Amalia's Cat says:  Hey folks, this part's a bit rough, needs smoothing over, to paint the picture more clearly.  Suggestions as usual are always welcome.

"Fanguella." She has just sat down at the restaurant. She half expects to see Richard, but no, it was Douglas. "You're here early. Can I buy you a coffee?" He asked. She motioned for him to take the seat across from her. The dynamics between them have somehow changed. It was a kind of truce. As though they had each taken a shot at the other and they wee now on equal footing. They had each taken the other by surprise, been made to feel vulnerable, exposed, and now both felt that they were now on a more intimate, yet more risky footing. Douglas was curious. Who was this woman, what did she do, did she have a family, what made her tick, and especially, did she have other secrets that would be worth finding out? But instead of asking a more typical "so, what do you do?" he took a chance. After all, he did know one thing that made her tick. "So," he started, "I've been thinking about how your hand felt on my cock all day yesterday. You know, when you grabbed it. Did you like what you felt?" He had leaned over, and was looking intensely into her eyes, while at the same time, he had slipped off his sandal and allowed his bare foot to travel up her leg teasingly, pausing slowly to rub against her inner thigh. Fanguella was glad she had decided to wear her short suede skirt. His foot felt delicious against her bare legs, and she could hardly breath as she thought about her impulsive decision she had made while dressing this morning. When she had decided to forgo wearing any panties, she had mostly been imagining teasing him, not saying a thing, simply arranging for him to catch a glimpse of her as she'd bend down to pick up her purse. She had never imagined sitting down for coffee with this man, having him suddenly take control of the situation by reversing their roles and talking dirty to her. Talking dirty to her not over the phone, not in the middle of a sexual encounter but over a coffee in a restaurant in the middle of the day. He was also touching her. His foot was making its way up further between her legs, feeling her smooth inner thighs, and suddenly she stopped breathing. She almost wanted to push his foot away from sheer nervousness. He paused just short of her hot swollen cunt. He must be able to feel her tropical heat, she thought. But he kept pausing, looking at her expectantly. She suddenly remembered that he had asked her a question, in what felt like an eternity ago.
"It felt...good." She managed to choke out.
"How good" He whispered. Fanguella swallowed, then licking her lips she said,
" It felt thick and hard. I wanted... "
"What did you want he coaxed.
"I wanted to feel the silky skin of your cock. I wanted to feel its smooth hardness in my mouth, on my tongue. But mostly I wanted to look at it. It felt perfect in my hand, and I wanted see if it really was, I wanted to feel its thickness as I watched you part me with it."
As she said that last part, whispering, their eyes still locked, his bare foot came into contact with her naked cunt, the coarse hairs, and the wet opening that she had just mentioned. As surprise registered on his face at the sudden unexpected feel of hot flesh, Fanguella gasped at the sudden feel of his bare foot pressing against her aching cunt, under the table of convention, of common etiquette, where their two cups of coffee sat with a mask of casualness. "I though to surprise you, Fanguella, press my foot against your panties, help myself to a feel as you did with me. But it seems you have surprised me once again. My God your juicy,” His toes were rhythmically massaging her clit, his big toe was parting her, rubbing her inside. When the waitress came, she could hardly manage a polite no thank you, as she asked if they would like anything else. Then, glancing suddenly back at Douglas she added,
"Actually, could we get the bill?"
"No lunch today, Fanguella?" the waitress asked, since she knew her routine.
"I just thought of something I need to do." All this time Douglas had not removed his foot, his toes or the slow rhythm that was causing a thin film a sweat to form on her brow. Once the waitress had left, with an effort, Fanguella pushed his foot down from between her legs. She grabbed her purse, then his arm.
"Lets go." She said, and he followed her out the door.
"Where do you live" Fanguella asked, walking fast.
"Not far. I'm in one of those warehouses just at Carlaw Ave... So, are you married?" She sent him a dirty look.
"Not everyone wants to get married."
"Sorry, I didn't mean to offend you. I was just wondering whom you might have been sending those sexy messages to. I've thought about it, and it seems as though your latere messages were spicier. I was wondering what happened to make the tension escalate in your messages. "
"Look. If you don't want to go through with this, if you can't handle it, then that's fine. Sex with a stranger isn't for everyone."
"I wonder who is really scared. Maybe it’s you who can't handle having sex with someone you know something about." They stopped walking. Fanguella paused.
"Ok. Going home with you does not make you privy to my personal life. If we had a foundation of friendship, a history longer then two days, that might call for some personal history. As it happens, we have neither." Her rudeness was starting to get to him. He stopped walking.
"Its called small talk. It’s also known as getting to know each other. Either you’re scared, or you've got something to hide. I'd like to know what else could be going on in your life besides these sexy phone calls." Fanguella was scared. It suddenly dawned on her. There was something about this guy that got to her. Something she feared that could be more then physical. But the way they had met, their relationship up to this point was not exactly the foundation for a relationship any more intimate then pure physical sex for its own sake. For her there was an unspoken rule. Don't get to know casual lovers too well because due to there very nature, they did not last. She regarded talking to Douglas as a threat. But he couldn't know that. She admitted to herself that she was being cold and abrupt and that it was not his fault but her own.
"If you must know, the sex change was a success, and my ex-wife has taken it quite nicely by recovering from her breakdown by killing herself....” He took her hand off of his arm, and started walking away. " I…I'm sorry." Called after him. "You're right. I tend to cover things up with sarcastic humor." He stopped walking and turned to look at her.
"No, I'm not married. I never have been. I am not in any relationship, and haven't been for some time. Perhaps because of this I've grown to be a very private person. And you were right. Something did happen to make my calls hotter." She decided not to be too specific. She couldn't after all be expected to give away all her secrets. She took his arm again and they resumed walking.
After a short silence, Fanguella, who had been holding Douglas' arm, stopped him. "What is it Douglas, that keeps you going every day, what is your reason? How is it that every day you can get up and go for lunch at the same spot and find enough meaning in that simple experience that you continue to do it day after day." Douglas stared at Fanguella. He gave her a deeply unsatisfying,
"I don't know” and they walked on in silence. Fanguella had to ask. She hadn't even meant to ask, only lately these questions had been bothering her. She was trying to live to her fullest, but her life seemed so narrow and insignificant of late. And she felt as though she could trust him to give her an honest response. One that might mean something to her.
"I get up every morning, because of the music in my head. The lyrics that float in and out of consciousness. I'm constantly in search of the perfect song that will sum up all of human experience, some universal truth that will say everything that people have always felt but been unable to put to words or music."
"You do this to connect." Fanguella added, nodding. " People do what they do whatever it may be in order to feel as though they are apart of something, connected to everything in some way. You do this with your music. Me, I have a way of knowing about people. Not always, but …I can read the symbols on the cards and see how they relate to a particular person. But behind this I know that what every single person seems to want, to need, is to connect, to feel as though they are part of something bigger." They were both silent for a moment. Then Fanguella continued in a quiet voice.
"When my best friend died, I lost that connection... You asked me before whom I left those messages for, I'll tell you. At first I was leaving them for myself. They didn't start out as sexy, and they weren't always sexy. Some people write, some people play music. I spoke. As I drew more and more out of my grieving, I began to connect more with other people, but first I had needed to connect with myself. That was how I did it. I am now learning to live with my grief, but I still enjoy the freeness of speaking to myself, of saying whatever I felt like saying. I never took offence. I tried being brutally honest. Erotic messages seemed a natural progression for me. I've been leaving messages for myself for a year now."
"Thank you for telling me that. I truly wondered. And I'm sorry for your loss." After a few more moments of silence Douglas asked,
"So tell me, do you save these tape recorded messages." they both laughed, the seriousness of the moment lightened.
"Of course." Fanguella smiled. "Not just that, but I've realized that there is an infinite supply of them. Different ones to suit different situations…care for a sample?" They had just reached the bushed area in front of his studio, and Fanguella, slid in front of him so that he had to stop walking.
"Do you see this little finger? I know over a hundred different ways to touch your body until you scream. You won't be sure if it is for me to stop, or for me to go on. Do you think you can handle me? I want to use your body in ways you've never even thought of before. I can't wait to see your ass. It's so perfect and round and firm in your jeans I want to tear your pants off and… Tell me, are you a virgin, … here?" she pressed the crack between the two round cheeks of his ass. I know spots up there that could make you scream for more. I want to tie you up and lick your body all over. All over." She whispered this as their lips touched yet she did not kiss him. It was Douglas who finally bruised her lips with the force of his lips and tongue and teeth. God, could he kiss! He was animalistic in one moment slow and teasing in the next.
They were already taking each other’s clothes off as they stepped into the building and walked down the hall to his door. They moved slowly, leaning against the wall kissing and groping and discarding clothes as they inched to his door when suddenly the door they were just passing and leaning on heavily opened, sending them crashing to the floor. Fanguella sprawled on top of Douglas, their hands stuck between their half clothed bodies.
"New girlfriend, Douglas?" a woman in gray track pants and short purple hair asked, after a shocked moment.
"Ah no! I mean yes! I mean I don't know!"
"Ah it's like that, then. I guess no one was knocking after all."
"Yeah, sorry Jill." They scrambled up, straightening clothes as best they could, while Jill closed the door, looking away with shy embarrassment. They looked at each other, and burst out laughing.
"That scared the shit right out of me!"
"Oh God, that was right out of a movie!"
"And she's my shyest neighbor, too!" They were talking and laughing at the same time, catching their breath as they continued down the stark hall with the burnt out bulb. Once they reached his purple steel door, walking this time, they stopped, and Douglas regarded Fanguella, with a small smile and the warmth left over from their shared laughter.
"You're beautiful when you laugh. Your face becomes less guarded, softer. I've wanted to ruffle you ever since I saw you" he added wickedly, just as he leaned in to kiss her softly on the lips, and then again.
Fanguella was feeling dizzy from the laughter, from his kisses, from the warm way that he was looking at her. Her heart beat faster, and she knew fear. She could lose herself in this man, completely, lose all self respect, lose all control. How dare he look at her like that? She liked who she was when she was unruffled, how dare he set out to ruffle her, to make her fall for him, all as some kind of a, a, sick game to ruffle the bitch who was so rude to him, who had groped him, a stranger, now he was trying to get her to fall for him, simply so he can ruffle this chicks feathers, well this was not going to happen. This was more then she could take. And calling her usual expression guarded? Was she so transparent? What else did he see? Suddenly Fanguella felt completely exposed, and vulnerable. Worse, she felt like crying. What was wrong with her? Before she could allow him to see her vulnerability on her naked face, she quickly put back in place her cool look, and she smiling coldly, as if amused as she told him, "Well yes, you've certainly managed to ruffle this birds feathers," and with that she turned and started to walk away, replacing her shirt, and pulling her skirt down as she went.
"Fanguella." He called gently. She kept walking. "Fanguella" he called again, louder this time, but just as gentle. She stopped walking, but did not turn around, did not want him to see her face.
"What's wrong."
I can't take your honesty" she threw over her shoulder, and for a second, Douglas saw her face. Yes, she was ruffled all right, but not in the way he had wanted to see her ruffled. She was crying. And then, she was gone.