Limits

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Cori’s relatives and my coworkers were milling around the funeral home, munching on celery sticks and green bean casserole, and occasionally coming up to me to murmur something soothing and useless.  I was still somewhat in shock and denial since the car accident, and I have no idea to this day what they said to me, nor whether my replies made any sense.I do remember when Kenneth from Accounting came over; Ken’s hobby was accounts receivable, but his real job as far as he was concerned was the location and harvesting of attractive women. He came up to me with his current brunette in tow.  “Tough break, old man,” he said, clapping me on the shoulder, and turned to his companion.  “Blue, this is Green.  Hey, your names go together!”  Ken was the only person who called me Green; it came from my middle name.  My parents, with an elegant sense of art and sadism, had saddled me with Samuel Giuseppi Grunewald Franklin.  My friends called me Sam; I never claimed Ken was one of my friends.The woman by his side looked at me with something that wasn’t exactly pity, took my hands in hers and brushed her lips against my cheek.  “I’m sorry for your loss,” she said in a husky voice, “I know it’s not a consolation, but there are others who survive every day.  Just don’t try to rush things — we all have our limits.  God grant you the strength you need to go forward.”  And she brushed her lips against my cheekbone just under my right ear.Somehow, the feeling of her lips persisted through the afternoon.  And I don’t know why, but her reassurance seemed to mean something to me in a way that nobody beylikdüzü escort else’s comments had. That night, in the big bed with the gaping empty spot on the mattress, I managed to get to sleep with less effort and fewer tears than I had managed for the entire previous week.I ran into Ken a few days later and asked after his companion, but he couldn’t remember her.  Typical of him.*** *** ***Time went by.  I survived my loss in the way of men since time immemorial — I buried myself in work and shut out the rest of the world.  There was one good result of this; I earned myself a promotion.  Instead of being confined to a cubicle for eight-point-five hours a day, I now got to (well, had to) leave town frequently to visit the company’s other sites.  Getting out of town was a blessing — it reminded me that there was a lot going on in life that I used to be a part of.Six months of bland hotel rooms and HBO brought one particular part of life to the forefront.  One cold night in Chicago, I left the hotel for a walk and came back with a trashy-looking tabloid.  I flipped through the back pages until I found the heading “Health Services”.  There, along with a few legitimately therapeutic massage studios, was a column and a half of women who would be glad to “pamper” and “relax” me for a fee.  What the hell — it was forty-two degrees outside, I was four hundred miles from home, and I’d been both widowed and celibate for almost a year.I made several calls, just to find out what the going rate and sales pitch were, and eventually settled on “Marla” who bahcesehir escort bayan described herself as green-eyed, 5’8″, brunette and “proportional”.  I gave her my hotel address and arranged to meet her in the coffee shop that evening.  After hanging up, I thought about some possibilities and eventually bundled up some things to go into the hotel safe.  I set eight twenties into an envelope, sealed that, and put another five twenties in my wallet.  Then I took a long hot shower.I was in the coffee shop at five till nine, seated at an open table with a copy of the Proceedings of the IEEE in front of me.  Not as Hollywood as a red rose, but just as distinctive for identification.  Promptly at nine, I was tapped on the shoulder and heard a mellifluous voice say “Sam?”  I turned to look and was more than pleasantly surprised — the woman at my table could have been one of our district managers in her business suit and briefcase, with what looked like crucifix earrings.  I got up to hold her chair, and when we were seated I discreetly passed her my airline ticket and driver’s license.  My orange juice arrived, and she declined my offer of a drink.  She glanced through the papers and handed them back to me with a smile.I finished my orange juice as I noticed that her earrings were the Egyptian ankh, not a crucifix.  I rose and offered her my arm, and she took it as we strolled through the lobby to the elevators.  She wore a faintly spicy scent, almost a reminder of cloves.  We got off at my floor and walked to my room, where I opened the door and escort bayan beylikdüzü held it for her.  “You can put your briefcase over there,” I said, indicating the low dresser on which I had left the envelope marked “Marla”. She looked in that direction, smiled at me and said “Thanks,” then set her briefcase down unopened on the dresser.  When she turned back to me her arms were open, and I accepted the unspoken invitation — taking her into my arms for a warm embrace followed by a gentlemanly kiss.”Is that all you asked me up for?” she inquired. I smiled and said, “Not exactly,” and pressed my head forward for a more thorough kiss, letting one hand trail down to fondle her ass. Her side of the kiss got noticeably more enthusiastic after that — I guess she was looking for some sort of non-cop behavior.When we broke the clinch, she headed into the bathroom and returned with a couple of towels.  “You might want to get comfortable while I freshen up.” That was fine with me; I was a little bit nervous at the thought of disrobing in front of a strange woman.  Silly thought, since after all I was paying her to be in my room.  I nodded and she shut the bathroom door behind her.  I folded my clothes neatly over the top of a chair and lay down on the bed, one towel under me, the other draped discreetly over my bottom.  “Okay,” I called out.I looked over my shoulder at her as she came out of the bathroom.  She had changed into — no, she must have been wearing under her suit — a short black dress that swirled around her hips and stopped just beneath her knees.  I noticed in passing that she had disposed of her nylons.  The top of her dress wasn’t straining, but it justified her claim to be “proportional”.  Her earrings and a simple gold choker completed the picture.  I whistled — something I hadn’t done in a long time — and was rewarded with a pretty smile and a graceful pirouette.

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