The Trophy Case

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Chapter One

Alana found it all surprising, in fact she was having a hard time processing it. George was an old friend, since he became a widower last year, she sort of acted as his companion and hostess. Unlike her two ex-husbands, she liked George, perhaps because she got to know him when Adele was alive. Adele was her closest girlfriend, even though their styles were completely different. Alana had been pretty much an unabashed gold-digger, twice a trophy wife, worked out to keep a tight body, and endured a face lift. Adele was a slightly frumpy, mother of three, dedicated housewife. Still they seemed to find a lot of common interests. Lying in bed with George, sixteen months after she last talked to Adele, she discovered another one.

They had attended a shareholder’s dinner dance at Katar and stopped for a night cap on the way home. Perhaps that was unwise, because when they had a second, at her house, it sort of precipitated a kiss, which escalated.

The first thing that surprised her was how gentle he was. He touched her in all the right places, gently, gingerly. It was not something she’d experienced. Sex had always been hot, fast, wham bam, she was pretty enough that men were turned on before she touched them, and pretty much went wild when she finally did. This was different. Instead of the man getting hot, Alana was. His hand was beneath her bra and his finger traced a circle around her rock-hard nipple, telegraphing little thrills to her crotch. His lips brushed the side of her neck and her crotch was beginning to gush. Her husbands often pushed in early and hurt her; neither was really into any kind of foreplay. This was almost a new experience.

He slipped his hand slowly from her knee up her leg, nylon enhancing the sensuous feeling and then over the top of her hose and under her silk panties.

The second surprise was the orgasms. His fingers slipped easily into her. His thumb, outside gently rolled her clit, while inside his fingers gently stroked her pelvic bone. The first orgasm hit her unexpectedly; she vocalized it in a small sigh. The second pretty much shook her, and she got up, and sighed again when his fingers slipped out of her.

He started to say something, but she stopped him with a kiss. Then she took his hand and led him back into the bedroom. She undressed and he took the hint. She didn’t waste time. Orgasms weren’t usual for her. Most of the ones she’d experienced she coaxed out of a vibrator. She was about as hot as she could ever remember being. She left her garter belt and nylons on and climbed into bed with him.

Like a dutiful trophy wife, she lay on her back and spread her legs. He reached over her took her knee and pulled her up on her side, brushing the back of her knee which she could feel in her crotch. He moved his hand up her leg again; at the top, he opened her up and slowly slid inside her. He didn’t pump, which is what she had come to expect, rather he reached around her holding himself inside her to roll her over on top of him. Again, he reached behind her knees and pulled them up, finally levering her up to sit on him. With a finger, he returned to circling her nipple while his thumb rolled her clit. She couldn’t believe the orgasm that drained her and she fell forward.

He rolled her over and slowly pumped back and forth, careful not to slam into her. Then he lay against her and shot her, reaching out to every nerve ending she had.

She dozed, but woke before the sun came up. She was confused, terribly confused. Sex had never been like this. Could it be that, at forty-eight she finally made love? Adele, she thought, this is what you had? Oh wow, girlfriend. George had been a friend, now he was a lover; maybe her first real lover, at least if what just happened was a normal thing with him. It was all so terribly confusing and altogether sudden. She had no designs on George, now all she had to do was think about him to get damp between her legs. Jesus Christ! She wasn’t sixteen! She was on the verge of menopause! This whole thing made no fucking sense.

She eventually got up; found her way in and out of the bathroom to the kitchen. She liked to cook and so she set about making a large country breakfast, to calm down and sort it out.

George got up and shambled in with the sun, wearing only his trousers. She motioned him to the breakfast nook and poured a cup of coffee. Then she realized she was wearing hose and a garter belt with nothing, beneath a sheer robe. He saw it dawn on her and was clued in when she used her hands and a potholder to cover up. He turned his chair around caught her arm and sat her on his lap.

He kissed her, gently and put his arms around her. “There are several statutes in the State of California that make it a felony for a woman as beautiful as you are to cover up when they are alone with their lover. I hope you won’t force me to make a citizen’s arrest.”

“Was last night for real?”

“What makes you doubt it?”

“We were just friends.”

“There is a whole school of thought on that. The gist of it is that rarely do people who start as lovers become friends, and that two friends make the best possible lovers.”

“Aren’t we a little old for this?”

“Do you feel old?”

“Right this minute I feel like I’m sixteen, I’m certainly reacting like I am.”



Then he picked her up and carried her into the bedroom. That was where the final surprise happened. He was actually better in the morning!

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