Oh Dear

The door opened far too easily. If it had been stuck or locked, I could have gone for help, but it just popped open and, hesitantly, I stepped inside.

There was Ms. Romero, lounging casually on one of the couched sat before the roaring fireplace, stretched out like a cat absorbing warmth. A silk white robe covered her form but not much of it. The robe managed to be short and loose at the same time. As I entered, she looked up from her book, a smile quickly forming on her face. “Patrick!” Quickly she sat up; the motion briefly opening the robe to reveal quite a lot and yet not as much as it might have done. It did make clear that she was without a supporting undergarment. This, I knew, was trouble. She patted the couch next to her. “Sit here.”

I approached slowly, like a young child meeting a mascot, like Greg the Goat, for the first time, scared of the concept of a giant personification of an animal standing before them. Shuffling my feet, I chose to sit on the other couch, directly opposite her. “Spoil sport.” She tucked a lock of long dark hair behind her ear. “Now then, you are here to collect the donation, is that not so?”

Rather than chance misinterpreting her different diction, I simply responded with “I am here for the check, yes.”

Ms. Romero smiled warmly. “If that is the case, then I should give it to you.” She reached inside her robe, once again revealing a bit more of herself than might have been necessary, and from there produced a check, leaning over to hand it to me in a manner that readily displayed her free flying cleavage.

I would like to say that I calmly retrieved the check and coolly departed but would be unlikely, wouldn't it? Whether she was married or not, she was putting on quite a show for me and I was unable to prevent my eyes from straying too far from her bosomy display. As expected, it was a top notch display.

My hand shook slightly as I reached out to accept the check. She handed it over without issue; no playful tug of war or attempts to gain some physical attention from me in exchange for handing it over. I had the check, she returned to her couch, all was well. I glanced briefly at the check to insure that it was made out correctly and that it wasn't made out to me for a hug and a kiss. There were a lot of zeros.

I relaxed. Standing to place the check in my wallet, I began to give me speech. “On behalf of the University, may I express our gratitude for your contribution. Your desire to assist us in our endeavor to educate is surely noble, as well as being tax deductible. We will strive to use these fund effectively and efficiently. Thank you.” Ms. Romero also stood, watching me intently as I spoke, making me politely uncomfortable.

When I stopped, she spoke. “You are very welcome. Does that complete your speech?” I nodded.”The check is safely in your wallet, which has been returned to your pocket?” I agreed that this was the case. “Then our business is complete, is it not?” It seemed that she had summed up the situation very well. “Excellent. It is not right to mix business with pleasure.”

It took me a moment to realize what occurred next. Once again cat-like, Ms. Romero pounced upon me, knocking me down to the couch. Stunned by the impact, not only of her person but of the couch, I provided little resistance as she curled up atop me and began playing with my ear and neck area, presumably recalling the reaction she previously received when doing so. Flat on my back, pinned beneath her firm silky form, I found my limited resistance fading. This proved to be a very cozy position to be in. There were still parts of my consciousness that fought to resist, pointing out the wrongness of fooling about with a married woman, noting all the negative consequences of such an action, as well as how horrible I'd feel telling Sarah Jean about it. Yet I did not resist. Hormones are powerful things and she had finally triggered them beyond my ability to reject their opinion.

My left arm was trapped in the couch but my right was free. Did I do something with that freedom to further release myself? It was too late for that. My right arm raised up and began massaging the small of her back. At this, she stopped nuzzling my neck in order to look at me or, more accurately, she gave me The Look. The Zone was open again and she moved in to successfully close it.

In the midst of this haze of fascination and joy, my ears demanded attention. Footsteps. “I am returned my dear!” Dr. Castillo!