Chance Encounters and Pleasant Interludes: A Collection of Erotic Vignettes

By Lindl Simmons

Have you ever been immediately drawn to someone? Have you experienced that initial, all-encompassing thrill that comes with that first physical contact?

Romance, sexual attraction, and the physical connection between persons are natural and as basic as breathing. Romance, sexual relationships, and physical contact should provide each of us with a positive, happy experience, regardless of long-term outcome. Loveand lustat first sight, emotionally fulfilling relationships, and even happily ever after really do exist.

Chance Encounters and Pleasant Interludes is a collection of short stories erotic vignettes intended to pleasantly titillate ones romantic and erotic sensitivities.

These vignettes describe satisfying emotional and physical relationships between men and women, most of whom meet fortuitously, who follow their instincts to a pleasing culmination, perhaps to a satisfying relationship.

Chance Encounters and Pleasant Interludes answers questions like the following:

Can an apple be the impetus for a lasting relationship? It worked for Eve. Can a chilly experience lead to a torrid resolution? Can a story from the grave restore luster to a dying relationship? Can teenage romance be successfully rekindled? Can a heart attack inspire a heart experience? Can working late lead to a lifelong experience? Can love overcome friendship?

• Language: English
• Publisher: iUniverse
• Release date: Apr 10, 2017
• ISBN: 9781532011313

Lindl Simmons

Lindl Simmons holds a BA degree, an MS degree, and a juris doctorate. Simmons settled in Texas and has lived there happily for more than forty years.

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Copyright © 2017 Lindl Simmons.

Author Credits: Catalpa Creek Enterprises

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, incidents, organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

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Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

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ISBN: 978-1-5320-1130-6 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-5320-1131-3 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2017900518

iUniverse rev. date: 04/06/2017

Contents

A Touch of Perfect

Coincidence

Don’t Wait

Look What You Made Me Do

Really!

Neighbors

Reunion

A Touch of Perfect

T HE DEPOSITION WAS FINALLY over. When it began at two o’clock, she fully expected to be finished by four or four thirty at the latest. Now it was nearly seven thirty, dusk was gathering, and the small salad she had eaten at noon had only sustained her for a couple of hours. She was famished.

The two partners for whom she worked left at six; one to the airport, and the other to a charity event with his wife, followed by a weekend at their ranch. The staff left shortly before the partners. She beckoned her client to follow her. They left opposing counsel and the court reporter in the conference room.

She ushered her client into her office. It was far too late for a debriefing. She told him he had done well and they would talk early next week. She walked him to the door, giving him a reassuring handshake as he left.

As she returned to the conference room, the court reporter stepped through the double doors, pulling her roller bag of machine, recorder, labels, and deposition exhibits. They exchanged good night wishes, and she locked the outer door behind the reporter. When she entered the conference room, she found opposing counsel still seated, making notes on a legal pad. They exchanged glances. He apologized for being so lengthy. She graciously accepted, agreeing that it was a surprise to be here so late.

You must be famished, he said. I am. Is the restaurant downstairs still open? The least I can do is buy you dinner, if you will allow me.

Thank you. That’s very nice, but …

He was a nice-looking, well-dressed man in charcoal pinstripes and a beautiful silk tie, but he was not drop-dead gorgeous. He seemed fit, dependable, and comfortable with himself. She guessed he was in his early to mid thirties to her twenty-nine, soon to be thirty. He was six feet tall, maybe six one. He spoke in a firm, husky voice without haste or hesitation.

She had started to demur, but then she thought, Why not? There was no one to go home to. It had been a long day, thanks to him. And she was hungry. He seemed nice enough. She hadn’t noticed a wedding ring.

Yes, she said. That would be very nice, if you’re sure that’s what you want to do. It’s a good restaurant, and we can leave our things here. The cleaning people will be in shortly and will lock up after us.

They rode the elevator down, talking about the things strangers talk about. Each ordered a glass of wine, welcoming the end of the day.

They exchanged brief biographies as they ate. She was single, never married. College then law school. Her father was a lawyer. She had been with her firm for four years.

He had taken a job with a large firm after law school and stayed for five years. He tired of the hours and the politics, so he left and hung out his own shingle. He liked working for himself. The marriage didn’t work out, no children.

They ordered two more glasses of wine, talked of favorite cities and favorite books and movies. They declined dessert, agreeing it was time to go home.

They rode the elevator to her office, both quiet, unsure what to say. She unlocked the entry door, locking it behind them out of habit.

As they entered the conference room, he said, Give me a few minutes to pack up my things. I’ll be on my way. He removed his suit jacket, loosened his tie, and rolled his sleeves.

She touched his forearm. Thank you for dinner. That was sweet of you. I enjoyed visiting with you.

You’re welcome. My pleasure completely.

He smiled at her, taking in her visage with a long look. Sweet Jesus, he thought. She’s beautiful. She was perfectly dressed in a tailored navy suit, straight skirt, and a fitted white silk blouse. Her two-button jacket accentuated her shoulders and molded to her slender waist. It fit perfectly over her round breasts, which appeared more than adequate, but not buxom. She was five feet nine, slender, with shapely legs and ankles. She wore navy blue pumps and dark blue stockings. Her eyes were sparkling sapphire blue with clear whites that made her irises stand out under thick dark lashes.

Her thick shoulder-length hair was blonde and curled under a bit. It swirled and swayed as she moved her head. She was lightly tanned, and her perfect, very white teeth accentuated a warm smile. She wore pale lipstick. Her hands were delicate, displaying long fingers with manicured french tip nails. Her only jewelry was a simple gold watch and an intricate gold ring, third finger, right hand. He noticed that immediately upon meeting her. He especially enjoyed her voice. She spoke with the clear diction of California and the slightest hint of a southern accent in a cultured, dulcet voice that was just a touch low and rich.

You’re a delightful woman. It’s been a while since I’ve enjoyed a woman’s company as much as I’ve enjoyed being with you. Sheepishly, he looked into her eyes and said, Sorry. Maybe I shouldn’t have said that?

She started to speak but then hesitated, and he thought she actually blushed slightly.

She looked down, and then she straightened her back and looked directly at him. She stepped toward him, again touching his forearm below his rolled cuff, feeling his soft hair, but never taking her eyes from his. Her touch was warm but hesitant.

Not at all, she replied. Why would you say that?

He looked into her eyes. Because it’s true. He put his hand on hers. With the other, he touched her cheek. His touch was warm and confident and assuring. You’re a beautiful woman, and I’ve enjoyed your company.

Again, she hesitated and appeared to blush slightly. Something stirred inside her. She involuntarily moved her cheek into his hand, putting her free hand on his, holding his warm fingers to her face. She stood there for a moment, quietly looking into his brown eyes. Never taking her eyes away, she moved his hand to her lips, gently kissing his palm. Thank you, she replied softly.

They stood, just gazing at each other … pensive … hesitant.

She didn’t know why she had kissed his palm, just that it seemed right. His touch had been warm and confident. She had surprised herself, reacting to what had stirred within her. It was a woman’s reaction, an expression of acceptance and trust.

Her kiss had been soft and warm on his palm, yet it sent an ageless sensation through him like a lightning bolt. I assume the cleaners have finished and no one will come here tonight?

She nodded.

He bent slightly and kissed her gently on the lips. She responded chastely. He embraced her cautiously, and she returned his kiss less chastely. They kissed again, and she slid her hands across his shoulders and around his neck.

When he gently pressed her to him, she laid her head against his shoulder, sighing softly. They stood quietly for a moment. He kissed her temple, and she raised her lips to him invitingly. He traced the slight space between her lips with the tip of his tongue, and her lips parted. She took his tongue into her mouth, pressing against his chest as their tongues explored. His incipient erection pressed against her thigh.

A small voice in her head urged caution, but the stirring in her core urged her on. She was wet. She felt lubricious moisture between her legs.

Why don’t you remove your jacket? I’ll see to the lights, he said.

He entered the lobby, switching off the overhead lights, leaving a warm glow from a small table lamp to illuminate that room and the entry to the conference room. He strode back, eliminating the conference room lights. All light that remained came from the lamp glow and the lights of the city five stories below. But it was enough to see her clearly.

She had removed her jacket and shoes, laying her jacket neatly next to his on the conference table and setting her shoes carefully together below. She had opened the top button of her silk blouse, giving him just a glimpse of the cleft of her throat. She stood with her hands at her sides, erect but relaxed, watching him.

What am I doing? she thought. But every sensation coursing through her body urged her forward. She knew she was interested, and the look on his face told her he was as well.

He slipped out of his shoes, setting them carefully next to hers and stepped toward her. Smiling a gentle smile, he extended his hand to her.

She stepped closer, putting her slender hand into his larger one, saying nothing. A frisson pulsed up her spine as warmth traveled from her cheeks and breasts to her abdomen.

She wore a fragrance that he did not know, but he knew that it suited her as though it had been created solely for her. The fragrance alone enveloped him and drew him to her.

He drew her to him, and they kissed slowly, her hand in his. Her lips were wet and warm. Their tongues searched slowly, invitingly, intimately.

Inwardly, she sighed. She needed this, she knew. She had needed this for weeks, months. The touch of a man, the warmth of another person. Her friends told her the men she knew were intimidated by her, but she didn’t know why.

But this man wasn’t. She knew it couldn’t last, but for the moment, it was just what she needed—a touch of perfect.

She held herself against him, but she was uncertain, afraid for the moment to move. It felt so good. He was warm and hard. His obvious arousal was exciting, sending a much-needed message to the woman in her. She didn’t move—scared to pull away, scared to press against him.

He relished the warmth of her breasts pressing against him and her wet lips on his. This was not what he had envisioned when he arrived at her office that afternoon. It was to be a simple deposition. He would do his job and then head to the gym to work off the frustration that he knew, at first sight of her, she was going to cause him. It had been obvious the moment they shook hands in the conference room.

She was so elegant, so self-assured, so put together and professional. Private college, Yale law school. Women like her were taken. They were taken by rich guys, successful guys, powerful guys, influential guys. He was just a reasonably successful lawyer with a public school education, albeit from prestigious institutions. He dated. He dated attractive women, many nice women. But she was beautiful, stunning—out of his league.

She was pressed against him as though she truly wanted to be there, but he was hesitant to move. He was sure whatever he did next would be wrong, and she would simply stop and calmly explain that she had to leave or pick up her laundry or let the cat out or …

Do something, he thought. The worst that will happen is that she will back off and it will be over. It won’t kill you.

He kissed her lips and then her throat. He unbuttoned the next three buttons of her blouse, spread her lapels, and kissed the tops of her breasts, one and then the other. Spreading her lapels wider, he ran a finger over one warm, smooth breast and across her taut nipple.

She kissed him, looking into his eyes as he deftly unbuttoned the next two buttons of her blouse. He freed one breast, cupping it in his hand, stroking her nipple. He bent to her, kissing her breast, taking her nipple between his lips, sucking her and gently biting, causing a jolt of sensual energy that elicited a deep moan from her.

Closing her eyes, she uttered a barely audible sigh. She felt the warmth of his breath against her skin. A feeling of liquid warmth spread throughout her. She pressed one hand against his chest.

Oh shit. She’s going to stop, he thought.

She kissed him and removed his tie. She folded it, laid it on the conference table, and unbuttoned his shirt. Pulling it from his trousers, she unbuttoned the last button and drew it off his shoulders and down his arms. She laid it on his tie.

She kissed and caressed his chest. She felt his soft hair on her face and kissed his nipples. She ran her tongue to his navel and back up, enjoying when he tensed as she reached his navel.

Stepping back, she looked at him, looked deeply into his eyes. Please, she thought, let him want this as much as I do.

Never moving her gaze, she unbuttoned the last buttons of her blouse, pulled it from her skirt, and slowly slid it from her shoulders and onto their other clothes. She stood for a moment, watching his eyes take her in, watching his eyes caress her breasts and knowing the man behind his eyes was hers for the next minutes—or hours.

I want you, he said with soft urgency.

Why?

He cocked his head and smiled wryly. You’re smart and you’re beautiful … and I want you very much.

When he started to extend his hand, she stopped him. She removed her delicate lace bra, adding it to the other clothing, quietly letting him look. The desire in his eyes was palpable.

Taking his right hand, she placed it on her left breast, never moving her eyes from his. She tingled inside and felt desire spread though her, felt the wetness between her thighs and the growing need inside her. She felt an eagerness that she hadn’t known for a very long time.

He cupped her breast, gently fondling her, never taking his eyes from hers. He brushed the tip of one finger over her taut nipple as he took it in his mouth again.

Her breasts were perfect, he thought—perfect shape, perfect size, perfect pert nipples that stared straight ahead at him. When he moved his kisses from her nipple to her navel, she inhaled audibly and held his mouth tightly against her.

He unzipped her skirt, sliding it over her firm cheeks and down her thighs, dropping it to the floor. She stepped over it, and he added it to the other clothing. She wore navy thigh-high stockings with intricate lace tops. Her swollen mons and the crease of her labia pressed against the thin, smooth silk of her very lacy, very tiny snow-white panties. It was visual and olfactory heaven.

He breathed in the fragrance of her superlative perfume combined with the feral scent of her female musk—the dusky sweet, fragrant odor of a woman aroused. He inhaled the primal scent that has drawn the male to the female for centuries. His reaction was atavistic.

He knelt and placed his cheek against her mons, savoring her perfume and her musk. He kissed her through the lace of her panties and ran his tongue against the fabric-covered crevice between her thighs.

Oh, she murmured, drawing the word out softly. She stood with her fingers entwined in his hair, head back, eyes closed, lost in his touch and the warmth of his breath.

He covered her mound with the flat of his hand, pressing against her. He kissed her as his fingers moved downward, gently stroking her cleft, then her clit through the lacy silk. She trembled and sighed quietly.

He slipped her panties down and off. She stepped out of them, inhaled slowly and parted her legs as he massaged her swollen clitoris, then traced down her cleft and across her opening, feeling the delicious wetness of her on his fingertips. He inhaled her sweet, fragrant moisture, then licked it from his fingers. He stroked her labia, gently fondling them, and took her sweetness on his tongue.

She remained, head back, eyes closed, murmuring soft, intermittent moans as his wet tongue stroked her clitoris rhythmically. She grasped his hair in