Promises, Promises - Sex Stories

Promises, Promises

... What could it hurt to have a coffee and conversation with the beautiful and vivacious Dana? “Alright,” I sighed in weary surrender. “Coffee and conversation seems harmless.” “Thank you, Drew.” We agreed to meet in a little café not far from where she worked. It would give me a chance to get out of the apartment, breathe a little air and clear my mind a bit. Out of the apartment? What if Cheryl broke away from her in-laws for a short tryst? I poked open the email and quickly typed the message that Dana had called and we’d be meeting for coffee downtown. In just a minute, she replied. “I told you I didn’t want to know.” “It’s not like that, Cheryl. It’s just coffee and conversation. I promise. I just didn’t want you to come by the apartment and find me gone missing.” “If you do sleep with her, I don’t want to know.” “Won’t happen,” I replied. “I can only handle having sex with one married woman at a time. That’s you.” “Just don’t tell me if you do.” She was fixated on the notion that Dana was going to seduce me. As often as I had maintained that I would remain faithful to her, Cheryl seemed convinced that I couldn’t hold up under the pressure. Perhaps it was part of her belief that you couldn’t count on a man, any man, to stand firm and faithful. ++++ The café was virtually empty when I arrived, so it was easy to spot Dana. She was the only customer seated at one of the small tables spotting the café’s interior. She stood up as I approached. “No need to stand for me,” I told ...

... her. “I’m just one of the…” She silenced me by leaning up and capturing my lips with hers. “…help!” I concluded. “What was that for?” “Just thought you should know what you are missing,” she said, resuming her seat with a look of self-satisfaction. I took out my handkerchief as I sat to her left. I dabbed at my lips and checked the cloth, noting the light pink discoloration. “You’re not wiping it off,” Dana said accusingly. I smiled and shook my head. “Preserving it,” I replied, showing her the pink stain. Dana’s grin was irrepressible. “There’s more where that came from,” she challenged. “I’m sure there is,” I replied. “But we both know the score.” She looked down at the delicate spread of her fingers on the table top. “You can’t blame me for wishing that there was some way.” There was a long silence. I finally broke it, saying: “Maybe we should order?” She imperiously waved over the waiter. “Espressos,” she commanded, cocking an eyebrow at me. I nodded. “Two times,” she concluded. The waiter nearly bowed. “Yes, Miss Dana,” he said. “They know you here,” I observed. She smiled. “I’m a regular.” “You bring all your boyfriends here?” The look she gave me was quizzical. “Are you my boyfriend?” “No, of course not,” I replied quickly. “I was just wondering.” “Mostly clients,” she replied. “An occasional working acquaintance. You’re the first potential boyfriend.” “Dana, please,” I sighed. “I did say ‘potential’, didn’t I?” she smirked. “I have made a commitment. You wouldn’t still ...