Alexandra's Awakening

Chapter Two-1

Chapter Two

“I’m Alex Morgan.”

“Jane Houston,” the woman replied, sitting down at the desk next to mine. She wasn’t pretty. Plain brown hair in a simple blunt cut, distinct tan face, just the right amount of makeup, and uncomplicated but distinctly sensuous clothes. She had a sensual assurance about her, as if some power flowed from her and she was in an altogether different world from mine. She was not wholesome or sweet or stern or motherly, but dark, fluid and mysterious. She was as natural as grass, graceful as a bird, as if she belonged to the atoms in the air, part of their essential harmony…not like me at all, who looked more like an alien borrowing space on earth than someone who truly belonged.

That must be why she was so alluring. I was immediately inspired, wondering who she was and why she happened to be invading my peaceful place of work. I found my mind spinning with thoughts of her – distinctly s****l thoughts. I imagined her making love for hours, though never giving herself completely to any man. She would be haughty that way – bold and dominant, wise, self-assured and beautiful – all qualities I admired, which I knew I lacked. I could have stared at her for hours, mesmerized.

I had to shake myself from the momentary stupor – amazing what she stirred up in me in a matter of seconds.

Once I settled down to work, I was aware of her presence every second as if I could feel the left side of my body vibrate differently with her energy so close.

I rarely conversed with other employees, but with Jane the silence felt uncomfortable. However, I couldn’t think of anything to say. Finally, I managed a nervous, “Would you like some coffee?” smiling a bit bashfully.

“Yes, thank you.” She quickly stacked the papers neatly on her desk and rose to walk with me to the lunchroom.

Again I felt the need to break the silence. “Have you worked in a patent office before?

“No, but it’s familiar enough. I just hate first days, so much tension over details.”

I loved the melodious timbre of her voice.

“Can’t even remember my first day. I will have been here seven years next month.”

“Oh my, I can’t imagine being in the same place that long,” she mused, “I’ve been thinking a lot about San Francisco recently.”

She was already planning her leaving, and it was only her first day?

“This isn’t such a bad place. The benefits are good and you can change desks when one comes open.”

She smiled again, and without a trace of condescension, said, “I never stay long in this sort of position.” She was matter of fact, revealing a basic truth about her nature, almost sighing wearily as she spoke to indicate an inner flaw.

“So where were you working before?”

“I did some theatre work in New England, was living with a man at the time, so I didn’t need much. But it was destined to end, too many conflicts. Now I have to be responsible and pay my bills. A lot of bother,” she laughed lightly, “but it’s better than living on the street. And I do need a break from men.”

So casual with men. She could pick them up when she wanted one, and toss him aside when she was done.

Jane went shopping at lunch, punctually returning to her desk with two brown bags in hand at one o’clock. I wished I could look so confident and effortless. By the day’s end, I was droopy and bedraggled. Jane remained the same, so much herself, nothing would alter her, not the hour or the work or the interruptions or anything for that matter.

When it was time to leave, I straightened my skirt, which was all askew from sitting and twisting so long in my seat. My scarf had come loose and needed adjusting as well. That done, I slipped into the arms of my jacket.

“Alex, how about you join me for a drink?” I heard her speak and looked up surprised.

“Ah…um…ah,” I stumbled over my reply like a silly schoolgirl. “Thank you, but tonight is…I, uh, grocery shop. Maybe some other time.”

She smiled, “Yes, we’ll do that sometime. Have a good evening.” She turned and walked down the corridor.

Grocery shop! Oh, good god, Alex, was that really the best you could do!

I thought of Jane all evening, imagining conversations, or my going places with her, dressing in her kind of clothes. Trendy, a little bohemian, perhaps, but not so much as to be out of place in the company working environment. She was so poised, so self-assured, while never felt as if I belonged anywhere.

I wondered if she went to the bar without me. Would she just walk into a place and talk to strangers? Would she go home with a man? Oh, but she wanted a break from men. Maybe she’d go home with a woman! A warm feeling grew inside me imagining her life. My body heat rose, but it wasn’t the compulsive heat that needed to be released in a flurry of m**********n, just a warmth that I could bask in forever. I fell asleep thinking of her.

I didn’t get another invitation from Jane for several days, and had begun to think I’d passed up an opportunity forever. She left each day smiling at me warmly, but made no further offers. Perhaps she’d just been gracious that first day. I watched her with great interest, picking up more clues to her character. She read foreign novels, plays and poetry. She often shopped on her lunch hour bringing back bags from various boutiques around town. I tried finding one of the novels in a bookstore, but they were out. Did I want to order it? the clerk asked. Oh no, I’d find something else.

I thought of Jane some nights as I lay down to sleep, some phrase or gesture catching my imagination and I’d be off in her life, at the theatre or a film festival, always surrounded by sexy men. And yet, when my body demanded physical satisfaction, I’d still go to that bar in my mind, the lights would turn on in my head and I’d feel my raging need ready to break loose.

One night as I m*********d, I dressed myself in a red knit skirt and top, close fitting and designed to show off a seductive figure. The low cut top fastened with snaps and the skirt was short. I even left a couple of snaps undone so my bare midriff was exposed. I wore black stilettos and plenty of red lipstick, having prepared myself for the dancing contest where I could be brave, outrageous and as improper as my desires. Time to break some rules.

The contest started late in the evening, when the small crowd was filled with liquor and growing boisterous. The pink flamingo on the wall blinked brightly and the glaring stage lights accentuated every movement as a small stream of sexy females took the stage. I spent little time watching the others dance; I didn’t need them to inspire me. I went on stage with one thing only in mind – having every man desiring me.

As the music came through the speakers, my hips began to move to the seductive rhythm. The floodlights made me sweat. Hearing cheers from the audience, I knew they were pleased, so I hiked my skirt up further to show off my gleaming thighs. My body warmed from the excitement and from the feel of the eyes riveted on me. As I danced, the little snaps that held the clinging fabric of the top opened one at a time – a slow striptease. The crowd of men cheered for more. When only two remained, I bit my lip, batted my lashes coyly at my admirers, and ripped the top wide open, allowing the red cloth to drop to the dance floor like a rag. As planned, my breasts jiggled loose from the low cut bra. The layer of sweat made my chest glow in the spotlights.

Since the ultimate focal point of my exhibition was still hiding underneath the knit skirt. The audience threw money, urging me to take it off. My mind quickly created a long line of snaps on the side of the skirt, so that with each offering, each bill thrown to the stage, another snap opened. When the skirt finally fell away, I shivered before my cheering audience, and danced naked – nothing remained between me and their hungry eyes but the tiniest g-string in front, covering my pubic mound with a triangle of cloth. A single strand of black cord ran between the cheeks of my ass.

Even then, they wanted more of me – an orgasm right before their eyes. They wanted to witness my pleasure, all my secrets exposed. No longer able to simply watch, their hands began to caress my legs. Then one man jumped to the stage, with his eager hands ready to explore every inch of my body.

I was gone a moment later – in my fantasy and in my bed at home, I was lost to the ecstasy. When the last whimper of orgasm passed from my body and the lights in the bar went out, I opened my eyes and immediately jumped from bed and headed to the bathroom to wash the juices from my hands. After slipping into my nightgown, I went to bed.

On a Thursday even some weeks Jane approached me after work again. “How about that drink?”

I was ready for her this time, although I still managed to stumble over my reply, “Y-yes, sounds great!” I had no idea what I was getting myself into, but I felt a nervous excitement all through my body.

“Great, there’s a place not far from my apartment, we’ll take your car so you can go home from there.”

“What about your car?” I asked.

“Don’t have one,” she smiled.

“Oh.” No car? A liberated woman without a car?

Jane directed me to an unfamiliar part of town, a mixed neighborhood with ethnic restaurants, old buildings, store front businesses and an occasional corner grocery. I could smell the mix of fragrances as they bombarded the street with exotic perfumes from India, the Orient and Mexico. Each aroma seemed to enter my body at a different spot, touching off a sensitivity in places I hadn’t imagined could come alive.

We parked on the street a couple of blocks from the flashing neon where Jane directed me, and as we walked, I felt a curious tingling dart up my spine. I had the feeling that I’d walked this street before, but then again, I was sure I’d never been anywhere near the neighborhood. Still, some inner part of me seemed to recognize each cobblestone in the sidewalk, the noise from each cafe, the lettering on the windows, the taste of the air. When we reached the bar, a pink and green neon flamingo blinked against a painted wall, and in cursive script, ‘The Tropics’ flashed red.

“Oh my god!” I stood there stunned.

“Where’s the ghost?” Jane asked, seeing my startled expression.

“This place...I’ve seen it before.”

“Really?”

“In a fantasy.”

She laughed. “Your mind is playing tricks on you, Alex. Just relax and enjoy yourself.”

We entered with her looking back over her shoulder at me. “I should warn you this is not fashionably chic, but the patrons are less pretentious than what you’ll find uptown. That’s why I like it.”

I followed her inside the dim lit bar, seeing the same blinking flamingo as the one hanging on the wall in my fantasy. The same antique wood and polished brass, the same scuffed tables, and black and white checked floors, the same little dance floor and stage where I’d taken the pleasure of many men. Even in my fantasies, I’d had the same reason for coming here…less pretentious people.

I could hardly breathe, and it took some moments to shake off the immediate numbness. We sat at a table and ordered margaritas from a voluptuous redheaded waitress. I looked around nervously, then gazed at the bar where a couple of men were staring back at us, in particular, giving the lovely Jane a thorough inspection. She seemed oblivious to the attention, meanwhile my heart raced and my tummy was all atwitter. My hands were cold with sweat, and I had to stop myself from chewing on the pink straw in my margarita.

“You okay?” Jane asked. “You look a fright.”

“I don’t know, it’s just this place.”

She entertained a quizzical look.

“This is just so weird. I know this place and I know I’ve never been here.”

“Not so weird, there must be a dozen places like this in the city – the prototype of the trashy dive.”

“No, it’s not like that at all. This place is exactly like a bar I’ve imagined, down to the last detail.”

Her smile broadened. “My, you have powerful thoughts.”

I sat there primly not knowing what to say, while her eyes peered into me as if she knew exactly what was going on.

“Fantasy and reality blending into one. I’m not sure it’s all that strange.”

“For me it’s strange.”

She laughed lightly. “You’re a creature of unexpressed desire, and it’s all rising to the surface.”

She left me with little to say but, “You’re very insightful.”

“I’ve been around.”

We sat for several more moments looking into each other’s eyes. I wondered who would speak first. Finally, I shook my head, and stared off. I wasn’t sure I wanted her knowing me so intimately. After all, I didn’t really know her at all. I looked around, trying to make sense of the bar, and my fantasies, and why this unusual woman was taking such interest in me.

Jane just pressed on. “You’re a restless, discontented woman pretending to be someone I don’t think you really are.”

Oh did that hit home! I wanted to cry. All the tension that had held me together these past weeks seemed to crumble away in seconds. She was right, so terribly right. I was so tired of being two people and not liking either one.

“Hey, don’t look so serious, this isn’t the end of the world. We’re here to enjoy ourselves.”

I laughed nervously. “I guess I don’t really know how. Frankly, this place scares me.”

“Don’t sound so hopeless.”

I’m sure I looked as hopeless as I felt and Jane wouldn’t let up.

“Honestly, Jane, I’ve never really had a man.”

“Oh, men are just by-products,” she explained. “Whether you have one or not isn’t as important as who you are, and why you want one. If you want a man to fulfill you, you’ll never find any peace or contentment. No man can do that for you. You can love them, enjoy them, f**k them, but don’t expect them to make your dreams come true. You have to be happy with yourself and what you’re doing with your life. Men can’t do that for you.”

“Easy for you to say, you’ve obviously had a lot of experience. I’d just like to have had one, just one man, just to say that I’d made mad passionate love one time.”

“Well, I can assure you, you’re going to want to make love more than once,” she said with a grin. “And you sure as hell aren’t going to snag a guy by living in your dreams, locked inside your head the way you are at work, hardly talking to people, thinking all the time. You need to get out of your rut and make yourself available!”

There were several men at the bar, drinking beer, their cold mugs sweating in their hands, their conversation lively, their masculinity pouring from them, their deep voices spilling about the room. At that moment, I realized that I was not only dazed, but terribly frightened just being so close to all that testosterone. I think I would have run from the place if Jane hadn’t been there. Before I could reply to her last comment, she was out of her chair approaching the two men sitting closest to us.

“C’mon Jeff, Alex here needs to dance,” she said as she pulled the two men off their stools, and grabbed me from my chair almost in the same motion. She nearly pushed me onto the dance floor, and I practically stumbled over Jeff. He loomed above me like a giant, his tall lanky frame beginning to move easily with the music, some 90’s hit I remember hearing many times. He looked wonderful in his jeans and sweater. Casual, not too scruffy, clean shaven with distinct features that would make any woman look twice.

I blushed self-consciously, looking at the floor, afraid to face his comfortable grin. I felt silly and out of place. I didn’t know how to dance, how to be with a man, how to behave in a bar. My God! It had been years since I’d done anything like this.

The handsome Jeff didn’t seem deterred. He moved closer, taking my hands in his and forcing my eyes to meet his. I trembled, feeling terribly awkward. “I’m really not much of a dancer.”

“You’re doing just fine,” he purred, as his lips came so close to my ear that I could feel his breath on my skin. My body seemed to come alive, but my tattered nerves begged me to flee. Still, Jeff’s easy confidence kept me steady, and though I was determined to sit down at the end of the first song, he kept me on my feet through the next song, and then a third, a slower one that had me pressed to his chest so tightly that I could feel the pulsing in his crotch. By the time he backed away, there was such a riot of activity in my body that I could barely keep my fears suppressed. It didn’t help that I couldn’t stop thinking of that fantasy bar where I’d so lewdly exposed myself. Fantasy was one thing – this was real, and the very attractive Jeff was a real, flesh and blood man, not some handsome hunk born in my imagination, who’d disappear as soon as I opened my eyes.

While I sweated through those tumultuous minutes, Jane danced next to me as if she’d been born in dancing shoes. She moved with ease, nestling up next to the hot young blond and pressing her body into his, wiggling her crotch against his thigh. His hands were all over her, on her ass, a tit, against her thigh. Their lips met for small, seductive kisses. I imagined she’d take him home to screw.

If only I could move like her, be like her, dance like her. So free, so uninhibited.

The curious heat that rose up deep inside me – was this desire, real desire? What a silly question! I knew exactly what it was. And as the desire grew, the images from my fantasies came back to me – how I’d stripped away my clothes and gave myself to men; how I’d shed inhibition and dove into s*x as if I were as sexually free as Jane. For a moment, I felt a taste of that freedom. But when the music slowed again, Jeff pulled me close, his one hand on my ass and the other fishing through my blouse for bare skin. My head felt light, my hands went cold and in a sudden panic, I pushed away.

“I gotta sit down,” I gasped, and I stumbled to the table, Jeff closely on my heels.

“You okay?”

“Yeah, just a little dizzy.”

“How about a drink of water.”

“No, no thanks,” my words rushed from me as I shook my head. “I need to go home, tell Jane I’ll see her at work, will you?”

I found myself suddenly on my feet, purse in hand, running for the door. Within seconds, I was in my car, my foot to the floor, accelerating away from the bar and Jane and the best chance I’d had for s*x in years, lost to the fear that drove my panic. By the time I was home, my body was raging with need. I stripped in seconds on the way to the bedroom, my imagination consumed with thoughts of the handsome Jeff, and his hands, and his c**k sliding into me. I fell to the bed and began to masturbate, the only way I knew to get off, the only way I’d gotten off in years. It took just seconds, ruthless, wild orgasmic seconds for my body to come.

Finished, I lay back exhausted, the adrenalin rush slowly easing off. Dammit. Damn you, Alex! You could have had him! You could have had him. He was yours and he wanted you. A real man…and look what you got!

I went to sleep trying to forget about that night, but the picture wouldn’t go away. I wanted to go back…to Jeff, to the bar, to Jane. I almost began to rub myself again, but I put on the brakes. Alex, go to sleep! I insisted until I finally did.

My head throbbed with a dull ache the next morning, and suddenly everything in my apartment reminded me of my mother. My behavior of the night before disgusted me. Dirty. Disgusting. Sleazy. Everything I was not! Or so I told myself until I was starting to believe it again.

I dressed for work in the most conservative thing I could find in my closet, a long grey skirt, high-necked blouse and bulky sweater.