Thinking of You Thinking of Me (1)

     I was working on a short-term project in one of our offices years ago which was on the city bus line that ran right up to a stop not far from my home out in the 'burbs. So, I was able to just walk to the bus in the morning and not worry about the traffic or parking, and have a short walk home after work. 

     I'd been on the project almost two weeks when I got on the bus one evening and sat down next to a pretty woman, a few years younger than me, and obviously pregnant.

     "Hi."

     "Hi." 

     Silence.

     "Excuse me...?"

     "Hmmm?"

     "Did you used to work at ------?" 

     "Yeah, I did ..."

     "Oh, my God, you probably don't remember me, I'm H-----!"

     H-----, yeah...  She'd been one of the younger volunteers there when I'd worked summers during college. 14, maybe 15 last summer I was there.  Nice kid.  Cute. But way too young. to ... you know, actually have done anything with.  There was a contingent of high-school kids there but when I was back from college, I didn't work directly with them anymore and didn't pay them much attention. But we all saw each other every day. 

     "Oh, hey, Hi!" 

     So we chatted about the old place, now sadly defunct, her working there through high school, where we'd gone to college, what we were doing, how we'd met our spouses, having kids (her first and mine were about the same age). It was a fun talk. Do you remember X, and how abuut Y, and when Z, got...  You know how it is.  Then swapped business cards.  She was in a jovial mood, not sure it was just being happy to see me or, just, you know ... life is good and she's having another kid.  And probably hormonal, I thought.  And then I kind of felt bad for thinking that one, like I was being uncharitable.  She was probably just happy to see me after what, 20 years, and remember stuff from back then.  We had all had a really good time there. 

     Right...  'too young to ... actually have done anything.'  But, she had been cute, and I'd seen her in a swimsuit, so, OK, sure...  I'd stroked it to her a few - more than a few(?) - times.  Hey, it was a while ago and I'd been what 18, 19?  I did that a lot to a lot of girls. Still, I remembered pretty clearly those images of her from all those years ago.  And, now older and married with a kid(!) I suddenly felt like a perv for remembering that.  

     As I silently pondered my depravity she suddenly quiet for a few seconds.  Then, more quietly than she'd been speaking before, and leaning in a little bit:

     "Back when were were at _____..."

     "Yeah?"

     "... I used to fantasize about you." 

     You did what to whom???  It honestly took me a couple seconds to process that one. 

     "You mean when you, uh...?"

     "Yup!" Big smile. 

     Uh...OK? Wow?!?  Maybe I'd been right about the hormones? 

     "Wow, I...honestly never would have thought that."  Which was true.  I'd always assumed that my enthusiasm for her, and pretty much all the girls I'd masturbated to back then, had been exclusively one sided.  I was actually very flattered.  And of course, I felt she'd feel the same, so:

     "Well, I...uh, did it to you, too."

     That felt oddly ... relieving, telling her that. Wait...did I really just tell her I masturbated to her? 

     And then... she scowled at me. 

     What?  Uh-oh...aww, s**t! 

     "Oh, geeze, OK, I'm sorry, I shouldn't..." Glad we weren't working together, or this would be headed straight for HR! 

     "I don't believe you," she said, sounding hurt.

     You...what???  Wait a minute... I was the GUY and you were the GIRL!  I thought you all thought that we were all spanking it to all of you!  And why the heck would I tell you that if it wasn't true?  Because I'm some kind of a perv?  Because telling you that because it WAS true would certainly not be pervy. 

     Yeah... right. Oh, s**! 

     I looked at her quizzically.  She just stared back at me.  OK, well...this is awkward... 

     She's still staring at me...

     Back off, or double down?  Well, I'm pretty much f****d already so, f**k it!

     "You remember that dark blue one-piece bathing suit you wore to the beach party the end of that first summer?  And you were climbing onto my shoulders and I was tossing you into the waves?"

     "You remember all that?"     "I pretty much remember all my crushes. But... you back then: your pretty face, great body, and that bathing suit?"

     Her gaze softened a little more.

     "I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable," I said. 

     "No, It's OK," she said, "I just never thought you thought about me."

     "Oh, I did," I said. "I wasn't too pervy, though, honestly. I don't think I ever got much further than you getting out of that bathing suit." I hadn't. The night after I got home from that end of summer party and hit the shower to get the sand and lotion off, I'd jacked to her and as I'd said, eyes closed, leaning against the wall of the shower, gently pumping, I'd barely gotten the top of her suit down to her hips before I came in my hand. And that was pretty much my fantasy of her, remembering how she'd felt that day, how she'd laughed, how she'd looked in that bathing suit, and then just imagining holding her and slowly taking that suit off of her. 

     She smiled. "Oh, I was pretty pervy."