Another Chance at Love
I was giving a lot of thought to this afternoon's appointment. It was my first time to see a psychiatrist and the possible repercussions were bothering me. I mean, sure, I had always been sort of regarded as "off-the-wall", perhaps unconventional, maybe "eccentric" even, but no one had ever called me "crazy", at least to my face.
For instance, I had never thought of my little brother as the embodiment of world destruction. Nor did I see him as the Anti-Christ. He was a royal pain in the ass sometimes, but what little brother isn't? I had seen a psychologist to assess what he termed "suspected hypomania", and he'd arranged for this meeting with the psychiatrist just to "make sure everything is okay". At a rather exorbitant $225 an hour, you would think they could do a little bit more than that.
I did a search for hypomania on the Internet. The condition was characterized by a high energy level and euphoric mood that could last for several days and then change to irritability, intolerance and rage. Other symptoms included extroversion, loss of judgment, rapid speech/flow of ideas, an increased sex drive and a dimished need for sleep. It sounded like I was a prime candidate. Except for the rage part.
As far as I was concerned, none of this was a big surprise to me. I was certainly extroverted, friendly with strangers, usually in a good mood, and reasonably productive and creative. I didn't sleep a lot, and while I didn't consider myself promiscuous, I surely possessed a healthy sex drive. I was the one to whom everybody attached the word "hyperactive". Self-esteem was not a problem, and I didn't think I had any problems with the squandering of funds. In fact, I was quite frugal. And I couldn't really see any issues of judgment either, but then again, I would tend to be biased in that regard. I simply wasn't aware that my mere existence was looked upon as a pathological condition.
The modern office complex where the psychiatrist was located was in a better part of town. After I entered the building, I walked down a long carpeted hallway to a large waiting room that appeared to be the reception area for several medical offices. Checking in with the receptionist, I speculated from the style of her glasses and lines on her face that she was around 50 years old. She gave the definite impression she'd much rather be somewhere else.
I sat down across from a young woman with a ponytail, who appeared to be perfectly normal aside from the fact she was muttering "shit, piss, fuck" at random intervals. That and the slight unpredictable jerks of her head occurring each time she voiced the words. It was a little disconcerting, but just as I tried to concentrate on the pamphlet I'd picked up at the front desk, the receptionist called my name.
I stood and started to walk toward someone I assumed was a doctor who appeared at the hallway door. I only glanced at her at first. She was quite cute; about five feet six inches tall, with small-to- medium sized breasts, long slender legs, and blonde hair that went to the middle of her back. She wore a knee-length beige skirt and a light blue Oxford button-down, and was holding a clipboard. In fact, although I was unsure why, it seemed that I knew her. I had never been to this clinic before.
"Right this way, Daniel."
As she passed she seemed to study my face closely before walking in an unhurried pace down the hallway.
I took the opportunity to observe a rather stunning ass in the motion of a seductive sway, with the tight-fitting skirt serving to highlight it well, and all too soon we were at the psychiatrist's office. She opened the door for me, and I walked in as she followed casually, sitting down behind the desk. She looked more than vaguely familiar.
"I'm Dr. Lofgren. Please have a seat." She looked into my face for an extended moment, and in what seemed like an afterthought stated, "And you may call me Suzanne."
'Suzanne?' I thought, in somewhat of a daze as it came back to me. 'Suzanne Barrett?' I suddenly realized who she was. "Suzanne? I thought your name was Barrett? And I thought your hair was light brown?"
I know there was a confused tone in my voice.
"Danny? Is that really you?" she asked, a big smile on her face. "I was thinking you looked awfully familiar. I didn't recognize you with that big ol' Cheech Marin mustache. Hmmm. Small world, isn't it?"
She looked genuinely pleased to see me.
"Microscopic. And yes -- it's really me, Suzanne -- it's great to see you, considering the circumstances."
I had been quite enamored with Suzanne Barrett in my freshman year of college. We'd been enrolled in the same English 101 course at UCLA. I guess you'd call it a crush, but I was hesitant to act upon it, as she was three years older than I was. There were about 125 other people in the lecture hall, but we usually sat near each other and talked when we could. I had also helped her with a few term papers as the semester went on, and that included meetings at her place. She was a senior at the time, acquiring needed credits for her undergraduate degree. She'd mentioned that she was pre-med, but I'd been under the impression she was going into pediatrics. It was a major surprise, as I had no idea she had chosen psychiatry as a career. It had been about eight years, and I was delighted to see her, even considering the circumstances.
"Danny! It's so good to see you! I hadn't looked at the client roster before I came in today," she said and smiled. "What are you doing in Birmingham?"
She seemed to have an unspecified glow about her.
"It's really nice to see you as well, Suzanne. I'm a writer these days. Short stories, novellas, and, umm... other things."
I neglected to mention that my main source of income was from writing smut/porn/erotica under the pseudonym ''Dick Bigger''.
"I live out in the country about 60 miles south of town. Dirt road, well water, lots of trees, deer in the back yard, the whole ten yards; a good place to write." I paused. "How 'bout yourself?"
"I'm impressed, Danny. I do a little writing myself besides the technical drafts and such that I have to do for universities. I ended up in Birmingham because of a teaching job at University of Alabama that opened up, and I also have a burgeoning 'roving' practice, where I see clients all over Shelby County. So, what has it been, eight years or so?"
"I believe so."
I noticed that she was poring over the file my psychologist had prepared. I was kind of uneasy watching her read the file, for no other reason than I didn't know what it contained.
We began talking, discussing both the past and present, and she explained why her name was no longer Barrett. Apparently, she'd married an older anatomy professor at the medical school she'd attended, and had stayed with him for almost seven years. She gave a few not-so-subtle indications that the relationship hadn't been satisfying either physically or emotionally. She was in the process of coming to closure on divorce proceedings that were for the most part cordial.
"He's a wealthy older man, and I think he's grateful for the time we spent together," she told me. She gave the rather distinct impression that she wasn't financially hurting. "I began dying my hair blonde shortly after our marriage. It was something he'd requested, and I thought hair color wasn't all that big of a sacrifice. Besides," she said, "I'd always wanted to see how I'd look as a blonde."
I would have told her she didn't look bad. Not bad at all.
"Well, we've wasted enough time. Hypomanic, huh? Hypomania can be an indication of the onset of bipolar disorder. Do you think you're bipolar?"
She had a serious expression on her face, although her blue-gray eyes sparkled.
"I really don't know. I've done a little research on the 'Net after I was asked about the hypomania, and while I haven't exactly exhibited the more serious symptoms of manic depression, such as psychosis, a lot of what I saw in the descriptions of hypomania certainly apply to me.” I was trying to be honest. "And I can tell you this, Suzanne -- I'm scared shitless -- if you'll excuse my Latin."
"That's perfectly reasonable, Danny. While we don't know if you have it or not, I can administer a screening that might help us get a clearer idea. Any objections?"
"No, none whatsoever," I answered quietly. The fact was that I was really nervous about the evaluation. Very nervous.
"Okay; has there ever been a period of time when you were not your usual self and felt so good or so hyper other people thought you were not your normal self? Or you were you ever so hyper that it got you into trouble?"
"No, but I think I've been close." I paused, then asked, "and is it okay to call you Suzanne? I'm afraid I've been a bit presumptuous."
I watched her jot a quick note into her notebook. At the same time, I noticed that her breasts looked as good as they had in college.
"No, Suzanne is fine. I remember those times when you helped me out with those papers in school. I consider you a friend."
I thought back to the essay I'd helped her write on ''The Oxbow Incident''.
"But tell me," she continued, "what do you mean by 'I've been close'?"
"Well, you know -- not that I felt like shooting up a post office or anything -- but I would get 'all amped up', for lack of a better term."
I watched as she made several prolonged notes on her pad. 'This isn't going well,' I thought.
"Okay. Were you so irritable that you shouted at people or started fights or arguments?"
She was reading from her notebook.
"No... I'm still kinda laidback, Suzanne."
And I think I really was. Living in a rural area tends to do that to one. I found myself thinking how sensuous her lips looked today. Always had, in fact.
"Have you felt much more self-confident than usual?" she asked in a pleasing tone. It seemed as if she knew what my response was going to be.
"Yeah... that's one of them. I just kinda thought I was being more cocky than usual."
And that's how I really felt. She was looking at me, a passive expression on her face. Again with the note-taking.
"You always were a little cocksure," she said, smiling. "Have you gotten much less sleep than usual and found you didn't really miss it?"
She looked at me intently. She knew of my sleeping habits from college.
"Guilty as charged," I said, looking into her face for some kind of an indication. Either way. "I probably sleep on the average of five or six hours a day. I thought it was merely my 'biological clock' running fast."
I really did believe that. I'd been that way my entire life. That's why I thought nothing was wrong. At that, the psychiatrist entered several entries in her notebook before looking up at me.
"Yeah, I remember those all-nighters you used to pull in college. That's not good -- as your doctor, I'd prefer you get at least eight hours per day -- I may prescribe some sleeping medication, like Ambien. How does that sound?" she asked rather cheerfully.
Too cheerfully, considering the moment, I thought.
"If you say so, Suzanne. You're the doctor, and I trust you more than I normally would any other physician."
I hated the thought of using sleeping pills to regulate my sleep. I didn't like pills much.
"I say so. Proper rest is important. Especially considering the fact you may be bipolar. Proper sleep can be a major factor in preventing manic episodes," she said, giving me a nervous glance. I was developing a very uneasy feeling. "Were you much more talkative, or did you speak faster than usual?"
She was beginning to look at me in a different manner than she had earlier. Or maybe I was simply beginning to get paranoid. This wasn't going well at all.
"Again, guilty as charged. I thought it was just my novel view on life. You know me, I've always been rather gregarious." I smiled impishly. "Is that bad?"
I watched her make a few quick strokes in her notebook before she resumed.
"Well, it's not necessarily bad in and of itself, but when a number of factors show themselves as positive, then we may have a problem." She had an ambiguous tone in her voice. I wondered who this ''we' was she was referring to. "Do thoughts race through your head -- do you have trouble slowing your mind down?"
"I've had racing thoughts. Sure thing. Again, I thought they were just inherent to me. I thought it was simply the way I was."
I really did. I had nothing to compare me or my thinking patterns to. She made a few hurried notations in her notebook.
"Are you so easily distracted by things around you that you had trouble concentrating or staying on track?"
She looked as if she already had a clue as to what I was going to say. At least that's how I read it.
"Are you sure you've never read any of my stuff?" I joked. "Yes, I do have those problems, but I thought they were merely the plague of a 'scatterbrained writer'. I have to make extensive outlines of the stories I'm going to write to be sure I stay on track, because, quite frankly, I lack the discipline to tell a story without meandering needlessly all over the place."
I heard the exasperated tone in my voice.
"Perhaps I will. I'd like to read some of your stuff, Danny." She looked at me for an extended moment. "Have you had much more energy than usual?"
She looked at me again like she knew what my response would be. This was getting uncomfortable.
"That's me. To be honest, I thought that was my particular body type. I thought I was simply 'hyper'," I watched her scribbling into her pad, "and everyone else was just less so."
"I'll agree with you on that point. When we were going to college, I actually thought you were doing methamphetamine or something when you were helping me with those term papers. You were going a mile a minute. Were you?" she asked quietly, almost as a second thought.
"Nope. Never was much of a speed man. Makes you grind your teeth and smoke like it's going out of style."
I was being honest, as I had no reason to lie. She looked at me and grinned winsomely.
"This is off topic, so don't feel compelled to answer, but do you still use marijuana?"
She'd used the word 'still' because she was aware of the fact I'd smoked reefer in college. If I recalled correctly, I had smoked a joint with her one night after we finished one of her papers for English 101.
"What's it to you?" I joked, raising my voice in a mock offended manner. "Sure, I've been known to burn one occasionally. It helps me 'take the edge off', if you will, of my normal constitution. Umm, I guess this would be irrelevant as well, but do you still use marijuana?" I asked. I lowered my voice to a near whisper.
"You're right -- it is irrelevant -- but I'll tell you anyway because I consider you a friend." She paused to look intently into my eyes. "Remember the joint we smoked after you helped me finish that paper on Orwell's '1984'?"
She'd lowered her voice as if telling a secret. Seeing me nod in accordance, she giggled and smiled broadly.
"That was the last time. And I was higher than the dickens," she told me, grinning in a child-like manner.
Suzanne went on to ask more questions; covered risk-taking, problems with overspending and similar issues. We had already spent way past my allotted hour, but since my appointment was her final case of the day, she seemed to have some leeway.
"There's a good chance you're manic-depressive, but with regular use of anti-manic medication, there's also a good chance we can prevent any severe episodes from occurring." She prescribed a small amount of Ambien for sleep, but held off prescribing Lithium for the time being, saying she'd like to observe me a little more before committing to it. Christ, I was frightened.
"Now, don't take this personally, Danny, but I'm sorry, I can't really remain your doctor. I'll get another one assigned. She's really good. Her name is Dr. Huntsberry." She went on to explain that our prior relationship prevented her from remaining my psychiatrist.
"Yeah, I was thinking something like that might come up. We could still talk to each other privately though, couldn't we?"
I didn't want to sever the ties with the woman I had a crush on all those years. And still did. I looked at my watch. It was 7:15. She was studying my face closely, seeming to measure me.
"Sure thing, Danny. Listen, umm... now that I'm not your doctor, would you care to join me for a little dinner?" she asked in a speculative manner. "I haven't eaten all day, and I thought you might make good company."
She looked at me with a flirtatious smile on her face.
"Hell, I'd be honored, Suzanne. Hell, I'll join you for a 'big' dinner." I grinned. "I'm fairly famished, myself." Perhaps the day might not turn out to be all bad after all, I thought. "And this will be nice... on the arm of a beautiful psychiatrist."
I noted her blushing slightly when I said it.
"You flirt, you," she said and laughed nervously. "Let me get my purse, and we'll go. Did you drive?" Seeing me nod she said, "Come with me. We'll swing by and get your truck after we eat."
"After you, m'lady." I held my arm out, then followed her out the door, wondering what, if anything, she had in mind.
As we walked to her car, I noticed the gray herringbone tweed jacket she wore. I thought it looked quite fetching, especially considering the camouflage fatigue jacket I was wearing. We walked to a dark-blue 1992 Camaro, and after she entered, she unlocked the passenger side, and I got in.
"Have any preference? There are a bunch of CDs in that case."
Suzanne pointed to a CD case in her back seat, then started her car and drove toward the freeway. I looked back over the seat, then sat back and relaxed.
"No, that's okay. The radio will do just fine."
I selected a familiar FM rock station. Elvin Bishop's "Fooled Around and Fell in Love" was just beginning to play. Maybe it was the temperature in the car, but I suddenly became aware of the enticing perfume Suzanne was wearing.
"So, what have you been doing since you left UCLA? And why haven't you married? Seems a handsome charmer like yourself would have been snatched up long ago," she asked with a appealing smile.
"As far as the marriage thing goes, don't you remember the line I had when we were at school? The 'neither The Church nor State has any business in any relationship of mine' thing? I stuck by it," I said with a chortle.
"Oh yeah... your 'radical' line." She smirked and smiled broadly. "So, what have you really been doing since you left school?"
"Oh that. Sorry. I've been writing a bit," I said, still not ready to divulge I was ''Dick Bigger''. Not at the moment anyway. "Stories."
"Great. I do a little writing myself, you know."
She looked over at me quickly as we continued down the highway.
"I'd like to see what you're writing. If I recall correctly, I'd turned you into a pretty fine writer when we were at school. You were hurling adverbs and flowery adjectives around like there was no tomorrow.”
"You never know, Danny. You just might get to see some of it... soon," she said rather mysteriously.
I wondered what she meant. We arrived at the restaurant, and she pulled in and parked.
"After you, m'lady," I said with a grin as I held the door open for her.
"Fresh!" she said, smiling as we entered the eatery. "Thank you, Danny. You always were the polite one."
We sat at a corner table and talked about our days at the university as we dined on pork ribs, slaw, and beans. We fondly remembered our time we spent writing those papers, and talked and laughed about college days. There was a pleasant intellectual foreplay taking place. I found myself recalling why I'd had a crush on her as I looked into her attractive face. Beside her cute nose and piercing-green eyes, she had very sensuous-looking full lips. I think she may have noticed me glancing at them as we were speaking. We finished our meals, and afterward she had a vodka martini while I had an imported beer. As Suzanne gazed across the table into my unsuspecting eyes, her foot found a resting place between my legs, and brushed lightly along my length. My length, indeed! I responded in an instant. She flashed a seductive smile and winked at me as the waiter brought our check.
"I'll get this. For all of those papers you helped me write. You helped me get a good grade in the class. I don't believe I've properly thanked you." She smiled temptingly as she picked up the check. She found her credit card and handed it to the waiter who took it to the register.
"Let me at least pick up the tip." I left it on the table as the waiter appeared with her card. "And thank you, Suzanne. I've had a wonderful time."
I was still reeling from her unexpected graze of my crotch. There was a growing bulge in my pants.
We departed the restaurant, and while walking side by side to her car, I felt her hand come to rest on my lower back. I turned to face her, and she caught me by surprise by quickly pulling my face to hers. It was a passionate kiss. I parted my lips slightly, and her tongue met mine, dancing frantically in my mouth as my hands rested on her rounded hips. We paused the kiss, looking intently into each others eyes. She grabbed my hand and led me to her car. I was taken aback, not knowing what to say, and planned on keeping my mouth shut in fear of spoiling the moment.
"I suppose you'd like an explanation." She looked me in the eyes as she started her car.
"It's up to you, Suzanne. I'll accept the kiss for what it was. It was nice. I've wanted to kiss you since we were in English class."
We left the parking lot and pulled into traffic. She seemed to be heading in a different direction than we came in. Suzanne glanced at me and actually blushed.
"You too? Danny, you don't know how much I'd wanted to kiss you when you were helping me with those papers. You helped me immensely in that class. I doubt if I'd have gotten into a reputable medical school without that grade you helped me get. And I appreciated it. But at the time, I was paired with that dork football player, and if I recall correctly," she said, "you were doinking the waif-like girl with the unnatural-looking blonde hair from Oregon."
That required a response.
"Not only that, but I was kind of intimidated by the fact you were a senior and I was a mere freshman. Not to mention you were beautiful, popular, and sought after by all of the BMOCs." I looked to see an unexplainable smile on her face. "But Marilyn's hair was natural - I confirmed it." I couldn't help my grin. I knew she was aware that I was referring to the female student from Oregon. I noted the upscale neighborhood we were entering.
"Hmmm... 'BMOC', huh? I haven't heard that term in ages. I remember it well -- Big Man On Campus. Let me tell you, Danny... most of those frat guys and jocks were dickweeds." She erupted in soft laughter, delighting me with her use of the term 'dickweed'. "Sure, there were exceptions, but that's just what they were -- exceptions -- rather than the rule."
"Ummm... where are we headed, Suzanne? I don't seem to remember this neighborhood on the way here."
"We're going to my place, Danny. We have a bit of catching up to do. You don't have any objections, do you?" She flashed the same sexy smile she'd displayed in the restaurant.
"Let me out here!" I kidded, raising my voice in imitated anger. "No objections at all, my dear. You're right; we do have a lot of catching up to do. I think I'd like to kiss you again as well."
"Oh, that can probably be arranged," she told me, giggling softly. She pulled into a long driveway of an expensive-looking house. "Here we are, babe."
She delighted me in her choice of endearing terms. We both got out, and as we did, we exchanged nervous yet desirous glances before heading to her door. The house was pretty impressive, a two or three bedroom one-story rancher, and was done in red brick. We made it to her door on a walkway of flat stones. She produced a key to let us in. The front room was striking. There were original lithographs of several well-known artists hanging on her walls. It was furnished in a somewhat modest but appealing fashion. There were several tasteful Asian rugs throughout the area; a nice personal computer and a laser printer in what seemed to be her office. The PC was on, and the screensaver going through its rotations.
"Have a seat, Danny. I'll be right with you," Suzanne purred, and disappeared down a hallway. I viewed her superb derriere as she swayed down the hallway. I thought about how I'd like to see that ass. Without pants. The 'little head' was thinking again. I took off my fatigue jacket and draped it over a chair.
"Nice place, Suzanne. You've done quite well for yourself. Quite well indeed."
She emerged from the hallway as I sat back on her stylish couch. She'd changed into a very washed-out pair of cut-off blue jeans, cut short enough that I could see the white cotton pockets hanging beneath frayed denim, and a plain white t-shirt. Her perky nipples made their presence known, jutting through the thin material. She was barefooted.
"I wanted to get out of that skirt and that stiff Oxford shirt. I hope I haven't offended you," she said with a sly smile as she sat next to me. "And thank you. Like I said, it was a generous settlement."
"Quite generous, it appears. Ummm, no... I think offended is the last thing I'd be," I told her with a smile, glancing at her attractive frame. "Hell, I've wanted to get you out of that skirt and Oxford shirt for a while now," I kidded. I looked and saw her smiling. "May I kiss you now?" I asked her, hoping I'd read the moment correctly.
"Certainly. I'd be upset if you didn't."
It was a flirtatious glance, and she stared into my eyes with a look of desire.
"I wouldn't want to upset you now, would I?" I asked facetiously.
I leaned in close, maintaining eye contact, pulling her to me as I brought my lips to hers. Suzanne closed her eyes and parted her lips, inviting my tongue into her mouth. I wrapped my arms around her and pulled her to me tightly. Her tongue met mine, and they swirled in our mouths. I felt her firm breasts pressing into my chest. Her hand lightly caressed my back, and we gradually eased away from each other.
"Wow. That was nice. It's a shame we hadn't done that sooner," she said softly, looking up into my eyes.
"Yes, it was... but it was worth the wait," I said smiling. I ran my fingers through her silky hair. "Well worth it."
I kissed her again, holding her face in my hands as I traced the outline of her lips with my tongue, then met her tongue in her mouth. She sucked softly on my tongue as it darted around her mouth. I looked into her brilliant-green eyes and saw in them the intimation of a smile.
"C'mon, Danny. I want to show you something." She grabbed my hand, leading me toward the hallway.
I was looking at her nicely-rounded ass, thinking about how it was going to look in the bedroom, but she stopped by her PC, and I almost bumped into her. She clicked on her browser’s icon, got online, then selected the alt.sex.stories.moderated newsgroup. My stories were in a.s.s.m. She clicked on a file and brought it up to the screen:
"Thank you, Danny," she tells him, and put her hands behind his neck as she moved to kiss him. "I appreciate it", and pressed her lips to his, and softly insinuated her warm tongue into his mouth until their tongues twirled sensually together. She stood upright, and taking him by the hand, led him wordlessly to her bed. They sat arm and arm on the edge of the bed, kissing passionately as their hands slowly explored each others bodies. He felt her dainty fingers journeying over the growing bulge in his pants, and he slowly moved his hands up and down her sides until coming to rest on her firm breasts, and her fingers deftly unfastened the button on his jeans.'
"Alyssa D'Angelica. She's pretty good. She has a sensuous way of putting text to keyboard, if you will."
I was speaking honestly, being familiar with her work in the newsgroups and at ASTTR. "Nice name she uses in the story as well." I grinned widely.
"I'm glad you think so, Danny... you're looking at her."
She was looking at me demurely, a seductive grin on her face.
"Really? No shit? You're 'Alyssa D'Angelica', huh? Cool. I've always liked your stuff... her stuff... well, you know what I mean. I taught you well, didn't I?" I asked with a sly smile. I considered the many ramifications of her admission. Alyssa D'Angelica had quite an erotic way of thinking.
"You really did, Danny. You taught me the value of proper word choice. You turned me on to the whole concept of outlines. You helped me with writing immensely."
She smiled at me with a sexy grin.
"My pleasure, Suzanne. I knew you had potential. That's why I worked with you so closely. Not to mention that you were a fox... although I just did," I said with a grin, noting her redden slightly. "Here. Click on that guy 'Bigger' there."
"Dick Bigger? He's one of the most popular erotica writers on the Internet. A rather peculiar choice of pseudonym in my opinion, but I would be surprised if he isn't published somewhere," she said, and clicked on a story named 'Rendezvous'. "This is a good story, Danny; I'd love to meet the guy who wrote it," she said, pausing to read the file out loud.
"She was still sucking on my neck with inspired fervor as I lazily ran my finger along the glistening lips of her dewy slit. I knew then I had to taste her. I gently dipped a finger into her tight quim, and she stopped sucking on my neck to gasp softly. Looking into her exuberant face, I brought my finger to my lips, tasting her piquant juices, and she paid deliberate attention to me licking her juices with enthusiasm. I returned my hand to where her legs met her body, and slowly ran my finger up along the length of her puffy lips, avoiding her erect clit purposely."
When she paused, I spoke up.
"You're looking at him. Pleased to meet you, Ms. D'Angelica," I replied with a grin, revealing my 'clever' pseudonym.
"Wow! I've kissed Dick Bigger! I thought I remembered someone who threw around the term 'piquant'. I mean it, Danny. It brought you to mind," she said, grinning at me. "Piquant is a rather elitist term, don't you think?"
"And I've kissed Alyssa D'Angelica -- and I've always wanted to do that. Yeah, 'piquant' is beyond most vocabularies. At least I didn't use 'lubricious'. But sometimes it just 'fits', if you know what I mean... let 'em look it up. For instance, I'd go so far as to wager that you're somewhat piquant," I said, smiling at her, surprised at my frankness.
"I really wouldn't know, but if you play your cards right, you might be able to observe first hand.”
"Deal them cards," I said grinning, smiling at her captivating face. "No hurry, I'll find out soon enough," I added facetiously.
"Oh, will you now?"
Suzanne, with a smile, stepped toward me and kissed me, softly pressing tender lips to mine at first, then with a mounting passion, sliding her tongue into the recesses of my mouth.
She placed her hands on my hips, her head beside mine and whispered into my ear, "Come with me, Danny. We have a lot of lost time to make up for."
Breathlessly, Suzanne took my hand in her own, and led me toward her bedroom. I followed silently, guiding my arm around her petite waist.
When we reached the door of her bedroom, she paused to look me in the eyes, kissed me softly, and whispered ''right this way, lover'', and again I was exhilarated by her choice of terms.
As we entered the room I noted a faint odor of frankincense. The room was almost dominated by a massive four-poster bed. There was yet another large Asian rug with intricate patterns etched into it at the foot of the bed. I looked into the large mirror on her bedroom wall. Her reflection was gazing back at me with a certain warmth. We moved without words to opposite sides of the bed, and as she turned back the ornately decorated covers, I reached over and brushed a few strands of hair from her face. After I slipped out of my running shoes, we eased onto the bed. She looked over at me to say something.
"I guess it's a pretty good thing I'm not your doctor anymore," she said, a soft smile at her lips. She wrapped her arms around my waist and pulled me toward her petite body, and I moved to press my lips to hers. Her soft full lips separated slightly, allowed my tongue to enthusiastically mingle with hers as I placed my hands on her softly rounded hips. She tugged my t-shirt from my pants, pulled it up over my head as I raised my arms, and then her hand went to the button on my jeans. As she maneuvered the buttons free, she paused a moment while I pulled her shirt off, revealing firm breasts. They were just as I'd imagined them many times before -- perky, 'sparing' -- as in not too big, not too small, her erect nipples jutting out proudly. I pulled her tightly to me as we engaged in a lusty kiss and relished the sensation of pointed nipples pressing against my chest.
She gently pushed me onto my back, put her fingers into the waistband of my pants as I lifted my hips. She eased the jeans from my body. My hardened shaft rose from my body proudly, and she looked up into my eyes and smiled quietly. I stole a glance at her elegant breasts as she pursed her lips and slowly kissed her way down my body, descending to my hardened shaft.
She very deliberately licked the drop of pre-cum off the bloated head, then eased me into her warm mouth. She teased me with her tongue for several moments, then slowly worked her lips up and down my stiff member, looking into my eyes as she did. I entwined my hands in her hair, guiding her motions as she bobbed her head up and down at an increased speed. She continued her movements, looking into my face as she took me deeper into her mouth, and I thought I saw the hint of a smile in her eyes. I felt that familiar feeling in the core of my being, then erupted into her eager mouth, and she hungrily swallowed each thick warm shot.
Keeping eyes on mine, Suzanne slowly climbed my body and hesitantly kissed me, inserting her tongue into my mouth and swirling it wildly. Returning her kiss with passion, I sucked gently on her tongue, then moved to her lithe neck, planting soft kisses there.
After spending some time kissing and sucking on her sensitive neck, I proceeded to her sloped shoulder, tonguing and licking the supple flesh. I moved down to take an excited nipple into my mouth, licked it tenderly, moved to the other one, taking my time as I kissed my way down her flattened tummy. Kissing my way along the soft flesh of her belly, I eased her cut-offs from slightly rounded hips and became conscious of her sensual aroma as I neared her frilly panties. I hooked my fingers into her sexy underpants and eased them slowly from her slender legs, aware of her fingers in my hair urging me ahead.
Tenderly touching a pointed tongue to her sex, I slowly brought it up vertically along the length and slid my tongue deeply into her welcoming fleshy slit. Her hands played gently with my hair, spurring me on. My aroused cock was jutting into my stomach, pulsing into my skin, and I licked and sucked upon her soaked womanly folds, thrusting rhythmically into her with my tongue. Licking and nibbling at the swollen lips of her distended labia, I drove my tongue into her depths, savoring the taste of her essence. I moved at a slow pace to her proud sensitive clit, and lightly bathed it with a flippant tongue, then sucked on it ever so tenderly.
Stealing a glimpse of her head thrashing back and forth on the pillow as I tenderly licked her proud nub, I raised her legs onto my shoulders and cupped her firm ass in my hands. Suddenly, her hands clutched my hair tightly as she emitted a high-pitched squeal. Toned legs tightened around my head for several moments, gradually relaxing as she came down from her crest.
Suzanne slowly raised her head with a serene smile, then spread her legs and pulled me on top. Easing my stiff shaft deeply inside her exquisitely tight pussy, I felt her vaginal walls adjust as I filled her completely. She closed her eyes as I moved within her, and I began a moderate pace as she placed her hands on my ass, pulling me deeply inside of her. I moved to kiss and suck lightly on her neck, and she initiated a soft bucking motion matching mine. I slid my throbbing cock in and out of her receptive wet cunt for what seemed like an eternity, and she opened her eyes and smiled at me as I did.
Just as I was feeling that familiar feeling in my swollen balls, she murmured into my ear, "Yes! Fuck me, Danny! Fuck me harder!"
Her hands on my ass pulled me deeply into her, and I looked into her pretty green eyes as I released a heavy load of warm pearly cum into her womb. I kissed her with a passionate hunger, our tongues engaging lovingly as I did. We fell asleep in each others arms.
I awoke the following morning to a cup of strong black coffee that Suzanne thoughtfully chose to bring me. I noted how good she looked without make-up. Wearing a fairly short sheer negligee, she slid into bed beside me. I kissed her tenderly on those soft lips, then quickly excused myself as I climbed out of bed to relieve my bladder.
I washed my face and hands, then brushed my teeth with Suzanne's toothbrush. After what we'd just done the night before I reasoned that she wouldn't mind. I returned to the expansive bedroom to find her still in bed with the covers pulled up to her chin.
"Umm, don't you have to go in today, Suzanne?" I asked, looking at the clock on her nightstand. It was 9:45.
"I don't have anything scheduled until noon, Danny. Come to bed. I think we should 'talk'.
A sly smile was on her pretty face. She patted the side of the bed softly with her hand. I slid in beside her and felt her warm skin pressed against me.
"Umm, Suzanne, do you think we should do some research for that upcoming collaboration of Dick Bigger and Alyssa D'Angelica? I bet it would be pretty hot. Maybe we could post it as Dick D'Angelica or Alyssa Bigger," I said, grinning as I did.
We discussed my idea of co-authoring a piece of erotica. I had always wanted to write with someone of the feminine persuasion. Seemed to me that it would make that story that much more "real".
"That would be a good idea," she said , slowly kissing her way down my chest, "and research just might be fun."
She looked up at me and smiled softly for a moment before attacking my now-erect nipples with warm lips and magic tongue.
She continued very slowly across my stomach, occasionally glancing up at me, a shy smile on her face. When she reached my half-erect length, she took me in her mouth, lazily running her tongue around the sensitive crown of my shaft. She bobbed her head up and down very slowly along my swollen length, and I quickly achieved full hardness. Suzanne swept the hair from her eyes, looked at me intently, then moved up to kiss me. With need in her sparkling green eyes, she gently positioned my throbbing shaft at the entrance of her overflowing wetness, rubbing the bloated head very deliberately along the length of her tight slit. Her wet pussy swallowed my length as she slowly lowered herself down. I took her firm breasts in my hands as she began to move up and down along my hard cock. I placed her softly rounded hips in my hands, and a soft smile crossed her face.
"That's right, babe -- fuck me, Suzanne -- fuck me!" I hissed as she rode me like a woman possessed, arms flailing to keep her balance as I thrust upward into her, holding on to her well-shaped ass.
She bounced enthusiastically upon my swollen rod, looking at me with a serene smile on soft full lips. She leaned forward to press her lips to mine, erect nipples grazing across my chest. Breath quickening, she thrust her tongue into my mouth, swirling it around as I felt the cum rising in my balls. I erupted inside of her, sending rivulets of warm seed into her womb. As I did, she thrust herself down hard upon me, seductively wiggling her lovely hips as a beatific smile came upon her face. With a deep satisfied gasp, she collapsed into my waiting arms and we kissed lovingly.
A half hour later she got up to get ready for her half day in the clinic. I got dressed and drank another cup of coffee.
'Damn good java', I thought to myself. She came out of her room dressed in jeans and a purple t-shirt.
''Casual Day at the office," she explained with a grin. After she collected her things, she made her way to the door. "This isn't over, Danny. I still have some issues with you." It was a fleeting grin. "C'mon, let's go. I'll get you back to your truck."
We drove to her office, and she pulled in next to my '52 Chevy pick-up. Okay, it was rather beat-up and it was painted all primer-gray, but I liked it. It had sort of a nostalgic feel to it, with its oversized steering wheel and ancient AM radio. My blue-tick coon hound Elvis looked rather picturesque when he was in the bed of the truck as well. "Ain't nothin' but a hound dog". Get it?
"Danny, it's been... real," she said smiling. She handed me her card with her home number written on the back. "Give me a call. Soon. I think we have some out-patient therapy to discuss." She flashed a attractive smile. "I have to get to the office. You take care, Mr. Bigger." She kissed me hungrily, swirling her tongue in my mouth. "Let's do it again soon. Real soon. Call me."
"Sure thing, Suzanne... I mean, Ms. D'Angelica," I smiled. "I'll get dinner next time. Take care of yourself."
I watched her strut gracefully toward the door of the clinic. Definitely. Real soon, I thought as I started my truck. Real soon.
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