Chance Meeting

“You won’t be rough with me, will you?” she said softly.

My hand still caressing her breasts, penis poised to enter her vagina, I looked down into her gentle hazel coloured eyes. They reflected a strange mixture of sexual desire and anxiety.

“No Alicia, I won’t be rough with you,” I whispered.

She smiled up at me and I felt her felt her body relax, yielding to my gentle probing of the entrance to paradise. She was ready for me – very wet – and as I penetrated I felt the soft, tight fitting warmth of her vaginal tunnel seeming to absorb and draw me into her depths.

“Oh God, that’s so beautiful, Alicia.”

“I do love you, Malcolm.”

I moved slowly in her at first, careful not to be forceful, but after a few strokes I felt her begin to responded, raising and lowering her hips to meet my thrusts.

Shortly she began to gasp, “No Malcolm, no…don’t make me come…please…please don’t make me…” Then suddenly she gave a sighing whimper and her words changed to, “Oh yes, darling…yes…faster…deeper…oh…ah…oh…aaah.”

Everything about Alicia was gentle, and yet as she climaxed and the first ejection of my sperm beat into her I felt her legs wind round me struggling to drag me ever deeper; “Yes, Malcolm…yes…in me…deeper…deeper.”

My hands under her buttocks I strove to get the last millimetre of my length into her, obeying the primal commandment to man and woman, “Thou shalt impregnate and be impregnated.”

I finished, but could still feel the involuntary contractions of her vagina round my relaxing penis. She was whispering repeatedly, “Oh Malcolm…oh Malcolm,” as her orgasm slowly faded. Then she was quiet, lying beneath me, both of us looking into each others eyes and still united at the genitals.

It was then she dropped a bombshell. This, our first sexual coupling had finally confirmed in me that I dearly loved this little woman, that I wanted her as I had not wanted anyone since Agnes.

“Malcolm, I have to leave on Monday.”

A cold hand seemed to grip me. “Leave? Why leave? Where are you going?”

“I have to go back up north; there are things I have to do at The Place.” She had often referred to “The Place” using it almost as a proper name, but exactly what The Place was and where I had no idea. In fact for all my love of her I had very little knowledge of Alicia, but it seemed the “The Place” was some sort of property once owned by her parents. Her mother had died, as had my beloved Agnes, of that scourge of our time, cancer. Her father had been killed not long after his wife’s death in a tractor accident. Now it seemed “The Place” belonged to Alicia.

“Why do you have to go now after…after…?”

“We’ve made love? I have things that must be attended to Malcolm, but I can come back. Do you want me to?”

Did I want her too? A couple of hours before I might not have been able to say “yes” or “no,” now there was no doubt in my mind.

It had only been just over a month since I had first met her. I was walking down King William Street eating the remains of a pie I had bought for lunch, when a voice from behind me said, “Excuse me.”

I turned to look down from my six feet two to see a little woman who was about five feet two, and into a pair of widely spaced appealing hazel eyes.

“Could you tell me the way to the post office please?”

We were in fact only a couple of hundred metres from the G.P.O. so I pointed her to the two clock towers, one the Town Hall tower and the other the G.P.O. standing facing each other on opposite sides of the street.

“The one on the right is the post office,” I said, “but I’m going there myself so why not walk with me?”

She hesitated only for a second or two then said, “Thank you.”

We went together and I asked, “Visiting the city?”

“Yes; my parents brought me here when I was a child and I’ve often thought of it since, so as I had the time I thought I’d make a proper visit.”

We entered the P.O. and there was the usual lunchtime queue of city workers so we tacked ourselves on to the end. Now I could look at my companion a little more closely.

Perhaps I shall disappoint you. You might like me to say she was an incredible beauty with full, swelling 38DD breasts. I cannot in all truth write that.

She was, as I have indicated, quite short. Her face was heart shaped with a neat little indent in her chin. Her mouth was neither large with full lips nor small with thin lips. It was somewhere between, but most noticeable was the fact that the corners of her lips turned up slightly as if ready to smile. Her nose was almost like a child’s and turned up slightly. Her hair, neatly bobbed, was ash blonde.

My male instinct brought my eyes down a long slender neck to her breasts. She was wearing a T-shirt and, so it seemed, nothing underneath it. This revealed a pair of small seemingly firm breasts with equally small nipples. Since she was wearing jeans her legs were not open to view, but for her height they seemed well balanced with her body length.

As to her age, I conjectured somewhere between twenty five and thirty. Thus in appearance she was the sort of female who on passing her in the street, you might want to take a second look at without necessarily being bowled over.

There was one feature that I had only been able to sample briefly, her voice. I am very responsive to the female voice, and the little lady’s voice was particularly easy on the ear with beautiful diction.

She was served before me, but instead of departing she stood aside as if waiting for me. As I turned from the counter she asked, “Can you tell me where I can get a decent cup of coffee?”

Normally I would have simply pointed the way to Jenaro’s and left it at that, but glancing at my watch, and seeing I still had twenty minutes of my lunch break left, I said, “Yes, I wouldn’t mind a cup myself, would you like to join me?”

She smiled up at me and said, “That’s very nice of you; yes, I would like to join you.”

I returned her smile and said, “Well, since we are having coffee together, perhaps we ought to introduce ourselves, “I’m Malcolm McCulloch.”

“Alicia Blake,” she responded, extending her hand.

No doubt this is where I should write that her hand was “small and soft.” It was “small,” yes, but the grip was firm and warm.

Jenaro’s coffee is not only good, but comes at a price I can afford, thus I made it my treat. In the short time we had together she got from me the information that I worked for the Gas Company and had lived in the city from birth, apart from an overseas trip after Agnes…but more of that in a moment.

From Alicia I got only the information that she came from up north and was spending a few weeks in the city, “having a look around.” Neither of us volunteered more intimate personal details except when I came to leave.

I had said goodbye and adding how nice it had been to meet her. I headed for the door and came to a halt. I liked this lady and was loath to let this meeting be the end of things. Feeling a bit of a fool and anticipating rejection I turned back to Alicia and said, “When I’m not working, you know, evenings and weekends, I’d like to show you around. Would you let me?”

She looked at me for a few moments then as if making up her mind she said, “I’d like that, but isn’t there someone…I mean…I don’t want to take up your time…I…”

“Widower,” I said briefly. “I’d enjoy showing you around…if…if you’d like me to. Its Thursday today, how about Saturday? We could meet under the Town Hall clock at ten?”

“Lovely,” she said, giving another of her engaging smiles.

“What would you like to do?”

“Let’s wait until Saturday and we can decide then.”

I had four minutes to get back to work, so I left it at that, and saying “goodbye” again I hastened off.

That afternoon the vision of Alicia kept popping into my head. Beyond, shall we agree, her reasonable appearance, there was something about her that attracted me. How to describe it I find difficult but perhaps the word “Warmth” covers the case, a sort of unaffected and quiet friendliness.

My beloved wife Agnes had died some two years before this meeting. I was not at all stoical in my bereavement, grieving deeply for my loss. Childless and forty one years of age I tried to flee from my misery. It was a fruitless effort for the pain lies within and we take it with us.

My flight took the form of an overseas trip. Agnes like me had worked for the Gas Company. We were both eighteen when we met at work. I often wondered during the course of our marriage how an ordinary guy like me had won lovely Agnes. She could have had the pick of the single guys at work, and some who were not single, but she chose me.

Incredible though it may seem for our time, we were both virgins the first time we made love, and that act sealed our intentions to get married. It was love, deep lasting love – a love that had endured beyond death.

We had always intended that when our long service leave was due, we would take an overseas trip. We saved for the trip, and just as we had enough money and the leave was due, Agnes received the fatal diagnoses. It was with that money I tried to make my escape.

During that wretched trip I met a few willing women, but the only time I accepted an offer I failed to get an erection. Agnes was still with me like my shadow.

Now, for the first time since the loss of Agnes, I found myself after an acquaintance of no more than three quarters of an hour, drawn to this little woman – a woman so different from Agnes who had been tall, dark haired and yes, 38DD.

That night in bed I continued my mental contemplation of Alicia. I felt that sense of foolishness again. “She won’t turn up on Saturday, why should she? Why would she want to tour around with a guy she’d only just met, especially with one of no great looks or other distinctions?” That was how my thoughts ran. I forgot at that point that I had won the lovely Agnes, but after all, that had been eighteen years ago and time had wrought physical changes. So that night and for the next day I hung in a wretched sort of limbo telling myself that Alicia would not turn up, but clinging to the hope that she would. Looking back now, I suppose this wish to be with Alicia was an early sign that I was at last letting Agnes go, and was beginning to crave the female company I had been so indifferent about since the death of Agnes.

I shall not be romantic or overly sentimental about my desire to be with Alicia. It was not love at first sight. I think it was simply the male desire to be in the company of a female. True such companionship nearly always contains the potential for sexual desire, but in this case I think it was simply the wish to once more be within the physical orbit of this friendly little woman.

Perhaps even this seems to be too much given the brief acquaintance, but let me refer you to your own life experiences. Have you not met a stranger to whom you have been drawn? Of course there is the obvious sexual attraction, but apart from that, there is the person you feel yourself warming to and want to extend the relationship.

So it was that on Saturday morning I drove my aging Toyota into the city and after much searching found a parking space. It was a sunny day, but with a cool breeze blowing in from the south-west. I had taken special care over shaving and my choice of clothing, and such was my apprehension about the meeting I was standing under the Town Hall clock half an hour before the appointed time.

I felt a bit an idiot standing there scanning the passers-by, so to try and pretend that I had not been early I walked round the block twice. This occupied about fifteen minutes and by then the anxiety level had really started to rise.

I began the face scanning again and was still taken in the rear when a voice said, “Hello Malcolm.” I turned to see those hazel eyes looking up at me.

“Hello, Alicia.”

With frankness I was to learn was characteristic of her she smiled and said, “You know, I thought you might not turn up and I got here at quarter past nine. I thought that was rather silly so I went and had a look round some of the shops.”

That inspired me to make my own confession about arriving early for the same reason. We both laughed at this and Alicia said, “Foolish isn’t it? We both have doubts about the other turning up, so we get here early. There’s no logic to it, is there?”

“What would you like to do,” I asked.

“Well,” she said, “I’ve heard a lot about the gardens that go right round the city centre. I suppose I could have gone and had a look on my own, but I thought, “If Saturday is a nice day, we could walk round them together’, and it is a nice day.”

“Are you good at walking?” I asked, “because it’s a long way round.”

“I bet I can outwalk you,” she boasted.

“You might live to regret that statement,” I chuckled. “Try me,” she said, so we drove to the point where the Festival Theatres, situated by the river, form part of the gardens. This was an immediate winner with Alicia who had to walk round the large complex exclaiming, “I shall have to go and see something here.”

I made a mental note of that, deciding hopefully that if I could discover Alicia’s taste in entertainment, I might get lucky, book seats, and go with her.

We continued the walk beside the river until we came to a well-known restaurant just above the city weir. This inspired me to ask, “Would you like to have dinner here with me tonight? We could book a table now.”

Much to my relief Alicia jumped at the idea, so the booking was made and we wandered on.

As I have said, the gardens surround the city centre so we passed many different scenes. The old City Jail now no longer a jail and oddly a tourist attraction; the Brewery and other assorted businesses; even the City Cemetery where so much of our history lies buried; then through an area given over to sport, where was watched girls playing netball, boys playing cricket and others simply kicking a ball around.

Our talk arose mainly out of Alicia’s comments and questions about what we saw, and still I learned almost nothing about her personal life. What I did learn, however, was that she was intelligent and a delightful companion.

We stopped at a small restaurant for lunch and finally arrived back at the car after nearly five hours of walking. She had been right, she was still fresh and lively, I was beat.

Alicia was stopping at one of the city’s classier hotels, which was a bit of a worry since it might have indicated expensive tastes. I got a reasonable salary but it wouldn’t stretch to cover things luxurious.

I dropped her off at the hotel and made my way home to rest and get ready for the evening.

I picked her up at the hotel and during the course of a very pleasant evening I got my first indication of her taste in entertainment.

“Malcolm, I saw a poster outside the Town Hall this morning advertising a symphony concert. Where I come from we don’t get much chance to hear live music. Would you like to go with me if you’re free?”

I wasn’t too sure about a symphony concert. I listened occasionally to classical music on the radio, but had never been to a live performance. Never the less, the idea of being with Alicia was starting to become a bit of a drug, so I agreed, saying I would make the booking.

Alicia would not have this, and insisted that she made the booking and did the paying. “A very modern women,” I thought.

Now began series of outings with Alicia. While I was at work it seemed that she spent time revisiting places we had passed on our walk, and had a look at other places I suggested. In the evenings we went to the cinema; managed to get seats for a musical at the Festival Theatre, and on Sunday we drove out to the hills that are like a backdrop to the city, and walked.

The more I saw of Alicia the more I wanted to see her. There was nothing overtly sexual in our relationship. I think I still carried the memory of being unable to get an erection with the willing woman during my overseas trip. The truth was I didn’t get an erection at all at any time. It was as if my sexuality had gone in to neutral after the death of Agnes.

Each time I dropped Alicia off at her hotel I had a dread that she would invite me to her room “For a nightcap,” and if things developed I would reveal what a sexual wimp I was. As it happened no such invitation was extended.

Nevertheless, however muffled the sexual instinct might be, in an otherwise healthy person the old monster lurks there still awaiting its chance. The chance came when Alicia suggested that we might go to the beach one Sunday. I cannot boast that the beaches adjacent to our city are the worlds best, but there are some quite nice spots.

On the Sunday in question we drove out south from the city to a reasonably quiet beach. I had my bathers on under my jeans and, as I was to discover, Alicia was also bather clad.

The weather was once more kind to us, and I had brought a beach umbrella along. We set up the umbrella and spread a blanket on the sand, and then opted for a swim.

The moment of my undoing was at hand. Alicia peeled off her outer clothing to reveal herself clad in the flimsiest bikini I had ever seen. I was speechless as I gazed at her.

Her breasts, as I have indicated, were not large, probably 34 something or the other, but they were obviously well formed and firm and her top revealed them almost to the nipples. The bottom of her bikini where it passed over her sex organ sank into her cleft that seemed firm and well indented. Her legs were completely exposed to my sight for the first time, and were strong but beautifully shaped with strong looking thighs.

I had my jeans halfway down and wanted to pull them up again because I was beginning to get an erection; and what an erection it turned out to be! Throbbing in time to my heart beat, straining for release from my bathers, quickly I felt it start to drip pre-cum; all this while Alicia stood looking at me, waiting for us to head for the water.

I did the only thing possible and got out of my jeans fast and ran for the sea desperately trying to conceal my embarrassing projection from Alicia. Fortunately there were few other people on the beach to witness my discomfiture.

That set the pattern for the day. It was an agony of craving for Alicia’s body. When other men passed by and stared at her I felt waves of hot jealousy engulf me.

Perhaps I should have been happy that the curse of impotence had been lifted, but you men will no doubt understand the frustration of unfulfilled sexual hunger, especially when the object of that hunger is lying near you, touching you, and letting you experience that female fragrance that redoubles the desire. That’s how it was for me that day on the beach. Alicia talked quietly but animatedly, telling me about the things she had been to see when I was not with her, and the things she still wanted to see. All the time I was struggling to remain calm – or at least look calm – and could barely reply to her I felt so choked up with sexual arousal.

On the pretence of obeying a call of nature I went to the toilet block and ensconcing myself in one of the cubicles I masturbated. I don’t know if my testes had been storing up my semen for the long period of my abstinence, but I felt as if I ejected a couple of bucketfuls.

My action relieved my problem for a short while but the ongoing presence of Alicia soon had me worked up again. The companionship we had enjoyed, the growing friendship and ever more obvious affection we felt for each other, was coming into full flower. It was love, hot passionate love, or should I write lust? I was feeling.

Alicia did not seem to notice my condition and for the first time that evening when I dropped her off at the hotel, I longed for that invitation to her room. Still the invitation was not made. I left her and drove home confused and frustrated.