The Alexandra Series (2 page)

I tried all day to drive away the feeling, but any success I had was thwarted as I drove home. An errand in an unfamiliar part of town took me down a street where by 5:30 the lights were already blazing advertisements for sex, movies and porn. TOPLESS REVUE-NIGHTLY beckoned in brilliant white and red neon. The rising sensations made me almost panic, and I could no longer ignore my mounting desire.

At home, I tried adhering to my evening routine, but it was hard to hold back the wild riot in my body. When the telephone rang, I was almost thankful to hear my friend Kathy’s voice. We chatted about the art fair that weekend, then Kathy rambled on endlessly until I was beginning not to care. I was bored, bored to tears, bored with the conversation – bored with my life.

“So what are you doing Saturday night?” she asked.

“I don’t know.”

“There’s a new French film playing at the art house… hopefully something sexy.”

Yes, wouldn’t that be nice, but these films rarely were anything but hard to follow.

“Sure,” I said, without much enthusiasm. “Listen, Kathy, how about I call you in a couple of days. I’m not feeling too well.”

Truthfully, I couldn’t wait for the evening to end and for my pleasure to begin.

While eating a chicken pot pie, I watched the news; the ads for jeans and then some dance show – trashy yes, but pretty steamy stuff. I couldn’t stop myself, couldn’t change the channel; the dancing bodies had me glued to the screen.

When I finally pulled myself away, I did the dishes, finished the newspaper and watched a taped episode of
NCIS,
all the while feeling the desire gnawing on my insides. By the time I finally headed off to bed, my arousal had fully flamed. Why had I bothered to wait so long? I was suddenly so hot that I couldn’t stop myself from falling to the bed with fingers reaching down inside my sweatpants and deftly finding their way inside my panties. As desire took over, the lights in the bar went on inside my mind – I could smell the smoke and the liquor and feel the music vibrate through me. In my mind I danced body to body with my latest fantasy lover – dark hair, a trim goatee, casual clothes with plenty of muscle underneath. He drew me close, one hand on my ass, the other on my right tit.

We moved with our hips together as if we were already naked cock to naked cunt. When his hand began to massage my breast, I shuddered deeply feeling a rash of sensation travel through my body. He reached for the buttons of my blouse, and one by one they opened until the sheer material fell away. I panted, lust oozing from every pore. And when he pushed my bra aside and the cool air caressed my exposed skin, I gasped. My head fell back as he leaned in to suck a nipple that had already grown erect.

While he eagerly fondled my flesh, my own hands played with my real-time body. When his hands dropped to my thighs and moved against my belly, so did my own. I could feel the fervor in me rise up by leaps and bounds, an orgasm building fast. Then it was on me in an instant – that amazing moment when I could no longer hold back, and with a delicious urgency my entire being tensed with a long forceful spasm…followed by a flood of sensation, wave after wave of them, reckless and unrestrained, my wet pussy pulsing against my hand…the lights in the bar faded away in my mind, so did my hot young lover. I opened my eyes and gazed at the wholesomeness of daffodils splashed across the bedroom curtains and on the comforter that covered my bed.

My room returned me to my appropriate senses even before the last pulsing throb of my orgasm died away. I quickly jumped out of bed, shed my sweats and headed to the bathroom. I washed my hands and peed, then slipped my flannel nightgown over my head. It fell softly to my ankles. With each pearl button slipping through a delicate loop of fabric, the furor in me subsided another degree, until it was just a distant memory. I combed my hair with my hand, washed the makeup from my face and brushed my teeth. By the time I slipped into bed all the physical pleasure had disappeared. Left was the usual pangs of guilt and shame over another obsessive masturbation. I wanted to forget it had ever happened. The episode only reminded me that there was another woman inside me begging to get out, and she was fast destroying the perfect little world I’d so carefully constructed. I was afraid of anyone ever knowing that another woman was there, but how long could I continue to ignore her?

Chapter Two

“I’m Alex Morgan.”

“Jane Houston,” the woman replied, sitting down at the desk next to mine. She wasn’t pretty. Plain brown hair in a simple blunt cut, distinct tan face, just the right amount of makeup, and uncomplicated but distinctly sensuous clothes. She had a sensual assurance about her, as if some power flowed from her and she was in an altogether different world from mine. She was not wholesome or sweet or stern or motherly, but dark, fluid and mysterious. She was as natural as grass, graceful as a bird, as if she belonged to the atoms in the air, part of their essential harmony…not like me at all, who looked more like an alien borrowing space on earth than someone who truly belonged.

That must be why she was so alluring. I was immediately inspired, wondering who she was and why she happened to be invading my peaceful place of work. I found my mind spinning with thoughts of her – distinctly sexual thoughts. I imagined her making love for hours, though never giving herself completely to any man. She would be haughty that way – bold and dominant, wise, self-assured and beautiful – all qualities I admired, which I knew I lacked. I could have stared at her for hours, mesmerized.

I had to shake myself from the momentary stupor – amazing what she stirred up in me in a matter of seconds.

Once I settled down to work, I was aware of her presence every second as if I could feel the left side of my body vibrate differently with her energy so close.

I rarely conversed with other employees, but with Jane the silence felt uncomfortable. However, I couldn’t think of anything to say. Finally, I managed a nervous, “Would you like some coffee?” smiling a bit bashfully.

“Yes, thank you.” She quickly stacked the papers neatly on her desk and rose to walk with me to the lunchroom.

Again I felt the need to break the silence. “Have you worked in a patent office before?

“No, but it’s familiar enough. I just hate first days, so much tension over details.”

I loved the melodious timbre of her voice.

“Can’t even remember my first day. I will have been here seven years next month.”

“Oh my, I can’t imagine being in the same place that long,” she mused, “I’ve been thinking a lot about San Francisco recently.”

She was already planning her leaving, and it was only her first day?

“This isn’t such a bad place. The benefits are good and you can change desks when one comes open.”

She smiled again, and without a trace of condescension, said, “I never stay long in this sort of position.” She was matter of fact, revealing a basic truth about her nature, almost sighing wearily as she spoke to indicate an inner flaw.

“So where were you working before?”

“I did some theatre work in New England, was living with a man at the time, so I didn’t need much. But it was destined to end, too many conflicts. Now I have to be responsible and pay my bills. A lot of bother,” she laughed lightly, “but it’s better than living on the street. And I do need a break from men.”

So casual with men. She could pick them up when she wanted one, and toss him aside when she was done.

Jane went shopping at lunch, punctually returning to her desk with two brown bags in hand at one o’clock. I wished I could look so confident and effortless. By the day’s end, I was droopy and bedraggled. Jane remained the same, so much herself, nothing would alter her, not the hour or the work or the interruptions or anything for that matter.

When it was time to leave, I straightened my skirt, which was all askew from sitting and twisting so long in my seat. My scarf had come loose and needed adjusting as well. That done, I slipped into the arms of my jacket.

“Alex, how about you join me for a drink?” I heard her speak and looked up surprised.

“Ah…um…ah,” I stumbled over my reply like a silly schoolgirl. “Thank you, but tonight is…I, uh, grocery shop. Maybe some other time.”

She smiled, “Yes, we’ll do that sometime. Have a good evening.” She turned and walked down the corridor.

Grocery shop! Oh, good god, Alex, was that really the best you could do!

I thought of Jane all evening, imagining conversations, or my going places with her, dressing in her kind of clothes. Trendy, a little bohemian, perhaps, but not so much as to be out of place in the company working environment. She was so poised, so self-assured, while never felt as if I belonged anywhere.

I wondered if she went to the bar without me.
Would she just walk into a place and talk to strangers? Would she go home with a man? Oh, but she wanted a break from men. Maybe she’d go home with a woman!
A warm feeling grew inside me imagining her life. My body heat rose, but it wasn’t the compulsive heat that needed to be released in a flurry of masturbation, just a warmth that I could bask in forever. I fell asleep thinking of her.

I didn’t get another invitation from Jane for several days, and had begun to think I’d passed up an opportunity forever. She left each day smiling at me warmly, but made no further offers. Perhaps she’d just been gracious that first day. I watched her with great interest, picking up more clues to her character. She read foreign novels, plays and poetry. She often shopped on her lunch hour bringing back bags from various boutiques around town. I tried finding one of the novels in a bookstore, but they were out.
Did I want to order it? the clerk asked. Oh no, I’d find something else.

I thought of Jane some nights as I lay down to sleep, some phrase or gesture catching my imagination and I’d be off in her life, at the theatre or a film festival, always surrounded by sexy men. And yet, when my body demanded physical satisfaction, I’d still go to that bar in my mind, the lights would turn on in my head and I’d feel my raging need ready to break loose.

One night as I masturbated, I dressed myself in a red knit skirt and top, close fitting and designed to show off a seductive figure. The low cut top fastened with snaps and the skirt was short. I even left a couple of snaps undone so my bare midriff was exposed. I wore black stilettos and plenty of red lipstick, having prepared myself for the dancing contest where I could be brave, outrageous and as improper as my desires. Time to break some rules.

The contest started late in the evening, when the small crowd was filled with liquor and growing boisterous. The pink flamingo on the wall blinked brightly and the glaring stage lights accentuated every movement as a small stream of sexy females took the stage. I spent little time watching the others dance; I didn’t need them to inspire me. I went on stage with one thing only in mind – having every man desiring me.

As the music came through the speakers, my hips began to move to the seductive rhythm. The floodlights made me sweat. Hearing cheers from the audience, I knew they were pleased, so I hiked my skirt up further to show off my gleaming thighs. My body warmed from the excitement and from the feel of the eyes riveted on me. As I danced, the little snaps that held the clinging fabric of the top opened one at a time – a slow striptease. The crowd of men cheered for more. When only two remained, I bit my lip, batted my lashes coyly at my admirers, and ripped the top wide open, allowing the red cloth to drop to the dance floor like a rag. As planned, my breasts jiggled loose from the low cut bra. The layer of sweat made my chest glow in the spotlights.

Since the ultimate focal point of my exhibition was still hiding underneath the knit skirt. The audience threw money, urging me to take it off. My mind quickly created a long line of snaps on the side of the skirt, so that with each offering, each bill thrown to the stage, another snap opened. When the skirt finally fell away, I shivered before my cheering audience, and danced naked – nothing remained between me and their hungry eyes but the tiniest g-string in front, covering my pubic mound with a triangle of cloth. A single strand of black cord ran between the cheeks of my ass.

Even then, they wanted more of me – an orgasm right before their eyes. They wanted to witness my pleasure, all my secrets exposed. No longer able to simply watch, their hands began to caress my legs. Then one man jumped to the stage, with his eager hands ready to explore every inch of my body.

I was gone a moment later – in my fantasy and in my bed at home, I was lost to the ecstasy. When the last whimper of orgasm passed from my body and the lights in the bar went out, I opened my eyes and immediately jumped from bed and headed to the bathroom to wash the juices from my hands. After slipping into my nightgown, I went to bed.

On a Thursday even some weeks Jane approached me after work again. “How about that drink?”

I was ready for her this time, although I still managed to stumble over my reply, “Y-yes, sounds great!” I had no idea what I was getting myself into, but I felt a nervous excitement all through my body.

“Great, there’s a place not far from my apartment, we’ll take your car so you can go home from there.”

“What about your car?” I asked.

“Don’t have one,” she smiled.

“Oh.”
No car? A liberated woman without a car?

Jane directed me to an unfamiliar part of town, a mixed neighborhood with ethnic restaurants, old buildings, store front businesses and an occasional corner grocery. I could smell the mix of fragrances as they bombarded the street with exotic perfumes from India, the Orient and Mexico. Each aroma seemed to enter my body at a different spot, touching off a sensitivity in places I hadn’t imagined could come alive.