From: XEZZ10A@prodigy.com (Ronald Grunberg) Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories Subject: Getting Even Date: 10 Jan 1996 02:23:54 GMT Getting Even Part One I had sent many e-mail letters to a certain Young lady, who always failed to respond. She painted herself as very sexy, into all kinds of beautiful passion and multiple achievements, so I admit it was with no small frustration that I turned away from the computer after checking the empty letter box. Why, I'd ask myself, was I being forgotten? Was it my directness? My unwillingness to compromise in the "situation" I had dreamed up for the both of us? Or was I just one of many men, ignored not on purpose but a victim of volume? But, as amazing happenstance would have it, we, who were somehow aware of each other to some extent via the internet, would actually meet, quite by chance, and it was pleasure untold! Until now... She called herself Amy. She grew on me immediately through her prose: direct, warm, yet highly enflamed when it came to love. Originally, she had responded to a piece of prose I had written about a chance encounter I would like to have in a hotel room: we would meet by pre-arrangement, without From: XEZZ10A@prodigy.com (Ronald Grunberg) Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories Subject: Getting Even - 2 Date: 10 Jan 1996 03:00:59 GMT Part Two As I was saying, my prose had indicated there would be a pre- arranged meeting in a hotel room, in which it was a meeting destined to be power- packed with great constructive tension and unspoken communication. The Young lady would appear at the door unclothed to be soon joined by the author in similar dress... We would sit together and tame any nervous movement towards each other's arms. The room's lights would be appropriately adjusted. Perhaps we'd converse, but only about matters of the heart; we'd not lust ourselves up but would perhaps get to know each other a bit, only in this quite unusual light. I might pet her shoulders or kiss her cheek, she would exercise, perhaps, or see if there was a good movie on t-v. By pre-arrangement, we would not... physically engage each other for at least a nice long hour. We would have before meeting Okayed such a venture in our minds so our coming together would occur naturally. Before we ever had met, we had corresponded for a long time, exchanging different e-mail notes on philosophy, celestial thoughts, personal histories if desired, current events. The plan would unfold through the e-mail... And this is where we were, the certain Young lady and I, but as "the plan" unfolded, it turned out not to go as smoothly as I had hoped. AS I said, she started not responding, and I was lost as to possibilities. Until that not-planned meeting! She was in New York, I'm sure in a way totally unconnected to my being here, for we met as I was driving a Yellow Cab and randomly caught her hail. We hadn't exchanged photos so there was no way of finding out each other's identities that way. But the ride was rather long, we both felt like chatting and, as in chat rooms or in e-mail, real life can be engaging as well. And in this case, it turned out both of us enjoyed the computer, both of us spent quite an amount of time on- line, both of us had some interesting experiences... It clicked as we headed towards Gramercy Park, to the hotel down there on 21st Street. We decided on the spot, or on a double dare, to actually "do it" - to enact "the plan." After she went upstairs, I promised her about a half-hour before I'd appear... From: XEZZ10A@prodigy.com (Ronald Grunberg) Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories Subject: Getting Even - 3 Date: 12 Jan 1996 06:43:12 GMT Part Three She appeared nude as the door opened. I was suddenly abashed. I looked down at my feet and could peripherally see her nakedness as she turned and walked towards the couch. I followed her in - closed the door. Normally, one would begin perhaps meaningless, nervous conversation at a point like this, or perhaps passionately run into each other's arms, but there was our plan, which both calmed and mortified me. Because while I was relieved of the pressure of "having" to do something, I felt the pressure at not knowing what to do. I turned and disrobed, turned back and looked at her sitting on the couch, looking back at me. There was a sweet little smile on her face. I smiled back. I was admittedly... aroused to see her and, reaching the couch, sat a short few feet away from her and sighed. She reached towards me and put a hand on my face and smiled again. I leaned over and kissed her on the cheek. "Did you have trouble getting up here?" she asked. "No. I was walking in the building and was about to tell someone the room number but no one asked. So," I concluded, "here we are." I went on. "So I wanted to tell you I didn't think we'd get together. I mean you're so beautiful. Look at you! Your so... lovely. I'd like to make love to you right now." "But we said we'd wait." "True." Laughing. "So, tell me," she said. "When you first arrived in New York, did you think the city would be so dirty? I mean, even the stupid ducks in Central Park are covered in some ugly veneer. I miss the quiet life in Prague. My mother told me never to spend too much time in a dark place and I must say this is one of the darkest places I've ever known. Judy - this friend of mine - warned me about becoming overly friendly with all the wackos here - and she was right. People are curious, but not curious enough... " While she's going on and on, I'm drinking in her rich body texture, the almost moist beautiful flesh, the shades of tan and white, the firmnesses and softnesses, her liquid blue eyes, dirty blondish hair, her beautiful accent. Looking down at her feet, I noticed the softness and curve and slightly smaller than average-sized toes, the reddish nail polish, looked back up at her face, the words drifting with a smile in the air. "Can I kiss you now?" I asked. "Forty-five more minutes at least," she responded. "Tell me. How would you define the sexual pontification in our society?" I had no idea what she was talking about. "What? Do you mean that people equate sex with the pope?" She laughed. "Something like that. Isn't sex something groovy? I want you, too. Am I an animal? Yes. But a human rising above that, also. I can have you, and have you I will., Yet, I want this... experiment... successful. " The situation had great absurdity. Two lovers, about to be entwined and amorous, loving the contact, absorbed in each other's profound sexuality and humaneness, obviously yet beholden to time, or pre-ordained plans. She got up and turned her back to me. Keeping her legs unbent, she did deep toe-touching exercises. "Come join me," she said. Standing next to her, proceeded to do the same exercise. We were going in sync, bending down, touching our toes, returning up, hands on hips. We turned after a few and spontaneously hugged each other, feeling the hot breath of skin on skin and the deep heat of our hearts against each other in full body-holds. We then held hands and walked as one towards the window and looked down on the snow-covered streets of the Big Apple. "Where did you park your cab?" she asked. "In a garage." "Let's go take a shower." "OK." The water cascading down between us, we soaped each other and giggled like school kids, laughing and getting wet in the face and using wash cloths and turning off the water and drying each other off. And then we made love.