Lori Ch. 03

It was Thursday, but it felt like Friday. I sat in the far corner of the coffee shop scouring the want ads. My cell phone battery was almost dead; I tried one more call. They put me on hold and my phone died. I cursed softly and then I froze, before me stood the storeowner.

"Lori, you're not looking for another job on company time are you?"

Even though he was at least ten years my junior, he intimidated me. "No, I'm finished for the day, Mr. Johnson. This is my time and I even bought my own coffee and muffin," I replied with the most bravado I could muster. I stared up at him and watched a smile spread across his face.

Sorry, I didn't mean it that way. However, I would like to talk to you. May I sit down?" Two cups of coffee and nearly an hour later I had agreed to become the new morning shift supervisor. Six hours a day, Monday to Friday and one weekend a month at nearly double my preset salary plus benefits. The only drawback was that I had to start at 5AM. My three day training would begin the next day and I would commence my new duties the following Monday.

I sat in the toilet stall and appreciated the release of my bladder. The thought of my new job and the fact that it would solve most, if not all, of my money woes generated pleasure and relief too. I washed my hands, primped my hair, and headed back into the coffee shop only to almost run into Brian as he entered the shop. He greeted me with a big smile and a hug and then introduced me to his friend Scott McMillan.

Scott was slightly taller than I was, with wiry build, short black hair, and brown eyes. He had a friendly smile and extended his hand in introduction. Self-consciously I extended my still damp hand. His grip was warm and firm, but gentle.

Brian invited me to join them for coffee. It was the last thing I needed but after the way Scott said, "...Please join us..." I could not refuse. Brian entered the long line waiting to order and Scott escorted me to an empty table. We sat in silence for a moment. Scott seemed uncomfortable. He nervously squeezed the table edge. Then he looked at me and blurted out, "I'm in town for a few days on business. Brian and I are old friends and since he is out of town this weekend...well...well he suggested...well he thought that you might be willing to join me for dinner or a trip to the museum..." He stopped his ramble when he saw the expression on my face.

Surprise, horror, anger, and indignation all swept over me. I wanted to stand up and scream across the coffee shop at Brian. How dare he try to pimp me out. Who did he think he was? Instead, I swallowed hard, bit my lip, and I sat there glancing first at Brian's back and then a Scott's face. His expression was one of embarrassment. His mouth moved but only a hoarse, barely audible whisper emerged. He cleared his throat and stammered, "That was very rude and presumptuous of me. I apologize. I'm sorry, if I offended you. I just hoped that you might..."

I did not let him finish. "...No offence taken, Scott. It's just that I'm starting a new job on Monday and my training starts tomorrow at 5 AM. A late night is not a good idea, but please thank Brian for thinking of me." I could hear the sarcasm in my voice as I rose from the table.

He reached across the table and touched my arm. "Please allow me to phone you." There was regret in his voice. He pause and then continued. "Whether it's a late lunch, an early dinner, or even just a conversation on the phone." His words seemed sincere. In a flustered reaction, I blurted out my cell number and then bolted toward the exit nearly bumping into Brian and his three cups of coffee.

At home, I took refuge in the shower. The hot, steamy beads of water seem to melt my anger. By the time I turned off the water and began to towel myself dry, I was feeling good about what happened at the coffee shop. My good work ethic had been recognized and rewarded with a promotion. While Brian's actions had offended me, I realized that I was angrier with myself than with him. However, I noticed how I was changing. I had reacted with control and confidence.

A strange noise interrupted the luxurious feel of my towel rubbing against my skin. It was coming my kitchen. I peaked out the bathroom to see dancing, at the end of its recharge cord, across the counter. I had inadvertently set the phone to vibrate when I set it down for recharging. Anger welled in me again. It must be Brian. I dashed to answer the call. I wanted to tell him what I really thought of him. Instead, it was a floral delivery service.

Twenty minutes later, dressed in plaid flannel bathrobe I buzzed up the delivery person. Moments later I was peering through the door peephole and was only able to see a large bunch of red roses. I opened the door and stood there amazed. "Lori James, I presume," came the voice from a small, balding man almost hidden behind the flowers. "Please sign here." From the hand that supported the vase came a pen and a piece of paper. He fumbled with them. As he tried to pass them to me without releasing his hand from the vase, they fell to the floor.

I knelt, gathered up the pen and paper, pressed the receipt against my exposed, bare thigh, and signed. I could feel my robe shifting. Feet turned slightly and inched closer to me. "Could you sign the second copy too?" came the voice. It seemed redundant since the top part of the bill automatically made a copy of my signature on the paper below. Then I realized that the old man was enjoying the show. He must have had quite a view of my thigh and breasts. Instead of being angry at his actions, I felt flattered.

I was actually enjoying my exhibitionism. I prolonged the action. "Is there anything I should do for the flowers," I naively inquired.

"Uhhh...No," he gasped. "Just add water."

I stood up and the robed slipped further down my left shoulder. I made no effort to rearrange it. I was enjoying the tease. His breathing was noticeably heavier now. I stepped back into the apartment and coyly asked. "Could you put them on the kitchen table for me?"

"My pleasure ma'am," he gushed. Placing and arranging them on the table seemed to take a very long time, all the while glancing back at me as he minutely moved the flowers to what he thought was the perfect location.

I interrupted his actions and glances by holding out his receipt. "Thank you very much," I said.

"Oh my pleasure," he replied as he walked toward me. "You are a very beautiful woman," he said with a smile. Then he continued, "The gentleman who sent the flowers certainly is a very lucky guy." Our hands touched as he took the paper from my hand. He noticeably blushed at the contact and an embarrassed smile spread across his face. I thanked him again and he answered with a chuckle and a deep sigh. "Oh my pleasure ma'am. After all I don't often get a delivery like this."

As I leaned against the door and locked it, I noticed that almost my entire left breast had been exposed to his view. I smiled to myself. It was then that I realized just how much I had enjoyed the encounter with the deliveryman. My pussy was wet. My nipples were hard. It had not mattered that he was an old man. The power and the appreciation generated by my exhibitionism excited me.

I walked into the kitchen area letting the robe slip to the floor. Standing naked before the roses, I examined them carefully. They were beautiful, but excessive. Whoever had sent them was begging for forgiveness, trying to impress, or perhaps both. I had never seen a bouquet of flowers this big. The envelope, attached to the vase by a thin red ribbon, begged opening.

My eyes scanned the card. It read. "You are a very lovely and elegant lady. I apologize for my presumptuous and boorish behavior earlier today. I hope that these flowers in some way make amends. I would certainly enjoy the pleasure of your company. I'm staying at the Capri and will be in the Tapas Gill at five this evening. Please join me for an early dinner... Looking forward to seeing you, Scott"

I looked up from the note to the flowers. They were probably worth more than I could earn in one day, even as shift boss at the coffee shop. An electric excitement ran through my body. The extravagance flattered me. It was obvious that I had somehow impressed Scott and he wanted to spend time with me. His gesture intrigued and thrilled me.

I found myself stroking my abdomen. My fingers subconsciously pulled at my pubic hair. Each tug heightened my excitement. The roses blurred into an aura of red and green. My nipples tingled as my fingertips first caressed by labia, then probed my wet crease, and found my throbbing clit. With each touch, another starburst of pleasure cascaded through my body. My left hand sought the support of the table edge as the tempo of my right hand quickened. Then the explosion occurred. An eruption of colors, shudders, and screams cascaded over me. I collapsed in an exhausted heap on the floor.

I chose my evening outfit from the shoes up. I had decided to walk to the hotel, since it was only about three blocks away and I did not want to pay for parking. My plain blue pumps were by the bed. They were comfortable. My latest purchase from the consignment shop, a simple blue pantsuit, lay on the bed. I hope it would create a relaxed but business-like appearance, yet be warm for the walk. I had decided not to wear a blouse but just a lacy white camisole and its matching pair of lace boxers. With any luck, I would convey a sophisticated sexiness.

The anticipation of meeting Scott that evening was beginning to build. I glanced at my clock radio. It indicated 3:28. I headed to the bathroom and I stood naked before the sink and mirror. I studied myself. I thought I wore my 42 years well. There were a few crow's feet around my eyes but the skin of my face and neck was still tight. My breasts had begun to sag a little, the result of breast-feeding two kids, but my nipples seemed to have grown and become more sensitive as I aged. My stomach had remained reasonably firm and there was just enough fat on me so that my 125 pounds did not appear skinny. I looked down at my pubic hair and decided that I should give it a trim.

My manicure scissors quickly trimmed back most of the hair. Then I rubbed hair conditioner over the area. As my fingers applied the liquid over my mound and clit shivers radiated throughout my body. I fought back the urge to give myself another good frigging and used my razor to fashion a new landing strip. I admired my work both in the wall mirror and with my hand mirror. The strip of neatly trimmed hair, now wider at the top than the bottom, drew attention to the hood of my clit, which peaked out over the top of my pussy lips.

I watched in the wall mirror as the fingers of both hands traced sensual patterns over my slippery skin. My index fingers massaged the short, brown pubic hair with slow circular movements. The remaining fingers teased the skin of my pelvic creases in a most delicious fashion. The image in the mirror mesmerized me. My fingers seemed to move by themselves. I was a voyeur at my own masturbation.

My excitement rose as I watched my clit swell. My back arched, my legs parted, and my thighs pushed against the countertop. I groaned and watched my fingers slip between my pussy lips and felt them curl inside me. I stared wide-eyed as my hand moved piston-like in and out of me. I saw my face grimace and my mouth open. Then there was blackness highlighted by flashes of color. I heard a scream and felt a shudder reverberate through my body.

After a few moments of recovery time, I stepped into the shower to clean up. However, it did not take long before the hand held massaging showerhead and my fingers brought me to another fiery orgasm.

Just before I left my apartment, I slipped into the bathroom one last time to check my hair and scarf. The image, which looked back at me, impressed. My short brown hair was curled and my make-up tastefully understated. In my red three-quarter jacket and blue silk scarf, I did not look like a waitress from the coffee shop but a successful businesswoman.

As I locked my apartment door, I glanced at my watch. It was quarter to five. With a brisk walk, I would arrive at the Capri just after five. The fall air was cool. I quickened my pace. With each stride, the lace of my briefs tantalized my newly trimmed mound. The sensations fanned my libido. Anticipation stirred up the butterflies in my stomach. As the entrance of the hotel came into view, I took at deep breath and calmed my emotions with the reminder that no matter what happened I had to be in bed before ten.