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The ten minute ride from Danika’s condo to the police station was characterized by more friendly banter. I then drove her to the beach lot where her car was, and followed her home after that. We carried on a blue tooth conversation the entire time we were in different cars; she may have been the easiest woman to talk to that I could remember.
Even though I don’t drink alcohol — considering my fearlessness I’ve always been worried what would happen if I got drunk; kill myself or someone around me? — but I brought what I was told was an excellent bottle of red wine for our dinner. I volunteered to help with preparation (only menial tasks, I have no artistry or talent when it comes to cooking) which she gladly accepted, and soon she had a great meal prepared.
Danika really was a good cook, and I enjoyed the meal immensely. It was only after cleanup and she had consumed three quarters of the bottle of wine that she started talking about her marriage to Jerry — who couldn’t get a bail hearing until Monday, but was expected to be released on bond then, while his lout buddy Harry was still in the hospital for observation.
With a few sighs, and even a couple of tears, Danika went over her relationship with Jerry and how he normally was a really good guy except when he had the need to be macho around some of his friends, especially after drinking some beer, since despite his size he is a short-hitter. I played the part of the sympathetic friend while inside burning up at some of the stunts he had pulled. After about an hour I couldn’t take it anymore and got real.
“Look, Danika; you’ve got a lot going for you. You’re intelligent, friendly, empathetic, and beautiful. You don’t have to put up with shit from anyone. If he doesn’t change you should bail on him,” I forcefully said.
Danika paused for a long time; I thought that I might have overstepped and was about to apologize when she finally replied. “You’re right, Greg — and not just because that’s your last name,” she actually giggled. “When I see him Monday, I’m going to make it clear that things are different or we’re done.”
“Good for you,” I said, hoping that she could follow through.
We then went over how I would continue to press charges, but she would not for the sake of harmony. When her eyelids started drooping I knew that it was time to go.
“Well, thanks for the great meal and wonderful conversation,” I smiled as I stood up, “but all good things must come to an end. I’ve got to get up early for work, so I’ll say my goodbyes now. I hope that you have a great life and get everything that you deserve,” I smiled.
Danika walked me to the door, thanked me profusely for everything that I did for her “Including giving me some of your fearlessness,” she smiled, and then she got serious. “This will probably be the last time that I see you Greg. Jerry would be off-the-charts jealous if I saw you again. Hold my appreciation in your heart, though — please.”
Then she kissed me while pushing her Grand Tetons into my chest. It wasn’t just a perfunctory smack; it was a quick peck of soft pursed lips followed by a hot and wet passionate open-mouth kiss. I honestly felt a little light-headed and my flagpole immediately saluted. Fortunately, given the size of her mammaries it was difficult for her to put her crotch into contact with mine while her boobs were pushed against my chest, so I don’t think that she felt my stiffy.
When Danika broke our kiss then stared at me with her shimmering emerald green eyes I was frozen. She gently pushed me out of her front door and closed it behind me. It took me a good thirty seconds to regain my bearings before I was able to stumble to my car. “Damn, damn, damn,” I kept repeating to myself on my drive home disturbed by the fact that I’d probably never see her again.
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After my brief brush with a deity — which is what I considered my interaction with Danika — life moved on. It wasn’t exactly the same, however. I alternately wondered whether even a non-sexual relationship with Danika ruined me for one with anyone else, or whether it should inspire me to have more self-confidence when it came to women, or if it should buoy my spirts in general. I decided that the latter was the right attitude to take. It must have helped some because my efficiency at work increased and was duly noted by both my immediate and big bosses, and I got hit on by females with much greater frequency than before.
I even had several extremely rewarding one night stands. The most rewarding was with a thirty eight year old business woman at the local Four Seasons Hotel who I noticed having trouble with her luggage when I had just finished a meeting with a client in a hotel conference room. I helped her with her luggage; she helped me with my horns. She was totally uninhibited, hotter than a Roman candle, and had boobs half the size of Danika’s — in other words significantly bigger than any I ever had the pleasure of handling before, nice for the first titty fuck of my life.
About six months after I had last seen Danika, and shortly after my twenty sixth birthday, I was to the point where I thought of her only about five-ten minutes a day.
It was a Friday night — actually I guess Saturday morning — about 2 a. m. when my cellphone rang. The caller ID said “Danika Huddleston.” In my just-awake stupor I didn’t know how she got my cellphone number, but once I was mostly awake I remembered that we chatted on blue tooth the day I went with her to pick up her car. “Hello” was my stellar greeting.