Beatrice was on business in the city. Another book promotion
tour that seemed endless. It was the first time she had written
a best seller and the only other promotional tours she had been
on were to promote little articles she had written in
periodicals. This whole experience was so new and exciting and
yet it seemed endless. The hundreds of strange faces that
greeted her each day seemed to want more than a smile and an
autographed copy of a best selling novel. It seemed that they
wanted some of her newly acquired fame to rub off on them.
Strange, how people see others who become famous overnight.
It had been a long day and the prospects of the approaching
evening were not better. She had been subjected to lunch
meetings, dinner meetings, brunch meetings, even cocktail
meetings. There had never been time to see the sights of the Big
Apple and enjoy the people. Couldn't anyone understand that she
was a small town Texas girl who yearned to see what she had never
seen before?
Apparently, famous novelists are required to be well bred, well
traveled, and well educated. Why then, did Beatrice still feel
only adequate?
She rode the elevator to the 12th floor. It would be nice to get
into a hot tub and soak. As soon as she opened the door, she
quickly began to undress and throw her clothes into the chair in
the corner of the room. She took off everything but the silver
silk teddy, walked straight to the bathroom to run her bath
water. She marveled at the elaborate decor of the room. Never
before had she been surrounded by such opulence and luxury. If
this was first class, she knew it was the *only* way to go.
Beatrice turned the water on and poured the milk bath in that had
been provided her by the hotel. She turned to look in the mirror
at herself. The reflection brought more to her than the image of
a woman of 33 years. Yes, the red hair was in place, the dark
brown eyes shone brilliantly, the body a sleek but adequate one.
But it also reminded her of a time when she could not bear to see
herself in any way shape or form in any mirror or anything else
which reflected an image. So much had happened to her in the
span of 5 years.
Beatrice was married, happily, with 3 darling children in her
care. She thought of her responsibilities to her family as her
bath water ran. The memories ran through her mind; the
miscarriages, the marital ups and downs, her mother's death, her
deep desire to write the perfect novel, her husband's
work...there had been so much happen to the 5 of them. She
smiled to herself with some sense of pride. They had all grown
together, not apart, and they had come out much more than
survivors but were really living and loving. It made her proud
of her many roles: wife, mother, friend, lover, novelist. All
were such a part of her now. She wondered how so many women
seemed lost within themselves not knowing exactly who they were.
With great care and precision, Beatrice removed the teddy she
wore and sat in the hot water. She loved bathing. It was almost
a sin to enjoy such a simple act of cleaning oneself so much.
Her nipples grew hard as her skin made contact with the steaming
liquid. She giggled to herself as she looked down at her
breasts. Yes, they sagged a bit, no, they sagged a lot. It
was
that thought that reminded her how much her husband loved her to
still be attracted to her aging body. It pleased her.
"How would any other man ever find these attractive?" she thought
to herself. No matter, she knew she would always remain faithful.
But it would be nice to be considered attractive to yet one
other. She took the wash cloth in her hand and washed her skin
vigorously, so much so that her skin glowed with the
circulation.
She arose from the now lukewarm water, grabbed a fluffy towel
and began the long process of drying and dressing. She tingled
at the soft cotton next to her skin. Even with no make-up on,
bare faced, she felt attractive. It had been a lifetime for her
to be pleased with the way she looked. She quickly dried her
hair and began dressing. Walking around her room, nude, she felt
like a school girl, giddy and filled with excitement. She had
only read about Tavern-on-the-Green and had dreamed many a dream
about what was now to become a reality. Looking into her closet,
Beatrice thought, "Damn, I don't care if I am only going to
dinner with those dull men, I'm gonna dress to the nines!" She
laughed out loud.
Beatrice looked carefully through her closet to find just the
right outfit for a dinner meeting at Tavern-On-the-Green. She
wasn't quite sure if she should wear something flashy or
something more conservative. As she pushed hanger after hanger
of dresses, she came upon a black silk wrap dress. The neckline
very low and appealing. "This calls for my black garter belt and
bra", she giggled to herself.
Ever since Beatrice had lost weight she had been drawn to buy
the most expensive and elaborate undergarments she could find.
It seemed like such a luxury to have silk next to one's skin.
She relished every moment she spent shopping for these delicates.
Her husband would sometimes joke with her about one day buying
stock in "Fruit of the Loom", with the money she was spending on
underwear. But Beatrice felt proud of her middle aged body and
the way she finally had come to accept herself. She had spent
too many years avoiding mirrors and cameras. This was HER time
and she was going to do it right! A best selling novel, an
advance on her next book, a promotional tour, and all of the
"perks" to go with it...Beatrice was going to live this time to
the fullest.
Opening the drawer which held both underwear and stockings,
Beatrice slowly pulled out the garter belt, bra, and black silk
stockings she had purchased earlier that day at Bloomingdale's.
It had been an unforgettable journey into the famous store. A
trip she had only dreamed before. Her agent, Carmen, had gone
with her out of sheer curiosity, to see this "small town girl hit
the big time store". Of course, Beatrice had spent 2 hours in
the lingerie department alone. She had been surrounded by such
beautiful delicates...the urge to buy had overwhelmed her. As
she dressed, slowly and deliberately, she wondered what her
husband would think if he could see her. "Probably make fun and
laugh hysterically at me", she mused to herself.
One of the most wonderful feelings in the world to Beatrice was
cool satin against her skin. It was so exciting she blushed to
see her nipples harden as she put on the black dress. She put on
a string of pearls and matching earrings and was ready for the
night ahead. Before leaving her room she took one last look into
the full length mirror to make sure she looked alright. It was
indeed true, her eyes and hair were her most outstanding
features. The deep red of her hair and the size of her brown
eyes made for a very attractive woman. She could honestly say
she was pleased with the results.
She met Carmen (her agent), Sam (her publicist), and Don (her editor)
at Tavern-on-the-Green. The restaurant was busy and noisy, none of
which Beatrice noticed, for being awe-struck. The lights were
glittering, the air smelled of flowers and the people already seated
were so beautifully dressed. She felt as though she had stepped into a
dream. In her mind, she knew this would be a night to remember and
cherish.
Beatrice smiled at and hugged the 3 she met. They had become good
friends during the tour. As the maitre'd seated them, Beatrice's
eye
was caught by a man sitting at a table with 2 other gentlemen. He was
rather nice looking, black hair, blue eyes, and glasses. Their eyes
met briefly and Beatrice looked away to get a better view of her
surroundings. There was the usual exchange of conversation..."How
are
you doing", "Was the book signing exhausting", "What do you think
about things so far"...the kind of conversation Beatrice was beginning
to be accustomed. The waiter filled their water goblets, introduced
himself and began explaining the menu to them all. His words were
becoming more and more distant as Beatrice gazed around the room only
to look straight into the stranger's eyes again. It was as though
she
knew him and had forgotten his name. What embarrassed her, though,
was he was looking intently at her. She quickly turned her eyes
downward toward the menu. The waiter was describing the main courses
and Beatrice tried to pay attention so she could order.
Sam touched her hand and Beatrice jumped. "What's the matter, hon?
You seem a bit distracted."
"Oh, it's nothing Sam, just too much of the big city, I guess. I'm
not used to all these people." She leaned over and kissed him gently
on the cheek to let him know she was alright.
The 4 of them began talking and laughing. Beatrice was not completely
"into" the conversation because she was trying to nonchalantly see
everything she could about this man that she seemed to know from
somewhere. He was dressed in a navy pinned stripe suit. The
sleeve
of his white shirt had some initials on it. She tried as innocently as
she could to see what they were. The letters "T" and "C" stood out but
she could not make out the middle initial. He was fair complected
and
seemed to have a genuine sincerity in his style of dress and
mannerism. Fearing she would be caught, she quickly brought herself
back to the reality of the conversation around her.
Beatrice thoroughly enjoyed the people she had become friends with
during her writing. Sam was a dark haired man who had given her
encouragement during the difficult time she had been writing her first
book. He had availed himself to her without any strings. He
had
called her when she was down...talked to her furiously during her
"writer's block", and had shared his life with her as a friend.
Carmen, had been the one to introduce them to each other and kindly
warned her that he was a publicist who would "live" with her through
every book she would send to him. He was a handsome, Italian, with
an
Italian temperament. Beatrice cared about this man as a dear friend.
He had returned the caring to her.
Don was the first person she had told of her intentions of writing a
best selling novel. They were both creative...he in music and
poetry...she in creative writing and music. Their common interests
brought them close as friends. Beatrice had confided some of her
writing dreams and hopes to Don and he had been receptive and helpful.
Other than her husband, Don was her harshest critic and her staunchest
supporter. When anything was submitted, Don would always get back
to
her with detailed reasons to his editing. But what made their
relationship stronger was that they both shared their intimate selves
through writing. They had shared writings that if otherwise rejected
would have been deep emotional blows. Their writing intimacies
endeared Don to Beatrice. She would be a friend to Don to her dying
day.
Carmen came into Beatrice's life on a fluke. They had met via
computer. Both of them were members of a large network and had
exchanged pleasantries on several occasions. Beatrice had admired
Carmen's imaginative writing and had commented how well received they
had been. To Beatrice's surprise, Carmen had admired her writing
style and sense of humor. They spoke on brief occasions for at least
a year, before Carmen finally called Beatrice on the phone to begin
serious conversations about writing. Carmen knew she had the leads
and ability to get Beatrice's work published it was just a matter of
convincing Beatrice to go ahead.
The conversation of the 4 associates continued as their dinner was
served. Beatrice was conscious of being watched. She would be talking
to Sam, stroking her pearl necklace which dropped delicately to her
cleavage. Without any warning she would look in the direction of
the
mysterious stranger's eyes...sometimes embarrassed at being "caught"
in his glance. She would be looking at Carmen, talking about dates
for her next publication, and without thought, her hand would follow
the outline of her lips, her jawline, her neck, all an unconscious
habit...then their eyes would meet...if only for a brief moment...they
transmitted an electricity that made Beatrice blush and look away many
times. She enjoyed this visual game of tease. What made her
lick her
lips ever so slowly as she drank her wine? For what reason did she
drop her napkin to the floor to bend down as sensuously as she dared
and stare blatantly into his eyes? Beatrice had never had an affair
and had never considered it...so why the grand gestures? It must
be
the atmosphere...it was full of electricity...excitement...the
unknown.
As Beatrice drank her coffee, the stranger got up to leave. She
followed his exit carefully. She lost him as he left the entry.
Sighing to herself she turned to Don to ask him how his family was
doing in his absence and she noticed the stranger stood staring at her
from the restaurant foyer. At the same time a waiter came over to
her
and gave her a handwritten note which read,"I have thoroughly enjoyed
reading your first novel. Would it be possible for me to have my copy
signed by you? Hotel? Room number? T.C." Beatrice's heart
jumped
into her throat. With all of the composure she could muster, Beatrice
asked the waiter for a pen and quickly jotted down her hotel and room
number, and the time she would be at the hotel. She watched as the
waiter returned the note to the stranger and saw him wink in
compliance. There was an uneasy feeling in her stomach. What
if this
man were crazy or some maniac waiting to pounce. But she kept
thinking of his sky blue eyes and the warmth she had felt.
Beatrice, Sam, Carmen, and Don all walked back to Beatrice's hotel
with her. She was a bit relieved when she did not see the stranger in
the lobby.
"Gee, gang! Don't we have an early meeting tomorrow with somebody
important?", Beatrice queried.
Carmen walked over to Beatrice embraced her, kissed the air by her
cheek and said she planned on taking the men with her...for more of a
night on the town.
"Carmen can be such a party animal," Beatrice mused to herself.
"Well, then I'll go up to my room and relax. All of this luxury gets
me tired!" With that Beatrice got into the elevator, waved at the
threesome, and pressed the button to take her to her floor. She had
no idea if the stranger would really come for an autographed edition
of her book.
The doors to the elevator parted and to her amazement, there stood the
stranger...smiling...waiting. She was a bit shaken at this
development, but covered as best she could. As they approached her
room, she fumbled in her pocket book for her room key, and of course,
proceeded to drop them in front of her door. As they both reached down
to pick them up, their hands met and held for a brief second.
Beatrice quickly pulled her hand back and gasped loudly.
"What's the matter?" he asked with some alarm.
"Look, my door is opened. Oh great! Just what I need, a robbery!"
The stranger began to laugh. Beatrice looked at him in disbelief.
"And just what is so funny about this? I mean you live here but I'm
just visiting. He could still be in there...just waiting for me !"
The stranger laughed even harder! He reached out and touched her
shoulder to pat her...she liked to have melted when he did it.
"No, no, no!! I'm not laughing about the robbery. I took the liberty
of getting maid service to unlock your door." He could barely talk,
now, he was still laughing so hard. But he continued explaining.
"I
wanted to give you a surprise to sort of say 'Thank-you' for the book
and the hours of enjoyment I got out of it. Hope you don't mind!"
Beatrice was a bit wary of such a display of gratitude. She had heard
about these "fast talkin' city boys" and their "slam, bam, thank you
maam" proposals. She cautiously open the door. When she walked
inside, she was overwhelmed.
The entire room was filled with bouquet upon bouquet of flowers of
every description. There were gardenia "bushes", orange blossoms,
bird of paradise, violets, roses (dozens and dozens), tulips of every
variety, baby's breath and fern. She spotted candles burning in every
corner where there wasn't a bouquet. The stereo was playing low...she
thought she heard Pat Metheny group in the background. How did this
stranger KNOW her ultimate fantasy? She had only told her husband
and
he had never quite gotten around to fulfilling it but she had not
nagged or complained. But how did this man with the initials T.C.
know? She turned about to face him, but before she could say a word,
the stranger put a finger to her lips and said, "I have greatly
admired your first published work and could only think of one way to
express my enjoyment. I know we've never met and talked, but I sensed
at the restaurant we *should* get to know each other better. I will
not force you to respond in kind to my expression of gratitude. Only
share with me the ambiance and the warmth of an embrace."
Beatrice's eyes grew bigger with each word he uttered. Her heart
started beating faster as she realized how truly attractive this man
was who was staring into her eyes. Before she had a chance to say
a
word, the Stranger kissed her mouth gently. She had not kissed
another man other than her husband and felt a bit awkward. He reached
up to touch her face and draw her closer to him. He kissed her again
but with a slow and easy motion. She responded with more ease.
He
moved his hands to her shoulders and drew her to him. She was feeling
warm. Her head fell back and T.C. began to kiss and nibble her neck.
She giggled with excitement. Beatrice had written about such episodes
that her characters had experienced, but never had SHE been the real
object of the lover's affection. Yes, she had seen herself in every
made up situation, but THIS was the stuff of which fantasies were
made. She reveled in the warmth of this man's embrace and the passion
of his kisses.
He picked her up and took her to the bed. Beatrice smiled and kissed
T.C. gently but expressing the passion that she felt. He was warm,
gentle, caring, and very assertive in his actions. They sat on the
bed, caressing each other. He would touch her shoulders, go down both
her arms, kissing her hands and fingers as he came to them. He kissed
her forehead, her cheeks, her eyelids and the kiss her mouth deeply.
Beatrice kissed his eyelids, his nose, his ears, she teased his mouth
with her tongue. He was an incredible kisser and she wanted to savor
him for as long as he would allow her. He gently began to undress
her. When this was accomplished she stood up from the bed and sat
in
his lap. With great care, she began to slowly undress him.
In
between garments she would nibble his ear or kiss his neck repeatedly.
She could feel his passion grow.
Beatrice got up slowly from sitting on T.C.'s lap. As she stood she
pulled him up to face her. She was still dressed in her black lace
garter belt and lace bra. T.C. looked into her eyes and then gazed
at
the sight before him. Beatrice looked down to see her nipples had
grown hard with excitement. She blushed at being "found out". They
embraced. He was so warm and gentle. Nuzzling into his neck, she
whispered, "Please let me know you." He pulled away slightly and
smiled. She put her arms around his neck and pulled him to her warm
and inviting mouth. He responded genuinely.
After a short time of warm kissing and holding, Beatrice started
unbuttoning T.C.'s shirt. They both laughed. She felt so warm
and
loving toward this gentle stranger. Had they *ever* met before?
His
shirt fell to the floor and Beatrice embraced him so he could feel
what she had physically to offer him. She then pulled away and said,
"I think I'll go change. Don't go away." He kissed her forehead
and
said, "My leaving now is impossible." She went to her dressing area
and could hear him dialing room service on the phone. He ordered
a
bottle of champagne and a fresh fruit plate. She knew that it would
be a while before they would enjoy the food.
Beatrice reached for a red gown. The top was a stretch lace see
through material with spaghetti straps and a solid red bottom. Gown
in hand she went to the bathroom to shower. As she began showering,
she heard a distinct knock on the door. Before she had time to
respond, the door opened and T.C. got under the hot water with her.
She was caught slightly off guard with this. Her initial response was
to try and hide her body...but realized it was a vain attempt at best
and giggled. He in turn smiled warmly, embraced her and maneuvered
her under the water. She gasped for breath because of the heat but
then relaxed. They were like children exploring new toys. T.C.
caressed and touched every inch of flesh he could. He was not teasing
her, but giving her the pleasure of flesh to flesh contact. She
responded likewise, touching his arms and caressing them. There
didn't seem one area she did not touch that he didn't take in full
pleasure. For the most part, they were still "getting to know" each
other. They washed each other sensuously, played and tickled each
other. Beatrice had never known "this" kind of fun with a man other
than her husband. She was totally enamored with this man.
Shower finished, they dried one another. They applied baby oil to
each other's bodies with great tenderness and care. Beatrice tried
to
do what she "felt" T.C. would enjoy. She carefully caressed the
inside of his thighs, never quite touching his genitals. She massaged
his feet, warming them with brisk strokes. Even this simple act had
become another maneuver of a long and pleasurable foreplay. They
spoke of each other's likes, dislikes, fantasies, life hopes and
dreams. He was intelligent, articulate, and open. Beatrice
tried to
return his honesty with her own.
Gown on...perfumed body anticipating and excited, Beatrice went back
into the bedroom of her suite. There amidst hundreds of flowers and
the glow of candlelight was T.C. waiting in bed. She took advantage
of the ambiance to let him see her silhouette. He gently whispered
for her to come to bed. She smiled and did as he asked.
Both of them knew what ultimately waited for them and then purposely
held out. The embraced and kissed for long periods. They were
familiar with each other's bodies and knew in which areas to linger.
Beatrice would begin kissing his mouth, his eyelids, his ears, nuzzle
his neck, and kiss his chest. T.C. would touch her neck, her arms, her
breasts, and her ass. They began moving to the same rhythm...uttering
the same vocal passions. Beatrice felt that this could go on forever
and only hoped she could please this dear man. They became
one...slowly, enticing each other to reach the limits of their
passions. There was no thrashing about, no lewdness, only the beauty
and the pleasure of two bodies coming together in the throws of
passion. Beatrice could feel the roll of the wave of orgasm.
It came
once, twice, three times. With each time, the wave grew more and more
until she thought she would surely die while enjoying the ultimate
sexual sensations. T.C. reacted gently, feverishly with the pleasure
he received from Beatrice.
Even after climaxing their meeting, they lay for along while in each
other's arms. The conversation centered on his work, her next book,
travel, places they had both been. Beatrice lay on his chest and
could hear the beating of his heart. She wanted to think over and
over of what a pleasurable experience they had completed. He had
given her a pleasure that only a lover and not a husband was capable.
She knew, that she had given T.C. things he had never known...an open,
honest, sensuous woman.
Room service had delivered their repast with perfect timing. T.C.
and
Beatrice sat in bed and fed each other fruit and drank champagne.
They savored each other as they spoke and looked deeply into each
other's eyes. They laughed as juice and champagne ran down Beatrice's
chin. Beatrice would tickle T.C. until he would scream out in utter
frustration because of her child-like behavior. At one point, he
wrestled her to the floor until they both could not contain their
laughter. As Beatrice found herself under T.C., she took his face
into her hands and kissed him fully on the mouth. They found
themselves back on the bed...just holding each other. The last thing
Beatrice remembered was an odd statement T.C. muttered, "I guess you
really ought to sign my book." Beatrice slept soundly until she heard
a loud knock on her door. Afraid T.C. might be caught in an awkward
situation she rolled over to get him up. There was nothing but an
empty space where T.C. should have been.
Her eyes still not quite open, she looked around the room. No flowers
by they hundreds, no candles, no male clothes on the floor...just her
own. She rubbed her eyes and looked in the direction of the large
dining table in the suite. She could see her computer was still on.
Had she forgotten to turn the silly thing off? As she approached
the
terminal, she saw what had been written there the night before..."The
T.C. Stranger". She realized it had all been a dream. It must have
been! But she felt so positive of having made love to a wonderful
man, his meeting her at her door, providing the candles, the flowers.
The knock grew louder. It was Sam, come to wake her up and get her
going. As she went to open the door, there was a long-stemmed red
rose and a note. It read: "Thank you so much of the autographed copy
of your book. I only wish we could have gotten to know each other
better." Signed at the bottom in bold print were the initials: "T.C."
She smiled to herself.
"If this will sell a book, I think we *shall*, T.C."