Date: Wed, 28 Jul 1999 12:36:40 -0700 From: sam Subject: more than computers Disclaimer: If you don't like it, don't read it! Easy :) Part I -- Connection I pulled my jacket tighter around me and stamped my feet, trying to warm up. A few feet away my mom and grandpa were standing in the last patch of warm sun on the grass, laughing. So unfair. "Respect your elders", I muttered sarcastically under my breath. Ha! What am I supposed to do when my 'elders' drag me halfway across New York to stand in the freezing April air (yes, April, the weather has been unseasonable lately) while they take the last spot on line? I decided that was enough grumbling, so I started looking around. No hot guys, damn. A pretty girl standing over by the flagpole, but Bad haircut with a capital B. Like I'm one to talk. My hair is black and curly. No, that's a lie. My hair is red and straight. I permed it and dyed it awhile back, so now its half grown out and looks extremely odd. I like it. Finally the line moved a quarter inch and I could see the sign on the door that said "Computer Show $6, $5 with ticket". I could also see slightly through one of the doorways into the ticket-buying area. Sticking into my field of vision was a black, velvety, strappy, high heeled shoe attached to a cream-white ankle with a ball-chain ankle bracelet. Beyond that, the door blocked my view. I liked that shoe. Maybe when I got to the front of the line, if the wearer was still there, I could ask her where she bought them. She was there when I got to the front, because she was the hand-stamp girl. For you lay-people, computer shows are big big big rooms filled with computer merchandise and nerds. In order to get in you gotta pay, and get your hand stamped. I handed the ticket money to the man at the desk and turned to the owner of the shoe to have my hand stamped. The only thought in my mind as my eyes traveled upwards was, "Wow!" Now, I think that (insert your choice of minor deity here) made women quite well, and as much as I love all areas of the female body, I like legs best. Especially legs like these. Smooth and shapely, clad only in a short black skirt with a slit all the way up the side. The way she was sitting, with her legs crossed, on the stool made the slit spread wider and I could see her creamy smooth thigh on the right side. I was already getting painful images in my head about how it would feel to run my fingers over that smooth flesh. I finally drew my eyes away from those fabulous legs and saw that she was wearing a thin white blouse, almost see-through. Oddly enough, the first thought that went through my mind was that she must be freezing. I felt like I had been staring at her for hours but it was only a few seconds. Its a good thing no one noticed anything about the way I was staring hungrily at her body. It was a waste to put clothes on a body like that; she should be put on display at a museum, without those velvet ropes and "don't touch" signs. A body like that, legs like those, deserved to be stared at, and stroked, caressed and enjoyed. I felt deprived just standing there not being able to touch her. I'd kill to feel her soft skin against my hands and my lips. I'd pay the $5 admission again for the sight that greeted my eyes next. When I was finally able to cease my perverted minds ramblings and look at her face I found it was as tasty looking as the rest of her. Full lips with purple lipstick. Lips I would love to kiss all night long. Lips I longed to feel on me. She had shoulder length dark brown hair and wide, light eyes. Her skin had the healthy tint and glow of a girl who loved the sun, and it was flawless and looked smooth as silk. My fingers itched to touch her, to stroke her neck as I kissed that soft luscious mouth. She smiled at me and lifted the hand stamp. I reached out automatically and she took my hand and stamped it. After it was stamped, she held it for what seemed like an extra second or two and I looked at the dark plum nail polish that complimented her slender fingers. She hadn't taken my mom or grandpas hand to stamp it, only mine. I was relishing being so close to her, drinking in her scent like some flower I can't name, and treasuring the feeling of her hand against mine storing the sensations to enjoy later. I took my hand back reluctantly and walked into the big computer showroom. I would've stayed near her, every nerve I had told me to never leave her side, except that there were people behind me. All through the show I kept glancing around stacks of books and computer displays, trying to catch another glimpse of that sweet face and delicious body. Once, when I looked over, she was trying to adjust the strap of her bra, and she had a pained look on her face. A minute later she got up from her stool and headed down the small corridor near the entrance that ended at the ladies room. I quickly followed her, eager to see her up close again, and I went in the stall across from her and peeked out from the crack in between the door and the doorframe. I figured that I could start up a conversation with her when we washed our hands. As I peeked out into the otherwise empty bathroom waiting for her to come out I wondered if she was gay, or bi, or whatever. The way she had looked at me and the way she had held my hand longer than was strictly normal had lead me to believe that she might not be against me making a move on her, but I wasn't sure I could take the risk that it was completely innocent. After a minute, the door opened and she came out. I moved to open my door but right then she started to sing. It was a little snatch of "its all been done" by barenaked ladies (bit of a coincidence, as that was what I was just thinking about ;) he he) I realized she thought she was alone in here. My suspicions were confirmed when she walked over to the mirror, pulled up her shirt and muttered, "damn strap." She had a nice flat stomach, but my eyes were drawn like magnets to her bra. It was white cotton with little blue flowers. It looked soft and comfortable and I wished I could touch her so bad that I almost broke down the stall door and charged her. I was held in place by what she did next, though. She pulled her shirt up farther, and then over her head, dropping it on the little countertop/ she then proceeded to take off her bra too, but unfortunately she had moved out of my frame of view. The next thing I saw was her walking past my still closed door with her shirt back on, and a bulge in her bag where her bra now was. After another hour or two of computer shopping, I sensed that my mom was gonna start working her way toward the door. I knew it would take my mom forever before she was ready to leave, so I decided I would attempt at making conversation with that vision of beauty. I walked up to the stool where she was sitting and put my hand on the edge of it. Just the heat coming from her legs was making me dizzy, but not dizzy enough so that I couldn't spark a conversation with her. We exchanged names, mine Samantha, hers Jessica. It turned out that she lived not that far from me and that thrilled me to no end. We really hit it off, talking about computers and shit like that. We swapped phone numbers, email addresses, and jokes to pass the time. She had a break in 5 minutes and she said we could go sit on the couch in the make-shift rec room and relax for a bit. I wasn't sure I trusted myself alone in a room with her, I might just jump on her. From the looks that she was giving me, though, I didn't think she'd mind. We definitely had hit it off right away, and I think she sensed the attraction-bond too. Her break came, and we made our way to the couch and sat down together, still laughing and talking. It wasn't meant to be a 2 person couch and for that I was insanely grateful. We were scrunched up against each other and every once in a while her fingertips would brush my hand or my leg, and it set my nerves on fire. All the nerve endings in my fingers were screaming for me to touch her, so I gave in and did it. I lightly placed my hand on the inside of her leg, right next to the knee, and started gently stroking up towards the hem of her skirt. All through this, she continued telling jokes, but her voice had turned audibly shaky. She was still smiling, so I abandoned the circling and just ran my fingertips lightly up and down her leg. I then placed my whole hand on top of her leg above the knee and stroked upward, pushing her skirt up in the front. I let my fingertips explore, meandering lightly across the soft and sensitive skin of her upper thighs and then across the crotch of her underwear to the other thigh. When my fingers passed over the patter of blue flowers on white cotton, she inhaled sharply and let out a little moan. She widened her legs, taking my hand in hers, spreading to give me more room, and pressed my hand up against the crotch of her underwear which was already hot and wet. I stroked up and down, enjoying the heat, then pushed my hand under the side of her panties and started fingering her, slowly at first, then faster and faster. She kept one hand gripping the arm of the couch and the other hand against her, making sure that I didn't dare pull my hand away. I looked up at her beautiful face; her eyes were half closed and her head was leaning back against the wall. She was making tiny gasping noises and was obviously trying to keep from moaning with pleasure by biting her lip. Little moans were escaping from her and each one thrilled me and made me stroke her harder and faster, turning my soft touch into a fiery caress. She moved forward in her seat, pushing her hot, wet pussy more firmly into my hand. She was close and no amount of lip biting was going to cover up the moans, no, the screams of pleasure I wanted to hear from her. I heard the door at the end of the hall open and we quickly scattered, her pulling her skirt back down, and me standing up and trying to look normal. A second later an old fat lady waddled by and went into the next room. We watched as her large rear retreated into the distance and we turned to look at each other. Her face was flushed, and before either of us knew it, we were kissing. Her mouth was just as soft and delicious as I imagined it would be. She turned it into a french kiss and for the next few minutes all that existed in the world were her and I; just the two of us and no one else. Our newfound togetherness was shattered by a rough cough and a gruff voice saying, "Jessica, break was over 10 minutes ago!" She jumped out of my arms looking in slightly guilty surprise at the woman standing in front of us. "Unless I was interrupting something...." The lady said in an amused voice. Jessica quickly replied, "no, no, I was just getting back." As the woman strode purposefully out of earshot, She turned to me and whispered, "Come and keep me company." She grabbed my hand and practically dragged me back to her little stool and her hand stamp. Since it was so late in the day not many people were going in by us, and we were having fun trying to sneak kisses in between stampings. We almost got caught by the ticket guy a few times, but we always managed to pull apart right before he looked over. He did catch me with my hand on her thigh underneath her skirt once, but I think it just turned him on. He looked almost sorry to go on break a few minutes later. I was enjoying just looking at her, but touching her was pure heaven. Either me stroking her skin which I couldn't stop touching, or the cold air blowing in through the crack of the door had made her blouse the center of my attention. Two tiny erect nipples poked out against the thin fabric. I couldn't resist anymore, so I reached over and cupped her breast in my hand, stroking my thumb over her hard nipple, making her sigh a little. I looked around and no one was in sight so I pushed the shirt up over her tits and observed one of the best views I have had the pleasure of seeing in my young life. Two beautiful, round, soft breasts with erect little nipples pointing to me at attention. I bowed my head and she said, "What are you doi.....ohhh!" as I ran my tongue in slow circles around and over the nipple, the placed my mouth directly over it and sucked lightly, biting a little. She moaned almost inaudibly and smiled at me. I looked up and kissed her, letting her taste herself in my mouth and letting her shirt drop back into place with my hand still under it, caressing her breasts. I wanted to feel her all over, and lick her until she screamed, but I couldn't. I suggested the we hook up another time, go out on a proper date, and then go someplace where we wouldn't be interrupted by having to stamp peoples hands. She agreed and said she'd call me that night to talk and to pick out a place to go. After a while, I saw my grandpa and mom, both with their backs to us, looking at the last computer display before the exit. It was time to go. I turned to her and gave her one last kiss, my hands stroking over her skin and weaving themselves into her silky hair. I reluctantly removed myself from the embrace and went to my grandpa, walking backwards so as to see her for as long as possible. She raised her hand in a faint wave, and I took one of the fingers that I had been fingering her with and put it in her mouth, tasting her. She grinned and winked. I turned around and gave my grandpa a surprise hug. He looked at me and said, "You were so grumpy this morning in the car, what happened" "I don't know," I said, "but I have a feeling I'm not going to be unhappy anymore!" The beginning, setting, and the girl are real. (Although I never found out her name). The rest is just pure fantasy. Questions, Comments, Dead Lamas-- email me the_one_from_below@angelfire.com http://www.angelfire.com/hi2/theone for other stories.