Maybe Later 01: Louann

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Maybe Later

A tale of three fantasies:

– a rewarding life can be lived without a partner,

– a satisfying life can be lived without sex, and

– deserved rewards always await those who are patient.

Part 1, Louann

Linda called her sister, Louann, with a suggestion. “Brett’s going to a business conference in San Jose next week. Why don’t the two of you get together while he’s there? You could show off your new home, show him the sights around Monterrey.” Then after a second, she added with a giggle, “Consider him my birthday present to you.”

Humph, Louann thought, now a month later, is she trying to get rid of him? But she was indeed proud of her new home in Moss Landing. Barely three weeks earlier, she had selected this, her first real house (after a succession of apartments around LA, and most recently, a condo in Torrance) for its hillside location in the fir trees and in sight of the sea. Then, as fate would have it, she was laid off from her stress-filled job in Los Angeles. Though the initial panic had worn off, a couple days with her brother-in-law would provide a welcome relief from the pressure of finding a new employer.

Louann enjoyed a long and successful career in Los Angeles, far away from her sister in Connecticut. Hers was a challenging job, and she responded to the challenge with innovative hard work and imagination. Through much of her career, her achievements were rewarded with a progression of increasingly important leadership positions. But business conditions and changes in technology had slowed her advancement, and a new owner determined her function was no longer needed. Not needing any further hints, she quickly accepted a generous severance package.

By her mid-twenties Louann had slimmed down and was indeed a most attractive young woman. She drew the attention of many suitors, but none could measure up to her standards. Besides, her commitment to her career led her to frequent long days at work and little time for social amenities.

Now nearing fifty, she was pleased with her achievements and what she had accomplished thus far. She had managed, from time to time, to return to her Connecticut roots to visit Linda and Brett and their growing family, and Linda and Brett had named her the Godmother of their children. Well compensated during her career, she had been able to travel on several excursions to Europe to view and experience its wealth of art treasures.

Louann considered the many keepsakes of those trips which adorned her new home. With the strains of Beethoven’s Sixth Symphony in the background, she took stock of her modest collection of treasures.

Romance, apart from the novels Louann devoured, had not really been a part of her life. There had been flings, episodes, she called them. A young tour guide, long ago, in Madrid had captured her imagination and perhaps more. She had delicious dreams about Antonio for many years afterwards.

Not so long ago, there was that time when Brett picked her up at the hospital after her ‘lumpectomy.’ There was a dream-like quality to that ‘episode,’ and now she wasn’t sure it actually happened or if it was a delectable figment of her still active imagination. It was something she dearly wanted to talk with Brett about, but when the opportunity was there, she was unsure how to broach the subject.

After all, she thought, you don’t just come out and ask, Hey, where were your fingers that day? She giggled at what she thought she remembered. But wistfully in her loneliness she realized that you can’t hug a memory…

There was a time when she was proud still to be a virgin. Yes, perhaps Escort bayan she lost her claim that night in Madrid, but by now she had convinced herself it didn’t really happen. Louann once took pride in “saving herself for her husband,” as her mother had drilled into her head for as long as she could remember.

But nature, she told her sister one night in their weekly phone calls not too many months ago, appeared to have taken away any hopes of children. In her present loneliness Louann wondered if she even would ever know the excitement of torrid and passionate sex.

Quietly, nearly imperceptibly, she began to realize that now it was just her, the long-dead Herr Beethoven, and her many mute artifacts.

For the first time in her many years she felt lonely.

>>>>> 0 <<<<<

In the time since Linda’s phone call, Louann had thought often about her sister. Louann and Linda had been close, barely a year apart in age, and there were few confidences they hadn’t shared. As teens, Louann had listened late one night as Linda shared the exuberance of a budding relationship, her first, with the dashing young sailor from Groton, and the despair of their separation.

“His kisses are like fire,” Linda had raved after her second date, “and his hands are all over my boobs! Don’t tell Mom, but my panties are still wet in front.”

Louann had listened eagerly, trying to imagine what her late-teen sister had felt. She had never been kissed in passion like that, though once a cousin had groped her boobs at a family party. Louann didn’t think that was the kind of thing Linda was talking about.

Louann was there for the depths when Linda broke up with her sailor, too. “Oh Louann,” Linda had wailed, “we were kissing and hugging, and he was touching my boobs and everything, and then he touched me down there!

“I told him, ‘No, no, that’s off limits! Stop, please!'”

“I could feel his thing against my tummy,” she sobbed. “It was so scary. He was trying to pull off my panties. And he wouldn’t stop!”

“Did he actually have his, you know, thing out? You could actually see it?” Louann asked, wide-eyed.

“No, I just could feel it through our clothes. It felt like it was really big.”

Louann tried to imagine what something very big would feel like against her tummy. What she did feel was a very real warmth way down in her own tummy.

“Oh, Linda, that must have been awful,” Louann cooed. At length, Linda’s sobs subsided. “So, what happened? Did he stop? What did you do next?” Louann tried to sound soothing and caring, but she was eager to learn more.

“I told him a hundred times to stop, but he didn’t, and the more he tried, the harder I fought! Finally I kneed him in the nuts,” Linda reported.

“Oh, my God!” Louann exclaimed. “Did that stop him?”

“Oh yeah,” Linda replied, almost smugly. “He lay there doubled up and groaning with his hands in his crotch for quite a while. I guess I got him pretty good. He called me a tease and a bitch, and he even used ‘The F Word’!”

“No!” Louann was shocked. Neither girl had much to do with anyone who used The F Word. It was the ultimate blasphemy.

>>>>> 0 <<<<<

Louann was also there for her sister when Linda met and romanced Brett. Brett seemed to be all the things in a man that Louann had dreamed of as a child. Brett, with the flashing sense of humor and the dazzling smile, he was Brett, the actor; Brett, the adventurer and traveler; Brett, the unabashed flirt.

Not only that, but Brett’s and Louann’s birthdays were just days apart, a genuine big deal for the teenagers. Later they would joke that they were likely the result of their parents’ Bayan escort Christmas presents to one another. However, Linda’s boyfriend was also Brett the gentleman, Brett the sincere, Brett the committed. And for Louann, he was Brett the unattainable.

She listened eagerly each evening as Linda excitedly detailed romantic evenings with Brett. Louann was pleased for her little sister, and she tried to imagine what it might be like to be kissed with the ardor that Linda had described — and with what passion she would return such a kiss.

One late night, Linda came to the bedroom they shared, starry-eyed from a date with Brett. “Oh, Louann,” she gushed, “What a glorious evening we had!”

“Oh, hi Sis,” Louann groggily replied. “Where did you go? What did you do?” She knew Linda would probably tell her anyway.

“You gotta promise not to tell anybody,” Linda said, then without waiting for Louann’s response, she continued, “but tonight Brett kissed my belly-button!”

Shocked now and suddenly fully awake, Louann blurted, “But how did he, um, get to your belly button? Where was your blouse?” she gasped.

“On the seat beside us,” Linda dreamily reported. “With my bra…”

“Oh my God, Linda, what about your skirt? Did he touch you down there?”

“Oh he never would do that. I asked him not to.”

“You were actually sitting there with your boobs hanging out?!!”

“Well, I wasn’t really sitting. I was sort of leaning back.” Linda continued dreamily, basking in the rapt attention of her older sister. “He kissed my lips, he kissed my eyelids, he kissed my neck…”

“Go on,” Louann pressed, breathlessly.

“Then he started to kiss my chest through my blouse. That’s when I unbuttoned the top button. He undid the rest.”

“Oh Linda…” Louann moaned. Through Linda’s tale, she could feel Brett’s scorching lips nuzzling her neck, his fingers tugging at the buttons of her blouse.

“He had trouble when he got to my bra,” Linda giggled, savoring the memory. “First he tried kissing me through my bra, and he was getting it all wet. I could see he didn’t like that. Neither did I — I really wanted to feel his lips on my nipples.

“He tried to lift my bra up and push it toward my neck, but that was awfully uncomfortable!” Linda paused, adding, with a wicked grin, “Besides, I wanted to see what he was doing! ‘Unhook it,’ I told him.”

Louann’s vivid imagination was in high gear. In her vicarious romp she excitedly tried to peer around her rumpled bra to watch Brett’s attack on her chest.

“Then he tried to get his hands around behind my back, and even when I arched my back to give him room, he still couldn’t get it unhooked.”

Louann giggled at the thought. For someone like Brett to unhook her bra, he would have to have long arms indeed, and his lips would be pressed hard between her breasts.

“Finally, I said, ‘Whoa, lean back a second, Brett,’ and I reached back and unhooked it myself.”

“So was that when his kissed your navel.”

“Oh no,” Linda breathed. “He leaned down and ever so tenderly nuzzled my left nipple. He said my nipple was hard, sort of like a raspberry. Then he ran his tongue all around it and slowly sucked into his mouth. ‘Mmmm,’ he said, ‘best raspberry I ever had!’ Then he whispered, ‘Gotta be fair,’ and did the same thing to my right one.” Linda paused, tingling in her vivid memory of the moment.

Her sister Louann tingled, too, at the vivid description. “Now the navel?” she prompted hoarsely.

“He kind of slid down a little and nuzzled the bottoms of my boobs. He kissed his way to my belly button — and slid his tongue in it! It tickled and I squirmed, Escort it really felt sooo good.

“Oh Lou, it was so really incredibly wonderful!” the excited younger sister whispered.

“Oh my God!” Louann cried, and in her imagination she felt the warm breath of her lover nuzzling her navel. It tickled, and in the darkness she shuddered. And in her imagination, that lover looked like Brett.

“Don’t tell me — what happened next?” Louann still had questions. “You still had your skirt on, didn’t you?”

“I kind of got scared, so I told him we’d better stop. He groaned a little, but he agreed. ‘Yeah, this almost got away from us,’ he said after a while. When he sat up, I saw the front of his pants had a big spot that looked wet.” She paused a second, then giggled, “I bet it wasn’t pee!”

Both girls burst into laughter.

Long into the night, well after Linda’s breathing became deep and rhythmic, Louann savored the nearly tangible sensation of being kissed on the eyelids, of having her raspberries — no, hers were bigger, like strawberries — sucked into a gentle lover’s mouth, of having her navel washed by an ardent lover’s tongue. And more often than not, that lover looked a lot like Brett.

>>>>> 0 <<<<<

The sizzling conversations of their late teens were now but distant and sometimes fuzzy memories. Louann knew little of Linda and Brett’s day-to-day life, but from the scraps she pieced together, she guessed that the spark of their marriage was no longer there. Now, since Linda’s call, the memory of Linda’s exciting late-night tales of long ago floated back into her consciousness. Oftener than Louann wanted to admit, even to herself, her thoughts continued to drift toward her sister’s husband.

As she stepped out of the shower, Louann looked at the tall person looking back at her in the mirror. The person’s hair was graying and her face was gently lined. Mirth lines sparkled at the corners of her blue eyes.

Her waist and thighs had thickened a little since her youth. Her breasts, generous by any standard, had lost some of their youthful perk, but as Louann cupped them with her hands, they were still remarkably firm. She playfully twisted a nipple between her thumb and forefinger, and grinned as she watched it react.

Most of the time her boobs were an inconvenience. Better endowed than most, it was difficult finding bras of the right size and comfortable enough for her long days at work. She found herself to be the envy of other women, who often stared as openly as men.

It had taken Louann several years, from her teens when her breasts billowed into being, well into the first part of her career, to adjust to the ogling stares of the opposite sex.

She had suffered the stolen tweaks of sneaky males and the blatant gropes of the worst. Over time, though, she had developed a perverse pleasure at watching even gentlemen like Brett struggle not to stare, trying desperately to maintain eye contact.

She looked at herself again in the mirror and tried to be objective. But no matter which way she turned, her breasts were just boobs, two rather unattractive bags of flesh on her chest with pinkish tan targets on them.

Louann turned to look at her bum. Not bad, not bad, she felt, and indeed there was yet an intriguing curve which even now drew appreciative glances from men half her age.

Her plentiful pubic hair was graying, too. Louann had considered shaving it, as she had read was the fashion at the moment, but decided to leave it au naturel. Not worth the bother, she concluded. Besides, who but me will ever see it, she thought, nearly aloud. There was a hint of wistfulness in her observation. “You still got it, Lou,” she told herself. But who wants it when ‘it’ is almost fifty? she wondered.

Once again, the thought of her sister’s husband flashed through her imagination. Once again, Louann was alarmed that Brett came so quickly to mind.

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