Part one. The journey begins with a poem. Destination unknown.

I was in search of female companionship, something I was sadly lacking. Usually, I date women around my age or who are at least 30 years old. Still, I enjoy women of all ages. It's the connection you create that matters, not your age.

While checking out a dating site, my deep blue eyes came across a picture of a lovely blonde woman named Brandy Larson. A winsome smile further enhanced her extremely attractive looks. According to what I could see, she had a striking figure, sexy white teeth, sparkling blue eyes, and medium-length blonde hair that reached below her shoulders. Her impressive measurements read 38-24-36.

I noticed Brandy was well over the age of the majority at age 26 but still quite young and about two and a half decades younger than me. Until I read her biography, I harbored a slight sense of jealousy toward younger guys who would be able to date this beautiful lady. However, she wrote on the dating site, "I love older guys." Then I noticed that she had listed "daddies" and "older men" as her fetishes on her profile. Maybe I had a chance to connect with this bombshell after all.

So, with nothing to lose, I sent Brandy a greeting and introduced myself. “Hello Brandy, My name is Robert Bergstrom, but please call me Bob.” After my greeting I conveyed a humorous message to her while maintaining a gentlemanly demeanor.

I got the nicest response; Brandy was so sweet in stating her newfound preference for older guys like me. She asserted unequivocally that older men are more captivating and possess superior lady-pleasing skills. That comment gave me a feeling inside that made my heart beat faster.

I informed her that my light brown hair with a hint of gray at the burns was receding somewhat, but she showed no concern at all.

Brandy then began to tell me about herself, and over the next couple of weeks, we got to know each other better and better online. She was single and unattached, and I had been that way for over a year. I could tell that she was much wiser than the average 26-year-old or of any age, for that matter. She was also someone I could easily relate to.

We exchanged numerous messages and even shared some pictures. I couldn't help but savor the additional visual treats she sent. Her nose was even cute.

Brandy told me I have rugged, attractive, Viking-like looks; that made me feel great. She is right about the Viking part, me being of Scandinavian descent, but I am clean-shaven and have well-groomed, relatively short hair. I also have some muscles that I am proud of from working out at the gym.

I came to find out that Brandy lives only fifteen miles away and works in downtown Madison, Wisconsin, like me. Having worked as a waitress up to a couple of years ago, she has since elevated her ambitions and is attending the University of Wisconsin to earn her undergraduate degree. Thereafter, she plans to go to law school with the idea of becoming a prosecutor someday. Her uncle, a partner at a well-known law firm, employs her full-time in the summer when she is out of school and part-time during the school year. Despite not being in law school yet, she receives the same pay and treatment as an intern.

I'm a design engineer at a custom-printed circuit board manufacturer. I have been with the same company for over twenty years.

Our conversations using e-mail were a safe way to get to know each other. After getting numerous positive vibes from Brandy’s messages, I suggested we meet for a cup of coffee before work one day. She liked the idea, and so one Friday morning we met in person for the first time.

I showed up in a button-down blue shirt and gray dress pants. I arrived at the coffee shop before Brandy did and hung out in the sunny mall away from the shop’s door. I hoped to see Brandy before she saw me. My heart pounded with anticipation, and I was not disappointed. Somehow, she managed to spot me first, and when I turned towards the little restaurant across the concourse, there she was looking straight at me, the epitome of loveliness.

I had seen a number of pictures of Brandy, pictures that she had shared, but in person, she simply took my breath away. She wore a fairly tight pair of black slacks and a form-fitting button-down white blouse. She was showing me her assets in a tasteful and conservative way. She stands roughly five feet, eight inches tall, compared to my five feet, eleven. I estimated her weight to be around 130 pounds, compared to my 180.

Only a hint of Brandy’s cleavage showed when she leaned towards me, but she is a busty beauty indeed. At the very least, she must have a titillating pair of DDs that at times stretch her blouse buttons. Without trying to, she flaunts alluring curves in all the right places, and her long legs go on for miles.

In my younger, hormonal days, I would have felt intimidated by her looks alone. At my age, I still appreciated the view, and boy did I. But I've learned to be calm and communicate with charm.

Brandy seemed delighted to meet me and exhibited a lot of poise and graciousness. I shook her warm, dainty hand with my bigger paw. We exchanged hellos and multiple smiles before moving inside the coffeehouse. Inside, we sat in a corner booth, sipping on our cups of Joe as we chatted. I learned that she lives alone in an apartment across the city from me.

In fact, she had stayed behind when her parents retired early and moved to Florida last year.

Brandy stated, "It's my desire to remain in this area, where all my friends and other close relatives live. Plus, the University of Wisconsin's law school is where I want to get my education. Mom and Dad are helping me with my finances while I go to school. I know my parents feel a bit guilty about selling the house while I was still living there and attending school."

"I get it. Do you have any brothers or sisters?"

"One married older brother with two children lives in California, and a married older sister with three kids lives in South Carolina. I only see them about once a year."

Maybe Brandy was hoping to catch me in a lie, because slyly she asked, "How long have you been married?"

At first, I looked around and pretended that she was speaking to someone else. Then I looked straight at her.

"Are you talking to me?"

“Yes, you, Bob,” she said with a straight face.

"I have never been married, but I did have a pregnant girlfriend who tragically lost her life in a car accident twelve years ago."

That took the wind out of Brandy’s sails, and she looked truly sorry. Moments went by while she just stared at me with her mouth partially open.

"I'm so sorry to hear about your loss! I am not very proud of being sneaky, either. You don't have any children, then?"

"That's alright, Brandy. I am aware that there are plenty of jerks in the world, and I am sure you have encountered a few. Time heals; I have gotten over the loss of my girlfriend, but thank you for the kind words and thoughts. I've had other girlfriends, but no children. My relationships haven't been that wonderful since my loss.”

“Sorry to hear that.”

“Oh well, some of the failed relationships are probably my fault. What about you, Brandy? You must have men constantly chasing after you."

She interpreted my line as a flattering comment and responded with a pat on my hand and a returning bright smile.

"Yes, I've had several boyfriends around my age and a couple older. Most of them needed to grow up. For various reasons, I have had no truly serious relationships; well, maybe one, but that was several years ago."

"It's their loss; anyway, you need to live a little before settling down."

"Right," she chimed back.

The atmosphere was very friendly, but we weren't entirely at ease with each other yet, perhaps due to a hint of nervousness or the novelty of our first in-person meeting. However, everything changed when I presented Brandy with my short poem. My rhyme was what really got things moving and started us off on the right foot. I pulled a folded-up piece of paper out of my pocket and handed it over to her.

“Before you read that, I want you to know your many lovely messages have given me the feeling that I've known you for much longer than a month. For lack of better words, your choosing to meet me in person is a big turn-on. I recall your observation that my writing tends to be on the emotional side, similar to a woman's writing style. I took your comment as a compliment, and I appreciate that you seem to like how I write. Since you have been honest and shared some of your feelings about me, I sense that, considering your open-mindedness, it is the right time for me to shed a little of my soul on how I feel about you."

She held the paper tightly to her chest and appeared excited.

In a heartfelt tone of voice, I uttered, "Getting to know who you are has motivated me to write a poem. Go ahead.”

Brandy’s eyes were glued to the paper, and I watched her closely as she proceeded to read it.

Dear Brandy,

I assume your real name is your byline; it's a given characteristic, not clandestine.

I learned from the cyber grapevine; you have the perfect feminine design.

You come from the most delectable cuisine, a European ancestry dish anything but routine.

Your hair and eyes have a gorgeous shine, a truly beautiful look that you never need to refine.

On your luscious, soft curves, my eyes gladly dine; exponentially, they're more intoxicating than any wine.

Your personality is impossible to confine, and you possess impressive book smarts like Einstein.

With a wonderful attitude, goldmine, you have brightened my life with sunshine.

I have seen you stylish and looking divine; so alluringly, you sparked my mind’s rising incline.

If I resign my admiration for you and escalating pine, it means I must have gone blind or taken strychnine.

I pray our minds, bodies, and souls align, since I would dearly love to make you mine.

You're a woman so lovely and fine; I'm sure that you have heard every line.

The honest truth is, you're simply impossible to define; you possess so many qualities that make you a nine-point nine, nine, nine…

Hopefully part two of this rhyme will be forthcoming someday.

Kindest regards, Bob

Brandy appeared really touched by my words, and she shyly smiled and laughed. I believe she was surprised, yet she cherished the poem I penned for her. She informed me no one had ever written such lovely things about her, and she thanked me from the bottom of her heart.

The atmosphere was getting somewhat thick, so I told Brandy one of my favorite humorous stories that I had found online. It was risqué but very funny. After the punch line, Brandy playfully slapped my arm and howled with amusement. Everyone in the coffee shop noticed, and it truly was a When Harry Met Sally moment. She continued snickering over how badly I had surprised her with the joke.

"I know, I know. I need counseling, don't you think?"

Brandy laughed at that, and then we both laughed hard, and it felt like we had just bonded.

From that point on, we really hit it off. There was no longer any awkwardness; in fact, Brandy began to act increasingly flirtatious towards me. Her long, narrow fingers reached across the table several times to delicately brush my resting forearms and the top of my hands as she spoke. Finally, she grabbed my hand as we walked out of the coffee shop. I felt a piece of paper being transferred into my palm; it had her phone number on it.

I felt more emboldened than ever. "Are you up for a lunch date next week?"

She gave me a quick goodbye hug and looked into my eyes.

"Bob, I would love it. Call or message me to plan it, and I'll see you then. I got to run."

Oh, my gosh, I was definitely feeling some stirrings down under. I couldn't get my mind off her for the rest of the day.

Brandy left an e-mail message for me on Saturday. She expressed her gratitude once more for the "special morning treat," which started out her Friday on a perfect note.

Next she stated, "I am really looking forward to our lunch date; next Wednesday would be perfect for me, as I can get away for two hours that day. Does that work for you?"

Brandy also went on to write that she thoroughly enjoyed our time together and the lively conversation we had. She also brought up "my sweet poem," as she called it, and the humorous story I surprised her with.

"Your day is coming," she said, in a teasing way that felt sexy. I wondered exactly what she meant by that line. Anyway, it sounded intriguing.

Best of all, I noticed that she had sent me two pictures of herself in a little black dress, accompanied by a statement.

"I just purchased this dress. What do you think of my new dress? Be honest."

My first thought was that Brandy looked like a movie star; where was the red carpet? A young Michelle Pfeiffer came to mind, but Brandy has bigger boobs. The narrow straps exposed most of her silky shoulders, and the tops of her amazing breasts exuded hotness as she displayed a significant amount of cleavage. The enormous swells she exhibited promised an abundance of incredible, bosomy thrills underneath.

The dress encircled her torso with a seamless fit and ended comfortably above her knees. What gorgeous scenery! She has a flat tummy, feminine hips that flare out, and well-toned legs that protrude below; the sight was stunning.

Then I took a closer look at the second picture, which featured Brandy’s backside. I noticed she had to be wearing a strapless bra with that dress due to its open-back style. Her butt looked babelicious, and those legs were once again so impressive. I was aroused just thinking about her wanting to model that dress for me, but I was exponentially excited for the reason I assumed. She obviously wanted to show off more of her voluptuous body to me, and she was cunningly using the dress to disguise her real intentions.

I decided to call Brandy, but after seeing those hot pictures of her, I needed to calm down first. I figured one of the main reasons she probably prefers older men is because we don't get flustered as easily. Well, maybe not, but I needed to remember that and act cool, calm, and collected, which I was failing to do at the moment. Luckily, when I did call, she was home. Nice greetings followed, along with some small talk.

Just in case, I mentioned, "In my rush to invite you out for lunch, I forgot about my short trip down to Chicago tomorrow night to visit a sister. I won't be back until Tuesday afternoon if everything goes as planned, but Wednesday should work perfectly for me."

We decided when to meet and where to eat lunch. It would be at a very nice restaurant downtown.

"Well, what do you think, mister?" Pause. "You know about the black dress."

"Oh, about the dress," I deadpanned. "Nice dress, but I think it is far too conservative for you." Silence followed, and then she started to chuckle. I snickered, and then we both laughed.

"So, I guess you kind of like it?" she asked, still giggling.

"Oh yes indeed, but do you know what I like even better?"

"What?"

Feeling bold and comfortable as I took in her photogenic splendor, it was easy for me to share my feelings and compliment her.

"The beauty I see inside that dress."

"What a flirt. You guys are all the same, except you're smoother than most."

Despite Brandy’s retort, it was evident in her voice that she appreciated the compliment. I believed that the little black dress pictures of her had successfully, in her mind, conveyed the message she wanted to send me.

"Oh, tee-hee!" I fired back.

We talked for three-quarters of an hour about various topics, and the time flew by. Forty-five minutes is a very long time for me to be on the phone; I rarely talk that long. Eventually, I told her we should save some conversation for Wednesday at the restaurant. While saying our goodbyes, a growing fondness for each other was evident, as we both wished our lunch date was sooner.

Another couple of sweet messages on Tuesday night confirmed our plans to meet at eleven o'clock the next day. In one of the messages, I told Brandy about my interest in history and antiques. I was surprised when she told me she was majoring in history for her undergraduate studies.

On Wednesday, I managed to work my schedule so I could take an extended lunch. I was dressed nicely, wearing a black button-down short-sleeve shirt and gray dress pants. The sleeves were quite short, and they showed off my arm muscles quite well.

When I arrived at the restaurant at 11am, I saw Brandy standing by the door. She had come directly from her law firm job, dressed conservatively and looking terrific.

She was wearing a short-sleeve light gray dress. The dress complimented her figure but revealed very little skin. The light gray fabric of her dress extended from her neck to just below her knees. As she turned in my direction, there was no mistaking how exquisite she looked. Her hair shone in the sunlight, and those pretty blue eyes spotted me.

Right away, I noticed her warmer-than-neutral pink lipstick, light makeup, and matching mascara. She looked good enough to eat, so to speak. Her lips turned up, and we tightly embraced and said our hellos. I gave her a peck on the cheek, and she presented me with one right on the lips.

Brandy’s lips were soft, moist, and delicious. My blood started running south, and then I forgot what I was going to say. Oh yeah, duh! "Shall we get something to eat?"

She looked delighted and said, "Well, of course."

It wasn't the most intelligent comment I could have made, but her velvety lips still had my brain preoccupied. As we walked inside, I observed that the restaurant was self-seating.

"After you, my dear; let's get a table in the back."

We found a booth at the very back of the fancy restaurant, where we could converse discreetly without as many people walking by. At first, without saying a word, we just smiled back at each other. Brandy’s face had a warm glow, and I felt that a pleasant, so-far unsaid connection was growing between us.

She unexpectedly grabbed my hand and said, "Bob, it is so great to see you again."

I felt Brandy’s petite hand and noticed how her thin fingers looked small compared to mine. She had a hot little hand, though, and she was squeezing mine tightly as she cheerfully uttered that second greeting to me.

"Back at you. How's it going?"

"Super."

Without warning, I bent over the table and whispered, "I can’t believe it; that's impossible."

She instantly looked concerned. "What's impossible?"

"I am astounded; you are even more beautiful today than you were last week!"

I'm sure Brandy receives compliments about her appearance frequently; perhaps she's grown weary of them. Regardless, her smile was radiant, and she extended her other hand, squeezed both my hands, and gazed at me with an expression that could elevate anyone's mood. However, she didn't immediately respond verbally.

I noticed that Brandy was moving her lower body around under the table across from me. Eventually, she let go of one of my hands and reached down to pick up something. She had a mischievous expression on her face and spoke with a strong impulse.

"Thank you, Bob. I am glad you like me, because I really like you! I believe the poem you wrote is quite telling of how you feel about me; I've read it many times. I consider you to be a mature, handsome man who is charming and exactly my type."

To reinforce those arousing words, I simultaneously felt more hand squeezes and a bare foot sliding up my pants, leg opening, and then further up above my socks to tickle my bare shin, which was about as far as Brandy’s foot could easily reach. Despite the absence of additional verbal cues, her foot action elicited a surge of adrenaline that pitched a tent between my legs.

Although her foot was majorly distracting me, I did express my admiration for what she had just said.

"Dear sweet Brandy, your comment has made me so happy inside that I can't find the words to eloquently describe how I feel. But I want you to know, I am delighted that you like me and realize that I like you too."

Her comeback was, "I like you more."

"No way."

Brandy’s toes had been walking up and down my leg, but as she spoke, they stopped to lightly tap out each letter on my shin.

"Y-e-s--w-a-y!"

We cracked up after that, but I was really getting turned on. What oomph Brandy emanated! Add in her exuberance, and she could have swept me off my feet if I had let her. I needed to pinch myself and get my wits about me before she noticed I was gawping at her. So, I acted nonchalant; we chatted freely about various subjects, and work issues came up.

"It seems like you must work with many older guys; should I be worried?"

Grinning, Brandy stated, "There are some cool older guys at work, but my law firm has a strict policy against dating a coworker, so no."

I grabbed a napkin with my other hand, the one she wasn't holding, and faked like I was mopping my brow. She let go of my hand, chuckled, and gave me a lighthearted slap on the shoulder.

Meanwhile, I had managed to slip one of my shoes off. Even though my sock was still on, we managed to play footsie on and off without officially acknowledging the under-the-table action. Brandy’s foot felt petite, like her hands, but she could definitely hold her own when playing footsie; what a frisky babe she was! At one point, I glanced under the table to see bright, red-painted toenails.

We ordered food, and then Brandy asked me about my interest in history. I mentioned that my knowledge of American history is a strength, and she agreed that it was also her area of expertise. We engaged in a lively conversation about various historical facts to gauge each other's level of understanding. I could tell she was very intelligent on the subject.

I'm not sure exactly how we got on the topic; it must have come from talking about history trivia. We discussed the board game Trivial Pursuit, and that morphed into talking about other old board games. I learned that Brandy loves board games; that's another thing we have in common. I had assumed that young people were solely interested in playing video games, which she stated is not the case with her.

"I enjoy the interaction of playing a board game with a real person," she said.

I nodded in agreement. "It's definitely more rewarding to beat a real person like you than an imaginary opponent."

She rolled her eyes and scoffed at that.

As I ate my steak burger and Brandy had her chicken salad, we rattled on about many of the classic board games and told stories about some of our experiences with them. I even mentioned how I had created naughty adult versions of a few of the games when I played them with a past girlfriend. I told her the one I remember most was a takeoff of the game of Clue. Her left eyebrow went up, and she seemed extremely curious.

"I love that game, and your idea sounds exciting. Tell me more."

I was amazed, thrilled, and excited that Brandy didn't seem the least bit embarrassed about asking to hear about my naughty version. Even so, I would rather not get too graphic.

"In my adult game, there are two levels; in addition to being detectives on the game board, we also function as private detectives investigating each other. As private detectives, we truly become each other's persons of interest as we conduct our personal assessments while suggesting different crime scenarios in the board play.”

She looked intrigued. “That sounds interesting; go on.”

“Well, my special adult rules include a search warrant order to remove an item of clothing. Your opponent issues this order when you have made three incorrect accusations or suggestions, and it also applies to every subsequent three accusations or suggestions in board game play that are wrong. Every additional order to remove more clothes broadens the scope of your playmate's investigation. The already-bared details release a priceless display of visuals to sample, if you get my drift."

Brandy displayed a kittenish demeanor; I felt light touches on the back of my hand and partway up my arm while her foot was playing with mine below.

"Sounds like fun."

Following her body language and comment, I found myself losing my train of thought and devouring my burger. In an attempt to appear serious, I stated the facts.

"I hope you understand this is true detective work; it's about uncovering and thoroughly exploring every feature of each other's body of evidence. Your detective partner inspects, analyzes, and then passionately appraises the revealed evidence. In a way, level two's goal is similar to level one's."

This beauty was way ahead of me. She had a sultry expression on her face.

"So, can you lose twice playing levels one and two at the same time?"

I once again attempted to maintain my composure, but my inner excitement was palpable. I felt like my face was getting flushed from thinking about how no one ever loses playing the side game.

"Nope, but one person can win twice."

Even though Brandy probably already knew the answer, I could tell she grasped what I was saying by her sexy wink and demeanor. Her eyes were blazing with what looked like burning passion.

"So, Bob, what exactly is your level two goal?"

No doubt, Brandy wanted to put me on the hot seat. I knew what my goal was, but I opted for a safe reply.

"To win."

Blushing slightly, she blurted out, "Mine too!"

Brandy understood exactly and laughed along with me, which helped to reduce our sexual tension. Even so, this woman still had my cheeks on fire!

With only approximately thirty minutes remaining, she abruptly shifted the subject.

"Bob, I am feeling more connected to you than ever; you are turning me on with your suggestive remarks. I am confident that I can share anything with you without fear of judgment."

"I plead not guilty; you're the one who asked about the adult version of the game. You can tell me anything; your trust means everything to me."

"Alright then! Now that I know you the way I do, I think you'll probably like what I am about to reveal."

At the same time, under the table, I felt Brandy’s bare foot going up my pants leg again almost to my knee. She was expressing her trust in me through another one of her non-verbal communications.

Her toes tickled me, and I couldn't stop thinking about how sexy she was acting.

"Come on, tell me, please," I begged.

She seemed more than pleased to share.

"I enjoy reading erotic stories on a website called Lush Stories. I have even written a couple of them myself."

"No kidding,"

My cock had been down, up, down, and up all throughout lunch. After hearing about Brandy’s interest in Lush Stories, my aroused barometer continued to stay up this time; it was even reaching new heights of pressure.

Brandy went on to talk about some of her favorite stories. While doing so, she attempted to slide underneath and tickle the bottom of my foot with her big toe.

"You're not thinking less of me, are you?"

"Hardly, I mean not hardly," I shot out.

I definitely had a one-track mind. Brandy told me her username, Brandydeluxxx, so I could read her stories if I wanted to. I wanted to read her stories, and boy did I.

I decided to inform her that I am also a member of the site.

"You may find it surprising, but I also have an account on Lush Stories. I joined a couple of months ago. So far I’ve written one story, ‘Can Jeff Rescue Kat’s Kitty Cat and Kat?’ The story is long and has four parts."

Beaming, she asked, "What's your username?"

"Top_sir_loins."

Brandy commented, "I can't wait to look up your bio and read your story. What kind of stories do you like? Oh darn, I must leave very soon, or I will be late getting back to work."

Quickly I asked Brandy, "How about joining me for dinner on Saturday? I have a swanky restaurant in mind on your side of town. They’re known for their superb steaks and seafood."

"Yum, I sure would like that, but only if you promise to come over to my apartment afterward to play the version of Clue I choose."

With a big smile I queried her, "What version is that?"

She looked at her phone and exclaimed, "I'm so sorry, sweetie, but I must run right now, or I'll get into trouble. Thanks so much for lunch; I loved it!"

Swiftly, Brandy pulled a no-show sock out of her purse and reached under the table to put it on, and her slip-on shoe rapidly followed. Without hesitation she jumped up to leave.

"See you Saturday; I'll call you," I shouted.

She waved back and then disappeared out the door. Darn, I missed a big hug and maybe even a kiss. To be honest, at the time, I would have felt extremely embarrassed if she had detected my erection during our hug or kiss. All in all, it was probably just as well our lunch date ended that way. Then again, in hindsight, she may have liked feeling it.

After I put on my shoe, I sat at the table for another ten minutes while I deflated our lunch bill and an outstanding member who lives in my pants.

Reliving lunch, I saw a tremendous amount of affection in Brandy’s eyes. Our feet and hands proved that most human communication occurs without words. Playing footsie, even more intimate than holding hands, introduced us to an entirely new level of alluring closeness. Her bare feet and my stocking feet exchanged a wealth of information. I remembered the phone company’s line, "Let your fingers do the walking." But, for us, it was more appropriately, "Let your toes do the talking."

The story will continue with part two. The much-anticipated date night begins.

I sincerely hope you enjoyed this part of my story, and I welcome your likes and comments.