It’s Saturday and I check the mail. There’s a letter from Ben Sheppard. There’s no return address, but I know it’s from him. It’s postmarked from Milwaukee. It’s nice to see my name and address written out in that crisp script in his usual blue ink.
I had a meeting at a restaurant today. They had a TV on and the Brewers were playing the Reds. Seeing the Reds made me think of Cincinnati and when I think of Cincinnati I only think of you. How are things going?
It is the third short, brief note I’ve gotten from Ben. I sent him two already in return. We were just checking in with each other. I’m sure the time between letters will lengthen soon and someday we’ll stop writing them, but until then I enjoy hearing from Ben Sheppard.
But now, it’s time to get back to my date.
Jack Duncan, the appraiser I sometimes work with and who I once met with without any panties, asked me out five months after Ben Sheppard left for Milwaukee. We’ve been on five dates. I’ve not let him take me to bed yet. I’m taking it slow.
In part, it’s because I want to take it slow. I want to learn if he can be the ‘you’ in the ‘I love you’ without sex skewing my view of him.
We’ve made out in the car a few times. My grandmother would have called it heavy petting. But tonight Danny is spending the night at Josh’s and not coming home until tomorrow afternoon so I told Jack I was going to make him a dinner at home and told him to bring a change of clothes since he’d be spending the night.
I greet him at the door wearing a light linen dress that I’d just slipped into. We eat dinner and talk while the Mumford & Sons channel came across on the stereo. I recline back on the couch with my feet in his lap. He is rubbing my toes. He’s a good guy—honest, considerate.
“Can I get you some dessert,” I ask.
“That’d be great.”
“Stay right there. I won’t be long.”
I pad into the kitchen and start to slice the sponge cake I was going to top with strawberries and whipped cream. I sense Jack behind me. I grin slightly—expectantly—but don’t turn. What was he up to, I wonder.
I feel his hand smooth itself from my side over to my tummy. It feel nice. It feels firm. With his other hand, he lifts up my hair and kisses my neck. I put down the knife. I part my legs slightly and his left hand cups my pussy.
“Yes,” I mumble.
I feet his right hand lift up my skirt in back and feel his bare hand on my ass. It is nice. I push back against him. He taps my behind ever so slightly. It is soft enough to be a pat. His hand make a soft sound.
“Jack,” I say.
“You know that treadmill in the other room?”
“Yeah,” he says as he runs kisses across my neck.
“I’m up to five miles a day. I’ve got one of the most toned asses in Cincinnati. It can take more than that little, baby slap you just gave me.”
He mouth is off my neck. His hand is off my ass. I sense the blow coming. It feel it land. It is hard and the smack cracks through the house. God, it was hard. Maybe a little too hard. We can work with that. No matter, my pussy clenches in that wonderful way and I feel myself get wet. Another smack and his mouth is on the back of my neck. He is biting me and sucking me.
Thank you, Ben Sheppard, thank you.