Chapter Seven
The Majestic is prized for its eclectic classic-American menu, the art-deco, high-ceilinged feel of a revived mid-century supper club, the best cocktail bar on King Street in Old Town and cozy booths with small lamps that provide a sense of intimacy in the dimly lit dining room.
All of that faded around us as Lisa and I sat facing each other across the table for just over three hours, part of it spent picking at her pan-seared trout and my New York strip. Only now was it dawning on us how little each knew about the other and how much of our stories we had yet to tell.
We talked about what we did weekdays.
I shared as much as I could about the largely classified work I do for the committee, but that most of the job seemed to get back to soothing the egos of some of the most pampered, pretentious, arrogant and entitled people in America and keeping lobbyists and donors at arms’ length from the committee’s critical, nonpartisan work.
Lisa, it turned out, is her firm’s creative force behind some of the most compelling and recognizable advocacy campaigns in America. She had designed logos and visuals for public policy campaigns by some of the country’s best-known corporations and most beloved nonprofits. But for all her work, her pay was just barely into six figures, not something that supports a lavish lifestyle in Georgetown.
She had grown up in Monroeville, Pennsylvania, the granddaughter of Armenian immigrants on her mom’s side. Her father came from Scots-Irish stock and was the first in his family to earn a college degree. He worked his way through Pitt driving a cab and buying, restoring and reselling old cars when he wasn’t studying or attending classes. By age 40, he owned the largest chain of auto dealerships in southwestern Pennsylvania. He sold the chain for a king’s ransom 15 years ago. When their only child, Lisa, empty-nested them by enrolling at Pitt, the couple left the Pennsylvania winters and moved full time to their extravagant north Georgia lakeside vacation lodge.
“That’s a much more interesting story than Sis and I, the twins of a couple of college professors in Raleigh, North Carolina. They were both on faculty at N.C. State when they met: dad an associate professor of history and mom a tenured professor in the school of engineering. A bit of a role reversal, I guess, but mom’s a couple of years older than dad,” I said.
“When mom had Sis and me, they decided two was enough and dad got a vasectomy, so it’s just us twins. Since we wanted some independence from mom and dad at State, I chose Chapel Hill and Sis chose Duke because she basically got a full ride academic scholarship,” I said.
The last part surprised Lisa. Janine’s aversion to bragging kept her from tooting her own horn, but she had inherited mom’s mathematical, analytical mind and then some. That’s why NeeNee works for a hush-hush firm doing secret cyber-defense research in Maryland.
The privacy of the booth gave me the chance for the first time to wholly appreciate how pretty Lisa is. As she spoke, I studied her face and for the first time marvel at the gold flecks in her hazelnut eyes, the elegant natural arch of her eyebrows for which some women pay outrageously but never achieve such perfect results, the gentle slope of her nose, the dramatic crown of her upper lip and the way it turns her smile into an unforgettable image, the regal length of her neck and the way her soft, black hair languishes against it.
The frenetic pace of work on Friday and the anticipation of the past several days combined with a bottle of Beaujolais we had shared had created a peaceful languor in us both. I had been on the move constantly since early morning, including picking up a list of shampoos, conditioners, snacks, feminine care needs and other creature comforts that Sis had recommended I have on hand to make my apartment seem welcoming for Lisa. She was thrilled that Lisa would be with me and she would have her apartment to herself and Marcus, who was returning from four days of Army Reserve training in upstate New York at Fort Drum. Lisa had a backpack ready to go when I arrived at their apartment at 6:30, giving us just enough time to park in my apartment’s garage and make our 7 o’clock dinner reservation..
We left the restaurant in the evening chill after what had been a warm winter’s day and strolled along the brick sidewalk. Lisa asked if we could forgo jazz at Jaybo’s and continue down King Street to my place and make an early night of it. I smiled and nodded, placing my camelhair jacket over her bare shoulders.
The gaps between the sidewalk bricks made walking in heels challenging for Lisa. When she considered taking them off and walking barefoot, I kneeled in front of her facing forward and had her hold on to my neck and hook her knees into my elbows, and she rode on my back the remaining five blocks until we were in the elevator of my apartment building. Alone in the elevator, we kissed for the first time that night. We continued, oblivious to the elevator stopping and its door opening, and a neighbor standing there waiting to take his dog outside for a leak. “Pssst,” the guy said, snapping us back to reality.
“Sorry,” I said sheepishly, as we scurried out.
I unlocked my door, took Lisa by the hand and led her inside. She pressed me against the wall and kissed me again, her tongue searching my mouth. Before she finished, she felt my hardness pushing its way upward against her midriff.
My camelhair jacket had fallen to the floor when Lisa reached to kiss me. Now she lowered the spaghetti straps holding her dress in place, pulled her arms out of them, reached skyward and did a slight shimmy that sent the silky sheath sliding off her lean body and pooling around her ankles. She had worn no panties and stood before me beautifully, unashamedly naked. She put her arms back around my neck and whispered hoarsely, “Jake, take me to bed.”
I scooped her up as a groom would his bride, took her into the bedroom and placed her gently on the fresh cotton sheets, which the maids had thoughtfully turned down for me.
Lisa was unbuckling my belt as I kicked off my loafers. She unzipped my fly as I unbuttoned my dress shirt. She pulled off my briefs as my erect cock sprang free and I tugged off my T-shirt. I crawled onto the bed beside her.
We lay on our sides facing one another, already breathless with anticipation. She stroked my scrotum and traced her palm up the underside of my hardness to its tip, already slick with a clear pearl of precum and swirled her thumb across it With one hand, I caressed her nipples, already gorged and demanding attention. The other slid slowly down her abdomen, and she parted her thighs to invite it into her wet, flowering womanhood. She sighed when my fingers found it.
Lisa guided my mouth to her breasts. I took one into my lips, gently steadying her nipple with my teeth while my tongue lashed it from every direction. I glazed her other nipple and aureole with the sweet arousal my left hand had stolen from the petals of her pussy before returning it to service teasing her clitoris and dipping into her vagina to massage her G-spot.