Last December, I got a very good, last minute, you-can't-pass-this-opportunity-up rate for a five day Christmas cruise of Alaska. I've never been on a cruise before and thought it would be relaxing to see a part of America free of wall-to-wall billboards, Starbucks, cell phone service, and all other reminders of every day civilian life.
I packed my winter gear and several borrowed library books and flew to Seattle, Washington where the cruise would disembark. I looked forward to several days travel with nothing to do but read, relax, and possibly meet some single women who could hold down a conversation over dinner. Or maybe breakfast.
For the first several days, I did the touristy thing - watch for migrating whales, explore the many levels of the ship and all it had to offer, go ashore a few times to soak in the local Alaskan color (the f****y restaurant in the former bordello location was a bonus), and relax onboard either in my cabin or on a deck chair where the sun was shining. Naps were plentiful during these few days.
Towards the middle of the cruise, I decided to mingle amongst the crowd some more. In the span of two days, I met two very different women who, as luck would have it, traveling alone. The first woman was a very charming, bubbly girl from Arkansas whose laugh was infectious. She was a wonderful person to find and we hit it off well. We exchanged numbers and promised we would call each other.
The other was a mildly reserved, very measured woman who hailed from Massachusetts. She was polished and polite and seemed to be interested. However, we shared a very nice dinner and she warmed up considerably. Her eyes cut through me (leaving quite the impression). Not to mention a dynamite ass. I was out of my league but we had a connection. We exchanged numbers and promised we would call each other.
About a week into the new year, we began to play the phone game. The game (of which I wrote the original rules for way back when) is simple: call up a prospective person you're interested in, talk to them, find out some more about them, promise to call again, and repeat the process until one or the other decides it's not worth it to return calls.
Arkansas would call me and we'd laugh about our trip but not say much more. She and I spoke the most and for a 10 day stretch, we talked about six or seven times. I'm sorry to report that I decided not to return her calls first. I tried calling a few days later and she returned the favor. Goodbye Arkansas.
Massachusetts wouldn't return my calls. I would call every third day and leave a message the first week back and got silence in return. I was about to say a Goodbye Mass when the phone rang - it was her. She apologized for not calling back and set about to ask me dozens, if not hundreds of questions about me, my life, and I did the same in return.
For the first part of January, nights when I would usually sign on to xHamster and make new friends, chat with some longtime friends in PMs, or watch porn have been spent learning about my new friend from Kennedyland.
She was born in 1970 in California, her parents were academics and moved around quite a bit as she grew up, they settled in Massachusetts in the mid-1980s, excelled in school, and went to a little college in Boston called Emerson. Got her degree in liberal arts and went to work for several companies in and around Beantown.
She's a die-hard, rabid Red Sox fan (comes with the territory), she married the ideal guy and divorced him when he walked in on the ideal guy and another girl in their bedroom, and she surprised the hell out of me when she announced she was flying to Atlanta to visit me.
I had less than 18 hours before she arrived when I talked to her on the phone! I began a mad dash of cleaning the apartment, throwing out dirty dishes and buying new ones, scrubbing everything, upgrading a piece of furniture by adding a slipcover, vacuuming, and taking out the bags of trash to the dumpster. Then the real cleaning began.
I went into the bathroom and began by trimming my nose hairs followed by a good mangroom just below the belly button - a nice trim makes everything tidy (and makes the cock look bigger). A thorough shower followed, then a rubdown of lotions on my nakedness rewarded with fresh as the new fallen snow underwear - right out of the package.
She didn't want me to go to the airport - she would meet me at her hotel room in downtown ATL. But I traveled out there anyway Saturday morning and held up a limo driver's card with a single red rose and her name on it. When she saw me, she immediately went all flush and started laughing. We shared a niceeeeeeee hug in the terminal, tracked down her luggage, and headed to the Marriott.
As she checked in, I surprised her by checking in to the hotel. I wanted to be close to her without staying with her overnight - it also spared me driving 20 minutes to and from each day. I could always get a change of clothes or two at a local store if I needed them or we could swing by my place to pick up clothes if need be. She agreed with my logic but warned that she wasn't going to jump into bed with me at any of the available places - I immediately assured her this wasn't my intention and I didn't want to overstep my boundaries - if she didn't want me there, I'd leave. Thankfully, she said to stay.
We spent Saturday in the hotel lobby and at nearby restaurants and coffee shops talking and talking about everything - the weather, at what point did "American Idol" jump the shark, baseball (she wants me to go to Fenway Park, I want to take her to Wrigley Field), embarrassing moments in high school, cruises, places we want to visit, Fred Astaire or Gene Kelly, cars, exotic destinations, and even some titillating flirts mixed in now and again.
She admitted there was another reason she came to ATL for the weekend - she wanted to see and experience the Martin Luther King Center on his birthday weekend. Lots of things to do that were probably sold out or over reserved to get in to. We started some planning on that end to see what we could achieve.
By this time, it was late and we toasted each other in the hotel bar with some drinks. We began to walk to the glass elevators in the hotel lobby/atrium. As we walked side by side, our hands instinctively reached over and grabbed the other person's hand. As the elevator rose, we shared a snuggle - the drinks were taking effect to add to the already intoxicating day we spent together.
At her floor, the door opened and I said goodnight. As she was leaving, she asked if I was walking her to her room. I said no. I was going to curb my normal desires to getting into bed with a woman immediately. I was four floors above her and I was heading to my room. She stood in the doorway of the elevator and pulled me to her. We kissed. A brief, no funny business, kiss that represented warmth and affection, not lust and desire.
Sunday morning we awoke (no one wandered to the other's room in the middle of the night - sheesh!) and met in the hotel lobby for breakfast. We greeted with a hug and I joked if she wanted to go to church. This prompted a cool discussion on the topic that's usually last on the checklist of new and emerging couples - religion. She's a non-practicing Protestant and I'm a non-practicing Catholic. She was willing to go to a Catholic service with me and vice versa but in the end we both believed there is a God, we have faith in Him, we pray to Him when we need to, and a house of worship or an organized religion can help our faith and restore our beliefs... but really isn't necessary. We'll see where this agreement leads.
With breakfast done, we headed over to the King Center and had to park in a lot nearly four or five blocks away - a nice length to walk the breakfast off. We visited the historic Ebenezer Baptist Church, the final resting place for Dr. King and his wife Coretta, and his birthplace home. Afterwards, we headed back to my car in the parking lot and started the drive back to downtown Atlanta.
It was past lunch time when we decided to find a place to sprawl out, relax, have a sandwich, and do typical lazy Sunday afternoon stuff. We stopped at a Walgreen's where I purchased a Sunday edition of the Atlanta Journal-Constitution, a USA Today, and a handful of tabloids (gotta laugh at something) while she selected snack foods; microwave popcorn, fruit, cashews, cheesesticks, and chocolate covered almonds (her weakness). I grabbed some cold Pepsi, she preferred Diet Coke - our first disagreement of the weekend!
I was planning on driving back to the hotel when she asked where I lived. My apartment was about 20 minutes away, requiring some fancy driving on the freeways to get there. The hotel was closer but she insisted we do the drive. I had thought we would be on neutral ground the whole weekend but she felt otherwise.
We walked inside, she admired my taste in the antiquey items I had purchased (every apartment needs a vintage civil defense bomb shelter sign, right?), and disappeared into my bedroom closet for an eternity while I got plates and glasses for our snacks.
She emerged wearing an old shirt and sweatpants of mine - she usually lounges in t-shirt and sweats on Sundays and this would be no different. We snacked on our food, turned the football game on (low volume) and we read the newspapers, watched parts of the game, talked, flirted, and occasionally touched each other - how long could I hold out?
During this time, we both became aware of the Italian cruise ship disaster. To think both of us met on a cruise ship and now a few weeks later when we are together again, a cruise ship makes news. We both watched and read about the tragedy and talked about our cruise some; the lifeboat drills, the crew, and the like.
This led to a discussion of our first impressions with each other. I found her a little stiff at first but she warmed up nicely. She thought I was married minus the ring because single guys couldn't carry on conversations the way I did. Bonus!
By this time it was late afternoon and we were both a little anxious to do something. She helped me clean up (threw everything into the sink) and we were mulling what we wanted to do: dinner, movie, dance club, something. She disappeared into my closet again and I gave her as much time as she needed. I sat to watch the end of a football game (Giants were beating the Packers - glorious!) and noticed she was taking a very long time. What was she up to? I rounded the corner and noticed the door was open.
I entered and found her talking on her cell phone - she was speaking to her s****r. I left her to her call and went back to the football game. She reemerged and apologized for the phone call but she had to brag to someone about the great weekend she was having. I was glad she was having a great weekend. This led to our first proper kiss standing in the middle of my living room: a nice, slow, long press of the lips with a small hint of open mouth. This was followed by a even nicer, slow, warm hug that lasted for days.
On the ride over to the hotel, we decided upon a Mexican dinner. We drove to one of the few great Mexican restaurants I knew in ATL. We ate and talked about the future. I wanted to visit her in Boston (never been there before) and we made a small itinerary: Fenway Park was first, Boston Commons, the JFK presidential library & museum, her place (fair is fair), and a long weekend at her parents place out on the Cape - boating, the freshest seafood I'd ever eat, and time with her f****y.
She was looking to see if I had problems with this and I said not at all. I reminded her I was an only c***d with no immediate f****y - I'd love to meet them and get to know them.
With dinner over, we headed back to the hotel. We were both drowsy from the immense meal we just ate and decided we'd fall asl**p in a movie theater - besides, there was nothing we wanted to see at the downtown multiplex (too bad Mark Wahlberg). I suggested we head back to our own rooms, time for ourselves, regroup, think about what we wanted to do next, and call or get together in an hour. On the elevator ride, we hugged again and another long warm kiss goodbye.
I went back to my room and was totally freaking out: what was to happen next? I soooo wanted to make love to her but I was taking it at her pace - I wasn't going to press or screw this up. I decided to take a shower and chill - sat under the warm water for a good 20 minutes or so. Now I was regretting not taking the room with the sauna tub. I shut the water off, pulled the curtains back, the noise came to a sudden stand still when I heard the phone ringing. I was about to make a mad dash when it went silent. But the light was flashing.
I dried off, got dressed, and dialed for my message. Messages more properly; two. The first was "Are you ignoring me now? Where are you? Call me..." The second was: "I don't know how to operate this remote control - all I'm getting is adult movies up here. You better come and help me." Whoaaaaaaaaaaa...
I flew to her room, knocked on her door, and she opened the door. She was wearing a flannel nightgown which made her look like one of the Waltons at bedtime. I explained I was in the shower and didn't get her messages and she invited me in. I asked about the remote control and she showed me. The TV set was indeed locked up on the adult movie section where you could order movies - it wasn't showing anything provocative.
I powered the TV on/off several times, unplugged the set from all of its cables, and nothing. I finally called down to room service and asked if they could re-boot the system to make this work - otherwise, why charge the room for TV service that didn't work? That got the ball rolling - within 20 minutes, the TV set was all fixed.
I jokingly asked her if she wanted to order an adult movie - she rolled her eyes. Her ex-husband loved to sneak porn on the computer and occasionally insisted they watch porn when they made love. Ooooooo, this ain't good. We were creeping into uncharted waters here. She quickly apologized for mentioning it but I could understand her bad feelings about it.
I asked if she wanted some time alone and she said no, she just needed to vent. So I listened. Her emotions were churned up about how he made her feel during the lovemaking (I got the impression he called out his own name), the divorce, the bad way it ended, how she felt afterward. A lot of pain. I asked how I could help.
"Just hold me." That I could do. But inside I was worried. I have a jones for good porn (being single, duhhh!) and my past swinger history might work against me.
We sat on her couch and held each other for some time. She was apologetic, she was grateful she took the leap and boarded the plane, I just shushed her and told her it was okay. I could feel her melt more into my arms. I wish I could report that we got up, went to the bed, and made love. But we held each other for the better part of an hour, occasionally re-adjusting to get comfy, and not much spoken.
When she finally got up, she ran into the bathroom to dab off her eyes. I got up and stretched - yeoowww, that felt good. She came out of the bathroom and we hugged standing up this time. I must admit, hugging her form in the flannel was quite nice but I quickly checked myself.
I asked if she was okay and she assured me she was. She was concerned about how I was - "This probably wasn't the way you wanted the weekend to end - I didn't want it to end this way". I reassured her I was fine and reminded her that the weekend wasn't officially over until I dropped her off at the airport. I sat on the couch again, she sprawled out on the bed, and I began to talk about expectations.
I wasn't expecting her to fly down and see me. I wasn't expecting the wonderful weekend we had. I wasn't expecting the emotions I had witnessed. But I was glad I did. We're just mere mortals. Am I expecting to meet her again in Boston? You bet. Am I expecting to have more wonderful times with her in the future? Time will tell. Was I expecting sex tonight? No, of course, not (WTF TODD???).
She began to laugh outrageously. "I don't believe that one." I got up and walked to the bed, carefully removing my shirt before hand. She looked up at me and smiled.
"May I join you on the bed?" She nodded.
I've given you in excruciating detail how it led to this time, to this moment. However, at this point, I will stop. We made love and slept in each others arms. The following morning, we ordered a room service breakfast and made love a second time.
By now, we were running a bit late and a mad dash to the airport ensued. I pulled the car up to the curbside check-in and prepared to say goodbye when the line from "When Harry Met Sally..." came into my mind: "You take someone to the airport, its clearly the beginning of the relationship."
We shared a huge hug and a modest public display of affection kiss. I thought I'd be witty one last time and mentioned the movie line. "WOW - I was just thinking the same thing!" We hugged again and I shooed her into the terminal before she missed her flight.
This felt good. It always feels good at the beginning of a new relationship. However, we were apart again and the second round of the phone game would now commence. No ignored phone calls this time - we spoke at least once a day for the next two weeks. We didn't relive our weekend over and over, we were intensely discovering new things about each other that just made it unbearable to be apart.
We were planning a get together for April - she was going to work her network of friends for Red Sox tickets, we'd meet some of her office co-workers who were anxiously and vicariously following the progress of our relationship, and if I was up for it, the meeting of the parents and f****y.
However, I decided to surprise her. She had mentioned to me that her f****y was hosting a Super Bowl party and about 50 to 75 people would be attending. So I announced I would be flying up to Boston on Super Bowl weekend to see her, her f****y, her friends, and watch the big game together.
She was beside herself; thrilled, excited, anxious, nervous, and scared. I've met dozens of parents and f****y before of past relationships and never once was I intimidated. But her fears were so great that I began to feel the pressure of the situation. This was new. I told her it must mean I really, really like her to feel this way.
"Like?" she asked.
"More like love" I blurted. (WTF TODD???)
According to Wikihow.com, there are nine different ways to say "I love you" and mean it. I probably should have read it before opening my mouth and letting it fly with consequences that...
"I love you." she replied.
There's a scene from the Eddie Murphy film "Coming To America" where he's singing the lyrics to an old Jackie Wilson song entitled "To Be Loved" after falling in love with his future queen.
Now I knew what he felt.
However, there were some tense moments on the phone between then and the actual weekend. She was worried how her father would take me - her dad was old-school money, Harvard educated, still employed servants, and wondered how I would hold my own against him. Many people had tried, few had succeeded. No pressure, right?
I flew to Boston the Friday of Super Bowl Weekend and found her in the terminal holding a large poster board with my name and a single red rose. We shared a nice hug and kiss and headed off to my hotel room downtown for some patented afternoon delight.
Sorry, no details... but imagine the best porn video you've seen here and double the intensity and excitement. You'd be close.
That evening, I met some of her co-workers over drinks. I passed that board of review with flying colors. The two of us had a nice dinner and shared a quiet evening of snuggling and watching "Moneyball" on PPV - considering how passionate we both were for baseball, it was the perfect way to end the evening.
The following morning, we had breakfast (oh, forgot to mention she spent the night - bonus), and headed out to the f****y estate on Cape Cod. We pulled up to the mammoth gates and drove inside the compound. Neatly manicured lawns and hedges, no branches or dead leaves anywhere in sight. The mansion was at the end of a long driveway and expanded in size as we got closer.
We were greeted at the door by her parents. Mom was very nice and welcomed me. Her father extended his hand and said "Nice to meet you." We went inside and I was given the royal executive tour of the place. It was in the same league as Bill Gates and the Rockefellers - this was luxury above and beyond.
We sat on the terrace, bathed in sunshine under several patio heaters overlooking the Cape and made small talk as the servants rolled out the lunch cart. I was worried about my etiquette as coffee, tea, cake, rolls, donuts, and bagels were served. I looked at the old man - he was staring at me intensely. Now I knew where his daughter got the piercing eyes.
The ladies excused themselves from the table and there we sat. Mano y mano.
"Who do you like in the Super Bowl tomorrow?"
"I went to school with the Patriots owner - good friends of ours."
Everything we talked about, he came back with a topper. Something to let me know about his status, wealth, and self-importance. You could tell this is how he made his millions.
We talked for about 20 minutes alone - he asked, I answered. He probed, I never flinched. I stood toe to toe with him and apparently passed another board of review.
We spent the rest of the day on the f****y yacht on the Cape with Papa fully in command. His yacht crew handled most of the heavy stuff but I chipped in when I could. The mom pulled me to the side for a chat.
"You doing okay?"
"I'm exhilarated - this is quite a life you have".
She explained that her husband was one of a kind and could be gruff but assured me he was okay (her words). I asked about her, her background, and we got to know each other. She had the same laugh as her daughter, just older.
The rest of the cruise was spent with my love. She was still nervous but as we held hands and sailed along, things seemed to melt. We had each other and nothing else mattered. As we pulled into the dock, I helped tie the boat down, only to watch the father redo my knots and re-tie them himself. Odd duck.
We repaired to the mansion and were treated to a 10 or 12 course dinner for the four of us. I mostly ate and listened to the Cape gossip between the f****y members. Ring the bell for next course, the whole nine yards.
At the end of dinner, we had drinks in the parlor. I asked for whiskey neat while the others sniffed brandy. It was a little unreal for a k** who grew up dirt poor with a single mom in a one-bedroom apartment to be drinking whiskey that costs as much as a car payment for one bottle.
We talked and talked as the alcohol soothed our bodies. The father wasn't trying to top me anymore nor boring me with stories from the good ol' Harvard days. The conversation turned to me.
After hearing my life story (http://xhamster.com/user/TMandrake/posts/13924.html), the mother was very moved. The father was half-asl**p. It was time to go - we would be right back there tomorrow for the Super Bowl. We drove home and spent an evening in each others arms just thankful we both survived the day. Her father held back on me that night - no telling how he'd be with an audience the next night.
Super Bowl Sunday was spent very much like our afternoon in Atlanta - lounging around, being comfortable, reading newspapers, and relaxing. Only this time, we were working hugs, kisses, the occasional grope, one session of oral sex, and a sex session that lasted for 2 hours (the last two details were put in to awaken those who've gotten bored).
We drove back out to the Cape and a valet parked our car. The mother greeted us again, resplendent in a Patriots sweater and matching earrings. The father wore a shirt and tie and had no NFL gear on whatsoever. He did give me a strange look as I removed my coat to showcase my replica Dick Butkus Chicago Bears jersey.
"The Bears?" he said.
"You remember, the team who beat the Patriots in Super Bowl XX? Walter Payton, Fridge Perry, Mike Ditka?" I replied. Take that!
Thankfully, several of the co-workers I met Friday were present along with their spouses and dates. The other party goers I was introduced to were all WASP-y, old school New England folk who were probably around when football was invented.
The food spread was incredible - the TV was enormous. The game was exciting.
The company I kept was great. The father even laughed at one of the commercials. We had a great time.
At the start of the fourth quarter, I sat next to the father for a bit. We talked about the game, what could happen, and the like. He admitted he was worried but confident the Patriots would prevail. I said I was sticking with the Giants.
"How much?" he wagered.
"$1000" I said. (WTF TODD???)
Now I was really sweating. I found my love and told her what I had done - she gave me a look that tore right through me. I apologized and was really feeling...
Brady got intercepted - Giants ball. I breathed again.
Giants failed to capitalize. Damn!
Brady's driving the team down the field. OH SHIT!
Twelve men on the field. Breathe, man, breathe!
Nine seconds left - one play left. Hail Mary, full of grace.
Hail Mary pass.... Giants bat it down. Game over. Giants Win!
I hugged my love like crazy - the father sat quiet for a brief moment in his chair. We started saying goodbye to people as the party began to break up. I could not believe my good fortune. This was too much to take.
We helped break down the party and I met the servants for the first time. They were thrilled I won the bet - seems they knew about it the moment I made the wager. There were some people who'd been their 15, 20 years - they knew their employer had his moments but they were sincerely happy in their work.
As we got ready to leave, the father pulled me aside and handed me a check for $1000. I refused the check.
"Let's put it towards a weekend for the four of us playing golf somewhere."
"Not a bad idea."
I shook his hand and thanked him for his hospitality and his company. I told him that I loved his daughter and would work only to make her happy from this moment forward.
"That's good to know."
After another night with my love at my hotel room (she had me speaking in tongues - use your imagination), we woke up on Monday and said goodbye in the hotel lobby. She was off to work, I was catching a flight back to Atlanta in hopes I'd make it back by 3 PM to start the second shift.
So there it is. This woman I met on an Alaskan cruise has become my official girlfriend. We're meeting again in March - not sure yet.
Where is this going to lead? Only time will tell.
Why did I share all of this here? Not sure.
Am I insane? Oh, definitely. I'm just crazy about Sharon.
I've officially switched my status on my profile - sorry, I'm taken.