Seatmates By Rita
This is the second part to seatmates, my co writer from the first seatmates wrote this one by herself. Hope you all enjoy it as much as I did...Jessi
The divorce had been especially painful for Jessi. From the time she stood at the altar, the train of her white gown flowing down the steps to the congregation, that she was the one who was lying.
Here she was, giving herself to this man, promising fidelity through whatever life had to send their way, and she knew in her heart that he could never give her everything she needed. No man could.
Yet, she had worked so hard at making the marriage a success. So many of her passions were pushed aside for him. She gave herself only to him. Willingly. Eagerly. Always holding to the notion that this is the way things should be.
And then she got the letter. He didn't even have the courage to confront her directly. A god dam letter. While he was on a business trip. "Dear Jessi." The asshole could have just written "Dear John" and stopped with that.
"Dear Jessi. I don't know how to say this. You've been everything to me. But everything you have just isn't enough. I'm not happy, and I don't think you are happy. I love you, but I need more. I need passion. I need a full commitment. And you just aren't able to give that. It's not your fault.
It's not mine. It just is. Yes, I've met someone else. But she isn't the cause of this. She just made me realize that we both need to move on, to be true to our hearts. So, I'm writing to you, asking for a divorce, and asking that we can do this from love, not let ourselves give in to spite and meanness. Love, Michael"
She stuffed the letter in her purse, and there it stayed. Through the mundane everyday trips, through the nights out with friends, crying until she could cry no more, and during that plane trip.
Oh, my. The plane trip. Rita. Was she real? Or was it just a dream? What Jessi did know was that the dream kept recurring. The nights alone in her bed, she could still smell Rita's perfume. It wasn't Jessi's hand that slid under her pajamas, slowly drawing tight circles around her pussy, applying more and more pressure with each pass, letting her finger push up against her clitoris until she was so wet. That was Rita.
The dreams were a release. An escape from the day-to-day. Jessi was successful in her job, but success brought with it envy, especially from other women. The irony, thought Jessi. I want them, and they just want to get me.
Thursday was no different than all the days that had come before, since Michael's letter had arrived. Up in the morning. Shower. On this day, letting the hot water run over her, the steam building. A bar of soap, in its last days of purpose, now small enough to slide up her thigh. Jessi's left hand massaging a soapy breast, her nipple growing erect. Her right hand guiding the bar of soap up her leg, into her, pushing against her, sliding so effortlessly in and out. The spasm began in her knees, spread up her legs, the muscles grew taut in her ass, and her orgasm sent shivers through her entire body.
She dressed, amused that her lover was a bar of soap. Happy that it was there. And off to work.
The day was hectic, but then they all are in this job. It wasn't until 6:30 came that Jessi realized she had been at it all day without a break. Only coffee since her breakfast of a pear and juice.
Suddenly she was famished.
Tonight it was time for a treat. A favorite French restaurant, just one block from the office. The chill of a winter's night felt good during the short walk. Eating alone always had made Jessi self- conscious. No longer. Fuck them. It was her treat. She always carried a book to read in her briefcase. The luxury of eating good food, sipping great wine and enjoying a book far surpassed any imagined embarrassment of being alone.
Besides, Jessi knew that she was a knockout. People didn't look at her with pity. They looked at her with envy and desire. And if they were desirous enough, sometimes Jessi would turn in her chair just ever so slightly, cross her right leg over her left, and let her skirt ride up just a bit too far.
Enough to make sure that desire burned in the men -- and some women -- who were there as couples.
Jessi took her seat at the table, ordered a nice Pinot Noir, and pulled out her book. As the waiter delivered the wine, Jess looked up...and saw the woman two tables over. "Oh my god," she thought. Rita.
Unmistakably Rita, even though she had only her profile turned to Jessi. The long legs, sleek under shimmering hose. The immaculately tailored suit, a stylish gray chalk stripe. And the auburn hair. The gorgeous, auburn hair.
Rita was engaged in a very animated discussion with her tablemate, another woman. She would gesture. Stop, allowing the other woman to have her say, then take off again.
Jess watched with amusement, and a sense of longing that she could share that conversation. If it were me, Rita wouldn't be talking business, as Jessi surmised she was. We would be talking about things that matter, thought, Jessi. Things that move the soul. We would be talk about dreams that come true, even if only one person has the dream. Or did we both dream it? Ahhh, the dream. A late night flight, both Jessi and Rita seated in the last row of first class. Jessi working on a computer, crafting another delicious erotic story for her Internet fans one of whom, it turned out, was Rita. And, as one thing lead to another, a tryst in the darkened plane, under a blanket, out of the gaze of all except maybe that one man. Falling asleep in each other's arms until the pilot announced the approach for landing. And then the good-byes, a promise to call, but not really knowing if Jessi should call to say she had this dream about Rita, or to say, "Rita, we were hot, weren't we?"
And now here they are, in a restaurant. Rita with another woman, a business dinner, probably.
And Jessi sharing a glass of wine with her book, winding down a day that began with Dove lovemaking. Jessi was smiling. Life was funny. So funny, she almost didn't feel the hand on her shoulder.
"It is you, isn't it?" asked Rita, standing over Jessi. "I heard a tiny laugh, and knew exactly who it had come from. And sure enough, here you are. I can't believe it."
"Hello, Rita," said Jessi. "It is a small world, isn't it? What are you doing here?"
"Well, I was doing business earlier today. But that part of the day is gone, and my business is now myself. Look, we've already had dinner, but won't you join us at our table. It will give us an excuse to have another glass of wine and maybe that sinful flourless chocolate cake."
"Oh, I don't want to interrupt you, Rita. You seem to be so engaged with your companion. I would feel like I was intruding."
"Nonsense. I'll move your wine, you take your book and bag, and join us, Please." With that, Rita picked up Jessi's glass of wine, turned on her three-inch heel and in a few strides of her long legs was at her table.
Rita already was into her introduction when Jessi reached the table. "...and Michelle, this is Jessi."
Michelle laughed. "Slow down, Rita. And hello," she said, extending her hand. "It's Jessi, right? I'm Michelle, a friend of our non-stop Rita."
Jessi sat down and, for the first time, had a good look at Michelle. She was about the same age as Jessi and Rita, late 20s. Blonde, with lovely blue eyes. And gorgeous. In fact, the three of them, sitting at one table, set a standard for beauty that the restaurant -- or any restaurant in town -- would be hard-pressed to meet for years and years to come. Three very attractive, very engaging and very sensual women.
"Every man is this restaurant just got a hard-on when the three of us sat down," said Rita. "And some of the women are feeling a bit frisky, too, I bet," she said, laughing loudly.
Jessi and Michelle couldn't help but laugh. The thing about truly attractive and confident women is this. They know they are attractive. They know they turn heads. And they are comfortable with that. Their physical appeal doesn't define them. It simply is.
"So, what were you two talking about? I couldn't help but notice a lot of hand-waving and intense conversation," asked Jessi.
"Well," said Rita, "we were talking about the same thing we always discuss. Sex. And why sex between women is so much better than anything else?"
"Oh, come on. I had a pretty good bar of soap this morning." When Michelle and Rita stared at Jessi, she laughed. "I've been on my own for the past few weeks. Husband decided that he couldn't compete with me, couldn't not compete with me and couldn't just decide not to play the game. So he left. And this morning, my worn-down bar of Dove became my very hard -- if a bit small -- lover. And you know what? I've had a lot of lovers who never felt that good. Oh, God, I hate to admit it, but that little bar of Dove almost brought me to my knees."
Rita and Michelle were laughing so hard, that Jessi could feel herself grow flush with embarrassment. "Well, I don't fuck myself with soap all the time. It's just that..."
"Oh, Jessi, I'm sorry," said Rita. "We weren't making fun of you. In fact, we're laughing because that's exactly the conversation we were having. Best lovemaking without a penis. And yours fits right in."
"Oh, that's great," said Jess. "So what do you want to share with me, since it appears that penis- less I shall be for awhile? Maybe forever after that jerk."
"Oh, my favorite is this," said Michelle. "In my bedroom I have a big...and I mean really big...overstuffed leather chair. The leather is so worn and so soft that you just sink right into it.
And my chair faces a window that overlooks a wooded area. And during the winter months, when the sun is low in the sky, at about 4 o'clock, the setting sun just shines through that window and embraces the entire chair. It can be the coldest day of winter, but the sun on that leather chair is so very cozy.
"And sometimes, when I'm lonely or sometimes when I just need to lose myself in my thoughts, I put on some Mozart, and wait in my chair for the sun to take all of me. I wrap myself in my terry robe. I start with my finger just playing around my right nipple. That's my sensitive one. And as my left hand works that nipple, drawing it up to an amazing state of arousal, my right hand slides down my stomach, feeling the sun's warmth on me, pausing for just a moment to let the first wave of excitement from my breast work its way through my body, and then my hand moves lower.
Feeling first for the now wet and soft place where my pussy meets my ass, touching it, pulling on it with my fingernails, playing with it so luxuriously.
"My eyes are closed, soaking in the sound of Mozart, the warmth of my sun, the feel of my terry robe, the touch of the leather against my exposed legs and arms. And it draws my finger up, slowly, touching my lips gently, and then pushing in, against me, in circles on my clitoris. The sun feels so warm now. Hot. The music soothing. My breast feeling every pass of my hand across my so hard nipple.
"And as the music crescendos, so do I. It lifts my ass off the chair, pushing me into my finger, my stomach against the heel of my hand. And then it just explodes. I mean everything. At once. Until I fall back, pull that soft terry around me and just let the last rays of sun be my gentle lover who has only a short time before she must go."
"Oh my god."
The three women broke their reverie to see an embarrassed waiter -- embarrassed both by the exclamation that came from his unguarded mouth and the mound in his pants that betrayed his thoughts -- standing at their table.
"I'm so sorry for interrupting," he stammered. "I just wanted to know if the lady would like to order."
Rita, Jessi and Michelle looked at him, and broke out laughing. Causing his embarrassment to grow deeper and, in at least one way, larger.
"Yes," said Jessi. "Do you have anything in a leather chair?" Their laughter sent him scurrying to the kitchen, and, no doubt to the washroom. If ever the charge to employees to wash their hands after using the restroom meant anything, the three hoped that this was the time.
"And what about you, Rita?" asked Michelle. "What is your sexiest moment?"
"Well, there have been certain plane rides that caused a chill or two," said Rita, placing her hand on Jessi's arm. "But I'll save that for another time. My story tonight is my first time, and still one of my sexiest.
"I was in college. My roommate and I went to a party. We knew it wouldn't be much fun. Boys trying to get in our pants, drinking until they were peeing in their pants...the usual college thing.
"Anyway, this party was at a fraternity house. Kathy -- that was her name -- and I thought most of the party was stupid. So we were being silly. Poking our heads into the different rooms. Seeing what was there. And we came upon one room that no one was in. But neatly lined up across a shelf was an amazing collection of pornographic videotapes. Lots of them. Well, of course, Kathy and I though he wouldn't miss one or two, so we just grabbed a couple and decided to go back to our dorm room.
"It turns out that neither of us had really seen a porn flick. Nothing like this anyway. So we opened a bottle of wine, put it into the VCR and got it going. And I'll tell you, God was smiling on us. This wasn't the hardcore kind of smut that I've seen since then. This was a pretty well done piece of erotic video. The women were real people, not just holes to fuck. And as we both lay on our beds, drinking our wine, watching this movie, I was getting more than a little wet. Now remember, we were in our dorm rooms, so we had single beds, desks and some chest of drawers. That was about it. So Kathy was on her bed and I was in mine.
"And as I watched in our dark room, I couldn't help myself. My hand was in my panties by scene two. And feeling damn nice. But I have to admit that I was a bit shy about it. After all, masturbating to a porn flick? Come on. So I stopped to watch the movie. And damned if over the heavy breathing on the TV I didn't hear heavy breathing from Kathy's bed. And when the light from the TV was at its brightest, it looked as if Kathy had pulled her skirt up and was enjoying herself.
"Now by this time, I've had a lot to drink. So much to drink that I did what I had wanted to do for a long time. I stood, undressed down to my panties, and got into Kathy's bed. And you know what she did? It was as if we had been there forever. She pushed me onto my back, slid down me just a little, wrapped her gorgeous lips around my nipple, and sucked and played and licked and gave me an orgasm just like that.
"And then she really got started. She straddled me, still wearing her skirt, and placed my hands on her hips, one on each side. And with her hands, she guided me down her legs, pulling her skirt with my hands, rocking back onto her ass so her skirt could slide over her knees, and off her feet.
And then she kneeled back over me, this time took just my thumbs, hooked them into her panties, and did the same thing, rocking back so the panties could come off her, then back over me. But this time she slid up over me, letting her pussy hair just brush my now very erect nipples. Staying there long enough to finger herself, still rocking and rolling on my breasts, and then taking her very wet finger and dragging it across my lips and onto my tongue.
"Nothing I had ever tasted was so sweet. And Kathy knew that. She pushed up over me, holding herself just barely over my lips. And I knew just what to do. As Kathy braced herself against the wall with her hands, I let my tongue go inside her, licking, sliding, gliding, pulling with my teeth, then pushing back with my tongue.
"My hands held her ass, and every time she came, I could feel her very cute butt grow so tight, then release with her moans of pleasure. And every time she did that, I could feel my butt grow just as tight and release with just as much pleasure.
"Oh, we must have made love for an hour, two hours...who knows? She on me, me on her, we laying side by side. It was so lovely. And finally, we just collapsed. Letting ourselves drift off into the most glorious sleep next to each other.
"Over the next few weeks, we made love several times. Almost every night, if you want to know the truth. But it was never like that first time. In fact, we could never make it like that first time. So when summer came and the school year ended, we said good-bye, pledged our love, but we each had made plans to live someplace else when we returned to campus in the fall. No recriminations. No blame. Just a wonderful memory."
By now, the three women were holding hands. Looking at each other. Feeling their legs brush against one another.
"I wonder," asked Michelle, "if the food in this restaurant is all that good. Perhaps, Jessi, you would like to come to my place. I have some wonderful scampi, all the makings for a great salad, and a lovely bottle or two of wine. And for you, Rita, I don't have that chocolate cake you want, but I do have a great box of truffles from an admirer and some wonderful coffee. What do you say?"
"Sounds great to me," said Rita, already picking up her purse. Michelle and Rita called for their check, refused to let Jessi pay for the one glass of wine she had, and placed the cash on the table. As the three were getting ready to leave, Rita turned to Jessi.
"You didn't have a chance to tell us your best penis-less love story," she said.
"I think," said Jess, "that my best story will be told tomorrow."
-The end