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A New BeginningIntroduction
I hear some folks talk about their golden years. Mostly it's older people. . . . looking foward to the future when they can retire and travel or do whatever it is in life they have dreamed of doing. For me, however, what I consider my golden years have already come and gone.
The day I left my cozy nest from my parents watchful eye. . . was my first move to gain my independence in search of who I really was and who I wanted to be.
My golden years came at a time in my life when I was very young, very naive and innocent. .
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. yet quickly becoming extremely independent, sassy and developing a desire to be a bit of a hell raiser.
At this moment in my life, I was, for the first time, away from the strict family environment I had grown up in. I was dealing with many emotions and trying to come to terms as to who I was mentally, sexually and spiritually.
Because of my strict up bringing I was constantly wrestling with my sexuality. I had become sexually active only a year before the following series of events occurred. . . meaning I was no longer a virgin. However to be quiet frank, I didn't really see what all the fuss was about.
My two previous lovers had been more than stale, making sex, just something that I did in the act of getting it over. . .
to keep my partners happy. .
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to keep them wanting me in their life.
I had never had an orgasm or any variations of feelings close to it. I had never masturbated as that was considered taboo in my spiritual world. And I had never had the pleasure of giving or receiving sex orally.
My inner self was at a constant struggle between what I thought I wanted sexually versus what I envisioned I needed sexually.
It was for me at this point in my life. . . a new beginning. . .
A New Beginning is copyrighted (March 2006) and may not be used in any form other than that granted by the author. Use of this material or it's likeness without the written consent of the author is strictly prohibited. __________________
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"A woman is like a tea bag. You never know how strong she is until she gets into hot water. "Eleanor Roosevelt Chapter 1
I came home from work to find my bags packed and waiting for me at the door one sunny afternoon in mid June. I was almost 22, in college, working three jobs to make ends meet. College tuition was due for the fall. I had one year remaining. There was little time to get the money put away so I could finish my degree the next year.
I had become a bit of a hellcat, gaining my freedom away from the small town life. I studied, but followed my free time avenues into the realm of college activities and blockbuster party events. Partying 101 was my favorite subject. My classmates hardly knew I existed until they caught me on a weekend. I was a tiger on the party scene….
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persistent and stubborn. No one ever dare tell me I couldn't do anything. It was definitely my way or no way at all.
My roommate was waiting for me this particular day. She was pissed over some silly crap her boyfriend had made up about me and him.
I wasn't in the mood to argue with her. The way I figured it, she wasn't going to believe me over him anyway. So I got my bags and headed off early for my night shift at the bar where I had been working for almost two years.
Jeff, the head bartender, was already there. Jeff and I were best friends at the time. He was probably the closest friend I had during my college years. We could talk about anything and were always there for each other when we had a problem.
We had never had anything between us except friendship, even though I will say he was one nice looking fellow. Jeff was 26, way taller than me. I was 5'6", long dark brown hair with a slight natural curl cascading down my back.
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I had a medium build even though I only weighed 115 pounds dripping wet, small 34B boobs and hazel eyes. He was 6'1" and thinly built, medium short brown hair, clean shaven, brown eyes to die for and one fine ass.
Asses were my thing back then. I guess some might have called it a hobby. If there was a good male ass within 100 yards for me to gaulk at. . . I did. No touching. I kept it respectable…just looking.
I had never really gone for Jeff or found myself attracted to him. Jeff had no facial hair. I liked hair on my men. Mustaches, beards, hairy chest, legs, for me, the more hair the better. Now that did not include their head.
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Shaved heads was fine, but rare in the late 70’s.
I told Jeff about what had happened with Katie, my roommate. He immediately got his keys from behind the bar and told me to take my stuff over to his place, get a shower, and get back for work in an hour. I gave him a big hug and thanked him for the place to crash. Best thing about the arrangement, was he lived two streets over. I could walk to work if I wanted to.
Jeff had a spare room where I could keep my stuff and sleep since his roommate had moved out about two months prior to that time. I had been over to his place many times during our friendship for various parties. There was a time or two that I’d cooked a meal on Sunday afternoons when we were both off from work. Our friendship was easy…it was natural.
I got my shower, got dressed, fixed a couple of sandwiches. I toyed with the idea of walking back, but considering the late hour I would be getting off work, I drove back to the bar.
By the time that I got there, Jeff was pretty busy with the happy hour crowd. I laid his sandwich behind the bar. .
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. . with his keys and a note that I had written to him saying thanks for being such a great friend. Glancing around the room at the thirsty crowd, I put my butt to work.
That night after we closed. . . . we both sat at the bar. . . as we had done so many times before, talking and laughing about situations in our life. He then brought up the deal about the sandwich I had left him earlier. He laughed and told me it was going to cost me more than a sandwich if I expected to live with him. I nudged his arm and told him to stick a plug in it, we were friends, that was it.
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If I needed to pay rent until I got my own place then I would be more than willing to do so. Other than that he was dreaming.
Of course Jeff had to have the last word. Grinning, he popped out with, “Sex wasn't exactly what I had on my mind. It’s your chicken and dumplings that keep dancing inside my head. ”
Dramatically grabbing my heart, I shot him an evil stare.
Heck I could have clobbered him at that point because he shot me down so bad. But, I agreed that since I was off the next day, I could manage a home cooked meal for his little ole bachelor self.
We went home together and had a few more drinks sitting on the living room floor. He began to tell me about this girl he dated a few times after Cathie, his live in girlfriend, left. Some of the stuff he told me was a bit explicit and rather wild. At that time I had only been with two guys in my life and he referred to me as a virgin, cause I was always "oh my goshing" at his sex stories.
We had shared stories about our lovers before, but his were always so much better than mine. It sort of pissed me off sometimes that he seemed to have the best hot sex life and I was always getting the short end of the stick. I would accuse him of building the stories to make me look bad and he would just laugh at me, shake his head and call me his sweet little virgin baby.
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I hated that!
And this night I hated it even more. He kept looking at me, with those dark brown eyes, not like a friend, but like he was actually telling me this story and thinking of ME while he was talking about HER.
Jeff was doing the "devil grin" he sometimes got as he watched my reaction, telling me about him and this girl fucking on the bar after work right there at Chris' place. I was getting a bit aggravated by that time. He had me too uncomfortable for my own good. It was 4 am and I was drunker than Cooter Brown, not to mention, it had been 6 weeks since my boyfriend and I had broken up. Needless to say, I had been without and was just a tad bit horny. I was getting more and more uncomfortable. I was just a tad bit wet by all the talk about banging this girl on the bar.
I told Jeff to stop. He kept talking and grinning. Then he asked me why I needed him to stop. . . that we were just talking as friends like we always had.
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My heart was doing flip flops by then and I was way too drunk to make sense. . . . so I told him, “I am going to bed, Jeff. Goodnight.
He got up to help me off the floor. Pulling me up. . . . he gave me a big tug toward him. He put his arm around my waste and took his hand and cupped my chin in it. I was frozen for a split second. .
. . thinking oh shit, not good, but maybe good, yes. But my mind switched thinking directions. I was thinking good god he's like your brother. I hated when my mind set in rational mode, especially when I’d been drinking and rational made no sense at all.
He continued looking at me like he was waiting for something. I finally blurted out, “What in the Sam Hill are we doing?!”
He grinned and asked me, “What do you want us to do?”
In that instant I was about to melt in his arms, but I came to my senses. I pushed him away and told him, “I want to get my drunken ass to bed, before the two of us do something we are going to regret at a later time. ”
He pulled me closer into him and whispered in my ear, “Neither of us is going to regret a damn thing. ”
Oh heavens, his breathe was so hot against my face. I couldn't take it anymore. I told him goodnight again and practically ran down the hall to my room. I slammed the door and locked it.
To be continued.
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