The Adult Story Hub

Wendy looked at me from across the table. "You're such a sweetheart! Taking me to dinner for my birthday!", she bubbled. "Well, I thought I should do something. After all, you are my best friend.", I replied. She smiled. The smile was my entertainment for the evening.
Wendy's taller than I am, about 6 feet tall, with long red hair, and very expressive blue eyes. She's not model-thin by any standard, but she has long legs, and she's not fat. She was my best female friend in the world, but she wasn't my girlfriend. When I first met her, I indicated that I was interested in her, but she had replied that I really didn't turn her on in that way. She said she really liked me, and she wanted me to be a part of her social circle. Since one can never have too many friends, I put my fantasies away, and accepted. The fact that Wendy also knew a LOT of single women didn't influence my decision at all.
She lit a cigarette and exhaled leisurely, smiling at me impishly. Regarding the champagne, she cooed, "You're not going to try and get me drunk with this champagne and take advantage of me?" She knew the answer to the question, but it wasn't really a rhetorical one, so I answered.
"Nope. You've already told me that it will never happen between us. So, I've given up all hope, and at the end of the evening, I'll go home to my bed, and you'll go home to yours'."
"That's good. I didn't want to spoil the evening.", she said, abruptly bringing the conversation back to reality. "Don took me to Chicago for my birthday weekend.", she sighed. "It was wonderful. And a surprise." The words almost collapsed under the weight of their meaning, and she got a faraway look in her gorgeous eyes. Suddenly I was uncomfortable, and we only made small talk through the meal, and then after we were done, we left the restaurant in silence.
"What'cha thinkin'?", I asked figuring that the memory of her lust- filled birthday weekend had taken her far away from the crowded street we were on. "It's a really nice night. Want to sit at a sidewalk cafe for a while and have some wine? I don't have to go home right now." We sat down and made some more small talk while watching people go by. Life was OK for the moment, I decided, at least until she broke the mood by announcing that it was time for her to go home. I paused and watched her. The way that she sat, relaxed, with her long legs crossed, her eyes a little sleepy from the meal. She took a puff from her cigarette, tilted her head back slightly to exhale... Somehow I got lost in the curve of her neck and throat, and the way her red hair cascaded around her face and shoulders...
"Hello? Anybody home? It's me, Wendy. Yoo hoo!" The voice cut through my reverie like a knife. "What were you just doing?"
"Uhhh-errr-uhhh... nothing. Really. I was just thinking."
"Bullshit. You don't watch me that closely when you're just thinking. Out with it, c'mon. You were thinking about getting me in bed, and I caught you at it again!", she playfully scolded. Embarrassed, I tried to find a way out of my predicament. She looked at me with a mixture of expectation and triumph, and I had no options. I did the only thing I could. I told the truth. "I was watching you smoke." She raised her eyebrows, indicating skepticism.
"Actually, to be more correct, I was watching you as you smoked. The way that your hair frames your face on one side, the curve of your neck, and the incredibly feminine air you were projecting just then." Her raised eyebrows had become wide eyes of surprise. She was quiet a moment, and I worried that I might have sounded like a fruitcake. She put out her cigarette, lowered her head and narrowed her eyes. I waited for her to bury the dagger in my chest.
Instead, she began softly, "Y'know, I've got this... umm... like... a... fantasy?" She hesitated, trying to gauge my reaction.
"Go ahead, I'm listening."
"Well, y'know, I've always wanted to be like-umm...ummm...one of those slinky women you see in the old movies..."
"You want to be a femme fatale."
"Yeah, that's it. That's what I was trying to think of. Unfortunately, women my size can't be femme fatales." "Bullshit!" ran through my mind, but any further thoughts were stifled by the reality of my situation. She continued, "Y'know, I even have a holder - don't look so funny, I bought it as part of a Halloween costume, OK? - but these skinny cigarettes I smoke kept falling out." She spoke rapidly, still keeping her voice low, indicating that she was sharing a confidence with me.
I didn't speak right away, because I was thinking about what she had said. Then I realized she was waiting for me to say something. "If you want, I can fix your holder so that it'll work with your cigarettes. I had to do it for a holder used as a prop in a stage play once." Her eyes put on an impromptu fireworks display for me.
"You can? Really?", she asked enthusiastically. I nodded, and she gave me a sisterly kiss on the cheek. Sigh. Let's just be friends can be hell sometimes, ya know? This discussion seemed to rev her up, and we talked animatedly for an hour or two before saying our good-byes. She came by to drop off her holder the next day, but she had tons of things to do for a party on Friday, and she couldn't stay. She asked me if would I bring it when I came to the party, and I said sure.
She greeted me at the door to her house on Friday. I made a mock bow, and presented her with the refitted holder. She gave a little squeak of joy, and kissed me on the cheek. She led me into the party, immediately put a cigarette in the holder, and lit it. She walked around the party showing off her new toy, and playing the elegant hostess. The party had thinned and it was getting a little late when the doorbell rang. I heard her exclaim, "Oh my god! What are YOU doing here? Oh I'm so glad you came!"
About ten seconds later, she walked into the living room with a good-looking guy her height, who had strong arms and dark hair. His bushy moustache lent him the air of a pirate. She turned to me and gushed, "Craig, this is Don." Her eyes were shooting off more fireworks than the Fourth of July as she looked at him. They hadn't done that all night.
"Wendy has told me so much about you!", Don said warmly.
"Great." Jokingly, I added, "Do you want to kill me now, or later?" We both laughed, but she just kept up the fireworks display. I talked with him a while; she was uncommonly quiet. Finally, I said it was time for me to leave, and Don shook my hand warmly. Wendy patted me on the back. It was an almost absent-minded gesture. I walked back to my car with a boulder in the pit of my stomach.