Still to this moment I can’t recall the dress she was wearing, except that had a modestly deep neckline with a lace up feature. I did my best to keep my eyes on hers, but her ample breasts made for the most beautiful cleavage.
We talked for a while, noshed on some great food, drank a little (more) wine, and then Madison announced she needed to go. It wasn’t late, but I knew she was working on her thesis, and I didn’t want to impinge on her studies.
Being that it was truly freezing out (below 32°), I asked if she’d mind driving me back to my hotel. She agreed. As we walked to her car, she sheepishly admitted she’d forgotten where she parked. Then she realized she didn’t have cash to pay the parking fee. I found this so charming and innocent.
Perhaps as a life metaphor regarding needs, as we were walking, she shivered. I put my arm around her and turned up the collar on her wool coat. She’d never known you could do that! I guess when Georgia is your home, what comes naturally to those who grew up in the frozen Mid-West wouldn’t be second nature. Then she slipped on some ice. I instinctively caught her. That moment it was Madison who melted a little. I kept her warm and safe that walk.
The dinner and walk surprisingly revealed, that despite our age difference, we clicked. Our personalities and deep-seated needs meshed in a way I still don’t understand. This girl with whom I was walking was so young, pretty, smart and vivacious that I didn’t want her to go. I told her I’d like some desert. She coyly asked, “What are you hungry for?” Chocolate was the only appropriate verbal answer, although my eyes said otherwise. I casually noted, as if by coincidence, that I had dark chocolate in my room. As we pulled into my hotel, she was the one to suggest that she’d like to come up.
You could have knocked me over with a feather. Never in a million years.
As for what happened next, Madison’s diary entry puts it in her words. She sent the words below in an email. This is what she wrote in her journal. The action picks up after she gets into her friend’s borrowed car and drives away from the university:
“Dear Journal, I decided to go and meet him. The tension within myself was too great for me to bear, so I had to go. I think our e-mail exchanges made meeting that much more exciting. I did not put much care into my underthings when getting ready as I had no idea of what was to come. But I put on my royal blue silk dress. It is one of my favorite dresses. It is a soft, fine 100% silk dress and it makes men want to put their arms around me. It is delightfully and teasingly low cut although it shows but a glimpse of cleavage. It is a very classy dress. It ties above the breasts; I like to fancy that when men see it they just want to untie it and start kissing me. I curled my hair and put on light makeup as well as my rose oil perfume. In my very humble but very accurate opinion, I looked lovely.
“I drove to the city, and I felt a little nervous as I walked to establishment. It turned out to be the perfect place for our rendezvous. I like to imagine how we looked that evening, all dressed up and full of desire. I walked in, and I did not see anyone. I thought he would be sitting next to the door watching for me. I felt a small pang of dismay as I looked about and did not see him. But after a few seconds, he stood up and I caught sight of him. He was sitting in the back; I walked to him, and the moment I saw him I knew it was going to be a lovely, romantic evening. People most often look more attractive in pictures than in real life. But it was the opposite with him. He was so handsome. He was definitely quite a bit older than I was, but the age difference did not feel too pronounced. I felt that we were on the same wavelength. I wonder what were his thoughts when he first saw me. He wears glasses. I love glasses on a man. He was wearing a sweater that looked to be very soft and a silk tie. He has very good taste and seemed young at heart. When I approached him, he welcomed me with an embrace and kissed me on the cheek. My heart began to waver and to melt a little. It was so romantic and made me feel so womanly. I wish I could have played that scene again and again. I loved him kissing me on the cheek upon meeting me. He is such a romantic, gentlemanly man. He helped me out of my coat and pulled out my chair for me to sit down. He is absolutely my type physically and intellectually. I loved his voice and his style of dress. I loved his taste in food.
“He sat down, and we conversed a little before the waitress came over. I ordered a Pinor Noir; he already had his wine. I was surprised that he preferred white wine. With his romantic, sensual personality, I would have thought that he would prefer a dark, sultry red. One thing that I found irresistibly attractive about him was his vocabulary. Most men (indeed most modern people) have a very limited vocabulary, because people don’t read much and stead watch cheap tv. I have a fairly expansive vocabulary because I study Latin and Greek and because I read a lot. But I love that he used words like “egregious” and “bucolic.” I thought it was very sexy.
“We had a most pleasant conversation. We talked about traveling. I talked about my school and work, and he told me about his work. The tension between us was palpable. I loved it. I caught him looking at my breasts twice, and it made my heart beat a little faster. But he did not look at them in a crass way but rather in an admiring way. I wondered what he was thinking when he looked. Was he wondering how soft but firm they would feel under his touch? Was he wanting to kiss them softly? Was he wondering what my nipples looked like?
“The ambiance of the restaurant was perfect. I have only been able to drink legally for a little over a year, so I still feel the novelty of meeting someone for a glass of wine. It was pleasantly dim inside and the music was perfect. Norah Jones and Frank Sinatra were playing as well as other such artists. I just love the tension between man and woman. I knew that both of us were full of desire but I love the tension before the desire is played out. I knew that he was pursuing me, and I loved it. I loved how romantic he was. He had a fantastic smile too; it was very contagious. Oh and his hands. His hands were incredibly sexy. I don’t know why, but I could not stop looking at them. They were so sexy. They looked so strong. I kept trying to keep myself from imagining them massaging my breasts and kneading my thighs. Them sliding up my inner thighs and spreading my legs apart. Imagining his finger sliding into the dark wetness of my flower…His hands were intoxicating. It didn’t help when he got up to use the restroom and as he walked behind me he put his right hand on my upper right arm. My heart fluttered, and I reveled in the sweet feeling of desire and arousal that was blossoming inside me. I knew he was trying me to see what would happen, and I soaked up every second of it. I kept thinking about that simple touch. When he came back, he pulled his chair closer to mine, and I felt the effect of that between my legs. Our faces got quite close at times. I can’t say that I didn’t imagine his lips on the lips of my flower and his mouth enclosing my nipples inside it.