Imperfect Beauty

By the time the movie ended, we defiantly were ready to head home. He drove me to my door and I invited him up. This time there was no small talk, as I locked the door and turned to him, his lips dipped down to meet mine and clothes were quickly flung to the floor.

I felt a deep hunger for the manly sexiness that Chase exuded. He was good looking yes, but rugged with big hands and a well muscled body. His arms were sculpted to perfection and even his back felt strong and muscular under my hands. I had my arms wrapped around him, pulling him close to me kissing his chest and flicking at his nipples. He was very responsive to my touch, and it was complimentary to see such a big strong manly man shudder with pleasure at the slight brush of my hand, or my lips.

His arms held me close as well, reaching out to stroke and caress my every curve. He let his hands trail down the small of my back and later he toyed with the nape of my neck. He filled his hands up with my hair and released it, he cupped my face and kissed me with great feeling. He searched the inside of my thighs for erogenous zones and found them there, he trailed down my stomach with his tongue and sent shivers up and down both sides of me.

Chase explored every part of my body, thrilling me with his touch and strumming my body like a musical instrament, making it sing along with him. He pressed his hard cock down between my thighs were it was wet and slippery and receptive. I took him into me, feeling the warmth travel from my core and radiate through my body. He kept a slow and steady pace, never neglecting me with his lips and tongue.

Fianally, I began to feel the coil of my pleasure tighten, and whimpered out beneath him to move faster. He stroked in and out of me with speed and deep penetrating thrusts. At last, the culmination of our passion over took us and we called out together into the night.

Now spent, he lay next to me, stroking my hair and looking over me with an expression of satisfaction. We talked for a while, gentle sweet whispers to preserve the moment, and to our mutual agreement he rose, and went home for the night. I lay alone, yet content, hoping we would see each other again soon.

My summer progressed well steadily from there. My career seemed to take off. I even became something of a local celebrity. I'm not anywhere close to rich, but my paintings are always in demand, and I seem to have a steady stream of income to match my steady outgo. My cupboards are quite full, and I volunteer to be designated driver less often. Occasionally I even spring for a cab, so that no one has to drive. I've found that it's a lot more fun that way, although possibly a little more dangerous. It's good to have one clear headed individual among each group of drunken fools to keep them from doing things that any sane and sober fool knows better than to participate in.

Chase and I went out a few times and he quickly became on of the gang, another friend with occasional benefits. Zoë and I spent a lot more time connecting, once we realized all that we had been missing out on. We added a few more people to our group. Glen continued not seeing his closeted cop friend, and we were there for a shoulder to cry on when Glen's feelings were inevitably hurt over and over again because Officer Macho refused to acknowledge their relationship in public. This of course happened on a regular basis.

Guy continued to pursue Glen, who seemed to encourage it. I think it was a distraction from the gymnastics his heart was performing going through the flips and flops of dating this cop. Besides, he couldn't tell Guy the truth, so he just told him nothing, remaining illusive while still appearing to be attainable.

Zoë had a few lovers, and we had a few together. But she too was focused on her career. Simone dated no one, but continued to complain about the unsuitability of all the guys who wouldn't give up on her. Lin's wife seemed to be at home more often or else he found himself a more willing playmate, because I didn't hear from him at all for the longest time.

By September, my life was on a personal high that I thought would never come to an end. But we know, that nothing good- and nothing bad- lasts forever.

By Autumn my mother's calls had become blessedly infrequent. In fact, it was getting to the point were I actually looked forward to hearing from her instead of dreading it. She was satisfied that my career was a success and it was just a matter of weeks before I met a rich art collector who would solve all my problems and hers. She didn't understand of course, that as far as I was concerned, I didn't have a problem. Because until she had grandchildren, as far as she was concerned I had a problem.

The leaves were beginning to change, the college students were heading back to class. Art supplies went on sale. There was anticipation and excitement in the air. Even those of us who had finished school in what seemed so long ago could feel it.

I was spending nearly every day at the gallery now, doing whatever needed to be done- helping with arrangements, cleaning cataloging whatever I could do to stay in the thick of things. That was how I met Kale Masterson. I first saw him in his pressed white pants and crisp three button shirt, also white. His blond hair was slicked back and he held himself with absolute confidence, or many would say arrogance. He approached me with no sign of insecurity. He made small talk, but quickly got to the point of asking me to dinner.

I accepted, and soon found out -from the grapevine- that the restaurant that he was taking me to was one of seven that he owned. The first thing that I thought was that he was my mother's dream man for me. That almost caused me to back out, but I thought he was cute and I felt that I was too old to be making decisions so reactively and rebelliously.

The night of our date arrived. I wore a long black dress with a knee length slit, and a wrap waist. I put my hair up in a French twist and wore silver dangly earrings, and a cubic zirconium pendant necklace. He showed up dressed very nicely, in a dinner suit that made him appear even more handsome than I'd ever seen him before. Kale escorted me to his BMW, and held the door open for me. It felt like something out of a dream

The restaurant that he took me to was absolutely fabulous. Each table had a chandelier above it and a linen table cloth coving it. And yes, the restaurant was called Masterson's. The waiter's who served us were dressed even better than we were, and waited on us as if we were royalty. Of course, in the case of Kale, he practically was. He was there boss and he was there on a date to impress a woman. They knew that tonight was not the night for anything to go wrong. And thankfully, nothing did.

The food as well was first class, and Kale was a perfect gentleman. When we finished our meal, we had desert and some kind of exotic coffee. It was heaven. There was something about Kale, I don't know if it was his wealth or something in the way he carried himself, but something told me not to sleep with him on the first date. The evening went wonderfully and in the end he invited me back to his house.

I told him that I had an early appointment and that I needed to go home and go to sleep. He seemed disappointed but didn't make a big deal of it. Three nights later he called to ask for a second date. Of course I said yes. Again, everything went great, although he took me too a new place were the staff till clearly knew who he was. Again I begged off going in for drinks.

The third date, maybe it's cliché but I couldn't wait anymore. The third date was the night for the two of us. I wore a knee length skirt in forest green and a long sleeved light sweater in the same color. I curled the bottom of my hair and wore a metal barrette in the back with a large green bow. He wore tight tan pants and a ¾ unbuttoned shirt that showed a smooth and sexy chest. He obviously worked out.

Kales place was beautiful, and lavishly furnished. It looked like an interior designer had been hired to decorate. Considering the source, that was incredibly likely. We had drinks in the kitchen and he told me about the new big screen TV he had gotten for his birthday. It was, naturally- set up in the bedroom.

So I followed him to the room and pretended to be interested while he showed off all of the great features of his new toy, as if he was trying to sell me one. I nodded and smiled and checked out the room. I was impressed. He had a king sized bed with large velvet and silk pillows. The sheets were silk as were the curtains. A beautiful rich creamy off white. In addition to he TV he had a stereo with a remote that held about 100 Cds. He had exquisite paintings and antique furniture all adorned with candles in expensive and elegant candleholders.

Kale put in a jazz CD and came over to sit with me on the bed. He put his arm around me and leaned in for a kiss. His lips were moist and soft. His embrace pulled me down on the bed for more.

He was skillful; he stimulated each hungry body part before gingerly slipping the clothing back from the area. Before long we were horizontal, with barely a scrap of fabric covering our bodies. As he slipped my panties from around my waist, he told me he had a secret fantasy about me.

"What?" I said, giggling a little.

From under the pillow he produced a silk scarf. "I'd like to tie your hands together."

"Mm, kinky," I told him, giving him the go ahead. I had done a whole lot wilder than this, and considered it to be rather mild and acceptable. It was still thrilling however, to feel the smooth silk tighten around my wrists, and to have Kale move my hands up above my head where they would no longer be any use to me.

Kale moved quite expertly over me, sliding his impressive shaft in and out of me, while I squirmed and moaned beneath. In a few minutes he was moaning in that tell tale pitch and he quickly came inside of me.

He moved off of me and untied my hands. "I need a shower," he told me and handed me a towel from beside the bed. And then he was gone.

As I listened to the water run, I lay on the bed confused. Why hadn't I spoken up? I guess he had just taken me off guard. I had not expected that he would finish so quickly, or that he would finish before me with seemingly no concern for my own pleasure. It had been enjoyable while it lasted, but I felt that we were just getting started, and then it was over.

Kale came out of the bathroom, drying himself with a towel. "You can go in now," he told me magnanimously.

In the shower, I let the hot streams of water run over my body, wishing I could wash away the memory of such forgettable sex. By definition forgettable sex should be easily forgotten- but this was not the case this time. This should have been classified as sex that would best be forgotten, but the memory of which refused to go away.

Normally, I would have brought myself to climax if the man had at least tried, but it wasn't working for whatever reason- but this time I didn't even have an urge to touch myself. I had lost my desire.

Once out of the shower, I saw that Kale was already dressed. "I was thinking we'd go get something to eat. Hurry up and get dressed, I'm starving."

I dressed, feeling rather resentful. Was it all about him with this man? Did he not see that I was even there? He didn't even seem to notice my anger until we got in the car.

"What's wrong?" he asked when I didn't return his conversation with my usual chatter.

"Why-ever would anything be wrong?" I sulked.

"Uh-oh. I know what that means. What did I do?"

"What did you do? What did you do?! What didn't you do, that's the question. You didn't seem concerned with me at all. I thought there were two people in that room."

"You mean you didn't-?" he seemed genuinely surprised.

"No I didn't. If you had paid any attention at all you would have realized that. I thought it was quite obvious."

"Well, it's not like I can read you mind."

"Oh yeah, can you tell what I'm thinking now?" I growled.

"Your pissed."

"Kale Masterson, mind reading extraordinaire."

"Nicole-" he reached out to touch my arm.

"Just take me home. I'm not hungry."

"Look, I'm sorry. I guess I should have known. I just assumed- I was a jerk, ok. It won't happen again, I swear."

I looked at him. He gave me a sad face, a puppy dog pout with an irresistible ‘forgive me' look. Maybe I was being a fool, but a man deserves a second chance. It had been fun while it lasted.

"OK, let's go get something to eat."

He took me to Subway and I thought he had read my mind. It's a great place to go when you've got after the deed munchies. We quickly were talking and laughing and had forgotten about the unfortunate incident.

Things went on quite well with him. He started taking me to other galleries, to baseball games, once we went on a riverboat dinner cruise. It was glamorous, wonderful to be with him. He knew how to spoil a girl, and his sex appeal never wore off. We spent so much time together, it started to seem as if we were always together.

The next time that we had sex, he finished before me. But this time he asked if I was done, and when I shook my head, he helped me along with the skillful use of his fingers. It seemed that we were on different timetables sexually, but he seemed willing to bridge the gap. Our sex life was not as satisfying as I was used to, but I really enjoyed being with him in other ways so I was willing to overlook it. Besides- he knew that we weren't monogamous, I could get my sex thrills elsewhere.

Of course, the two of us were together so often, I had no other opportunities to meet anyone else or even to hook up with any of my old standbys. Except Zoë, of course. Zoë and I met about every other week and I found that I was on fire for the kind of satisfaction that seemingly only she should bring.

She noticed of course, the change in me and we talked about what was going on in my life. "I appreciate the change in you," she told me one day after a very satisfying love making session. "But are you sure you want to be devoting this much time to a guy that leaves you feeling so unfulfilled?"

"That's the thing," I tried to explain. "He fulfills me in every other way. We have so much fun together. He takes me to all the best places. It's like I'm experiencing a whole new side of life with him."

"I know, honey. But it worries me. It seems fun for a while, but you don't seem like the same person. I think you're loosing yourself inside this guy. Like he's replacing his interests in your own."

"That's not true! I'm still interested in the same things I was before. I'm just interested in more now. I haven't replaced anything, I've added to my life."

"Are you sure?" she looked at me critically. "When was the last time you painted anything?"

It was true, I hadn't been painting. I had been so busy, living the life and painting the town with Kale, I hadn't had time to paint- let alone the quite reflection time I need before I even start to paint. My life was on a whirlwind.

"It's not as though my career is suffering," I told her defensively. "I have a huge stash a paintings to sell and to display. I've got time to just take a break and have fun."

"Take a break? Painting is what you do. I wasn't aware it was a chore you needed a break from. I thought it was your break."

"It was. But now I've got opportunities that I didn't have before. I‘ll paint when things slow down. My career is not going to suffer."

"If you ask me," Zoë sniffed. "I think your soul is suffering. And you're in denial."

"Well, if you ask me," I bristled. "I think you're just jealous."

"Maybe so," she answered quietly. "Maybe I'm jealous that Kale has taken you away from the rest of us, locked up your soul, kept you away from what you love- and you don't even know it. Jealous that he can make you blind but I can't make you see."

There was a tear in her voice, but I felt myself hardening against it. How could she- my best friend, not understand this?

"I have to go," she said. I realized suddenly that she had been dressing all along. Now she was out the door, and I was still sitting naked on the floor, unable to follow after her or even to open the door and call out. But I didn't want to anyway. Let her go, I felt. She didn't understand what I was going threw. I felt more abandoned by her at that moment than I ever had by Kale.

I didn't tell him about our fight, but he quickly saw that something was wrong. When he asked me about it I told him that Zoë and I had gotten into a fight because she was jealous of all the time I was spending with him.

"I can't really blame her," he surprised me by saying. "I don't like having to share you either. In fact, I've been meaning to talk to you about this for a while. I'd really like us to be exclusive."

I was stunned. I'd never even considered being in an exclusive relationship. I was so proud of saying that it just wasn't my style. And yet, our relationship had begun to take over everything else and I realized that we were already de-facto monogamous. Still, making it official was a really big step- and I was still holding out hope that Zoë would come back to me eventually. We hadn't actually split or anything, officially. Just had a fight.

"I don't know, Kale. You know that's not me."

He pouted. He pouted a lot. "Look, just give me some time to think about it," I told him. He was making me feel guilty no matter how much I fought it.

"I don't need any time to know that you're the only one I want to be with," he said, pouting some more. "But go ahead. Take some time."

After our conversation, I noticed that Kale began to act possessive, even though I hadn't given him an answer. He didn't like me talking to other guys and he even pouted when I talked to girls or even mentioned one of my friends. He wanted to be the sole beneficiary of my attention. And of course he knew about my open-minded sex policy, so he apparently felt that no one was safe. I could hook up with anyone at any time- man or woman. And I hadn't given him an answer, so he acted as though that was because I really wanted to hook up with anyone at any time. It was becoming confining. I felt uncomfortable no matter what I did. I started dropping off the social calendar, because any time I spent time with anyone other than him he acted as though I was thoughtless and neglectful. And for some reason, even though I knew intellectually that none of that was true, he managed to make me feel guilty about it anyway.

So soon, it was just the two of us. Morning noon and night. Sometimes I wanted to hang out with someone else instead- just to take a break from constant togetherness, but now when I called my friends they were all busy with other plans. I knew that they were hurt by my exclusion of them, and I couldn't blame them. But it was so lonely.

How and when had Kale managed to hijack my social life? Or was it only myself I had to blame. My mother used to say, "No one can do anything to you if you don't let them." Great, nothing like mom to add a little guilt when I'm already feeling bad about myself.

What was worse, I hadn't painted in ages. And I found that when I did get time alone, the inspiration just wasn't there. I'd splash my paint across the canvas to rid myself of the dreaded blank page syndrome and still- nothing.

Sometime I would just pull out a clipping from my files and try to draw it just as it was, but even that just didn't turn out. My sketches were pathetic, and barely even resembled what they were meant to be. I felt that a fourth grader could have done better with crayons.

Kale couldn't understand why I was getting moodier and moodier. Should' t I have been happy to be with him? Hadn't I enjoyed all the places he had taken me, all the things we had done together?