Message-ID: <20353eli$9903040438@qz.little-neck.ny.us> X-Archived-At: From: "bobbijo" Subject: ASSM: Blind Date 1/2 (no sex) 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: <01be660a$2fcca740$LocalHost@treeg.crosslink.net> If you're under 18, ask mom to read this with you. Mom's can explain everything if you let them. This is fiction. Copyright is retained by the author. It may be archived only on sites where NO FEE is charged. Any print publication requires permission of the author. BLIND DATE 1/2 by bobbijo What's wrong with this picture? I'm 26 years old, independent, and single by choice. I depend on nobody for anything. Now my life depends on a man I just met this morning and a thin orange rope. How did I get myself into this? Well -- Ever watch a TV dating show? Me too. Every night I'm home alone. Oh, my friends `fix me up.' They know some real duds! One was all hands. Another was ugly. Some smoke. One chewed bubble gum, popped it all night, then stuck the wad in his cheek and wanted a kiss. Yuk! The same friends sent my name to a TV dating show. When the TV station called, I figured, `Why not?' The guys at my office are married. The firm's clients are losers going through divorces. My friends are doing a lousy job of fixing me up. What did I have to lose? At the station, I filled out a questionnaire, then recorded a tape. They use the most outrageous clips on TV. The questionnaire asked everything: my favorite color; my height, weight, dress size, shoe size, and bra size; my favorite activities; and how often I date. I also had to describe my perfect man. I never thought about it. `How am I going to find the perfect man if I don't know what I'm looking for?' I thought. I started dreaming. Tall, but not too tall; dark, or at least tanned; muscular, with nice buns; a little old fashioned; and "willing to try anything once," I wrote. On tape, I described some previous dates, my worst date, my best date, and so on. Daren, the host, kept trying to trip me up, but I thought I did pretty well. A week later, the station called back. I was going to get to choose a date on Tuesday! I got to the station early. Before I went on, I watched videos of three men. All looked and sounded OK. One guy, though, made a crack that "all my ladies have to look hot." I don't consider myself `hot,' so he was out. It was hard to pick between the other two. I chose Rick. He manages a health club and said he was looking for a girl "willing to try anything once," the same comment I made. I waited while last week's couple described their date. The host made complete fools of them. Then it was my turn. Daren's a jerk. He started off saying, "We decided to let Clara pick a date. She's seldom goes out and we didn't want her alone again this Saturday night." They showed three short clips from the guys' interviews. Nothing in the clips had anything to do with why I chose Rick. Daren asked about my "perfect guy." He brought up `willing to try anything once.' "What sort of thing would you want to try once?" he asked me. "I don't know, like skinny dipping." The audience roared. I should have thought first! I did just what I feared most -- I made a fool of myself. I tried to explain that I really didn't want to go skinny dipping. Daren cut me off and said it was time to choose. I chose number one --Rick. The next evening, the station called me. Then they called Rick and connected us to protect my privacy. "Rick's here," he answered. `No simple `hello' for this guy,' I thought. "Richard, this is WWWW-TV calling. I have your date, Clara, on the line if you have time to talk." "Sure! Hi, Clara. I'm glad you picked me. I hate rejection." "Hi," I said stupidly. "Have you made big plans?" he asked cheerily. "No." Now I really felt stupid. I wanted to do the picking but I wanted it to be, you know, a date. I hadn't thought that I get the money and that I was expected to plan the date. "If you don't mind, I'll plan the date. I'm a bit old fashioned. I like taking a girl out rather than the other way around." `A little old fashioned' was another of my criteria for the perfect man. Relieved, I told him, "I don't mind at all." "Good. This is great. When a friend sets up a blind date, I can guess what she'll be like from what my friend is like. This time, all I know is your name and whatever you tell me during this call." "I know. It's exciting, but scary," I admitted. Then I blurted out, "And I don't really want to go skinny dipping!" "I usually don't even get a kiss on the first date," he laughed, soothing me a little, "So I won't be too disappointed if we don't go skinny dipping. What do you like to do?" The show was taped. It hadn't aired yet. Rick didn't know about my comment about `skinny dipping.' I felt dumb again. I was glad he couldn't see me blush. I composed myself a little bit before I continued, "Something different. Not just dinner." "I know what you mean. Let's make it a progressive date. Are you free this Saturday? All day?" "Yes. But what do you mean by a progressive date?" "Start out early. If we hit it off, we keep doing things until we're both so exhausted we can't move. If we don't get along, we do something absolutely horrible to talk about on the show, blow the money, and cut if off early." "Sounds good to me." An escape! If he's a jerk or if he thinks I'm a jerk, we have a way out. We talked for another hour. He sounded nice. He promised that my date would be memorable. Little did I suspect how memorable! He said to dress casual and offered to pick me up at my apartment. I preferred a neutral place. He mentioned several spots. I chose a nearby restaurant and we agreed to meet at eight Saturday morning. ******** Now I was terrified. Going out with a total stranger! I tried to picture him, but the faces from the videos mixed with each other. I thought about cancelling, saying I was sick. I was crazy to get myself into this. I tossed and turned all that night, finally worrying myself to sleep in the wee hours of the morning. I worried all week. My show aired Thursday. My comment about `skinny dipping' came through loud and clear, but my protests were drowned out by the audience. Did Rick see it? I went crazy. What's `casual'? Shorts and a t-shirt? Skirt and blouse? A sweat suit? I couldn't go through with it. On Friday, I was a wreck. Everybody saw the show and teased me. After work, I went shopping, but I couldn't find anything that was casual enough but not too casual. Exhausted, I cried myself to sleep. ************* I woke up in a panic. I forget to set the alarm. It was almost eight and I still didn't know what to wear. My stomach was queazy. I hadn't eaten since lunch yesterday. I pulled things out of my closet. Nothing was right. Tina, my roommate, came in complaining about the noise I was making. "I'm sorry, Tina. I can't decide what to wear." "You never had a problem before," she quipped. "Help me, please," I whined. "Well, what did you decide to do?" "We didn't. He's planning it. I'm just supposed to wear something casual." "Here." She saved me! Designer jeans, a plain blouse, a loose tank top over it, and tennis shoes. Perfect. I dressed in a flash and ran out the door without even tying my shoes. `What if he doesn't wait for me?' I worried. Rick was sitting on the curb outside the restaurant sipping a cup of coffee. I pulled into the parking lot. He wore jeans, a t-shirt, and cowboy boots. I ran a brush through my hair before getting out of the car. "Hi, Clara. I was just enjoying the crisp morning air." "Hi. Sorry I'm late." "Only a few minutes. Besides, I needed time to calm down. I'm pretty nervous." "Me, too," I admitted, relieved that he wasn't miffed. "Let's have breakfast." Rick took my arm. We talked as we filled plates at the breakfast buffet. He promised again that I would never forget the date. "I'd never forget being raped, either," I observed. He looked me in the eyes like he could see right through me. He had big blue-green eyes sunk deep in his head. "Please don't be afraid of me. I'm crazy, but harmless," he said with a smile. "I'm nervous too. I hope I dressed alright," I said, stepping back with my loaded plate. "You look great," he reassured me. "And I brought some clothes for you, even a bathing suit. I forgot to tell you to bring one." "Ah, but I planned to go skinny dipping," I answered in a whine, kidding him. "OK," he said, "I'll even join you." I blushed. I'd never do it. Would he expect it now? He laughed at my worried expression. "Let's just see how things go." He was being so gallant. I liked him. He described how scared he was once he said that he'd plan the date. He was afraid that I might hate what he planned. "I'll try anything once," I quipped as we were finishing our breakfast, "except skinny dipping on the first date." Conversa- tion flowed easily from then on as we talked about our prepara- tions, worries, and foibles. After breakfast, I parked my car at the mall next door and climbed into his pick-up. It had a camper shell and a canoe on top. We drove into the mountains and stopped at the river bank. I helped him unload the canoe. "It's time for our first change of the day," he told me. "You may want to take off your underwear when you put this on so you don't get chaffed." He gave me a wet suit and opened the back of the truck. I climbed in. I made sure he wasn't peeking before I stripped off my clothes and put the wet suit on. I left my panties on, but I did take off my bra. The wet suit was snug. I put my tennis shoes back on and climbed out. At the river bank, Rick showed me how to kneel in the canoe. He put two big packs in. Then I helped him snap a cover over the top. He steadied it as I got in and drew the string tight around my waist. We put on a life jackets and helmets. Rick got into the rear hole in the cover and sealed himself in. We paddled around in the river just across from his truck for a while. He taught me the basics of white water canoeing. White water? He intentionally tipped the canoe and we practiced righting it with the paddles. I heard a yell from the shore and Rick waved to a friend of his who was taking the truck downstream where we'd leave the river in the afternoon. "Ready?" he finally asked. "I guess so," I replied, not too sure of myself. We turned the canoe down stream, paddling smoothly. When we hit the rapids, my job was to keep the canoe's front out front while he controlled us from the back. The river was getting faster and I started paddling harder. This was fun! Then I heard the roar. It was deafening. And terrifying! It looked like we were drifting toward the edge of the earth. I knew I was going over a waterfall to my death. The front of the canoe hesitated in midair, then fell down into a raging foam. I paddled for all I was worth. The canoe seemed to bounce and pound from side to side, up and down, and back and forth, with no sensation of going forward. I was covered with spray. Half the time, I couldn't see. Water was all around me. The front of the canoe would rise out of the water, then slam down into foam up to my chest. "Left. Paddle left!" I heard Rick yell. "Yeah, harder." I paddled as hard as I could, stroking as if my life depended on it. For all I knew, it did. We swung into a calm eddy behind a giant boulder. A fine mist flew down onto us from the top of the rock. Rapids boiled on both sides. "Are we having fun yet?" I yelled over the roar. "I am," Rick yelled back. "Let's rest for a minute." I was out of breath. I needed a rest. Rick kept us in the whirlpool behind the rock. In a few minutes, he yelled, "Ready?" "I guess so." "Then stroke us out of here." He let the canoe spin around in the whirlpool until it pointed down stream, then we stroked together to force it back into the rapids. It was getting exciting. When we made it to a smooth stretch of river, I intentionally tipped the canoe. The cold water felt good. Rick and I both laughed as we righted the canoe and continued on. "When we get through the next set," Rick yelled, "Paddle to the left shore. There's a beach at the bottom of the cliff." We descended into another rapids. I was in control now and enjoyed it more. When the water smoothed out, there was a beautiful sandy beach at the base of a tall cliff. We got out and beached the canoe. I was light headed for a second and couldn't get my legs to work after kneeling for so long. Rick laughed and helped me. We rested and talked. He said that he was glad the weather cooperated. He didn't know how he was going to do to make a date truly memorable indoors. I told him, "I'll always remember approaching that first rapid. I was afraid that we were falling off the end of the earth." "That's nothing compared to the fear of falling you'll get when we climb that," he said, pointing up the cliff. "Oh, no!" I protested. "You said you'd try anything once," he challenged. "It's safe. You'll be a climber by the end of the day." Rick described `climbing in balance.' Done right, weight goes straight down. If you hug your upper body to the rock, it pushes your feet out and causes falls. He said that this was a beginner's cliff and pointed out each hand hold and foot hold plus where he would put in `safety chock stones' and `belay anchors.' From one of the packs, he pulled out clothes for us. I got an aerobic dancing style bra top and bikini, plus canvas pants and long sleeve flannel shirt. He put on shorts and a flannel shirt. He tipped the canoe on its side so I could change on one side while he changed on the other. He had borrowed several pair of climbing boots for me. The second pair I tried on fit perfectly. Next, I was fitted with a nylon `seat' with a carabineer hooked at my waist. Then I put an equipment sling over my shoulder. Rick sat me on a little ledge a couple feet above the beach and wedged `chock stones' with wire cables attached into a crack behind me and hooked my seat to them with a carabineer. He described how to belay and warned me that his life would depend on me if he slipped. I had to keep both hands on the rope at all times, paying out a little at a time as he climbed. If he yelled, "falling," I was to bend forward, wrapping the rope around myself to hold him. My job was to `clean the wall,' prying out the chocks with the back of a hammer as I climbed up and collecting them on the equipment sling. He also showed me `jumar ascenders.' If I got stuck and couldn't climb, I could just hook them onto the climbing rope, put my feet in the slings that hung from them, and `jumar' up the rope, sliding them up the rope one at a time. I wasn't sure I was ready for this, even though I had said that I would try anything once. Then he started to climb. About 10 feet up, he put a chock into a crack, attached a carabineer, and snapped the climbing rope in. I watched him climb another 8 feet or so, when he yelled "falling" and jumped away from the wall. I bent forward, wrapping the rope around me. A microsecond later, the rope snapped tight and pulled me off of my perch. It pulled me up while the chocks and carabineer at the back of my seat held me down. Rick ended up hanging right next to me. "Hi," he grinned. "Hi," I replied, proud of myself. "I think you've got it." "I hope so." "So do I." Rick started climbing again. He was half way up the cliff when he stopped and set his belay anchor. After a minute, he yelled "Ready?" Too late to chicken out now. I yelled back, "On belay?" "Belay on. Climb." "Climbing," I yelled back. When I tried to get up, I realized that I was still anchored in. I pried the chocks out of the crack, hooked the carabineer onto my equipment sling and started up. Within a minute, I was out of breath. I never realized how much work mountain climbing is. And, according to Rick, this was a beginner's wall. I easily found the hand and foot holds, keeping three points in contact with the rock. I had to continually coach myself to `climb in balance.' I instinctively wanted to hug the rock. At 10 feet up, I had to pry out a chock. It was wedged in good and when it popped out, I slipped and `kissed the rock.' Rick coached me in getting my feet back onto the little foot holds. Then he described `tension.' "When you say `tension,' I pull the rope taught. Then you can just lean back in your seat and use both hands. Try it." Ten feet is a long way off the ground for me, but I'll try anything once, right? "Tension," I yelled. Actually, the rope was already tight. I had barely dropped three inches when I slipped. This time, I kept my footing and cautiously let go. I pried out the chock and continued to climb. Once, on a long reach with my arm, my leg started `motor boating' -- quivering uncontrollably. "Just lean back and relax for a minute," Rick advised. He climbed the pitch in ten minutes. It took me an hour to reach his narrow perch. He hooked me into his anchor and had me turn around. When I looked down, I almost fainted. We rested a while and I relaxed. The view was great. Then it was time to go to the top. Rick climbed the next fifty feet, and I climbed after him, cleaning the wall. There I was, 70 feet off the ground hanging from a thin orange rope. I looked up and saw Rick taking pictures of me. At the top, he set a rapel anchor. He described the rapel, put on his gloves and down he went. I wasn't too sure about this. I snapped myself into the rope and leaned back. Rick yelled to lean back more, that I was too upright. I slipped and `kissed the rock' again. It took a few minutes, but I finally got up the courage to lean all the way back until my feet were flat against the wall and my body was horizontal with the earth. It's a scary feeling at first. Rick yelled, "Now turn around." He had the rope around his leg and was taking pictures. I slowly inched my way down at first. Then I got brave and kicked myself away from the wall like I'd seen on TV. It was fun! I got to the bottom too soon and wanted to rapel again. We dropped our equipment and shed our shirts. Rick then led me up a trail off to our left. It was an easy ten minute hike to the top of the cliff. We rapelled down again. This time, I went down in four big bounds. The river mist and shade were cool earlier, but the sun was now shining over the cliff onto our little beach. It was also lunch time. Rick brought out sandwich fixings and drinks for a picnic on the beach. I shed the canvas pants and stretched out on the tarp he spread. My muscles were tight from the paddling and climbing. Rick massaged all the tension away with suntan oil. I couldn't believe my morning. As I lay there under his expert hands, I wondered, `What's next?' I fantasized about going skinny dipping with him. I wanted him to kiss me. I even fantasized about making love on our private beach on the Rappahannock River. I dozed off, dreaming. Rick woke me after an hour's nap. It was time to move on. Together, we packed the canoe and shot a couple more rapids before we paddled to the shore where Rick's pick-up was parked. We put all the gear away. Rick said I had to keep the exercise bikini. It couldn't be returned. We took a swim in the river. It was cold. My nipples hardened under the unlined exercise top. I was embarrassed, at first. Then I sort of hoped Rick would notice and enjoy the view. I think I look pretty good, even though I'm not as athletic as he is. I work out at a spa three times a week. We walked along the shore and talked about everything in the world. I told Rick about my job as a receptionist for a law firm. He told me how he loved the `gym' as he called the health club. We agreed that we had enough adventure for one day. "You're going to be sore tomorrow, you know." I could feel the tightness in my muscles from the unaccustomed use. I knew he was right. He gave me another massage. His strong hands felt good on my bare legs. He massaged places that I would never let any other man touch on a first date. Somehow it was just right this time. Conversation came easy as we drove back toward the city. We talked about favorite TV shows and music. We joked about previous disastrous dates. He kidded me about skinning my nose as I `kissed the rock.' His interests are all outdoors and athletics. He spends most weekends hiking, climbing or white water canoeing. In winter, he goes cross country skiing. My interests are more sedate. I like to dream and read. I love to go to the beach and just lay around soaking up the sun. We had nothing in common except some chemical or animal attraction. Rick had made reservations for a dinner theater. That was my part of the date. I got $50.00 to spend as I wished. Rick took me back to my car and followed me home. He waited patiently with Tina while I showered and changed. Red showered and changed too. I was amazed when he came out, dressed to the nines in a white evening jacket and bow tie. Tina was impressed too. He apologized that the best show in town was booked. I had no complaints. The food was great and the show was good. As we left, Rick commented, "I enjoyed the food and show, but it interfered with our conversation." I agreed. I liked talking with Rick and even though I leaned my head on his shoulder during the show, the show put as much distance between us as the holes in the canoe cover. "Are you ready to call it a night?" he asked. "Are you?" answering his question with a question. I didn't want this date to ever end, but I was afraid Rick was tired or tired of me. "Let me show you my gym," Rick answered. So, at midnight, we went to tour his spa. Exit signs provided the only illumina- tion. It's a well equipped health club with a pool and sauna as well as all the exercise equipment. "How about skinny dipping in the hot tub?" he asked, holding my arms and looking straight into my eyes. I was glad it was dark so he couldn't see my blush. I actually wanted to, but I was scared. "Not on a first date." "Then I'll get you a suit. The jacuzzi will help take some of the tightness out of your muscles so you won't be so sore tomorrow." He punched in the code to turn off the alarm and opened the club's shop. He picked up a tiny bikini like female body builders wear in competition. It's designed to show all and hide nothing. I went to the locker room and changed. I ended up almost as exposed in the suit as I would be nude. I was glad he left the lights off so he couldn't see too much. When I got to the tub, Rick was already soaking. He had brought in a single candle, a rosebud in a vase, fruit drinks and snacks. He held my hand as I stepped in and sat down beside him. I sank down in the water up to my chin. It felt so good! Rick massaged all the remaining tightness out of my neck and shoulders. Then he lifted my legs onto his lap and massaged them. Then I felt something brush the side of my leg. "What was that?" "What?" he asked with mock innocence. "That," I told him, making sure I wasn't imagining something that wasn't there. "Just because you chickened out doesn't mean I did," he chided. What touched my leg was exactly what I thought it was! "You mean I'm sitting in this tub with a naked man?" "Yep," he kidded, "And on a first date." I was horrified. Then I thought about what a gentleman he had been. I hadn't noticed for fifteen minutes. My mind was whirling. I'm in a hot tub wearing the tiniest of bikinis with a nude man that I just met this morning. I must be crazy! Then I got crazier. "Who says I chickened out?" I untied the top of my bikini and threw it out of the pool. Then I slipped off the bottom. I giggled. It was so naughty! I had never done anything so daring in my whole life. The water was up to my chin so he couldn't see anything. Actually, it was so dark we could hardly see each other anyway. But he knew I was naked and I knew he was too. He leaned over, held my shoulders and kissed me. It wasn't an erotic or passionate kiss, no Frenching or anything like that. But it was a kiss. I thought I felt the hair on his chest brush my nipples. A rush went all the way through me. I wondered if I had made a mistake. "I'm glad you got your courage up," he said simply. "But your friends will never believe it." I giggled again. "You're right about that. They all think I'm a prude." "I can't imagine why. Half the guys in the city must be chasing a girl as pretty as you." "But meeting new people is so hard. And you never know if they're weird or murderers or what. It seems like all the nice guys are queer or married." "Sometimes you have to take risks. `Try anything once.'" "I'm not one to take risks." "You couldn't prove it by me. Now, let's end the evening with an all over body massage." A chill ran down my spine. Rick was trying to seduce me. He got me naked. Now he wants to feel me up. "No. I don't think so. It's time I got home." "If you won't let me give you a massage, would you rub my shoulders?" he asked. "They're kind of sore." "Why not?" I said. Rick got out of the tub. I strained in the dim candle light to see, but couldn't. He took a towel and wrapped it around his waist. Then he brought more towels over. He turned his back as I wrapped one around me. Then he took my hand and led me to the massage room. He took his towel off and laid down on the table. I found some lotion and poured some on his shoulders. I did the best I could at massaging him. I could feel his hard muscles relax. Neither of us said a word. When I paused, Rick sat up and looked at me in the dim light. "Sometimes you have to take risks, Clar'. Even the risk that a nude massage might turn us on." I stood motionless, trying to decide how to react. One little voice inside me was saying, `Run, or you'll become a date rape statistic.' Another was saying, `It's worth the risk.' I was frozen. Chills ran down my spine while heat radiated from my face and neck. I wanted this man, but I was scared to death of what he would think of me allowing him to take me on a first date. I was dying for his touch at the same time I dreaded it. -- +----------------' Story submission `-+-' Moderator contact `--------------+ | | | | Archive site +----------------------+--------------------+ Newsgroup FAQ | ----