The Suitcase

Dinner with the Pulchritudinous Becky O’Brien

Dinner with the Pulchritudinous Becky O’Brien

Having met Becky O’Brien at a JWW Enterprises office party, celebrating her promotion, our budding professional friendship became more and more social. Though she became a department head... at a very young age I might add... operationally there were few reasons for us to interact. Still, I found reasons and excuses to casually drop by her office. Becky is in her late twenties, shapely, extremely well educated, and capable. Yet impressing more is her attention to business, her focus. Thus spurring her quick rise in the company.

She often spurned my office small talk... guess my greetings of ‘how was your weekend’ and such awkward attempts deemed too unctuous. And finally, I must suppose on a very busy day when she had not the time to dally, she cut me off, curtly suggesting she’d be at Joey’s, the nearby pub, after work.

It was not an outright invitation to join her, young women do not initiate things that way. But I got the message. Stop pestering during the work day and if you’re serious about something then buy a lady a drink.

I did... and found Becky to be much more open and friendly out of the office.

So a drink or two at Joey’s led to dinner... then another date... and our friendship blossomed...

“That’s a nice necklace... simple but elegant,” out-of-the-office small talk much more personal.

It’s our second date, a warm evening. I am heartened that Becky removes her suit jacket to reveal a rather shear white blouse. In being well opened at the neck there is cleavage, not the type of thing to be exhibited in a stodgy office environment. The display of a sizable bust on a girl with such a limited waist line is alluring. And in reality, noting the necklace cloaks my ogling of her breasts, the male mind finding attraction.

“Elegant but functional,” Becky retorts, her smug knowing look suggesting she is aware of my ruse.

She pauses in spearing another bite of shrimp cocktail, the index finger of her free hand hooking the necklace to fully pull from under her blouse.

One would expect to see a pendant or some memento. Instead there comes into view a key... a small key. Rather exotic in appearance, the smoothness suggesting wear... indeed the necklace functional.

“Keeping something precious locked up?” I pleasantly chide.

“Yes. But not necessarily precious to me.”

Becky releases the necklace, her smile broadening as she returns her attention to her appetizer, letting the slim necklace and unlocking shard dangle about in full view for the remainder of the meal. It’s a tease, I realize, sort of daring me to further inquire.

I decide to let the matter drop.

There comes a third date, a Friday evening dinner a week later. We’re more comfortable with each other. I’m rather proud to say I think she finds attraction as well. And sure enough, in having an after dinner drink at the restaurant bar, the paucity of patrons fosters direct words.

“We can’t go to my place, Ryan. I don’t think you’re ready for... ah...”

In my eagerness I cut her off.

“My apartment is a quick drive,” responding like a horny teenager.

And with her left hand surreptitiously smoothing along my inner thigh, there is reason to be horny. In fact I am hardening.

“You’re becoming erect for me,” her words blunt, offered so plainly... like commenting on the weather. “I like firmness in a boy.”

And I blush... like a boy. Her touch is welcomed. But it brings consternation, like how do I stand from the bar stool and exit to my car with tented trousers.

Becky also seems to understand my dilemma, hand withdrawing to bring disappointment but an eventual solution.

“Put aside your drink, Ryan. No more alcohol. I’ll want you to perform for me.”

The words excite. I push my drink away, noting that Becky finishes hers then signals the bartender for another.

“Such a good boy, Ryan. You’ll need to calm down a bit. And while I’m waiting, I need to explain some things...”