What You Do to Me - Sex Stories

What You Do to Me

... talking with you.” Her dark hair swirled. “You have email?” “Yes.” “Let’s do that, then. Not as much of a chance we’ll be caught.” I shrugged. “We won’t be doing anything naughty,” I assured her. “Email would be better.” We exchanged email addresses. I kissed her soft hand and sought out the hostess in preparation for my departure. “You and Cheryl seemed to get on pretty well,” she remarked with a sly grin. “She’s lovely,” I agreed. “We had a wonderful talk.” “I’m glad for you both. Her husband pretty much ignores her. It’s good she has someone to talk to.” I kissed her cheek. “Thanks for this evening,” I told her, “And for introducing me to Cheryl.” “Treat her right, Drew,” she warned. “She’s special to me.” “Indeed,” I nodded. “She may be special to me as well,” I told her. “I’m quite taken with her.” “Just be careful,” she said, leaning on the open door as she saw me out. “I will,” I confirmed, waving farewell and heading toward the lift. Our first few encounters were fairly innocuous. Cheryl refused to call them dates. “Married women don’t date,” she stated firmly. “Actually, they do,” I suggested with an easy smile. “They have shopping dates, salon dates, spa dates with their friends.” She gave me a stern look. “That’s not what I mean.” “It’s good,” I acquiesced. “I’m fine with an encounter with you.” We went to an art gallery and walked past the paintings, sculptures, and native artifacts. We didn’t touch. There was a pull; an attraction, but we were restrained and ...

... resisted. We had a light lunch in an outdoor café. It gave us time to talk. “What time do you have to be home?” I asked her. “No later than five.” Her answer was curt. “That’s later than I expected.” “What is it that you do that allows you to wander the streets like this during the middle of a workday?” “I do home computer work,” I told her. “Some design. Site maintenance. Deadlines are often midnight or later, so I work when I have to and play when I want.” “And this is play?” she teased. “Let’s call it enjoyment. I like being with you.” “Why?” “Ah, there’s the rub,” I laughed. “First, I find you attractive. I like to look at you. I think you’re funny. In a very unique way, you have a manner that suggests there’s a wonderful joke going on. You hint around the edges of it, but never address it directly. That makes you marvelously intriguing. And, at the same time, you’re so serious it is almost intimidating. I’m challenged to make you smile. “I might ask you the same question. Why have you agreed to this encounter?” Her eyes looked down and she twisted a fork in her fingers uneasily. “Being around you is kind of scary. It gives me a sense of tension that makes me feel uneasy, challenged, and excited, all at the same time. You’re a man, so I know what you want. But you’re not overbearing about it, so being close to you gives me a thrilling challenge to fend off your attentions while enjoying the things we do together.” “In other words,” I replied, “I can make you feel naughty ...