Look, I know I'm not supposed to pick up hitchers. It's not smart for me, and it's not smart for the hiker. But it was a rainy afternoon, and the guy up the road looked really dejected. He was somewhat small anyway, and his shoulders slumped over as he slogged through the mud. All alone in the half-dark like that, he reminded me of my cat when I had rescued him as a stray from a sudden downpour. The kid had a yellow poncho on and wasn't carrying any bag or even a gas can. I supposed he was just walking some short distance, and I could drop him off and be on my way in five minutes.

I pulled over and lowered the passenger window. "Where you headed?"

The guy leaned down and looked in through the opened window. Except it wasn't a guy. She was maybe twenty or twenty-one, and she was soaked like she wasn't wearing the plastic poncho at all. If there's anything that makes my heart melt more than a kitten in a rainstorm, it's a beautiful young woman in a rainstorm. The look in her eyes told me that she knew it wasn't smart taking rides on the back roads, even if -- or maybe especially if -- the car's a Lincoln. But it also told me she wanted desperately to get out of the rain.

"I'm going west," she said.

Nice and specific. "I'm going cross-country to California on business."

She considered that for a moment. I tried to look non-threatening, without looking like I was trying to look non-threatening, you know? I was concerned about this girl, with nothing but what she was wearing, trying to reach an unknown destination. But if I frightened her off, I wasn't going to do any good. She looked into my face, then back down the road in both directions. Visibly, she came to her decision. "Okay."

I unlocked the passenger doors and told her to put her poncho on the back floorboard. She did and got in, putting her purse between herself and the passenger door.

She stared out the window at the passing countryside and at the patterns the rain and wind made on the glass. She could also probably look at my reflection that way, too. Checking me out. Obviously, she didn't feel like talking. That was fine with me.

For about half an hour we were like that, me trying not to look at her, her trying to hide the fact that she was looking at me. I had the radio turned down in case she wanted to talk, but she didn't want to talk. But you know how it is when two people are in a car, you have to talk or the silence grows oppressive.

"So what's west?" I asked at last.

She finally turned her head to me. "What?"

"I said, 'what's west.'"

"Oh. My parents. They live in Seattle."

"I see," I replied, knowingly, but still in the dark. She looked too old to be a runaway trying to get back home. And she didn't have that tired, wary look I had seen in news documentaries. Maybe she was just down on her luck, trying to get to a support system on her own. I shrugged inwardly and concentrated on driving.

She didn't seem inclined to volunteer more information, so I turned the radio back up. The local public radio station was on, and I heard the last minute or two of something by Bach, I don't know which piece, but he's one of the few composers I can recognize without a program. They thanked the sponsors, and mentioned my company's name. I pointed at the radio and said, "That's me. Or my company, at least. My name's Mark Ferguson."

"I'm Grace," she replied.

"Nice to meet you, Grace."

"No, not 'Grace.' G-R-E-Y. Grey."

"Grey? That's an unusual name," I commented. "At least it is around here."

"Yeah, well. My parents were hippies, you know? The way they told me, they wanted to name me after whatever the sky was when I was born. But they happened to be in Seattle, and I was early. They couldn't really name me 'Overcast' or 'Gloomy,' so--"

"Grey," I finished, grinning.

"Exactly." She glanced at me and I saw her smile for the first time. Her lips curled momentarily and I caught a glimpse of her white, even teeth. Then she turned back toward the window, and all I saw was her hair and half an ear. Her neck was thin and graceful, the left tendon standing out clear as her head was turned. Her hair was unstyled, hanging straight down her back. It was brunette, I suppose, when dry, with golden brown highlights. What I thought was a man's scrawny body was, instead, a young woman's athletic body. Her blue work shirt was tucked tightly into baggy army fatigues -- the old olive drab kind, not the camouflage that soldiers wear now -- and showed off high, pointed breasts and a stomach without an ounce of fat.

She saw me staring at her, and she turned her head to stare back at me. Her face was... beautiful, but that doesn't begin to describe it. She had a high forehead and intelligent green eyes. Her nose sloped down and out, and flared outward in wide nostrils. Her lips were neither full nor thin, and always seemed to be slightly open. Her face still retained some baby fat, but her high cheekbones were just discernible. It was a face that would age well, going from pretty to beautiful to striking to handsome as the years passed.

I was getting uncomfortable, and looked away. "The airport's coming up in a while," I said. "If you want, we can call your folks. I'm sure they'd be willing to wire you a ticket to Seattle."

Grey stretched out her arms. "Thanks, Mark, but if it's all right, I'll just tag along with you for a while."

"Fine with me, but it's going to take about three weeks for me to get to the coast."

"What do you do, for a living, anyway?"

"Oh, I own a small company that makes machine tools for light manufacturers. I make the machines that make the machines that make the prizes in your cereal, is how I put it." She smiled at that. "We just started writing software for companies that want to network machines from different manufacturers. I'm not sure how that works, and my people tell me that in a few years everything's going to be cross- compatible, anyway. I don't know what that means, either, but it'll get a foot in the door for us."

I looked at her and saw her staring out the windshield, not listening anymore. "Sorry. I talk too much, I know. Just tired of the quiet."

"Oh, yeah." Then, for fifty or sixty miles, she told me about her life. How her parents had finally settled down after she was born, settled down too much, in fact. At fifteen, she just got tired of her life, so she decided to quit. She hit the road, heading south and east. She wasn't a runaway, she said. She just left home a little early. She knew the dangers, so she avoided big cities, where it was hard to live and easy to get into serious trouble. By the time she was seventeen, she was in North Carolina and had just sort of... stopped. At least that was how she phrased it.

She floated around the state for a year or so, mostly living with college students around the Triad and Triangle, working in textile factories and restaurants. Then she met Randy. She was in love, or thought she was, and moved in with him. He had a good job as an electrician, and they were talking about getting married and starting a family. Then the recession hit. People were afraid to build, and Randy's jobs dried up. There were bills to pay, more than Grey could handle. A friend of Randy's got him into selling drugs. It's the kind of thing that just happens. Several of my relatives had been busted for the same thing under the same circumstances. It's really not that big a step from moonshine to marijuana to cocaine.

Randy started using, and to pay for his own habit, he had to sell more. A way to make ends meet became a way to make a living. Grey was getting scared, and when Randy started selling to kids, she got angry. She decided to clear out for good. She took every penny Randy had, called the sheriff and told where he kept the drugs, and left. She left her clothes behind and just walked out. She hadn't even decided to head back to Seattle until I stopped on the road.

Suddenly I thought of something. "Grey, I'm registered at some pretty expensive hotels for the next few days. I'd better stop and cancel those, and we can stay someplace cheaper."

"Don't worry," she smiled, as though at a private joke. "I got enough from Randy to pay for expense-account hotels for a couple of weeks, and to buy some new clothes, too."

"You're sure?"

"I'm sure. Don't worry about me."

We made small talk almost all the way to Knoxville. Grey turned out to be an intelligent, witty young woman. She was widely read as far as I could tell, history and art, the sciences. I never seem to have time to read more than sales and R and D reports. Once she opened up, despite her name, she was very lively.

As for me, she seemed impressed by my CD collection. She thought it was "cool" that "an older guy" like me (she grinned widely when she said that; I'm only forty) would like the Chili Peppers and the Hoodoo Gurus. On the other hand, I was amazed that she was able to sing along with Battlefield Band. I told her about my family, but she was reticent to talk about hers, except to say that it had been so long since she had seen them, that she wanted to work herself up to going back home.

When we got to my hotel, I escorted her to her room. I told her when my meeting was, and that I'd drop her off at a mall so she could shop for whatever she needed while I was busy. She said goodnight, and I went on up to my own room.

The next morning, we had a quiet breakfast in the hotel restaurant (separate checks, she insisted) and left. I dropped her off at a shopping center off the interstate and told her when I'd be back and where to meet me. Then I went to my meeting. I don't like taking "fun" vacations, so every year or two, I make the circuit of the company's bigger out-of-state customers. It's a policy that pays off in repeat customers and a lot of word of mouth business, and I can write off about a third of my vacation. The meeting went well, and I went back to the shopping center, only half-expecting to see Grey there.

But she was waiting for me, bags in hand, wearing a white blouse and knee-length dark red skirt, and medium heels instead of sneakers. She looked much nicer than she did in the work shirt and fatigues and maybe a couple of years older. She stepped off the sidewalk and we put her purchases in the trunk. I complimented her on her new clothes. When she thanked me, she reached up to loosen my tie a bit and said, "If I'm going to be travelling with you, I think I ought to look the part."

Okay, this was probably a perfectly innocent remark. But at the time, I wasn't sure how to take it. On the drive into Tennessee, I had certainly noticed how attractive she was, and had wondered what she would be like as a bed partner. But then, almost every man thinks that about almost every pretty woman he meets. The fact that my long-time lover and I had split up not long before didn't make matters any easier. But this girl was not even quite twenty yet, half my age. So I tried to put her eyes and legs and the perfume she was wearing out of my mind.

The next day was nothing but relaxation. When I vacation, I like to do absolutely nothing. I'm not a work hard/play hard kind of guy. No golf or tennis, just sitting by the hotel pool, reading a book. As I said, these meetings I had scheduled for the next couple of weeks were mostly just to make sure everything was running smoothly, so I didn't have any paperwork to wade through.

At any rate, I was sitting by the pool, trying to finish "The Creators" so I could move on to something lighter, when Grey stepped up beside me. "Are you nearly through with that?" she asked. I looked up to see her standing above me, wearing a soft pink one-piece bathing suit and matching knee-length wrap. A bow held her hair away from her face.

I thumbed through the remainder of the book.

"About a hundred more pages, I think."

"Can I borrow it when you're through? I left my copy at Randy's about half-read."

"Sure. This won't take long."

She dropped the wrap and sat on the lounge chair beside mine. She reclined and tilted her head back, enjoying the warmth of the late spring sun. Her eyes were closed, so I took the opportunity to look closely at her. The suit was cut low front and back, and high along her hips. Her skin was smooth and just barely tanned on all the parts I could see. Her legs were well-toned, not too muscular. Her arms were the same. Her fingers were delicately crossed beneath her breasts and a smile played across her lips. I then noticed that her eyes were cracked open. I think I may have blushed as I turned my attention, but not my concentration, back to my book.

I had gotten through about half a page when Grey spoke again five minutes later. "Do you think it's warm enough for a swim?"

I considered. She was probably quite beautiful when wet but not moping. "I think so."

She stood and and removed the bow, facing me. I looked at her out of the corner of my eye while pretending to read my book. She turned and I saw the rest of her suit, what little of it that there was. It was one of those "thong" suits. I could see faint, almost invisible tan lines across her buttocks where she had worn a more respectable bikini the previous summer. She dove cleanly into the water, feet and legs together, and for a split second, that exquisite posterior was pointing skyward, filling my vision.

I didn't burn with passion for her, I didn't want to possess her body; nothing so cliched. Part of me sexually appreciated the display of her body, but for another part, there was an aesthetic appreciation of the grace of her movements, of the proportions of her form. I found myself to be tantalized more than anything else. She swam possibly a dozen laps, using different strokes. I watched her the entire time, and she saw me watching her, but I didn't turn away, this time.

When she came to the edge of the pool after her final lap, I was waiting for her, towel in hand. I helped her out like a gentleman and handed her the towel. "You swim beautifully," I said, more softly than I meant to.

"Thank you. I--"

"Excuse me, Miss."

We turned to find that we had been joined by the manager of the hotel. When he had our attention, he continued. "Some of our patrons have requested that I ask you to change into a less revealing swimsuit, or to not use the pool." I noticed two women, about sixty years old but trying to look forty, sit down and begin talking and looking in our direction. Despite the sun hats and dark glasses, they looked like they had just come from a DAR function. It was obvious that the manager approved of Grey's attire about as much as they did.

For a moment, I thought Grey was going to protest, and I was eager to see it. But she didn't. "All right. I was going to have lunch anyway. Would you join me, Mark?" I said I would join her shortly. I wanted to stay and tell this glorified desk clerk that I would be checking out and not patronizing his hotel ever again. But Grey's actions made me forget what I was going to say.

She had gathered up her wrap and tanning lotion. The wrap and towel were draped over her arm, and she swung the lotion back and forth in the other hand. Her route took her right past the Daughters, but she didn't acknowledge their presence. But then the bottle of lotion flew out of her hand to land directly in front of the women. So Grey bent to pick it up. From the waist. Facing away from the women. She gave her hips a little shake, and the look on their faces as she did that made me laugh out loud. Grey winked at me and continued on inside the hotel with the most arrogant walk I have ever seen a non-feline do.

I went up to my room, half-hoping that Grey would be waiting in the hall for me, wearing that suit. She wasn't, of course. I hopped in the shower to wash off the sunscreen, dried off, dressed, and was out the door in fifteen minutes.

I went down two floors to Grey's room. I could hear a blow dryer running in her room, so I knocked harder on the door than usual. It hadn't been completely shut, so it swung open smoothly. I looked around the open door and saw Grey staring at me in the mirror above the sink outside the bathroom. She was completely naked. All I could see, however, were those eyes, looking out of the mirror at me. The rest was just an impression. I stammered some sort of an apology and stepped back into the hall.

Grey came out not long after. Again, she was dressed conservatively, but her dress highlighted her figure. Neither of us said anything about what I might have seen. I wanted to tell her that she looked beautiful -- and she did, in a belted navy dress and white half-jacket -- but I feared she would take it as a reference to my view of her naked. If I had had more confidence, I would have, but I was looking for a clear, a very clear signal for her. Mainly because I didn't want to look foolish before her.

Lunch was filled with wonderful conversation. I suppose the food was delicious, at least Grey said it was. But all my senses were concentrated on her. Sure, it sounds hackneyed, but it's the truth. I was terribly fascinated by her. It wasn't really love, though the physical and emotional attraction was there. No, I was interested in the totality of Grey. Her laugh and wit, the way she whispered when she thought she might be overheard even though all we were talking about was my intinerary.

I realize I haven't mentioned much about Grey's part of our conversations. That is because I find it impossible to isolate a short fragment for illustration. I could relate her explanation of why she both loved and hated the rain. About taking her general equivalency diploma and taking a semester of college just because people might otherwise think she had quit high school because she couldn't handle it. About her theories on the cyclic nature of history -- I think we argued that one the whole time we were on the road. Which do I pick and which do I ignore? I can't, so all I can do is give an overall impression of Grey, which built up slowly, evolved over the weeks, until I had this complete picture of a woman I was happy to call my friend, and possibly more.

The next week went much like this. Little Rock and New Orleans. Scintillating conversations. More probably- innocent remarks from Grey, and ambiguous feelings on my part. I found myself staring at her more and more. A few times I think I caught her staring at me. One day, out of the blue, she brought up our relationship, if I can call it that. We were watching a pay-per-view movie in my room when she just asked me flat out, "Mark, how come you haven't made a pass at me?"

This was making me uncomfortable for some reason. Maybe I thought my sexuality was being questioned. I tried to joke my way out of it. "Just never got around to it I guess. Would you like me to make one now?"

But Grey was having none of that. "I'm serious. I've been with you for ten days now, and not once have you asked me to spend the night in your room. Hell, you haven't even put your hand on my knee in the car."

If she wanted a serious answer, I would give her a serious answer. Of course, I had been wondering myself why i hadn't tried anything. "Look, Grey, first of all, I'm twice your age."

"That hasn't stopped other men."

"Then there's the fact that, when we first met, I thought I might be taking advantage of your vulnerability."

She was actually indignant for a second. "I am not some helpless puppy who needs your protection."

I held up my hands in a conciliatory gesture. "I know that now. But by the time I figured that out, I thought we were more friends than anything else. I just didn't want to damage that by making some kind of unwanted advance." Yeah. When was the last time you heard a guy say "we can still be friends?"

The conversation just seemed to die after that. The movie ended and Grey went to her own room. Idiot! I yelled at myself inside my head. I couldn't have asked for a clearer signal than that, and I had blown it. I didn't think that Grey was the type of woman who would throw herself at a man after even such a half-hearted rebuff as I had given her. So I resolved to stop thinking of our relationship as anything more than friendship. I had just talked myself out of a potential lover, I thought. Naturally, my ambiguity resolves itself right after I shoot myself in the foot.

Dallas was covered in conventioneers. We were late getting to the hotel and discovered my reserved room had been rented. Naturally there was nothing for Grey. An hour's search found one hotel room (in Dallas!), so I gave them my credit card number and we followed the directions. It was a small motel that the interstates had ignored, but there were double beds and the room was clean. Grey seemed to take the change in accommodations well. I, however, was worried. Here I finally had her in the same room with me for the entire night, and I had as much as told her I wasn't interested. How was I going to act calm? How could I broach the subject? You know, Grey, I've changed my mind: I'd give my left arm to sleep with you. Sure.

So I told her I was going to look up an old friend and would probably be out late and she should just go to bed without waiting up. Of course, I didn't have a friend; I just didn't want to face the next couple of hours with Grey. After cruising around and getting lost, I found myself in the parking lot of one of those big strip clubs that caters to businessmen. Big mistake. The last thing I needed to calm my nerves was to be in the middle of a big room filled with horny convention-goers and twenty to thirty naked women. The shriners or plumbers or whatever the hell they were were crude and obnoxious, but they had lots of cash, so these tanned, bare-breasted beauties kept parading past me.

They grow 'em big in Texas, and if they don't grow 'em, they can make 'em big. But there was this one girl. She had straight brunette hair and comparatively small breasts. Other than that, she didn't look much like Grey. But I had her do a lap dance anyway. Great invention, lap dancing. You can't touch her, but she'll touch you, except where you want her to touch you. But that was okay, because I was thinking of Grey. I imagined Grey's hands on my face and chest. I looked at my watch and saw it was midnight. Grey would probably be asleep, so I gave the dancer a generous tip and left. I could at least be in the same room with Grey, watch her sleep, listen to her breathe. I'll bet she's beautiful when she's asleep, I thought. Of course, she's beautiful when she's awake.

She was beautiful. And she was awake.

She was watching something on television, a movie, I think. She was wearing a floor-length dressing gown of pure white, and her hair shone. "Did you see your friend?" she asked me.

"Uh, yeah, I saw him."

She stood to turn the television off. "I can't seem to go to sleep. I'll just go in the bathroom and read, so you can go to bed." For some reason, she was more stunning than ever, standing there in the dim light.

"No need. I can handle a few more hours awake."

"Oh. Okay." She sat back in her chair, and I sat on the bed. We just sat there, saying nothing for the longest time. I thought she might be as tense as I was.

"Mark," she said at last. I sat up, doing my best to look attentive. "I know how you feel about me. But I'm afraid I don't feel the same way. So I think it's best that I go on alone."

Jeez. The only thing worse than having Grey beside me and being afraid to touch her would be not having her beside me at all. "Grey, you don't have to... I mean, I can control my feelings for you."

She stared back at me, dumfounded. "But you said you weren't interested in me. Didn't you?"

She was attracted to me, too.

The weight on my chest disappeared.

"Yes, I did. No, I... I mean, I did, but I didn't mean it. That is, I wasn't sure how I felt, or how you felt about me. So I took the safe way out."

Like in an old melodrama, we were in each other's arms. We just held each other. I was relieved more than anything else, because the self-torture was over. The passion could come later. Right now it was enough just to know that I had her, that my feelings were reciprocated.

But the passion couldn't wait for Grey. Her mouth sought mine, and, finding it, clamped tightly to my lips. The morose young woman I had picked up in the rain, the vivacious young woman who had captivated my imagination, had become the passionate young woman who was crushing me in her arms. How many more Greys were there? I was eager to find out.

I returned her kisses with equal fervor. We nibbled on each other's lips and exploring tongues. I inhaled her perfume. Perfume? I gently pried Grey's delicious body away from mine. I looked at the dressing gown in a new light. With trembling fingers, I untied her belt. The satin robe fell open to reveal Grey, dressed for seduction in a camisole and panties, garters and stockings, all white.

"I wasn't sure if I wanted to seduce you or not," she explained, somewhat bashfully. "I wanted to, but I wasn't sure if it was what you really wanted. You know?"

"I know. I know exactly. When did you get these?" She actually blushed, the first time I'd ever seen her do that, and she was heartbreakingly beautiful. "That first day in Knoxville. I had an idea."

I chuckled and pulled her back to me. I let my hands roam over her. Soft satin and silk, soft skin. I felt warm fingers unbutton my shirt, soft moist lips against my chest. "I suppose the swimsuit was for my benefit also?"

I felt her head nod against my shoulder. "And the open door afterward. But you were a perfect gentleman, damn you." She nipped at my chest with her teeth.

I laughed in surprise. I took her tightly by the waist and threw her on the bed. I landed on top of her, hands and knees on either side of her, my weight just barely pressing down on her. "I suppose you want some kind of barbarian, hmm?" I growled menacingly and ripped at her robe. Of course, all I did was pull it off her shoulders. She just giggled.

Then she gave me the most serious look she had ever given me. "I just want you."

We kissed again, long and deep. Grey pulled my shirt off my back and tossed it away. She ran her hands up and down my arms, touching nothing but the hairs. I never knew my arms could be an erogenous zone, and maybe they're not, except with Grey. She explored every curve of my torso while I kissed her. My shoulder blades and the crook of my neck, every vertebra, even my "love handles" and short ribs. I was uncomfortable but still highly aroused by the whole thing.

She unbuttoned and unzipped my pants, and I kicked off my shoes. Awkwardly, because I didn't want to break our kiss, I slid my trousers and underwear off. Now I wanted to do her. While I find sexy underwear erotically and aesthetically pleasing, it's much more fun to take them off. I sat on the bed and she stood between my legs, her nylon-clad legs just barely brushing against my erect member. Her dressing gown floated to the floor, forming a small cloud around her feet. I untied the fastenings of her camisole from the bottom up, to prolong the delicious waiting before I finally saw her breasts.

Ah. They were everything I imagined them to be. They stood straight out from her chest, two rounded-over cones not large enough to sag even a millimeter. The slopes formed two pink nipples that were extensions of the breasts more than separate features. I placed my mouth over the left one and sucked on it. Her skin tasted like spring, of some soap other than the antiseptic kind in the motel shower. Sweat was just beginning to form along her sternum, and I licked the moisture up on the way to her right breast. I twirled my finger around the areola of the one I had abandoned while I nibbled on the one in my mouth. Grey moved her hands up to my head and rubbed circles through my hair.

Then, taking my hands in hers, she moved them down to her hips. The garters had tiny ruffles on them, something I hadn't noticed in the poor lighting. Her panties were on the outside of her garters, but I wanted to save them for last. I unclipped the garters from each stocking. It took a nice bit of feeling around since my eyes were closed so I could concentrate on the taste of her skin and the sound of her heavy breaths. When the stockings were no longer attached, I worked the clasp on the back of the belt and pulled the garters through the waistband of her panties.

Again, I took her by the hips and laid her on the bed. I pulled the low-heeled slippers off her feet and placed her stockinged right foot on my shoulder. I ran my hands down her leg until I reached her stocking top. I willed myself to go no further. Using my palms, I rolled the stocking up her leg, while weaving long patterns with my fingertips along the wondrously smooth flesh of her leg. When one leg was bare, I repeated the process on the other leg, and it was even harder to stop my hands from moving up beyond her stocking top.

All this time, Grey had been playing with her breasts, cupping them and rubbing her hands along the undersides, tweaking the nipples. Her hands made a few abortive movements down to her pelvis, but she was apparently forcing herself to wait like I was. But I would wait no longer. I took the waistband of her panties in the hooked fingers of each hand and pulled them down her thighs. I kept my eyes on the stark white silk. I wanted no half-glimpses of her sex. I wanted to see all of her at once.

Grey was not so patient. As the panties passed her knees, she groaned in frustration and tried to kick out of them. Unfortunately, I was bringing my face down to kiss her leg at the same time.

"Oh, my God. Ohmygodohmygod!" Suddenly Grey was like a little girl who has just broken one of her mother's crystal glasses. My nose was numb, but I felt a trickle of warmth on my upper lip. I couldn't help myself. I burst out laughing. I laughed so hard I couldn't sit up. I collapsed on my back, still laughing. My nose wasn't numb anymore; in fact, it hurt like hell, but I laughed.

Grey had gone into the bathroom and now returned with a damp cloth. She tried to wash the blood off, but I couldn't stop my head from moving as I laughed. Now, I feel like a jerk over the whole thing, but at the time, the incongruity of events had me in hysterics.

Grey stood over me, hands on hips like a frustrated mother hen. "What's so funny?" she demanded.

I had finally been able to catch my breath. "It's just that... the first time in my... life... I've ever had someone bloody... my nose... and it's the woman I love." Then I burst out again.

But Grey didn't see the humor in it. She pushed against my forehead to hold me still. I was now completely out of breath, so I didn't resist much. She wiped away the blood. She touched my nose gingerly. "Not broken," she muttered. It wasn't bad at all. Already the blood was clotting in one nostril, and the pain was almost completely gone.

In all the confusion, I had gone soft. But looking at Grey's nude body, seeing her completely for the first time, was causing things to stir again. Grey saw the process, and decided to help it along. She took my cock in her cool fingers and stroked the underside. Her fingertips felt like silk as they roamed over my lengthening shaft and wandered down to my heavy scrotum. Grey looked into my eyes as she masturbated me. She got on the bed. She spread my thighs and lay on her stomach between them. Propped on her elbows, she moved her head closer to my erection and flicked her tongue out. My cock jumped in response, making Grey smile playfully.

Still fondling my balls, Grey moved her opened mouth slowly to the head of my cock. Then, even more slowly, she moved her wet lips over the crown. Heaven. Her tongue performed wonders on my flesh as her head went down on my cock. And down, and down. She didn't take me into her throat, she just moved so slowly that it seemed like she did. What she could not cover with her mouth, she stroked with her hand. And all the time, her tongue moved around and around the head of my cock, and down an obscenely long stretch of the shaft.

I could do nothing but lie there and moan. My thighs twitched a few times, and my cock flexed in Grey's talented mouth, but other than that, I was paralyzed, fearful that Grey's mouth on me was a dream I could not recapture if I woke myself by moving. Faster than I am used to, my cock began to get that particular pre-orgasmic rigidity. My cock became so sensitive I imagined I could feel each individual taste bud on Grey's twirling tongue.

Confession time. It had been a long time since I had been able to go more than two rounds in a night. Time and familiarity had taken their toll in my last relationship. I ran my fingers through Grey's hair and told her that, if I came now, I would probably only be able to get it up once more that night.

Grey removed me from her mouth. Still lightly stroking with her hand, she said, "That's all right. We'll have tomorrow night." And she kissed the seeping head of my cock. "And the night after." Kiss. "And the night after." Kiss. "And the night after that." Then she did swallow me completely. For a second at least. I felt her begin to gag, and she quickly backed off. She sucked harder and stroked faster, with more pressure. Harder and faster, harder and faster. Now only the head was in her mouth, and her hand was a blur on my shaft. I was in sweet agony as all my senses focused on the cubic inch of my cock head.

Then I exploded. Literally. All the sexual tension I had felt the previous week, all the self-torment, left me as the semen fired from the head of my cock into Grey's mouth. Grey let out a muffled sound of surprise, and, bless her, made a valiant effort to swallow everything I had. But I suppose I surprised her, for the first spurts ran out from between her lips and dripped down to my balls. In a second, she was back in control and was able to swallow, and then to suck the dregs out of my rapidly softening cock. Lastly, she moved down to lick up most of what she had missed.

For a few minutes, she tried to get me back up, but was only half successful. So I got up from the bed and motioned her forward. When she was lying where I had been, I moved between her own thighs. Her sex was lightly covered in dark hairs, straight, not curly. Her labia were slightly open and glistening with moisture, smooth and pinkish brown. Her clitoris was exposed and slightly larger than average, based on my own experience. Like everything else about her, it was beautiful.

I moved in closer to her pussy. I blew gently on her and heard her giggle lightly. Sensitive, good. The only regret I had was that I was unable to smell her musk clearly. Her scent was mingled with that of my own dried blood. But, as Grey had said, there was tomorrow night. I moved my tongue down to her inner thigh, just where it joined her pelvis. I licked up and down the crease a few times before I moved further inward. As I moved closer to her pussy, I lingered longer at each portion of her flesh.

At last, I was at my goal, what I had been dreaming about for the past nights. I flipped my tongue over the left labia, making it move in and out. Then I traced its length downward, then up the right side, stopping just short of the clitoris. Then back down again, and up the other side. Several times I did this, always avoiding the engorged bud. Grey's hands were again in my hair trying to pull me up. I didn't resist. Now, I was at her clit, and I attacked it with my tongue. I lashed out at it from all sides. I brought lips and teeth into play, sucking on the organ and scraping it with my teeth. Each new element brought a new and louder gasp from Grey, who was otherwise non-vocal.

I stayed down there, licking and sucking on her pussy the entire time it took my cock to recuperate without any other stimulation. Fortunately -- or unfortunately, depending on your point of view -- this took about half an hour, and two or maybe three orgasms. My hands were busy on Grey. I had one to three fingers inside her pussy, stroking in and out at differing speeds. The other hand roamed over her breasts and along her stomach and thighs. I even managed to work a finger between her clenched buttocks and into her tight anus.

When I was finally fully hard again, I raised myself above Grey. I kissed her lips and her tongue darted into my mouth. "Put it in," she whispered.

"You do it," I answered.

I felt her raise her legs until her knees were against my ribs. Her hand sought and found my cock and placed it at the entrance to her opening. I let myself sink into her in one smooth movement. At last. We both moaned. Slowly, I withdrew, leaving only the head inside her. Then I eased my hips forward until our pelvises touched again. Slowly, but inexorably, I built up speed. Her walls gripped me like I had never felt another woman do. God, she was tight. And wet. And hot. And wonderful.

Grey wrapped her arms around my back and her legs around my waist. She pulled me tight against her, almost like she was trying to pull me completely inside her. Her little nipples bored into my chest and her heels ground into my lower back. I actually had to fight her to withdraw again, so I could enter her again. I worked my arms under her and pulled her to me. I let my weight rest upon her, and she seemed all right like that. Now only my hips and head were moving as I rhythmically fucked her and kissed her entire face. We didn't say a word as we lay there, as much of us touching the other as possible, but our kisses said it all. Grey's hands and feet, her quivering stomach, told me all I needed to know.

It was happening. Much sooner than I wanted. I could feel myself getting closer to climax, but I couldn't stop myself. I pushed my feet into the bed and thrust up into Grey with my whole body. Our mingled sweat let me move smoothly along Grey's body as I felt lust take control of me. Faster and still faster I pounded into Grey. Part of my brain realized I might be hurting her, but the lizard brain, the visceral instinctual part didn't give a damn, it only wanted orgasmic release. Grey let out a little cry, not in pain but in passion. The lizard was taking over her, too. So I stopped resisting myself, and thrust madly into her.

The room was filled with animal grunts and squeals. Absently I noticed that my nose was bleeding again, dotting Grey's cheeks with my blood. I licked it up, the bitter taste driving me ever harder forward. I couldn't keep this up much longer; something had to give, eventually. Something did. My cock had reached that point where it's painful to touch and painful not to touch. It was so sensitive even Grey's wet pussy felt somewhat abrasive. Less than half a dozen strokes and I was gone. The cum poured out of my cock into Grey. It was, quite literally, the best orgasm of my entire life.

I held still on top of Grey as all my energy drained out of me into her. I couldn't move; my arms and legs were dead. I rolled off of Grey, but still held onto her, so that were on our sides facing each other. My head was between hers and the pillow and her hair was in my mouth and nostrils, but I didn't care. The French don't call it "the little death" for nothing. Grey and I panted across each other's neck as the sweat cooled on our bodies. My cock shrank and fell out of her. I knew I was finished for the night.

I don't know how long we lay there, holding each other, not speaking, but eventually I rolled away from her. I was exhausted, but Grey got up on one shoulder and looked down at me. She rubbed a little blood off my upper lip with her thumb. I didn't feel any more leak out, so there was no need to get up and clean my face up. "Mark?"

"Yeah?"

"Did you mean what you said before?"

"What's that?"

"That you loved me?"

I thought back. Yeah, I had called her "the woman I love," hadn't I? Had I stepped in it again? Would I frighten her off if I told the truth? Would I drive her away if I lied? Nothing for it but to hope.

"Yes, I meant it."

She considered for a moment, chewing on her bottom lip. Then she flipped off the light, and I felt her turn over. A few minutes later, I heard her whisper in the darkness: "I love you, too."

I suppose I should have wondered what would happen next. Would she come back with me, or go on to Seattle? Why was she even in love with me? Was I some kind of father figure for her to latch on to? I should have wondered all those things, but I didn't. That night, the knowledge that she loved me was plenty. I didn't think about anything else, and fell asleep contented with her back warm against my chest and my hand laying lightly across her breast.

The next morning was oddly normal. Grey shook me awake, telling me I was going to be late for my meeting. It made me smile, but not until I was in the shower. I stuck my head out of the curtain to shout an invitation for Grey to join me. "Tomorrow," she said. "When we have time." Then she flushed the toilet to make me hurry.

I hurried my meeting as much as possible so I could get back to the motel and Grey. When I got there, Grey was packing. My heart stopped for a split second before I realized she was packing both our bags. "Are we going somewhere?"

"You've got a week before your next meeting, right?" "Five days, yeah. In Tulsa." It was the longest break I had.

"Well then, let's go somewhere!"

"Sure. Vegas? LA? The Bahamas? Paris?"

She giggled and slapped my arm. "Well, I've always wanted to see the Grand Canyon?"

"The Grand Canyon it is."

So we drove to Tulsa, and took a flight to Arizona. The immensity of it all was breathtaking: the canyon and my feelings toward Grey. Intellectually, I realized that what I was feeling was akin to a crush (at my age!), and that my emotions would soon settle down. But emotionally, I was flying.

We made love in the hotel all night the first night there. Unfortunately, we couldn't find a room with a good view, but we promised each other we'd rent some equipment and go camping. We settled for day trips, however. Night was for love on a soft bed.

One night, as we were lying in bed, afterwards, Grey started talking. Not about anything in particular. The canyon, and how mind-boggling it was that water could do all that. Which got her to talking about the climate back home, which got her onto the subject of home.

"I was one of those kids who was always feeling ignored. But the thing was, I was actually satisfied with things the way they were. I had my world and my parents had theirs, and we didn't share them very much. I used to think I didn't even love them. I used to wonder how I would feel if they suddenly died, like in a car accident. I suppose everybody thinks about things like that when they're kids. But, when I was being most honest with myself, I realized that, emotionally, there wouldn't be that much effect on me.

"That sounds cold, doesn't it?"

I said nothing for a while, thinking the question was rhetorical, but I could feel her waiting. "Yeah, it does seem sort of cold, but I don't think it's all that uncommon. I used to feel the same way about my brother. It was like he was more a guy on the block instead of flesh and blood. Now, I love the guy, though. It's as though I couldn't get past the label of 'brother' until I was old enough to appreciate him as a person."

She lay there, staring at the ceiling, digesting what I had said. "Hey," I said. "You are going back to your parents, after all."

"Yeah." But she didn't sound sure.

Her parents were the main subject of conversation for the next few days. I got the impression that Grey was debating out loud whether or not she actually wanted to go to Seattle, to see her parents again for the first time in years. Zigzagging across the west, her attitude seemed to vacillate. It was nothing overt, but I could pick up on it.

I was confused also. I really did love her, and I wanted her to stay with me. But what if I were just a substitute for her father, who had been distant all those years? Would she leave me capriciously sometime in the future when she realized that I wasn't what she really needed? And if she did work out her feelings toward her parents, would she leave me anyway, but much sooner? I could be noble and say that the most important thing was Grey's happiness, but it wasn't. I wanted her to be happy, sure. But I wanted her to be happy with me.

Naturally, I was unable to offer Grey any advice: conflict of interest. Besides, while I was learning more about Grey daily, her parents were almost a complete mystery. All I had to go on were Grey's descriptions of them. If I met them, I probably wouldn't even know who they were.

Zoom ahead a week. I was falling more deeply in love with Grey, and I thought she was feeling the same. She had stopped talking about her family. She had either made her decision, or was on the verge of making it. I had no idea what the decision was, and it worried me. Had she decided she didn't need me anymore? Had she decided to go back to North Carolina with me?

We were in San Diego. The next day, I would be heading back east, and Grey would be with me or we would split up. The day had been particularly rough. The client I had met was a recent acquisition, and I was feeling him out. This was a toehold on the West Coast, after all, where Silicon Valley is still king of the hill. I was lying in bed, waiting for Grey to come out of the bathroom. I suppose I was more tired than I thought because I had fallen asleep. A noise -- I think it was a sneeze -- had awakened me, but I couldn't see. And I couldn't move my hands.

Shit. Something bad was happening. My stomach felt like it wanted to empty itself immediately, and my heart rate must have doubled. I could feel beads of sweat literally popping out of my pores. I remember thinking I was going to die. Either someone was going to murder me or my heart was going to explode. I kept perfectly quiet, like a kid who's heard a strange noise at night. I strained my ears, trying to hear over my heartbeat if someone hostile was in the room.

"Mark." Grey's voice, toneless.

"Grey? Is that you? Are you all right?" Whoever had bound me might also have hurt Grey. I struggled against whatever held me. For the first time I noticed that my feet had been tied to the base of the bed.

"I'm fine, Mark. Everything's fine." I heard her voice moving and I thought I could hear her footsteps on the carpet.

"What's going on, Grey?" I was naked too, I could feel.

"Do you trust me, Mark?"

"Huh? Of course I trust you. Can you untie me?"

"Not just yet. Why do you trust me, Mark?"

I was not in the mood for an interrogation. I knew that nothing was seriously wrong, but I was still more than a little scared by the strangeness of my situation. "Untie me, please."

"Soon. Why do you trust me, Mark? I've got you in a very vulnerable position. I could take everything you have and leave you. What do you think would happen to your business when everyone finds out about this?"

"What are you talking about? You wouldn't do anything to hurt me. I know you." Did I?

"Why do you trust me, Mark?"

"Because I love you. And because you love me."

She was silent for a long time. I didn't hear her move; I could barely hear her breathe.

When she spoke it nearly made me jump out of my skin. "I'm going to remove the blindfold, but I'm not going to untie you, yet. Do you trust me?"

"Yes."

She removed the cloth, which turned out to be one of my own ties. I saw that my hands and feet had been tied to the bed with two pairs of stockings. Grey stood beside the bed completely nude. Not a stitch of clothing, no make-up. Even her hair hung limply down her back. Fine. She wanted to play a little game. Except I couldn't get into it. I was as limp as a noodle, and I was going to remain that way as long as I was bound helpless.

"One time, Mark. One time, and I'll untie you, and we'll never have to do this again. Just give me this tonight."

No way. I was physically incapable, I knew, just like I know I could never kick a puppy or climb Everest. It just wasn't in me. "Okay," I lied.

Grey was tender, which was the last thing I expected, all things considered. After all, I expected some kind of bitch goddess who would break out the whips at any moment. Instead, she lightly caressed my chest, playing with the hairs on my chest. Her face was a study in concentration. Something was going on inside her, and I couldn't tell what. That made me nervous. My confidence in her began to shrink. I'm ashamed to admit it, but the plot of every female-psycho movie ever made flashed through my head. It was only for an instant, but it happened.

Grey's hand wandered down to my crotch. I was still soft, and now my testicles had retreated upward into my groin. Her cool fingers fondled me, and her expression became, if anything, even more focused. She manipulated my manhood expertly, and I began to react. It was only physical, however. My penis began to get hard, but not much. Unlike that first remarkable night, this time, only my cock seemed to feel anything. As though it were detached from me, it started to lengthen and enlarge, but I felt nothing everywhere else.

With fingers and mouth, she worked on my cock, with more success than I was comfortable acknowledging. It was a unique feeling, lying there, knowing I was responding physically, but being otherwise detached, even a little sickened by it all. But Grey said she needed this, and I would acquiesce to her, so long as it was just this one time.

I've heard that a very few women who have been victims of rape become physically aroused while they are being assaulted. I don't know if that's true, but I imagine it would just make the experience worse, being betrayed by your own body. That's kind of how I felt as my penis responded to Grey's touches. I'm a successful businessman who built up his father's small company. I don't drink or take drugs because the idea of giving up control of my body absolutely terrifies me. And here I was, getting hard while tied up, completely at the mercy of someone else. It made me sick in my very guts, despite my feelings toward Grey.

I was hard enough for Grey, I suppose, because she climbed across my hips. She settled her buttocks across my thighs and rubbed my slick cock along her slit. She spit onto her fingers and rubbed the saliva into her opening.

So. This was something besides sex, if she wasn't even physically aroused as much as I was. My confusion deepened. Grey raised herself up and pointed the head of my cock up toward her entrance. Slowly, she eased herself down on me. She was pretty dry, and the warmth that surrounded my member didn't seem greater than normal body temperature, either. She made slow rocking motions with her hips as she moved slowly toward the base of my cock. She stroked her clitoris, trying to arouse herself. The room was quiet as a funeral. This was bizarre.

Her masturbation must have produced the desired feelings, because I felt Grey's inner walls begin to moisten. Slowly, she rose and fell above me, riding me luxuriously. Her eyes were closed, but there was no passion on her face. She was concentrating on something else. For her too, I realized, the sex was physical, emotionless. This was something else. Except I didn't know what.

For half an hour, she steadily stroked me with her sex. It felt good, but empty. I noticed a tear leaking from Grey's closed eye, down her barely-round left cheek. God, I loved this girl. She was looking for my help, asking for it without words. I wanted to give it to her.

"I love you Grey. I love you." My voice was rough; I was trying not to cry, too. It was all I knew to say. I whispered it over and over again. "I love you. I love you, Grey. I trust you. I love you."

Her upper body collapsed onto me. Her hands snaked under my head and her tears flowed freely against my cheek.

My own mingled with them.

Like magic, I began to respond to Grey's movements. Not only my penis, but all of me. My breath caught in my chest. My arms strained against their bonds, not to escape, but to hold Grey in them. "I love you," I murmured between kisses to her face.

Her nipples scraped across my chest as she moved back and forth on top of me. I felt her lips on my neck and shoulder, kissing me wetly. She wormed her arms underneath me and clasped herself closely to me. Only her hips and legs moved. She was warm against me, and I felt her sobbing silently on top of me. I tried to thrust myself into her, but I was too awkward.

"Let me," she whispered in my ear, her voice ragged. I lay still and let her have complete control.

It took a long time, because there was so much going on inside both of us. I loved Grey, I lusted after her body, but there was still the core of fear and self-loathing inside me. I had no idea what Grey was feeling. It took a long time, but we began to approach climax together.

When it happened, all the negative feelings drained from me. All that was left was the love and trust. I climaxed inside Grey. At the same time, she squeezed me tightly, almost painfully. I felt her body tense with mine. I felt her relax slowly atop me.

She untied me wordlessly, then turned off the light. As she climbed into bed with me, she said, "I just had to know for sure."

Know what? That I loved her? That I trusted her? That she could take control in a relationship? All three and more?

We made love in the dark for the rest of the night.

When I woke up, I looked for it. I hoped I wouldn't find it, but I did.

The note said: "I love you, Mark. I love you so much I couldn't say goodbye. I'll be back. I love you." The writing was firm and bold. Not even tear stains. No, that would have been too cliched.

The next ten days were interminable. I had once enjoyed these trips, a chance to get out and see the country without feeling like the company was going to hell without me there. But those ten days. If I hadn't already made the commitments, I would have driven straight back home, so I could live with my misery in familiar surroundings. Every once in a while, my hand moved to where Grey's knee would have been had she been beside me. When I caught myself, I would move to adjust to air conditioning, or tune the radio. Trying to convince myself I didn't miss her as much as I did.

When I got back home, I didn't even go to my house. I stopped at the library and pulled out the Seattle phone book. There wasn't any listing for Grey's parents, not even with just the initials. I went home and went to sleep.

The phone woke me up. Yeah, it was her. Her voice sounded light and happy. She was fine. It was like she had never left home, better in fact. She was able to open herself up to her parents, now. I had been right, she told me; once she was able to get past the labels, she was able to love them as people, and now she could love them as her parents.

Then she said, "I miss you, Mark."

"I miss you, too. I wish you hadn't run out on me like that."

"I know. But if I had stayed, you would have come with me, and I could never have said goodbye."

"I didn't want you to say goodbye."

"I needed to do this, Mark. I needed to resolve this."

"I know, and I'm glad you did, really, I am. But I love you. I want to be with you. I want you to be with me."

There was silence on the other end of the phone. Then, she spoke again. "Forever?"

Forever. She was asking me if I loved her enough to marry her, after only a few weeks together. Would one of us tire of the other? She had found what she was looking for, and now was wondering if she wanted more. Did I want more, also? Again, I had to ask myself if I really loved her.

"Yes. If you'll have me."

"Oh, Mark, yes. I want you. But can you wait a month? I mean, I just got back home after so long. I can't just leave again. And I don't want to leave yet. Can you wait a month?"

Inwardly, I had to laugh at myself. I had been fighting my feelings toward Grey ever since I had known her. I had been unwilling to commit to anything in our relationship. But now that I had made the commitment, I found myself tranquil. The uneasiness, the depression had fallen away when we both said yes.

"I can wait a month. A month can't be any longer than the last ten days."

"I love you, Mark. I'll fly out in a month, and no more running."

Copyright 1993 by Lysander

This file may be distributed freely by electronic means only, provided the text is unaltered and this notice is included. Each user may make one hard copy for personal use. Any other method or purpose of duplication requires the permission of the author. E-mail: Lysander@vnet.net or Lysander@abspleasure.com

Page added 1 May 1996