desire swept over me. Never had I had such an urge. It was beyond normal lust Şişli travestileri or passion. I wanted to take her or have her take me, violently if necessary, and without quarter. Instead, we stared at each other our eyes pleading but not speaking. She raised a hand to push me aside, but I deflected it and pushed her back toward the bed. I countered her attempt to sidestep me and pushed her back onto the bed. I dropped beside her and pulled her towards me. She sobbed softly as her face nestled into my tummy. My desire raged. I did not want revenge but satisfaction. I needed to convince her it was OK, but I felt I needed to do it with force.
She cried and sobbed louder. I pounced on top of her, letting my body crush her into the mattress. I forced my leg between her thighs and buried my face on her neck. She neither accepted nor resisted as I bit her shoulder and neck and dug my fingernails into her back. I wanted to take her. I bit hard at her breasts and forced my fingers deep in her cunt. Rachel suddenly reacted. She fought back savagely, forcing my mouth from her, and rolling me off her. She used her strength to pin my shoulders to the bed and climb on me and straddled my hips. I struggled to throw her off but all the strength I could muster did not dislodge her from the superior position.
The sudden surge of energy now left me momentarily exhausted. I relaxed. When I did Rachel eased her body over mine and shimmied down, keeping her hands firmly on my arms. As she reached my crotch, I felt her hot breath ignite my cunt. I relented and lay back. Rachel eased my legs apart and placed her mouth firmly on my lips and sucked vigorously. I exploded. Pussy juice surged from my aroused hole, the million-nerve ending around my clit combusted like a barrage of fireworks. I screamed with ecstasy. Never had I come with such suddenness. It was like lightning, or a freight train had wasted me in the blink of an eye. Rachel depleted me. I could not move only enjoy the sensual aftermath and she lazily licked my ravaged pussy.
If she wanted to leave, I could not physically stop her. My emotions and stamina were fully expended. “Please stay” I begged. Rachel did not leave. She spread the covers over us and positioned her arm across me. I slipped off into a dreamless sleep.
I awoke after dawn. Rachel was still beside me lying staidly on her back. She had not slept but vigilantly kept watch and quietly wrestled with her revealed demons. The muted light accentuated her visage. She did not speak; emotionless or resolute described her countenance. I turned on my side, rested my head on my arm and tried to assess the situation. Did our relationship deteriorate so rapidly? I was confused but decided to be as nonchalant as possible.
“What you thinking?” I asked as I casually extended a finger and traced lazy circled around her bellybutton. Her muscles twitched each time my finger arced across her lower belly, but her facial expression did not change. “Must be something deep.” I drew my finger out to the pronounced bump of her hip bone. Idly my finger found its way to the channel formed where her thigh met her abdomen and glided slowly towards the pinnacle of the delta of Venus. I reached the apex and paused for a second and then followed the shallow channel up her far side. At the far point of her pubic patch, I changed direction to brush the top edge of the soft hair. Having completed my voyage around the perimeter, I reversed course and retraced the path. I continued a few more circuits hoping for a reaction from Rachel but there was none.
“May I ask a question then?” without waiting for a reply I continued, “How did you get started?”
“My boyfriend” was the curt reply. “He was never really satisfied with my performance. He complained that I was too conservative; not adventuresome; too bland.” I almost gasped. I considered Rachel to be one of the most sexually liberated persons I ever met. What did her boyfriend want?
She continued, “He met a couple that was into open relationships. They wanted us to join them for a sexual free-for-all. I was never opposed to experimentation, but this made me feel inadequate as if I could not accommodate his sexual appetites without outside help. I reluctantly agreed.”
“We rented a small cabin in the Poconos for a weekend. For me, it was a never-ending blowjob and always an encore performance before a live audience. It seemed like I was always giving head to somebody as the spectators cheered me on. For my boyfriend it was a great liberating sexual adventure. His fondest memory was beating off with the other girl as I sucked and fucked her boyfriend.”
“That was the start. He routinely schedule threesomes at the house. The men were acquaintances he met on-line. When he tired of watching me with strangers, he arranged for women to be brought in. I only knew them by single names like Tiffany or Monique.”
“I never got over the feeling I was auditioning or performing before a hidden camera. When he accepted a position in Chicago, I had Travesti şişli tired of him and did not want to follow him. He went without me.” This comment jarred a memory from an early conversation. He left to practice in a bigger city, and she did not want to leave. However, when they crossed paths, they would get together. I wondered how often they made those connections.
“When he left these sexual escapades ended. I resumed a more or less normal routine; the occasional pick up in a bar, one-night stand, casual sex. Then I received a phone call asking for Gary. He had left the caller a voice message and she assumed he was still at his old number.”
“I told her he was no longer at this number and lied that I did not know where he could be reached. One thing led to another and . . .” Her voice trailed off as if in thought or trying to formulate her next sentence. “Well, she was the madam Gary used to procure the girl to complete the threesomes. She ran an escort service out of the DC area. We got to talking and she asked if I was interested. I think it was spite, but I said I would think about it. The rest just sort of happened.”
“And let me guess” I speculated out loud, “one of your first clients was Visnow.”
Rachel cracked a smile. “You have that Sherlock Holmes, analytical mind, don’t you? Not my first but that is how we met.”
“Lucky guess. That’s all.”
Rachel seemed to relax now that this secret chapter was now in the open. “I don’t know. I just don’t know. I can’t explain it.”
I felt relieved. I could accept this and move on. I felt I needed to make a gesture. Casually, I ran my finger up and down her torso tracing lazy figure eights on her cool flesh. “Any other sins to confess while you are in a penitent mood” I inquired facetiously?
Rachel remained somber and seemed to think a great deal before responding. “I sold some drugs at one time.”
This assertion did not surprise me, since I knew she was a casual pot user, but her follow on comments did.
“This has nothing to do with the occasional joint which I use when I need confidence.”
I was never aware that Rachel lacked confidence about anything. She was the most self-assured individual I ever met. This gave me pause.
“I was never a dealer, not even for pot. This was a crime of opportunity. Somewhat of a fluke and I took advantage of it.”
I did not press for details even though her intentionally vague comments aroused my curiosity. If she wanted to tell me, I was sure she would. After a brief silence, during which I altered my tracing to circumscribe her close-by nipple with concentric circles, she continued with the tale.
“It was early summer, and I was surfing down in Carolina. A tropic depression was making its way up the coast and gathering to hurricane strength. The waves and surf were the best I had ever seen in that area, spawning long curls that ran down the beach and would keep a surfer up for several seconds. However, the authorities were concerned. If the storm veered inland, the surf could become treacherous. As a precaution, the town banned people from entering the water. It may not have been enforceable but most everyone took it seriously and stayed on land. If the storm made landfall, I did not want to be trapped in town or stuck in my car in a traffic jam trying to go the mainland. I tossed the mental coin and decided to cut short my vacation and return to Baltimore.”
“It was dark when I left but well before the crowd, so I encountered minimum traffic until I reached the northbound interstate. It was dark. There were no lights on a long stretch of the highway and the clouds obscured any moonlight that may have brightened the road. I settled into a comfortable speed at the end of a line of cars with ample distance in front of me. Behind me was just the darkened highway.”
“Far behind me, I noticed in the rear-view mirror, multiple pairs of headlights weaving between the lanes and jockeying for positions. I was a bit unnerved as they closed on me. I slowed and drifted into the slow lane to allow them to pass. The lead car flew past me, jogged to the right and then back to the left passing a car in the process. A second car followed suit. The cars sped on amid a panic of brake lights and blinkers.”
“All seemed calm when a third set of lights appeared in my mirror attempting to catch the two lead cars. Before me the traffic jumbled as the drivers pulled out of the way hoping to avoid a collision. The final car passed me but was boxed in by the traffic. He slowed and fell into the driving pattern. I shifted lanes to stay behind him which I thought was the safest choice. As soon as I did, I crested a slight knoll; perhaps a quarter or maybe a half-mile before me were the red, white, and blue flashing light of a trooper. Traffic immediately slowed to well below the limit. I was behind the third car as we approached the vehicles pulled over on the side of the road. The driver before me slowed and put on his blinker to move over to the left lane. I slowed and dropped farther back. It was then I noticed an arm extended from the left rear window. It was holding what appeared to be a white cardboard bakery box. Just before the driver began a move to the right, the arm flung the box from the car. It landed on the grass just beyond the shoulder.”
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