Zebra

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Alice White

A three dimensional transparent cube, a house with the curly rings of smoke coming from the chimney, smiling daisy flowers in the sweeping meadow, and the continuous barn house with an “X” on the front of the barn door. I am becoming an expert artist as I randomly doodle on various pages of my note book, which is now more of a sketch pad. Seminars can be so boring, this one proves to be no different and I am at best, barely engaging with the workshop. The first few speakers are older men with rather stoic speaking styles that hardly leave the ground. One panelist is female, early forties maybe, and is scheduled to close the workshop and answer some questions from the audience. While she covers similar topics as her counterparts, she has a playful, almost coquettish delivery style that truly rejuvenates the room. I immediately take note of her sense of humor and how she tends to pull her brunette waves behind her ear when she smiles. At the end of the workshop, I surprise myself as I raise my hand to pose a question to her based on the information that she provides. Her answer is clear and informative, I think…because as she talks directly to me, I become a bit distracted by how pretty she is. Surviving the full day seminar, my thoughts are on her as I head home, and I wonder what it would be like to talk to her privately. Seminar organizers use email addresses to comprise their mailing lists for future workshops, and within a month, I receive an alert of a workshop that is held in my area. I would normally bypass the focus, but when I notice that the same female presenter is scheduled to speak, I quickly add my name to the registration list. The workshop proves interesting and I am happy to see how the keynoter, once again, maintains the interest of the audience as she expertly fields questions. Standing behind a podium this time, her petite frame barely makes it over five feet and four inches tall. Despite her stature, her presence is commanding and a thunderous round of applause erupts as she concludes her presentation. The roar permeates the room and seeps through the air vents when she offers a feminine wave as she exits the stage. I navigate through the congested lobby on my way out, and I see what looks like a brief, although opportune time to introduce kaçak iddaa myself to her. I walk over to her while she ends her conversation with someone and am met with smiling chestnut eyes and a pearly smile as I readily extend my hand to hers. “Hello, great seminar today! My name is Trinity and I just want to say how informative your presentation was.” “Why thank you, and please call me Melanie, it’s surely a pleasure meeting you.” “I must admit that this is a related field for me and I truly learned a lot from your lecture. I should warn you that I may have more questions as I go along.” “By all means, feel free to reach out anytime. Here, take my card, and keep in touch!” “Will do, and thanks again.” “Don’t mention it.” Melanie crosses my mind several times over the next couple of days and I look for an excuse to contact her. I send an email to her just to cement our exchange the previous week:  Hello Melanie, I hope that this email finds you well and smiling. I just wanted to provide my contact information, as it occurred to me that I didn’t leave my card with you. I hope that you are navigating this weather with some success. Please find my contact information below. Regards, Trinity. Within an hour, I receive her reply:  Trinity, Thank you so much for this email, I was hoping to hear from you. I have been asked to speak on a topic that could use your expertise and I was wondering if we could consult and discuss it further. Perhaps over lunch? My treat of course, let me know if that works for you. Take care, Melanie. Melanie and I live two states apart and coordinate a date and time to meet for lunch the following week. New Jersey is a halfway point between us and she suggests the Grand Lux Café in Paramus. The décor is upscale and the marble floors and hand blown glass fixtures burst with quality themed Venetian accents. The menu follows suit and reads like a creation from the best Italian trattorias and French bistros in Europe. She claims our table before I arrive, and as I enter, she allows the smile that hangs in the corners of her mouth to expand across her coral lips. The setting and the exchange of friendly emails over the last couple of weeks put me well at ease with her, as I return her smile with one of my own. The handshake quickly morphs into kaçak bahis a soft hug and my nose pulls in the floral scent of her hair as we embrace. Her peach colored silk blouse is as soft as her hand as she presses into me, and looks great against her ivory complexion. “Thank you so much for coming. How was the traffic on the way down?” Down… “Oh no problem, my pleasure. The ride down was fine, it’s my drive home in rush hour traffic that will crush me.” “Yes, I know what you mean, I am in the same boat going home myself. Shall we get started…?” Munching on spinach and cheese dip as Melanie enjoys her omelet with tomato, lunch is productive and interesting to say the least. We consult about her next presentation, share insight and ideas about our fields and compare notes on who we both know in key places. Time clearly gets away from us and when I glance at my cell phone, I am surprised to see the time say 5:21 PM. “Will you look at the time? I-95 and the Merritt Parkway will be like a parking lot at this hour.” “Damn, you’re right! How about we have a cocktail? I know a great place twenty minutes west from here and it’s happy hour now.” “Good idea, and sounds better than waiting in traffic, let’s go.” While I follow behind her in the quiet of my SUV, I replay our luncheon. Melanie is warm, friendly and engaging and though I consider myself to be a strictly heterosexual woman, I can easily see how any man can find her very sexy and appealing. We arrive at the Red Stone Tavern and the crowd consists of other licensed professionals like ourselves, full of business suits and business cards, networking and being social. “This is a nice place Mel, do you come here often?” “Yup, I’m from South Jersey, this is my neck of the woods.” “Oh wow, nice.” Mel enjoys a spicy bloody Mary, I order a fuzzy navel and we talk quietly at a corner table. As we enjoy our drinks, the professional side of our conversation begins to relax. Melanie shares that she’s been happily married for almost twenty years, is a mother of two, and lives an overall happy life. I sip my drink and share personal details about my life as well, and we realize how much we really have in common. After my second drink, I’m sure that the traffic subsides, and I reluctantly bid Melanie goodbye and head home. illegal bahis Despite the car radio being on, I am lost in my thoughts about her during my drive. Her femininity, her smell, and how attractive I find her. It’s been years since I have thought about a woman in a sexual way, but I can’t deny the pull I feel towards her. What color bra goes with a peach silk blouse? What kind of panties does she like? What scent was that in her hair? I arrive home and after I undress in the bathroom, I toss my moist panties into the hamper. Wait, what….? Over time, professional emails are more personal and frequent. Ultimately, we segue into text messages and phone calls a few times per week, and she becomes quite a good friend. Ultimately, she discloses that she is bisexual and that while her husband is permissive of her sexual desires, she is discreet with the female lover that she has had for years now. I shakily reconfirm my heterosexuality to her, but disclose my own past sexual experiences with two different women that I had while in my late teens and early twenties. Melanie invites me to a banquet dinner that she and her husband attend. Her husband is a confident and handsome man, and seemingly a good fit for her. I can’t help but wonder how much he must enjoy having her in bed and exploring her body. After the banquet, we have dessert and drinks at her home and her husband soon retires to bed, citing an early rise the next morning. Melanie and I remain on her couch and now with my shoes off, I tuck my stocking laden legs under me as I sip Moscato. Seated five feet from me, her bare feet are pale and her toenails are painted a deep burgundy. I feel the alcohol coursing through my central nervous system and it makes my skin warmer by the second. Melanie swallows her last sip of Cabernet and looks at me while she refills her glass. As she pours her drink, I can see her lipstick print on the glass where her lips were. I want to take her glass and place my lips on that lipstick spot and taste her smile. “You don’t think about women in a sexual way anymore, Trin?” Tension. “…No, my experiences were great, but it was merely a passing phase. I haven’t desired a woman in over fifteen years, Mel.” Until you, right now… “Oh ok, I find that having that outlet really helps me balance things at home, I enjoy it fully.” “I can understand that for sure, and you are lucky to have such an understanding husband.” “As long as I am discreet and keep it to women only, that’s our deal.

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