Barbra’s Secret Life 2 of 2

Barbra’s Secret Life 2 of 2

What do you mean? I answered looking down at my plaid flannel shirt, my faded jeans, knowing my gray hair was long and shaggy.

You look different, shaggy hair and beard, a flannel shirt, not slick, a little unkempt, definitely not a New Yorker.

Oh, well, I'm from Maine, I said and shrugged my shoulders. "Not that everyone from Maine is shaggy and unkempt."

I like how you look. You look interesting. Not like everyone around here. I like that.

I like how you look, too," I said. "There's something mysterious about you.

Mysterious, she asked, raising her eyebrows. "You're wrong. I'm not mysterious.

Yes, you are. You have a secret self that no one knows but you."

I do? she asked, lifting her mug to her lips, her eyes looking over the rim at me.

When she put her mug down, I could tell she was thinking about what I said about her secret self. She seemed concerned at first, but then smiled, her eyes narrowing, looking into mine, indicating I had touched something in her and aroused her curiosity.

Tell me about my secret self.

"So, do you admit you have a secret self?"

"Maybe," she responded, that slight smile returning to her lips.

I smiled back, our eyes probing one another, fascinated by where this conversation was heading.

"And you, Thom, do you have a secret life, a fantasy world?" she asked, shifting in her seat, leaning forward on her elbows, moving her face closer to mine, looking into my eyes, smiling, revealing her cleavage, her breasts pressing against the white peasant blouse.

I took a sip of my coffee, stunned by her question, uncertain what to say. I kept my mug to my lips as if I were hiding behind it, but my eyes were on her smile and dark eyes and, I admit, on the glimpse of cleavage as she leaned towards me. I put my cup down, surprised that she moved her face closer to mine, as if something intimate was about to be whispered.

Let's talk about our secret lives. "I'll tell you about mine, if you tell me about yours.

So you admit it," I said, moving my face closer to hers, our eyes looking into each other's eyes.

Yes, you know I have a secret life and I know you do," she said, her voice just above a whisper, our faces now inches away from each others, surprised at how our conversation had suddenly veered and became so intimate.

Are we still in a Mamet play? I asked.

No, we're in our own play. We're entering our secret lives.

I smiled, our eyes looking into each other's eyes, probing.

I'm enjoying this. Are you? She asked.

Yes. It's exciting, isn't it?

It is, she answered, breaking off a piece of her croissant, putting it her mouth, chewing delicately then licking her lips, her eyes fixed on mine. Though we were in our own play, it seemed we were still using Mamet's language.

Barbra, I think we have the same secret fantasy.

Really, tell me what it is.

You want to be fucked by a stranger. You want to be ravished.

I couldn't believe I was saying this to her. I rarely, if ever, use the word fuck or speak like this and shocked myself, but somehow enjoyed my sudden boldness. We were strangers, suddenly being personal, talking about our secrets.

Hmm, tell me more.

Have you seen Last Tango in Paris?

Yes, get the butter! She said, repeating a line from the movie.

You want to be in an empty room or in a cheap, seedy motel with a stranger, I said.

Yes, it's a cheap sleazy motel in the middle of nowhere, with a coffee shop, and there's a red neon sign outside," she said, nodding.

Right, you and I have just met in the coffee shop late at night. You're wearing tight jeans and a tank top, no bra. I paused. "I'm now combining my fantasy with yours, I added.

I know you are. You like tight jeans on young women, don't you? You like seeing their ass and the jeans tight on their cunt," she whispered, looking into my eyes, a sly smile on her lips. I couldn't believe her language but liked how she was talking to me, as if her secret self had taken over and merged with mine.

Yes, tight jeans turn me on, I whispered, my secret self emerging.

It's late and there's no one in the coffee shop but me and you, she said.

Right, I just came in for a cup of coffee. You're at the counter and look up at me when I enter. Your eyes move up and down my body, liking what you see, our eyes meet and you smile, luring me to sit next to you and order a coffee.

So, stranger, where are you from? Barbra asked, becoming the character in the scenario we were creating.

Nowhere, I'm kind of drifting from here to there.

Gotha name!

No.

Good, me either.

What are you looking at, stranger?

You know what I'm looking at.

Do you like what you see?

Yes and I want to lick your nipples.

Hmmmmm, sounds good. What else do you want, stranger?

You know what I want. What do you want?

I want you to fuck me hard. I have a room here. Care to share it with me for the night.

Yes, lead the way.

We get up to go. I throw some money on the counter and follow you, loving your round ass in those tight jeans, your hips swaying. You turn around and smile.

Follow me, stranger.

Just then Barbra sat back in her chair, took a deep breath, and swallowed, glancing around the café then back at me. "You're getting me wet, Sam.

Good, we've entered each other's secret life, haven't we?

Yes we have she said, biting her lower lip, breathing heavily. That was amazing. I'm hot. I really got into it.

I did too.

I've never talked to anyone like this before, she said.

Me either, I said, our eyes fixed on each other.

Let's get out of here. I know a cheap hotel nearby, Barbra said.

Are you serious?

Very

What about your boyfriend?

He doesn't have a clue about my secret life, she said. He doesn't know about my fantasies and all the toys I play with when he's not around or this internet site I'm on and my several secret cyber lovers that fuck me when he's at work or out," she said, standing up. He has no idea. Let's get out of here.

We left the cafe and walked swiftly. Her large green canvas bag hanging from one shoulder and I noticed several books in it.

The hotel is about two blocks from here, she said.

While we were walking, Barbra’s words about her secret life baffled and intrigued me. How could she separate one reality from her reality with her boyfriend? How could her secret life not be part of her actual life?

How do you know about this hotel? I asked

I just do, she said, smiling. It's one of those places you can rent a room by the hour. It's for people like us, secret lovers.

Have you been there before? I asked.

No, but I have wanted to go by myself. They have porn movies on the TV and I thought about going there and living out one of my fantasies.

So you've never really been there before.

No, this is the first time," she said, smiling up at me, her long dark gypsy-like hair flowing in the breeze as we walked swiftly down the crowded street, weaving our way past people.

Finally, we were standing in front of a narrow building with a small green sign over the door that read, Concord Hotel.

Interesting name, I said.

Yes, it's perfect for what this place is, harmony and agreement," she said, smiling playfully. She then stepped closer to me, her tits just touching my chest. "Rent us a room, Mister," she said, looking seductively into my eyes. I could smell her perfume, the warmth of her body, my cock getting hard, unable to believe that I was standing there with this exotic, young woman about to live our fantasy.

I went up to the desk and asked for a room while Barbra waited by the elevator. I glanced over at her smiling at me, biting her lower lip. I rented the room for one hour.

In the elevator, she stood next to me. We didn't speak as the elevator climbed. The only sound was the chime as we passed the floors, but we felt the anticipation, both of us thinking about the secret world we were entering, wondering where this meeting would end. At the fourth floor, she leaned into me and said, So Mister, what are you going to do to me?

You'll find out, I said and put my hand on her ass and rubbed it, feeling the crack through the thin material of her skirt as my hand moved from one round cheek to the other, giving her ass a slight squeeze.

Hmmmmm, that feels good, Mister," she said in a low voice as we reached the fifth floor.

This is our stop," I said, hearing the ping of the chime.

We got off and she followed me down the red carpet of the dark narrow hall to our room. I unlocked and opened the door and let her walk in ahead of me. I closed the door and Barbra put her canvas bag down on a chair then walked around looking at the small bureau, an open closet with hangers, the TV, the bathroom. The curtains were open, letting sunlight in. Barbra closed the curtains then turned on a lamp.

I want to shut out the world, but I like a light on when we make love. I want to see your face. She then sat on the bed and looked up at me. Okay, Sam, this is the deal, she said, spreading her legs. "We're going to do everything but not actually fuck. We're going to get hot and masturbate with each other. That's as close to real fucking as we're going to get. Do you understand?



By nutbuster