I'm sure that I have written that I have never had is a lot of luck with women my own age. I've dated women substantially older, or younger. Both seem to work out quite well. But it wasn’t until my ten year class reunion, as my twenties faded, that things seemed to click a little bit better.
And yes, Beth is the story, but there is a great deal of back story, for I think that Beth is more than a bit unique. And how do I tell you enough about her, without telling too much?
It wouldn’t be cheating to tell you that Beth was a bit of a wallflower in high school, though I knew her there. Indeed, she and I were part of a very small, very intimate Literature class that managed to keep us all entertained. My impression of Beth was that she was quietly religious, very conservative, and extremely aware of all of “the rules”. She was quiet enough, but not completely a wallflower. If she was voted the “most innocent” by our fellow seniors, she had to be noticed by someone.
And I have to admit that Beth had some quite noticeable assets, if I dare be so crass. In reconstructing my high school days, I have come to realize that high school girls are even more fixated on bust size than high school boys are. Now to tell the truth, I’m quite certain that there were a couple of girls in our class er, more fully endowed than Beth. As illustrated by those selfsame senior awards.
But to be honest, I would have had to say that Beth may well have had the best breasts in the class. I'll never be able to say that to her. Sheer size isn’t everything, and along with a couple of girls who were a bit taller (and, strangely, were best friends), Beth probably had the best figure in the class. She just, um, didn’t display it all that well. I said that she was religious, and conservative.
I ran into Beth once or twice in the years succeeding graduation, but I also moved away before too long. Then our class reunion rolled around, and it was a very interesting time.
I say interesting, for if Beth was a wallflower, that would have been a compliment for me. Mr. Invisible. But evidently maturity wrought some changes, and my head was dizzied as attractive women, who never had the time of day for me in high school, kept coming up to me and exclaiming, “Somebody told me that you were Jeff, and I just couldn’t believe it!”
Now, I have to say that I went home that summer weekend in the midst of an unrequited love. Suffering from at least the torn conscience of that relationship, and I have to admit that it was nice to be away. I don’t know if I will ever write about this ‘Lisa’. I have to admit that it was nice to be home—and catching some positive feedback along the way.
Still, when the music started I had touched bases with Beth, now a divorced single mom, during dinner; and it was only natural to ask her for a dance. Not too long before I had taken a Ballroom Dance class, and I was pleased to try out some of the Swing and other steps with Beth. And though rusty, she seemed satisfied, even enthusiastic, in following my lead.
After a couple of dances, I noticed her glancing over at her friend, ‘Chris’. I knew from dinner conversation that they worked together, and she seemed to be looking for encouragement or advice. All that I caught was a quick nod in return, and I suppose that I’ll always wonder what was going on. Still, I can remember more than once offering to get Beth a drink from the bar, and she declined, telling me that she didn’t drink. That, and what I recall to be a sleek blue dress that simply flowed about her. Beth told me that she had a twenty-two inch waist, that her exercise was from mowing--and it showed.
Still a few dances later, Beth and I were on the dance floor again, when the D.J. segued to a slow dance. And I felt Beth slowly become comfortable in my arms. I am going to admit right now just how good she felt…and just how torn my emotions were.
For on the one hand, and I have to say this first, I was completely aware that Beth was right where I wanted Lisa to be. Beth was the same height, the same general build, even the same hair color, and I had liked Lisa for quite a long while. So there was a strong pull just to savor Beth, as Lisa, in my arms.
Yet Beth had her own unmistakable and appealing attributes. For one thing, sitting talking during dinner, she was far more forthcoming than Lisa ever was. I still wasn’t getting a grip on the complexity that was Beth, but I was seeing glimpses of it. For one thing, she obviously had no clue just how attractive she was. And as she grew warmer, and closer to me, I began to feel more and more of that. Literally. For with Beth’s head on my chest, obviously she began to start feeling me.
I could feel Beth relaxing as she came closer and closer to me, throughout the slow dances. And I only wanted to draw her closer, because she felt so wonderful. Both physically, and feeling her openness, her wanting, her need. As if physically weren’t more than enough in the first place.
I can be very tactile, I suppose, and I was completely aware of those really nice breasts pressing more and more firmly into me. I say that Beth reminded me of Lisa, but Lisa certainly had absolutely nothing like this! The psychological aspect only made it tougher, let alone more complicated, and I felt myself responding.
Obviously Beth did as well, for she only seemed to hold me tighter, and before long those full, firm breasts were pancaked against my chest. My arousal only grew, and I was astonished—and pleased—to feel Beth’s hips and abdomen drawing even closer—her arms were quite linked around me. Clinging tightly, would be apt. I don’t think that a couple could dance any closer, it felt like she was practically riding me right there on the dance floor. No, I’m certainly not complaining.
I was torn by how much I wanted Beth because I wanted her to be Lisa…and how much I wanted Beth because she was Beth. In the end I decided that the only fair thing, fair to Beth, was simply to walk away. It was simply an issue of…integrity. I knew full well that I wanted her, and suspected that she wanted me, but I also knew full well that it hadn’t begun as simply "Beth". There was far too much “Lisa” mixed into my emotions—especially at the start.
And so, well before the end of the evening, I offered to walk Beth to her car. I don’t know that she ever understood, for I recall what happened as we stood there in the parking lot. I know that I gave her a quick peck on the lips, but I didn’t dare anything else. I remember how she looked at me, and quietly said, “I’ll do whatever you want to do.” Now, that certainly seemed like carte blanche to me, and I found myself hanging in indecision. Ah, that integrity. My torn conscience.
I know that Beth misinterpreted my hesitance, for she made an attempt to reach me. Perhaps she was concerned that as a divorced single mom, I was worried that she was promiscuous…but that wasn’t the case. She was too much of a sweetheart. Still, Beth broached the heart of her story (not to be repeated here), then she and I left the reunion for an all night restaurant, where we sat and talked until
Which really doesn’t matter for anything. Except that I far rather would have gone back to her place, or found a nice hotel room, and spent those same hours feeling Beth in my arms. She was sexy, she was sweet, and I would never have that opportunity again. Lost forever. Good lord, how I simply wanted to slip that dress from her shoulders, and watch it fall to the floor...
She didn't know that she had a beautiful body, and I would never so much as see it, let alone being able to tell her so.
Perhaps rather than integrity, it was simply a matter of stupidity.
But who could have known that ‘Miss Innocent’, this sweet Christian girl, was such a beautiful, sensuous, passionate woman?
Certainly not me.
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