It started for Vicky one evening when she answered the phone. "Is that Victoria Mannering? My name is Roger Simpson," said a warm voice. Vicky was pleasantly surprised at a stranger pronouncing her name correctly instead of following the spelling. "Yes. What can I do for you Mr. Simpson?"
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I don't know what it was with Emma, but just about everything was a first for her. She'd never smoked pot until the night we met. She'd never sixty-nined until about three hours later, when I spent an enjoyably frantic ten minutes with her lovely breasts mashed against my stomach, her skilled mouth doing a real number on me as I tried to return the favour.
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I was surprised when the offer came to manage the new clinic down the valley. I liked the idea, I had managed the wellness clinic for an HMO for years. Then came some shuffles and moves, a marriage, a tragedy? Circumstance, like happens in life?
Back to being a single coming up on middle aged woman, living alone in a house that is too big, and working as just a Doctor on staff at the clinic.
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My husband Philip and I recently moved to Phoenix for his job. We had lived in Wisconsin for the last six years so this new weather is taking some getting used to. But I really love the warmth.
Philip is an architect; he designs tall buildings and some nightclubs. He's a good provider. And we are still in love. We like most of the same things and our sex life is fantastic!
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So now you're going to learn more about my life than you probably want to know. But that weekend with Grace and Kale was such a crazy couple of days, I had to write it down. Skip to the end for the sex, but if you really want to know what happened, read on. I just hope neither Kale nor Grace read this.
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When they started building the apartment building next door it was more an annoyance than anything else. It would take almost a year for them to complete the building after razing the smaller brownstones that now occupied the space. We overlooked four of the smaller buildings and their backyards. Not the most amazing view, but it was wide open to the skies. Our apartment was on the 11th floor.
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I
Mirrors should be banned, I thought, tilting my head slightly to one side. They're awake, you know, and exist to torment women who appear too fat, too short, too tall, too...anything.
Each should be seized, in on-going raids by some would-be federal agency, a Department of Imagery or something, which if it doesn't already exist, ought to be mandated by Congress to protect females everywhere.
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Let's get this out of the way right off. I'm a cheating, asshat, bastard. There is no other way to put it so don't bother with the lame comments telling me what I already know after you read this. I have no redeeming qualities after what I did.
I used to be married; you'll soon see why I'm not anymore. In my defense, and maybe the men that read this will agree, I couldn't help myself... what was placed before me was too tempting, beyond my capacity to resist.
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When Mary approached me about doing a photoshoot with her and Kim, I was surprised. Being my ex, Mary knew I was good at shooting shall we say... glamour shots. When we were together she would sometimes dress up sexy and we would do a photo/video shoot and we often had some of our best sex while looking at the results.
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When I left the big city I had lots of good reasons. I hated having neighbors twenty feet from my bedroom. I hated that there was always machine noise; from cars, TV's, sirens, brakes, and leaf blowers. I liked that if I wanted something it was close. I hated that whatever it was I wanted I had to stand in line to get it. I was in my mid fifties and figured I'd spent at least a year in line!
I got lucky. I came into some unexpected money. I decided that all the reading and work I'd done on me deserved a reward.
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