The Throne

I opened the door and my life changed completely. For the second time in six months.

I’d heard something in the bedroom when I entered our suite, but I didn’t process what the sound was until I already had my hand on the door handle.

As the door swung open, I was greeted by a vision of my wife of two weeks, stark naked on all fours. Her breasts swayed as a hotel employee, I think he was a cabana boy, plunged in and out of her. I recognized his uniform, his shirt still on, his pants down around his knees. She turned her head and gave me a sneering smile. I closed the door again.

Now I’m sitting on the couch, wondering how I hadn’t seen this coming. I’m supposed to be a genius, but I sure was stupid. Was this her plan all along? I think back to our first meeting, six months ago.

I was sitting at my favorite cafe near my condo in silicon valley. I’m there at 8:00 in the morning, seven days a week, almost always at the same table, always alone. I always have the same order: a croissant, a small bowl of fresh melon and berries, and a large hot chocolate. I like my life predictable. Although I’ve never been formally diagnosed, I suspect I’m on the spectrum. If you met me, I bet you would think so too.

My life was going about to my expectations. I went to MIT at seventeen. If you don’t know it, there are really two student bodies there. Roughly two thirds of the students are more or less normal college students. They’re smart by normie standards, but not MIT smart. Many of them are children of alums or celebs. They generally have to work hard at their classes, party hard and some of them cheat a lot to get through.

Then there are what people think of as MIT students. I was one of those. We’re almost all misfits, nerds. geeks. Whatever you want to call us. We might forget to go to class for a week, but the course material is not actually that challenging for us, so we catch up.

If you put a bunch of jocks in a dorm together, pretty soon they would have a pecking order of who was the strongest, who was the fastest, but there would be constant competitions to refine your place in the pecking order.

In some ways, we were no different. Instead of arm wrestling, we competed on logic puzzles or abstract math. I wasn’t top dog in my class, but close enough to the top to engender a lot of respect from both the students and the faculty.

I got recruited by a local start-up software company right out of school. That company didn’t go well — they rarely do. But after two years there, I got a FAANG job (Facebook Apple Amazon Netflix Google — the highest aspiration for tech workers), which is where I still am three years later. I was at the end of the wave of absurdly high salaries. Some of my peers have been let go in the recent cost cutting, but they seem happy with my work.

I had established a simple, predictable life. I like predictable.

That particular morning, something unpredictable happened. The cafe was more crowded than usual for a Wednesday. A beautiful young woman, about my age, asked if she could share my table with me. Before I even answered, she set her coffee cup and a plate with a pastry down on what was now our table, breaking my routine.

I’d already seen her walking around, scouting for a table. Most of the people here this early in the morning are regulars. She was most notable to me because of her outfit: short white shorts and a green halter top that showed her boobs to a nice extent. And much of her belly. About 5’7” and lithe, she had much larger than average breasts for such a slender body, probably C cups, and long brown hair. She was minimally tanned, so she may not have been in California for long.

“Thanks, this is a godsend. I was trying to figure out if I could eat standing up.”

“No problem, there is room at the table,” I said, trying not to sound too grumpy.

I haven’t been this close to a woman with this much exposed skin in months, not since I broke down and went to a strip club. I’ll probably think about my new table mate when I masturbate tonight.

“Oh, my name is Eileen. A family friend lent me his condo for two months out here to give me a change of scenery. I just moved in Monday.”

“I’m Tristan. I have a condo over there,” pointing to the building across the street.

“Have you lived here long?” she asked. “It seems nice, but it’s probably too expensive a neighborhood for me to live in long term. What things should I check out while I’m here?”

“I’m not sure I’m a good guide for you. I mostly just work and stay in my condo. I suppose it depends on what you like to do.”

“I’ll probably see you around, so think about it,” she said before she gave me a peck on the cheek. Then she was gone.

I kept thinking about her all day at work. I visualized untying that halter while I masturbated that night. Twice.

I was back at the same table at the same time with the same breakfast the next morning. I saw her, now in a short blue skirt and a white top. She came over and said, “Good morning Tristan, I’m so glad you’re here again.”

“Hello, Eileen. I’m here every day at the same time eating the same thing, usually at this same table.”

She sat down at the side of the table, sitting next to me today, rather than across the table like she did yesterday. The changes were making me uneasy. She had the top two buttons unbuttoned, ones that I would expect to be buttoned, giving me another good view of her boobs today. Even more exciting, her blouse was largely translucent and she was wearing a lacy bra. I could clearly make out her nipples and her areolae. More masturbation material for tonight.

“I was thinking about what I like doing,” she said. “I enjoy art museums and nature mostly.”

“There are plenty of both in the region. Do you like oceanside, forests or mountains better?” I ask her.

“Oceans and then forests, I think. We don’t have many mountains back east.”

“Where back east? I lived in Cambridge, Mass for six years,” I said, maybe finding a commonality with someone who was quickly becoming my dream girl.

“I lived in or near Lowell my entire life, until Monday. Were you Harvard or MIT?”

“MIT,” I replied.

“Oh, one of the smart ones instead of a rich one.”

I changed the subject, saying, “You could take the coastal highway down towards LA or you could drive up in Marin County. And if you like forests, the redwoods aren’t that far. Many of the good art museums are right in the city. I haven’t been to many of them, but I would like to.”

She put a hand on my bare forearm. It felt like electricity sparking through me. Suddenly, I had a raging hard-on. I just hoped I could calm down before I had to stand up.

She stood up, gave me a peck on the cheek again, then put her arm on my far shoulder and gave me a quick squeeze, pressing her boobs against my upper arm and back. She whispered in my ear, “Thanks for being my first California friend, Tristan.”

And she was gone. Her actions weren’t helping my problem. If I couldn’t get myself to calm down in the next few minutes, I was going to need to go back to my condo for some quick relief before I could go to work. I sat for a few minutes, but going back to my condo won.

The next day, I had to control myself not to go to breakfast early. I knew she’d start meeting other people soon and I’d be forgotten. I wasn’t quite a virgin — I’d had a couple drunken escapades with a fellow student, but she was as much a geek as I was. Neither of us were particularly attracted to the other; we really just wanted to both be able to say we weren’t virgins. This may have been the most conversation I’d ever had with anyone nearly as gorgeous as Eileen anytime in my life. Let alone getting hugged and kissed, even if they were only pecks on the cheek.

When I did go down for breakfast, Eileen was waiting at my table. She waved to me as I ordered my breakfast. I say order, but I walked up, they asked, “the usual?”, I nodded and pressed my phone against their machine, without ever saying a word. It’s one of the good things about my breakfast. I like predictable. Eileen was making my life anything but predictable. But I couldn’t stop seeing her.

She was wearing a sleeveless pink blouse, just as translucent as yesterday’s was, and equally unbuttoned. She was back to the white shorts from Wednesday.

“I know your favorite breakfast restaurant, but what about dinner? I’m getting tired of cooking for myself. And I hate eating out alone. Could you have dinner with me somewhere tonight? I don’t know anyone else here yet. Not necessarily a date, I can pay for it or we can go dutch. But it would really make my day.”

“There’s an Italian place a block over that way I like. It’s called Enrico’s. Friday afternoons are pretty lax at work, so I can leave whenever. What time should I make the reservation for? And it’s on me, unless you aren’t comfortable with that.”

“How about 6:00? Do I need to dress up at all? You can pay if you want, I just don’t want you to have any expectations of this as a date. Some guys do, you know.”

“Probably not shorts, but it’s pretty casual. I will put on a dress shirt instead of my tee. I can meet you here by the cafe at 5:45 if that’s okay with you. And I would never presume anything of you.”

“Sounds great,” she said, “But I should let you eat in peace. I’m sure you’re getting sick of me hanging around you.”

She put both arms around my neck and gave me a quick hug, pressing her boobs against my chest, before giving me a quick kiss on the lips and running off. I at least managed to keep myself enough in control to not need a stop at my condo on the way to work today