My Card You Cad

NOTE: LeeZard rarely writes fiction and, he's never tried his hand at (writing) erotica. For some reason, though, the following story appeared in my head.

Is it erotica? Is it soft porn? Is there a difference?

Dictionary.com defines erotica:

"literature or art dealing with sexual love."

It defines pornography: 

“obscene writings, drawings, photographs, or the like, especially those having little or no artistic merit.”

The definition of soft porn is more involved: 

“it is less explicit than hardcore material in depicting or describing sexual behavior. Softcore does not depict explicit sexual contact, but ranges from simulated intercourse to nudity. While both softcore and hardcore feature sexual situations with the intention of arousing the viewer, the key difference is that softcore does not clearly show aroused genitalia (including masturbation), ejaculation, or penetration (vaginal, anal and/or oral)."

As one not to challenge the creative process, I humbly present the following. I tried to write from both a man's and a woman's perspective (after consulting with some actual women) and in a manner that both would enjoy without finding it offensive. Please let me know if I succeeded.

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My Card you Cad

©2010 by LeeZard

“If you walk by me one more time,” Tony said to the attractive young woman, “you’ll have to stop and talk to me.” He spoke as she walked by for the third or fourth time; he wasn’t sure of the number but he now suspected there was a method to her meandering.

He was leaning against the jamb of a finely stained set of oak double doors between the formal dining room and large sitting room in a lovingly renovated 19^th Century Victorian home in the Northwest section of Washington, D.C. He had no idea who owned the home but, as an architect, appreciated its stately grandeur.

It was a large party in a big house and he was the guest of a guest. He’d driven down from New York City in his 1960 Porsche 356B Roadster, likewise lovingly restored. Staying with a buddy who heard about the bash from the friend of a friend, Tony reluctantly tagged along. He wasn’t even dressed for a party, clad in a pair of slightly wrinkled Levi’s, an old favorite golf shirt (although he never played) and beat up loafers sans sox.

He wasn’t big on anonymous parties. He hated meaningless small talk with strangers and, if forced into the situation, usually parked his tall lanky frame against a wall to observe. He wasn’t anti-social and he certainly wasn’t a wallflower despite his penchant for finding a comfortable wall upon which to lean. Nor was he unpopular or afraid of meeting new people. On the contrary, he was both glib and intelligent with as many social invitations and obligations as he chose to enjoy. It was merely that he preferred meaningful conversation in smaller groups peppered with familiar faces.

In fact, he was particularly popular with woman. Tony’s trim build was finely tuned from regular workouts and strenuous games of racquetball. His black wavy hair was just long enough without looking unkempt, a few curls always dropping to just above his eyebrows. Sharp blue eyes missed very little going on around him and a strong chin supported a mouth with lips the girls called sensuous. An air of self-confidence and a slight aloofness added a bit of mystery to an already inviting man.

He was self-confident without arrogance. In fact, he seemed totally unaware of his affect on women and, truth be told, had never in his life actually “picked up” a strange woman. He wasn’t shy but he wasn’t overly forward either. Actually, he wasn’t even sure why he made the comment to the woman now standing before him. But, he was glad he did; to his eyes, she was beautiful.

She wore a wine-colored loose-fitting crew neck sweater that did little to hide the swell of her breasts. Her jeans were not the $300 skintight designers favored by most of the women at the party but he could still enjoy the outline of a firm well-rounded bottom. She was nearly as tall as his 6’1” with shining blond hair falling softly to her shoulders. Sky blue eyes showed a hint of amusement as she openly appraised the man before her.

“I thought you’d lost your tongue,” she said, surprised at her brashness. “My name is Penny and, no, it’s not short for Penelope; it’s just Penny.”

“Tony,” he replied, offering his hand. She took it and they both silently noted the firmness of the handshake and the warmth of each other’s hand. It was not a nervous sweaty warmth; to the contrary, it was the room temperature warmth of two people at home in their own skins.

Penny wasn’t shy either but neither was she forward. Like Tony, she’d never in her life picked up a man nor had she allowed herself to be picked up – although many had tried. In her early 30s, she’d never married, concentrating instead on her career as a buyer for Philadelphia’s premier chain of women’s boutiques.

Perhaps it was the two glasses of Chardonnay on an empty stomach; Penny was not exactly the party girl. For some reason, however, as soon as she’d spotted Tony leaning against the wall, she felt an unfamiliar physical attraction. She liked his understated good looks and how fine he looked in an outfit that would look unfashionable on anyone else. And, she had to admit, she liked the way his jeans outlined a nice firm butt. Like Tony, she knew virtually no one at the party. She, too, was in D.C. visiting friends and she’d lost them in the big crowd spread throughout countless rooms. She was bored and considered leaving on her own to hail a cab when she spotted him from across the sitting room.

Without even thinking, she slowly walked across the room and through the double doors; half hoping he’d say something as she passed. When he appeared to take no notice of her, she took her time surfing the food spread on the long dining room table and retraced her steps past him. Nothing.

Taking it as a challenge, Penny worked her way in the opposite direction, exiting the sitting room through a single doorway into a long hallway. She circled through the most fabulous kitchen she’d ever seen and, after a few moments appreciating the space, reentered the dining room for a second pass. Tony was still there, taciturn as ever.

“Alright,” she thought to herself, “you get one more chance pal.” Without waiting, she turned on her heel and returned through the double doors.

“If you walk by me one more time, you’ll have to stop and talk to me.” And so it began.

They stood in the doorway for about 20-minutes, getting the usual preliminaries out of the way; “Where are you from? What do you do? Etc.” Finally he suggested, “Let’s take a tour of this place. I like old homes and it seems they’ve done a great job restoring this one.”

The ground floor was jam-packed and abuzz with conversation. There was no music; this was, after all, D.C. and politics provided the soundtrack. Tables of food offered varying cuisines in the large sitting room, the dining room and the parlor off the front door. Each room featured newly stained oak trim and shiny wood floors punctuated with carefully chosen imported rugs. The walls were painted in hushed pastels of blues, greens and tans. Each room seemed to be strategically lit with real Tiffany lamps or sophisticated, tasteful chandeliers. The antique furniture throughout reflected the tone and history of the house without overwhelming their surroundings. The only nod to modern times was the magnificent artwork throughout. From oils to watercolors, prints, and sculpture, it felt like walking through a gallery.

Tony was obviously enjoying himself while Penny was silently enjoying Tony. It just felt comfortable to be strolling the rooms with him, weaving through the crowd and casually discussing this and that. She also enjoyed the fact that this was clearly not a man “on the make.” She had no illusions of “love at first sight.” While Penny was no virgin – she’d had her share of lovers – she was also old enough to be cynical yet young enough to believe in “possibilities.” For now she was merely enjoying the moment.

“Do you want to check out the upstairs?” he asked. Penny could tell he was embarrassed by the question. “It’s…it’s not what you think,” he said, “I really want to see what they did on the second level.” He almost looked vulnerable and she liked him even more.

What makes you think I’m thinking anything?” she replied with an easy smile. Tony grinned back with an inward sigh of relief and he liked her even more.

“I didn’t want you to think I’m being presumptuous or manipulative,” he explained. “I don’t operate like that but you don’t know me….” She stopped him before he could go any further.

“I’m a big girl, Tony, you don’t have to explain yourself.”

A steady stream of people moved up and down the stairs but the crowd thinned considerably as they reached the second floor hallway. Several doors on either side were open and showed bedrooms as beautifully furnished as the rooms downstairs. They entered one in particular where a small group was standing in front of a painting on the wall. It was an original Georgia O’Keeffe and it was stunning – a brightly colored flower, subtly and erotically suggesting a woman’s genitalia.

As Penny and Tony enjoyed the painting others began drifting away and they found themselves alone in the bedroom. They’d wandered through the home together for almost two hours and rather than an uncomfortable silence, they enjoyed a companionable respite from the hubbub of the party. Then, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, Tony slipped his arm around Penny’s waist, gently turning and drawing her to him. He kissed her with confidence, tenderness and warmth. There was no urgency, no overt show of passion and, surprisingly, nothing sexual. It was more a meeting of the minds as well as the lips – and, extremely pleasant. When it ended, he held her briefly and she rested her head on his shoulder. He took her hand as they slowly walked out of the room, each enjoying the interlude in their own way.

“You want to get out of here?” Tony asked. “It’s past midnight and, except for you, I am totally bored with this wing ding.” His hesitance was gone; they’d reached an initial level of trust and understanding.

“Sure, where to?”

“Good question. I must admit I’m not into clubbing. Dancing is not my thing although I like to sit and listen to a good jazz band now and then. I’d suggest the One Step Down (D.C.’s oldest jazz club) but by the time we get there and find parking it’ll be close to last call.”

“Do you have a car here?” Penny asked. “Let’s go for a drive.”

“You want to go “parking?” Tony feigned shock with a twinkle in his eye.

“No, silly. I want to go for a drive. When we do go parking it will be indoors.” Now, Tony’s shock was real. At the same time a little voice was going off in Penny’s mind. “Did you just hear yourself? You’re shamelessly coming on to a complete stranger!” She hit the off button in her head and smiled to herself.

“Listen Penny, I want you to know I’m not a one-night-stand-kind-of-guy. I’m no rookie but I’ve never done anything like this before – not that I’m against it,” he laughed. She liked his laugh. It was sincere; his eyes told her so.

“I’m not the pick-up-a-guy-and-seduce him-type either, Tony.” She stopped him and her eyes seemed to go right through him. “Please don’t judge me, though. I am no slut.”

“I wouldn’t be here if I thought you were, Penny. Is this our first fight?” That last one broke the ice and they both dissolved into giggles. “How about a drive to Dulles?” he suggested. “We can watch ‘em take off and land for awhile.”

“How did you know that’s one of my favorite things to do?”

At that hour the 26-mile drive from D.C. to Dulles International Airport took less than half an hour. Their conversation flowed easily as they shared some family histories and, more importantly, began talking about past lovers. Both in their 30s, both never married, both with disappointments, mended broken hearts and the resultant caution about new relationships.

Tony exited the freeway just before it became the Dulles Access Road. He proceeded south on VA SR 28 until he came to the airport’s southern border and exited westbound, looking for a quiet vantage point with a view of the runways. He found a lonely two-lane blacktop called Willard Road a short distance from the airport’s security fence. He pulled off the road into a widened turn-around along the shoulder, pointed the nose of his car toward the runway lights and killed the engine. Even with the Porsche’s bucket seats, Penny was able to lean over and snuggle against Tony as he placed his arm around her shoulders.

It was late and air traffic was minimal. They were able to enjoy the relative quiet broken only by the occasional roar of a red eye arrival or departure. They’d talked virtually non-stop for almost three hours and now simply enjoyed each other’s company in comfortable silence. After about 30-minutes Tony looked at her for a moment and lifted her chin with his hand. Kissing her gently, he asked, “How’d you like to head back to my friend’s place?”

“Can we go parking?” she replied.

In Tony’s mind the drive back to D.C. took forever. Surprising himself, he felt a little nervous as he glanced over at Penny. She was staring out the passenger window, humming some nameless tune. As if she felt his eyes on her, she turned around, smiled and put her hand on his right thigh. Any tension Tony felt slipped away.

The house was dark when Tony pulled into his friend’s driveway. He led Penny to a rear entrance with direct access to the guestroom. Probably built as an addition to the original house, the room offered complete privacy. Sparsely but tastefully furnished with a double bed, small dresser and a beautiful goose-necked wooden rocking chair, the room felt right. The bed was centered on a circular area rug with a muted paisley design in reds, blues and greens.

Tony quietly shut the door. Taking Penny’s hand he asked, “Can I have this dance?”

Despite the lack of music she slid easily into his arms and said, “I thought you don’t dance.”

“I don’t dance at clubs,” he whispered in her ear, sending a shudder through her entire body as he expertly led her into a slow foxtrot. In a low pleasing baritone he began singing:

“Strangers in the night exchanging glances
Wond'ring in the night
What were the chances we'd be sharing love
Before the night was through.

Something in your eyes was so inviting,
Something in your smile was so exciting,
Something in my heart,
Told me I must have you.”

It wasn’t exactly Sinatra but it was absolutely perfect as they both closed their eyes, drifting into their own world. Neither Tony nor Peggy remembered who began but it didn’t matter. She pulled his golf shirt free of his pants and slid her hands under to rest on the small of his back. His hands slid under her sweater and settled in the same place.

Tony still hummed Sinatra’s song and the dancing became a gentle rocking in place. Their bodies molded together as if to begin learning about each other. Their lips met, their tongues touched and slowly explored. As with their first kiss, there was no urgency, no overt passion. Time slowed; there was no need to rush.

Rather then end the kiss, Tony simply extended it down her neck and held his lips there while he drank in the scent of her perfume. Reading his mind, she said, “It’s called White Linen. Do you like it?”

“MMmmmmm,” was his only response.

Penny slid one hand down and under the waistband of his jeans, feeling the top curvature of his butt. “Mmmmm yourself,” she murmured. At the same time, Tony’s hands went north, finding the clasps of her bra and unsnapping them in one smooth move.

Now she could feel him harden as he used both hands to slide the bra straps down the sleeves of her sweater until he was able free her breasts and the bra fell to the floor. Rather than move his hands to her chest, he pulled her even closer and the feeling was electric for them both. Her nipples hardened under the fabric of her sweater and a small groan escaped Tony’s lips. They stood motionless for a moment. Time slowed even more; there was no need to rush.

Penny removed her right hand from the top of his butt and slid it around to feel his hardness through the Levis. She began undoing his belt and lowered his zipper while Tony’s hand moved under her sweater and brushed her right breast. He didn’t grab, he didn’t squeeze but gently massaged and held it in his hand as if it were a piece of fine art. Her hand slipped under the leg band of his boxer briefs, wrapped around his hardness and held it.

After another moment, he pulled back slightly – much to her disappointment – until he knelt before her, undid the front of her jeans, slid them down and pulled each leg free of their confinement. Now, he leaned in to enjoy the scent of her true woman’s perfume before lightly kissing the black lace panty fabric over the outline of her nether lips. Her knees nearly buckled until she felt his strong hands firmly grab her rear cheeks, pulling her even harder against his lips.

She placed her hands on his shoulders for balance. “Stop,” she was nearly gasping, “before I fall over.”

She thought she heard him no, felt him, laugh before he pulled his lips away and rose to his feet. He removed his jeans, took her hands and led her to the rocking chair, sitting down with her standing in front of him. The seat of the chair extended far enough in front of the arms to allow Tony to pull her, still facing him, onto his lap. Though both still partially clothed, they melted into each other’s arms for a warm sexy hug. Penny’s panties were soaked and she could feel Tony’s hardness through his underwear. The affect only served to excite them further.

They kissed again, long and lovingly. Again he ended with little kisses trailing down her neck. Tony lifted Penny’s sweater over her head and resumed kissing down her neck and across her breasts, bringing tiny squeals of pleasure to her lips.

Now, Penny took the lead. She held his hands and drew him up from the chair and over to the bed. As he removed his shirt and underwear, Penny folded back the bed’s comforter and removed her panties before crawling under the cover sheet. Tony slid in next to her and, for the first time, their naked bodies came together. It was one of those magic moments and they held each other silently, savoring the feeling.

Without a word, and running kisses from her neck to her breasts, Tony rolled to his side and then gently on top of her. He slid easily inside and balanced to avoid putting too much weight on her. Penny felt him fill her to the fullest and let out something between a soft moan and a sigh. Tony moved slowly, gently inside her and looked down at her face. Words were unnecessary as their eyes joined and said it all. Afterwards, they held each other and talked quietly until they drifted away to a restful, satisfying sleep.

They awoke shortly after sunrise and made love again as slowly and gently as the first time and just as satisfying. As they were getting dressed, Tony said, “I don’t want this to be a one night stand. Without being presumptuous, this was very special and I’d like to see where it goes. Can I come down to Philly next weekend to see you?”

“I’ll have to check my schedule,” she said, barely suppressing a grin.

Tony went to his wallet and pulled out a business card, placing it face down on the dresser. Handing her a pen, he said, “write down your phone number and email; I’ll call you during the week to make plans and get directions.”

Still joking, she replied, “You’re not one of those jerks who falsely promises he’ll call just to ease his one night stand guilt are you?”

Playing along, Tony said, “How did you see through me?” They laughed at their mutually cynical humor and hugged. “C’mon, I’ll drive you back to your friend’s place.” He placed the business card back in his billfold.

They talked easily as he drove, stopping at a Starbucks along the way for lattes and croissants. When they arrived at her destination Tony walked her to the door, took her in his arms and whispered, “What a wonderful night. I’ll talk to you soon and see you next week.” And he was gone. Penny went into the house, closed the door and took a deep breath.

“Damned wonderful night,” she said to herself.

He’d packed his bag and threw it in the Porsche’s boot before they left his friend’s house so Tony slowly made his way through D.C.’s side streets winding his way to New York Ave. – U.S. Route 50 – and ultimately the Baltimore-Washington Parkway, I-95 and the New Jersey Turnpike.

Before hitting the freeway, though, Tony needed to gas up. Finding a Chevron station – only the best petrol for his beloved Porsche – on the outskirts of D.C., he pulled in and stopped at the pump closest to the mini-mart. He preferred using cash rather than plastic and headed inside to pre-pay. Still in somewhat of a fog over the last 12-hours’ events, Tony was distracted as he pulled two 20’s from his wallet. He never saw the business card with Penny’s number on the back fall from his wallet to the floor.