What was it? Was there some odd quality in his undiscovered conscious he had overlooked? Why? Over and over again he ran through the possibilities. Sometimes it made sense but mostly it didn't. The attraction just didn't make sense. Blond and a little curvy made sense. Blue eyes made sense. Smart, really smart made sense. But tall and older didn't. Early 40's didn't make sense. She was hot in that "Jamie's Mom" kind of way. Sex-in-the-minivan-while-hubby-was-gone kind of hot.

She was a mom, a wife, sharp as a whip and almost 10 years older than him. He wondered if she thought about the 80's and how she wished she didn't have an SUV like everyone else in the neighborhood or a mortgage or a husband that ran his life like a train schedule. Her snakeskin mini-skirt polishing the top of some car while she wiggled sexually on top.

She didn't make sense to him, but the other "she" on his mind did make sense. Except for being taller than him - a definite negative on his Christmas wish list. If the other woman was sharp, this woman was LASER sharp, cutting edge sharp. Almost too smart for him. And another mom. This one younger and softer, time sparingly treating her with compassion. Like the hands of the clock had waited to gaze on her before beating her with wrinkles and sagging lines. There was no color in her midnight hair. Or rather is was a combination of all the colors. Black as you could get and fine.

It reminded him of a chance encounter way too short and dimming way too fast in his memory. They were both in their twenties and wild, but ran with a conservative crowd. He used to setup small sound systems for small concerts. Cables were strung, mixers connected, sound checks and microphones. Then it was all packed up in reverse.

She had approached him after the show and complimented his labor. And that was the way into a man's heart. Not through trickery or teases or short skirts, but through genuine compliments. It made him feel important, special, at least he wanted to be special to her.

He was pulling something out of a something else or spooling something up and looked up to see deep blue eyes and dark hair smiling at him and wondering if after he was finished they could just go hang out.

Ya, that was weird. Girls aren't supposed to do that. She wasn't a girl and she didn't care. And neither did he. He liked that she made the first move. He guessed she could get just about any man she wanted. Any man. She was that beautiful.

He found her very appealing to the eyes, but more to his soul.

The rest of the evening was spent laughing and talking. He knew she was special when the grocery store music - and he still can't remember how they ended up at the grocery store - played an instrumental version of some Van Halen cover. Her words hooked him and were his own, but fell from her lips before he could express them, "That's like music from bad porn."

Who was this debutante and why hadn't he found her earlier. He struggled to keep his flesh to himself. Questions and more questions, "I wonder if she shaves, does she have a scar, is she good in bed?"

He didn't want it to go that way. Not yet. Eventually. But not yet.

He fought it and fought it, but as the night wore on both his eyes and his mind were slow to respond to the onslaught of her charm. Her attack wasn't a full frontal barrage. It wasn't even conscious to her. It was terroristic in nature. A comment, a movement, a sigh, smile.

He wanted that companionship and not the dirty one night stand his id desired. For once in his life she was not the object he imagined, but the object of his affection.

She her foot slipped leaving the curb and instinctively, he reached to protect her from a potential fall.

She gave a short gasp and low pitched squeal and found his arms around her strong and reassuring.

Her hair smelled like freesia in the warm summer night.

His hands wrapped around her waist, she regained her composure, but only her physical balance. Not her emotional stability.

It wasn't supposed to go like this. It wasn't supposed to be this easy, this effortless. It never worked like this. It never worked out this well.

His hands just sealed the deal. Firmly around her figure. The she felt that tingling sensation.

It usually came later in the relationship, further down the road and with much more effort. She could hardly keep her composure. His manners, his words, his smile so well placed and expertly timed. Very genuine. Not a hint of con man or slick-snake-oil-leisure-suit about him.

It was late and she wanted to see more of him.

And then she said it. How it happened she didn't know, but it just kind of fell out.

"Let's go back to my place."

"What?"

"Ok, not like it sounds! Please don't think that."

But it was out there and she wanted it to be "like that" in a small way, but not right now. She was so afraid of freight train relationships conceived in the middle of the night. The lighting of a stage during a slow song, the losing of senses in the nights cloaking darkness. A look here, a laugh there and then a "I'll call you" note on the pillow in the morning.

He didn't think that, but he was so drunk with her he let his own faux pax slip.

"That's ok, I'm tired, do you think we'll be able to get some sleep at your place?"

She laughed and he quickly stammered to recover.

Her red glazed nails lined in the arch of her fingers as she covered her lips and giggled.

"You're so retarded!" she said.

He agreed and she explained that since her room mate had moved out she really didn't like going home alone at night. She usually asked the neighbor next door to walk her inside until the lights were on, but they were out of town.

He thought it was ok and they made their way from the train to her place.

In his mind he wondered what the soundtrack of her soul was. Those bits of music that defined her experiences, her consciousness, her life. Right now he was trying not to sing "Norwegian Wood" out loud. But it was the song that reminded him most of her and their situation.

Was she Dave Matthews Band "Satellite", "Iris" by the Goo Goo Dolls, "Nighswimming" R.E.M. or a rousing hair-swinging romp of Ozzy's "Bark At The Moon"?

The key turned and he tried to get the image of her naked on top of him out of his mind.

The door closed and she sheepishly tried to hide the load of laundry in the middle of the floor. Quickly she snatched it up to spirit it away to the closet where we all keep our secrets, our past, our skeletons.

A piece or two dropped and he quickly picked them up.

"Hmmm 34 C and a medium black thong."

She returned to catch him red-handed examining the runaways.

"I only wear thongs."

Not, "I'll take those," or "Oops, you didn't need to see that."

That's what made her remarkable. The honesty and confidence in the face of her intimate details being exposed.

His mind raced ahead to her bedroom. And he fought it harder than Frasier fought Ali.

She had returned in a pair of pajama pants her hair in a pony tail. That long black hair pulled up and he thought of a horses tail raised when it was in heat.

"Uggghhhh!!!!" He thought "Enough of the sex thoughts."

She moved closer and said she needed to clean the bathroom a little. It was an open invitation for more company and he decided to follow her lead. He was in her back yard and any advance might be seen as a form of aggression.

She was surprised he hadn't pounced yet. Despite his efforts he couldn't hide his arousal, not evn hiding behind a chair with his hands in his pockets.

She shocked herself with the thought, "I could take a big suck on that. Slow and long and hard."

And it was just as quickly gone as it had appeared.

She regrouped by cleaning the eyeliner pencils and lipstick tubes off the counter and she felt his arms around her again.

This time it was no act of chivalry, but rather an effort to elicit an amorous response.

Her eyes closed and her head rested on his chest. Her left hand reached up to find his hair in the palms of her hands and her neck slowly grew flocks of goose bumps as he gave her a slow kiss just below her right ear.

She expected an apology to come quickly from him, but it didn't and that was a comforting surprise. Instead all she heard was, "You smell wonderful."

Her knees weakened and she felt, more than with any other man, at home. Loved, comforted, relaxed. Safe.

She turned and looked into his eyes.

"It's going too fast isn't it?"

"Yep"

"I want more than this."

"I do too and I'm not just saying that. I want a pizza."

She giggled. A sense of humor was the last thing on her list and he checked it off.

"How is this going to work in the morning?"

"Before or after breakfast?"

And she nearly fell with excitement.

This was it.

She draped her arms around his chest and pulled in close. Almost like she had lassoed a dream and was holding on so tight hoping she wouldn't wake up with her pillow clutched in her grasp and part hoping when she opened her eyes he wouldn't have that captured rodent look on his face.

He didn't disappoint her.

Neither were there.

She looked up and saw the quiet confidence she thought she had seen before. He slowly placed her cheeks in his palms and pulled her close and kissed her.

And he kissed her with everything he had. Soft, slow, caring, and most of all sensual.

Her eyes didn't open until they hit the pillow.

There was no ripping off of clothes or mad dash to fuck.

They kissed longer than they wanted but enjoyed every minute of every single kiss.

He touched her and felt the cloth surrounding her skin and willed it off of her. She slowly unbuttoned his shirt while straddling his waist. She tossed it to the side and ran the red tips up of her fingers and down his chest.

He reached to cup her breasts in her hands and she stopped him.

She slowly removed her spaghetti strap top and moved the strand of hair aside and out of her eyes. She was bare-chested and as vulnerable as she could be at that moment.

She reached down and took his hands in hers and slowly raised them to her breasts.

"These are for you tonight."

The tip of his thumb brushed against her rising nipples. She felt the rush from head to toe and tilted her head back and to the right.

Her breasts felt good and firm. Her nipples rose with his cock.

She felt him get hard underneath her.

It was an erotic chain reaction neither could stop.

She straightened her head and let his hands arouse her breasts. She reached back and took the rubber band out of her hair letting it spill down her neck hoping to feel his hands more.

He let one hand slip behind her neck and continued to touch her breast but this time with his warm breath and hot tongue.

She moaned and was shocked at how easy it was to let him have his way with her.

Her hands found the back of his head and kissed his scalp.

She moved back far enough to unzip his pants and help him slide out of them and his boxers. This time he was exposed naked in front of her and felt the cool air chill his cock, but have no effect on him. He remained hard looking at her breasts, listening to her breathe, smelling her soft skin.

She jumped off the bed and turned her back to him looking over her shoulder, left hand on her right shoulder.

"Ready?" she asked.

With that she didn't wait for a response. Her head went back her hair almost down her back. Her hands moved slowly to her waist as she cocked her hips from left to right. When her thumbs were inside her waistband she pulled them straight down but not off her hips. He saw her arms straighten and her head move to the left. he caught site of her ear as her eyes closed. She inched her pants down lower on her hips and let go and raised her arms over her head pulling her fingers through her hair. The movement hypnotized him like a snake charmer, instead the snake mesmerized the charmer.

She swayed left and right eyes still closed and he realized there was music from her alarm clock. The sun slowlyon the rise and her alarm was going off. It was Sting's "Desert Rose" and she moved to the music.

As she turned he could see the top of her pussy. She faced him and let her pants drop. Just as quickly as they had hit the floor, her left leg moved up and to the right concealing what she wanted him to have. Her right arm slid up the bolster of the bed and her left arm covered her nipples. She tucked her chin and looked up at him. Squarely, intently and sensually.

She lept back to the bed and crawled cat-like to him, breasts perfectly hung exposed to his chest. She kissed his chest and placed her head close to him.

He was glad he was laying down because her brief show was enough to nearly send him over the edge and nearly explode with excitement.

The next hour as the sun began to rise was the most incredible foreplay she had ever known. His hands were a cross between a surgeons and a construction worker. Smooth and soft but strong. At times he would grab her waist and pull her in place to please some desire he had and she complied and swooned at the same time.

And in a moment he was inside her. She felt warm and wet. His cock beat inside her and she expressed her excitement in a moan when he entered her pussy.

She was on top of him facing his chest. She rocked back and forth pulling her hair up and reaching down to rub his chest at the same time.

He grasped her hips and helped the motion. He felt how warm and wet she was occasionally reaching up to touch her breasts or caress her neck.

Everything in the room seemed to speed up and slow down at the same time. A bead of sweat formed on her forehead and felt it fall on his stomach and it caused him to thrust deep within her.

Most amazing of all there were no words. Just soft silence and a song here or there.

She let out a whimper and kept going. She grabbed his hands and pressed hard against them grinding harder letting her clit feel the tingle of his hair. His cock was hard and stiff and she hoped she could make him cum.

She clenched her pussy and felt him wince and lean back. That aroused her and she thought she would cum right then and there, but heard him say, "Cum with me."

Their paced quickened and her moans became higher pitched and more frequent. A series of "ahhhhs" left his throat and as they came the alarm went silent.

Silence.

She collapsed on top of him and he felt the spasms of her orgasm around his cock.

He reached down for the covers and covered her, still on top of him and ran his had over the back of her head.

When he awoke he smelled bacon and saw her looking disheveled but radiant in a huge terry cloth robe. She climbed in bed with him and he fed her toast, bacon and strawberries with powdered sugar.

And that was how he had wanted that night to end - in his mind. Instead, she got a call after the concert and had to pick up her room mate who was stuck in a bd situation. They never got a chance to reconnect later on.

He had always imagined that night and how it made him feel more alive than he had ever been. And without any sex. The way she talked to him, how they admired each other. He wondered where she was now. Married? With children? A mother, a wife, a lover? Single and looking for him?

He went back to work and tried to keep his curiosity inside.