Coffee with J

"Black with two splendas."

"I'm buying."

J moves to the counter and orders from the barista. I stand behind her and I take a few steps back to get a better sense of her. She's wearing a long dark wool cape-mid calf with mid height black heels. Expensive good quality shoes. I am no foot fetishist but I am attracted to women who wear sensible high quality shoes.

Her calf muscles are well defined, her legs dark in the midst of a fading winter. She is about 5'5" and weighs about 145. She carries her weight well and through a lot of hours at the gym creates the appearance of weighing 20 lbs less.

She turns, hands me a venti and searches for a private table.

"Here" dropping her blacks eyes demurely she moves to a chair with its back to the door.

I move to slide her chair out.

"Thank you!"

As she sits she attempts to move her cape off her shoulders. With one hand I sweep her hair aside. It is black, thick, dense, heavy. I assist her in the removal of the coat and with the same hand, sweep her hair back into place.

Taking a seat across from her, I place my coffee on the table with both hands encircling it.

"Hot?"

"Yes!"

"Thanks!"

"I meant the coffee J." I grin and try to put on my best boyish smile.

She reaches across and takes my hands into hers. Her grip is strong.

"Do you really own a Mercedes?"

"Yes. You can see it on the way out. Why do you ask?"

"C. My partner is of the opinion that you don't own a Mercedes and among other things-that you frequent prostitutes."

"Your partner...you're bi...um no I don't frequent prostitutes. In the first place, this is not about sex, in the second place-do I look like a man who needs to use escorts? To answer your question or at least respond to C, I have never paid for sex and quite honestly, I'd rather date my right hand. Besides, it knows it's way around my cock better than any woman. Does C know you're meeting me? She doesn't approve?"

Meeting J

J's voice mail greeting is unchanged, her sultry voice asking: "Hello is this J, tell me what you want?"

We trade voice mails back and forth without ever hooking up. Her last voice mail includes her work number. I call J at the new number, her voice mail greeting at this number reveals she is employed by the psychiatric division of one of two of the best medical schools in New England.

When she picks up after the third ring I hear: "This is J, how may I help you?"

"J, this is B."

"Finally."

"I've gotta ask you J, are you a patient or a provider?"

She laughs and we exchange information about employers, locations etc. J is intelligent and though not an attorney, employs words with the exactness of a lawyer. There is also a preciseness in her direct answers to my questions. I'm intrigued and pleased by my successful attempt at humor.

We agree to meet. J spends one day a week working at a location not far from me. She selects a local Barnes and Noble and arrange for a Thursday noontime meeting.

Thursday is a cold rainy February day, too warm to snow but damp-cold and chillier than twenty degrees colder with snow. It rains hard.

I arrive early. What I believe is J arrives promptly on time. Her hair is dark, bluish black and descending down to the small of her back. Her mane is luxurious. Her eyes are dark-again nearly black. She appears to be about 5'4" and well built. By that I mean she is around 145 pounds but clearly wears the weight as if she were 30 pounds lighter. Her build reflects a fair amount time spent exercising and in the gym. Her skin is dark, perhaps from her recent vacation but more likely because of her middle east genes. Overall, she reminds of a young but far more attractive Cher.

I follow her through the doors and say: "Hello J!"

She whirls, hugs me and leads me to the coffee counter.

"Let's have coffee, how do you like it?"

J

I called J following her message that she had returned from vacation.

Discovery

"V?"

I repeat myself-again and again.

"V?"

"V?"

"V?"

Nothing...

I move to the front of her. V's eyes are open-unseeing. I move my hand quickly across her field of vision-she doesn't blink. Her body is rigid-she appears catatonic. She's in the room physically but her mind is not in the moment. Tears are welling-no sobbing just a pairs of tears, mournfully trailing down each cheek.

I reach for the bottled water, the French brand-more expensive per bottle than my favorite micro brew and spray her face with the water.

She blinks repeatedly-her breaths increasing in frequency. She's comimg back-slowly but returning to the moment.

I release her from the wrist cuffs and the spreader bar and she sinks, slowly to the mattress. I place a pillow under her head, lay next to her and hold her close-tenderly stroking her back for long moments.

"I'm sorry B."

"Were you abused as a child?"

"Yes."

I wait-not speaking-knowing that at some point she'll need to fill the silence.

"My father was, no, still is a doctor. A powerful man. I tried to please him. I became a competitive swimmer, at one point the best in the state on the high school level."

I say nothing-continuing to hold her.

The silence remains-after nearly twenty minutes I ask her if I can remove the plug? I add more lube and gently withdraw it.

The dam breaks-the tears return-sobbing she tells me how he used to avoid her cunt and preferred forcing his cock into her ass, forcing his body onto hers-so heavy at times she was unable to breathe, her swimming training allowing her to grab air at various times and preventing her from passing out.

The scene is over.

"I'm so sorry V."

I dress her slowly. She reacts to my sliding her sweats back on like a docile four year old. I gather everything back into the gear bag as she lays in the fetal position on the bed. I open the door to the room, propping it open so I can place the bag back in the trunk of the car and at the same time, remaining in eye contact with her at all times. I start the car, open the door on the passenger side and let it warm up as I return to take her in my arms and place her in the warm leather bucket seat.

We drive off into the night, she cuddling against me as I process what has just occurred and what it is we'll need to talk about...