Message-ID: <610.repost$980813051141@qz.little-neck.ny.us> X-Archived-At: From: Subject: NEW "The Net Lovers" The Prelude (M/F) Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d Path: qz!not-for-mail Organization: The Committee To Thwart Spam Approved: X-Moderator-Contact: Eli the Bearded X-Story-Submission: X-Original-Message-ID: Warning: This story is for adults only. If you are a legal minor, you are not allowed to read it under any circumstances. This story is also copyrighted and cannot be reproduced for any purpose anywhere without the written consent of the author. Email comments to J.B. Mast at Mastwords1@aol.com "The Net Lovers" J.B. Mast They met on the internet. Both of them were unpublished writers of fiction. They had connected on a writers’ newsgroup. One electronic posting attracted another and they began to trade emails directly. They shared their thoughts and dreams of stories as yet unwritten. Even now, five months of daily cyberchats, she still referred to herself only as S. He was J. She lived in a suburb on the northeast side of Chicago and his home was in Portland, Oregon. Even though the two of them had never shared first or last names, they had grown to know each other’s feelings, attitudes and preferences about almost everything else. J had learned about how S felt about art and music, how she loved Picasso’s Blue Period and not his cubistic work, and of her interest in Southwest American Indian Petroglyphs. She had shared with him her attitudes about current women’s’ fashions, about where she stood in the Woman’s Movement. She had told him about her childhood, her education, her career, a failed marriage and much about her painful childhood. S had a child, a son named Jason and J came to know how much she loved the boy, how connected they were. J knew almost everything about S and it was not a one-sided affair. J gave her everything about himself in equal portions of childhood, family, recreation, his work and his dreams. By now, S knew how much he enjoyed preparing gourmet recipes and sharing them with friends and family. He told her about his collection of jazz recordings. She knew he wrote an investment newsletter for a living, about his disappointments in love and his epiphanies, too. She knew his sexual delights, what excited him, what an orgasm felt like to him. Just as he knew how one felt to her. But no names. He was J and she was S. It was not as if they had overlooked the subject. They traded thoughts about the consequences of revealing names and had, for the purpose of maintaining a certain titillating intrigue, had decided against it. What extra dimension would it add? they asked. What difference would it make? After all, they would never really meet each other. Cybersex was a mind thing. But they both understood the brain is the most powerful sex organ in the body. Things started to change for them about 90 days ago, on January first, New Year’s Day. The new year called for making fresh starts, new beginnings, they said, and they decided to take a quantum leap into the future. They made plans to meet. Together they had explored the net to evaluate travel information before choosing a place to share a long weekend together. They were to meet in Half Moon Bay, California, a small beach town on the Pacific Coast Highway. They made reservations at the Mezza Luna, a complex of oceanfront getaways. It had a restaurant which, according to the ad on the world wide web, had a chef who had recently emigrated from a two star bistro on the Left Bank in Paris. S and J had agreed to meet in the lobby reception area of the Mezza Luna at exactly twelve noon on April first. They would have no difficulty recognizing each other. He knew she had long oak blonde hair that she often wore tied back away from her ears with ribbons. He would recognize her body by her five feet six height and slender shape, and a wide mouth she compared to Carly Simon. S was 33 years old. S would be looking for a six foot tall, sandy haired man, about 175 pounds and 44 years old. He had described himself as “o.k. looking, comparatively speaking; no big round belly; wide shoulders but definitely not a muscle builder.” J checked into the Mezza Luna at 11:40 am and waited quietly, reading the Half Moon Bay Weekly in a chair facing the entrance. S walked in at 11:58 am. She put her bags down and saw him. He looked up from his newspaper and when he looked at her, his heart skipped its rhythm. She smiled and walked toward him, extending her hand. They looked deeply into each other’s eyes and held hands for a few seconds. J pulled her gently toward him and whispered in her ear, “How about a little hug?” She moved into his arms and they held each other. She whispered, “So nice to meet you after being alone together for such a long time.” “You’re just as beautiful as I’ve envisioned you,” he said. “I’m a little nervous.” “Me, too.” “It’s like being in a romantic novel or something, you know?” “Well,” J said, “even romantic heroines and heroes must have a roof over their heads. Let’s go have a look at our new home.” Their room overlooked a sandy beach cove. It was decorated with Tahitian furniture and wall hangings. The bed was constructed from huge Timber Bamboos and had a deep feather mattress with a South Pacific print duvet. “Oh, my God,” she said. “It couldn’t be more perfect.” There was a large basket of fresh fruit and a ice bucket with a bottle of champagne on the coffee table. “Care for a glass of champagne on the patio,” he asked. “By all means,” she smiled. “Just let me freshen up first, O.K?” He took the fruit and champagne out to the patio and awaited her. He was stunned by her beauty. She must have prepped herself for the trip by going to an electric beach, he thought. She had described herself to him with far too much modesty. She was more, far more than he had expected to see in reality. She was just as he’d told her, the woman of his dreams. In the bedroom, as S was hanging her clothes, she was thinking of how it felt when they had hugged in the lobby. He felt strong, his arms around her made her feel safe and protected. S put on a pair of loose fitting white silk slacks and decided on a gold light cotton blouse. She left the top three buttons undone and looked in the mirror. As she combed her hair, she thought, “Very nice, if I do say so myself.” Finally, she moved one curl over onto her forehead, her favorite finishing touch. She stepped into her summer sandals and joined J on the patio. “Welcome back,” he said. “Champagne for the lady?” “Thank you,” she smiled. Her lips made him say “I hope you don’t mind my saying how sexy your mouth is. You know, you just described yourself as having a big mouth like Carly Simon. S, you have a gorgeous face and especially your mouth. Just gorgeous. And your body, well, we’ll get to that in a minute after I catch my breath.” He loved the look he saw on her face. “Thank you. We’re both good with words, but all I can seem to say is thank you. I’m afraid I’m a bit speechless.” “Salute!” He handed her a crystal flute of sparkling champagne and said, “Here’s to us and the weekend of a lifetime.” They touched glasses and drank a toast to their adventure. The surf was coming in and they watched the breakers run up the beach for a few seconds. J picked up some grapes from the fruit plate and offer her one. “Mmm,” she said and moved toward him. Before placing the grape in her lips, he kissed her lightly. S inhaled deeply as their lips met. He had surprised her, but she kissed him back, briefly but in such a way that he would know she had enjoyed it. She took the grape from his fingers and as she felt it spurt in her mouth, he held her hand, looked in to her eyes and said, “Forgive me for kissing you just now. I just couldn’t help myself.” “Oh, you don’t have to apologize. After all we’re old friends by now, aren’t we, considering how much we know about each other. Besides, I thought it was sweet.” “You are my princess,” J smiled. ‘You’re going to embarrass me if you keep telling me how wonderful I am. But, please, don’t stop now,” she laughed, tossing her long blonde curls back over her shoulders. She was thinking how she had enjoyed his romantic little kiss. She liked the look of his face, his hair, his musty fragrance. “O.k., he said, “let me talk about your body.” She played the game and giggled, “Oh, please, go on, go on.” He leaned back in his chair and said, “Would you do me a favor and stand up and turn around?” “If you promise to do the same for me,” she laughed. She stood up and turned around in a pirouette. “How did I do?” “Beyond all my hopes. You have the body of a goddess.” “And you have a gift for hyperbole,” she said, enjoying it nonetheless. “Now it’s my turn,’ she said. “Let’s see you.” J shrugged his shoulders, stood up and did a slow turn. She noticed his wide shoulders, his shapely buttocks, his muscled legs under his faded blue jeans. “Not exactly Nicholas Cage, huh?” S said, “You look just like his cousin, J Cage, but with nicer hair and a much better nose. I like your t-shirt but I’m afraid it’s covering too much of you up. Could I convince you to take it off?.” “Ask and you shall receive,’ he said. He pulled it off and dropped it to the floor. She smiled, confidently. Then she got up and took him in her arms. ______________________________________________________________________________ _ Chapter two gets much hotter. I’ll finish it and post it on the newsgroup if I get the slightest encouragement from readers. 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