Message-ID: <24179asstr$958637414@assm.asstr-mirror.org> X-Original-Path: corp.supernews.com!not-for-mail From: "Jack of all trades" X-Original-Message-ID: Reply-To: "Jack of all trades" X-Priority: 3 X-MSMail-Priority: Normal X-MimeOLE: Produced By Microsoft MimeOLE V5.00.2615.200 Subject: {ASSM} (Jack) An Extraordinary Woman <*> (MF, Rom) Date: Thu, 18 May 2000 04:10:14 -0400 Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail Approved: Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d X-Archived-At: X-Moderator-Contact: ASSTR ASSM moderation X-Story-Submission: X-Moderator-ID: gill-bates, dennyw {ASSM} (Jack) An Extraordinary Woman <*> (MF, Rom) This work of fiction is for the entertainment of adults in locations where it is legal. If it is illegal in your location, don't read it! This work is copyrighted. Reposting or any other use is strictly prohibited without the express, written permission of the copyright holder. E-mail me, I'll probably give you permission. I just want to know and control where it is posted. This story may be posted as part of a review or to the ASSM archive. My thanks to Expert Editor, Ruthie, for her editing and suggestions. Any errors you find are my fault not hers. Tell me what you liked, or didn't like. Please! E-mail address: jackofalltrades@post.com My stories can be found at my website: http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/j/wwwoat or http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/Jack_of_all_Trades/ Copyright 2000 by Jack of all Trades Special thanks to Ruthie, an extraordinary woman in her own right, for providing guidance when I strayed from the path. An Extraordinary Woman by Jack of all Trades I sat at my desk, morning cup of coffee at my right hand. I flipped to the sports section of the paper first. Caught myself up on the scores from the night before. Found out which rich baseball player was going into rehab this week, which football player was charged with a violent crime. Then I flipped to the obituaries. Middle age does that to you. Instead of being occupied with the here and now, you're occupied with the hereafter. Or at least I was. That's how I found out Jill Marquiss had died. I hadn't seen her in years, although I never stopped thinking about her and what she meant in my life. ----- I first met Jill when I was a young man of seventeen, a senior in high school. She was twenty-six and lived in the next town. I will always remember the date - June 7, 1975. Jill was the most gorgeous creature I had ever set eyes on. Long chestnut brown hair, so full and curly, it could have been a pillow. Gray eyes, the color of a dirty sky, sparkled with mischief and mirth. Full red lips drew attention to a small beauty mark at the right corner of her mouth. But the most beautiful thing on her face was the smile. Sexy with a touch of innocence, it could melt men's hearts and often did. If you only saw Jill's face you could fall in love with her. But once you saw her body there was no doubt. Her body screamed sex in big, bold, capital letters. Full, firm breasts capped with strawberry nipples that were at least a half-inch long when erect. Her breasts stood out from her chest proudly and never needed support. Long, long legs and at their juncture a small triangle that accented the lips of her sex. She had an ass, Lord, what an ass. It was perfection in shape and size. That first day I was more nervous than a long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs. I knocked tentatively at the door, and she greeted me with a big smile and a warm hug. She invited me into a narrow, dark foyer that smelled of musty carpets. The room she led me to was average size for a bedroom, with a large bed against the wall between two windows. The wallpaper and comforter were decorated with matching lavender flowers. On one side of the bed stood a single wooden chair, on the other a nightstand and lamp with a blue shade that matched the flowers. The room was neat and orderly with a scent, Jill's scent, I would come to discover, of lavender. The room was understated, contrasting sharply with its occupant. She was dressed in a silk kimono, hair pinned high, face marvelously made up, bright red lipstick. Wild flowers and colors competed for attention against her beauty. "My, you're a handsome fellow," Jill said. "Th-thank you, ma'am." Jill laughed. "None of that ma'am stuff when you're with me, unless you want to play those sorts of games. Just call me Jill. What's your name?" "R-r-russell, Russell DeWitt." "Hello, Russell. Would you mind if I called you Russ?" I shook my head no. "Good. Well, Russ, what's your pleasure? Got anything special in mind?" "N-n-no." Jill walked, no, glided over to me. She took my hand. "Goodness, you're shaking like a leaf. Do I frighten you?" I wasn't scared of her, just frightened by her beauty, among other things. I shook my head violently. "Russ, honey, I need you to answer this one for me. I know it might be embarrassing, but are you a virgin?" "Yes," I whispered. And I was here for precisely that reason. I wanted more than just a hurried encounter in the backseat of a car. A friend told me about Jill and I saw her as the solution to my problem. His description of Jill hadn't done her justice. "Oh, honey, that's so sweet." She wrapped her arms around me, crushing her breasts against my chest, and brought her lips to mine. She kissed me with a passion that left me breathless, shaking and quivering in my shoes. Jill tugged my hand and led me to the bed. "Sit for me, sweetie." I sat on the edge of the bed and Jill removed my shoes and socks, put a sock in each shoe, and shoved them under the bed. She stood up, then sat beside me. Jill leaned over and kissed me on the cheek. "You just relax for me, sweetheart. We're going to have a good time." Her fingers unbuttoned my shirt, then her hand slid inside to rub my chest softly. She peeled my shirt over my shoulders and pulled the tail from my pants. Folding it neatly, she placed it on the chair by her bed. "Good Lord, Russ, you sure do have a lot of muscles. Do you work out?" "N-no, ma'am, I mean Jill." She smiled sweetly at my mistake. "I work at the feed mill on weekends and after school." "And you got all those muscles from doing that?" "Yes." She slid off the bed and knelt at my feet. "Stand up for me, baby." I stood and Jill expertly undid my belt buckle and unfastened my jeans. She grasped the tab to the zipper, and slowly pulled it down. Little tremors shook my body as each tooth on the zipper parted. I was almost panting by the time she reached the bottom. She let my jeans slide to my feet, then her soft hands slid inside the waistband of my shorts. Jill worked them slowly over my hips, sliding them downward until my erection sprang free. "My, my, my," she murmured. She let my shorts drop to my feet. "Step out of those for me, sweetie." I stepped out of my clothes and Jill picked them up, folded them, and placed them on the chair. She turned down the comforter on the bed, exposing the crisp, clean sheets below. "Climb up on the bed and make yourself comfortable, Russ." I followed her directions and lay back on a pillow. Jill climbed onto the bed and lay beside me, pressing herself softly against my arm. She rolled up on her side, softly stroked my cheek. Her gray eyes stared into mine. "You're still trembling," she whispered to me. "Honey, it's okay. We're going to have a lot of fun together, but we need to get past this." Her hand slid down my stomach then softly gripped my shaft. I moaned and shook. "See, you're entirely too tense." She kissed down my chest, across my stomach. I moaned and shook some more, having a good idea what was coming. Jill didn't disappoint me, her lips wrapped around the head of my penis, then she slid me into the heat of her mouth. It started in my toes. They clenched tightly, my legs shook, and my stomach quivered. Then I convulsed and pulsed, thickly and powerfully, jet after jet, until I felt so weak I could hardly move. Jill slid up my body and lay back down beside me, kissing me softly on the cheek. "You taste so sweet," she whispered then hugged me tightly to her breasts. I was dazed and fulfilled, completely under her spell. Jill let me rest for a few moments more, then relaxed her hold on me. I sank back into the pillow. "Russ, you need to make a choice. I can get you hard and we can make love, or I can teach you how to love a woman. Which do you want?" It's funny how life presents you with choices when you have no idea how important your decision will be. I wanted nothing more than to make love to Jill, to sink inside her and lose myself in her arms, to lose my virginity. That was why I came here after all. And now I lay beside the most gorgeous woman I had ever met in my life, a woman who was perfectly willing to help me accomplish my goal, and it no longer mattered. "Teach me," I whispered. Jill laughed, rolling on top of me and kissing me so hard my lips hurt. "God, baby, you have no idea how much fun you're going to have. Sweetheart, when I'm through with you there won't be a woman in the state safe from your charms." ----- Jill taught me, Lord God, did she teach me. But she was wrong. There was at least one woman in the state who was immune - Jill herself - and, unfortunately, she was the only one I wanted. My education in lovemaking was expensive. Jill didn't work for free, but it was worth every penny I paid her. I saw her as much as I could. I worked odd jobs after classes and weekends to scrape together her fee. I returned to the small Victorian house at the end of the street whenever I had enough for that month's lesson. I'd ring the bell and Jill would open the door, welcoming me with that big smile and a tight hug. Her clothes, most often a soft, sheer, flowery kimono, were designed more to arouse than to cover. We'd talk softly as she led me to her room. Loud voices simply weren't in keeping with the nature of the occasion or the woman. Jill's voice had a breathless quality that left me weak. She always started by asking me how I was doing in school. She seemed to take a real interest, then she would instruct me. "Honey, to seduce a woman you need to get inside her head. Talk with her, find out the things she likes. Touch her softly, just little touches, nothing obvious. Watch her eyes, don't glance downwards. It's not her body you want, it's here," Jill said tapping her forehead. Jill would teach and then we would make love. She was determined I would learn all the techniques, all the nuances that went into loving a woman. Those were my favorite moments, gentle breezes rustling the curtains, the smell of lavender and Jill, a gasp, a sigh, a laugh, and finally a smile as I melted into her arms. There I would lie, cushioned by the pillows of her breasts, until I recovered. She would rock me awake and send me on my way. "Baby, we're done for today. You need to practice this a lot. You get this down and the rest is easy. Come back and see me when you're ready for the next lesson." It wasn't easy to leave her. Even worse were the times I had to skip a month because I was short money. I missed her warmth, the sweet smell of lavender. At least I could talk to her on the phone. I was happy when I could tell her I wanted to come see her, happier still when I was ringing the doorbell. Each lesson was important. She taught me patience and how to take my time. "Sweetheart, once she's undressed you don't rush to make love. You need to stroke her softly, let the softness of your touch arouse her body. Like this." Jill stroked my arms softly, across my chest. Little tingles shook my body. "Now you try," she said lying back on the bed. I stroked along her side, my hands slid across her flat stomach, then upward to stroke the softness of her breast. Jill grabbed my hand. "No, baby. Too fast. You have to make her want you to touch her there. Your hands have to touch everywhere else. You never touch between her legs or her breasts until she's ready. You know the signs, watch for them." I scrimped and saved with a discipline I didn't know I possessed to come up with Jill's fee each month. Finally, she told me she had nothing left to teach. I was disappointed and dejected, but I knew I could still see her when I had the money. By then I loved her, desperately, with an all-consuming passion that left me weak in her presence. --------------- The date was June 7, 1980. I was 22 and thought I owned the world. It was five years to the day since I first met Jill. I had just graduated college and was still seeing her as often as I could. Although the lessons were long over, I had never even tried to tear myself away. She was the woman I'd loved since high school. I couldn't imagine living without her. I remember the date well, not only because my formal education was done, but also for what I decided to do. I quickly found a job selling pharmaceuticals for Pfiskar, who had a large factory at the other end of town. Between seeing Jill almost every month, buying a car, and taking over my living expenses from Mom and Dad, I wasn't able to save much money at a time. I determined to watch every penny spent, then celebrate next June 7 in a special way. A few days before June 7 rolled around again, I went to Rickard's and purchased a ring. It was small but it represented all my love, all my dreams. I knew she would accept my proposal. She loved me and wanted to be mine. I simply knew it. The sun shone brightly and there was a slight breeze that made the early-morning heat comfortable. A few wispy white clouds scuttled across the sky, pushed along by the breeze. I had a spring in my step, almost a bound, as I was pushed along by excitement and anticipation. I could picture Jill the day we would marry. Dressed in white, breathtakingly gorgeous, sunlight through the stained glass windows cascading a kaleidoscope of colors across her. I held her hand as I slipped the ring, my ring, onto her finger. I bounded up the steps to her house with a smile on my face, shaking my head to clear the daydreams. I wanted to remember every part of this, every moment as long as I lived. I pressed the doorbell, hearing the soft chimes ring within the house, while I stepped nervously from foot to foot. Jill opened the door, flashed her smile at me, and for a brief moment I forgot why I was there. She was dressed in a negligee of the deepest royal blue. Her chestnut hair swooped and curled down across her shoulders. Gray eyes appraised my reaction to her and twinkled with delight. She had never been more beautiful. I remembered to breathe and gasped in a deep breath. My heart melted, I needed her so much. "Hi baby, I've been waiting for you," she said, stepping back slightly so I could come in. I walked, legs barely able to hold me up, inside to her small foyer, then dropped to my knees and took her hand. "Will you marry me, Jill?" I stared up at her, seeing in her face a mixture of love and anguish. She stroked my cheek softly. She managed to hide what I know now was surprise. She pulled me gently to my feet and led me to her bedroom, where she plopped me down into the wooden chair next to her bed. What she said next was difficult for me to hear, but I think even more difficult for her to say. "Oh, Russ. I'm not the sort of girl you want to marry. Honey, what we have, it's... it's all about sex, not love. You're a man who needs both, Russ. You need to find a woman who can give you both. You know how to love a woman, now you need to find one worthy of your love." She wiped a wayward tear from my cheek. I felt lost and despondent. "Russ, if ever there was a man I could marry, it would be you, but I'm not the marrying kind." I nodded. There wasn't much else to say. It hadn't happened at all like I had imagined. I hurt for a while but couldn't stay away. The next time, she greeted me as if nothing had happened and loved me like I was the only man who existed. I was happy again. ----- I tried to find the elusive woman Jill had described. Monthly I would return to her and we made love. Sweetly, passionately, completely, but only for an hour. As that special hour of each month passed in her arms, my love for her never wavered. The next year on June 7 I asked her again to marry me, and again Jill rejected my proposal. For a short while she became angry with me. She was clearly losing patience with a 23-year old, whose fantasies wouldn't allow him to take no for an answer. "I didn't teach you all that I did, just so you could use it on me. Find someone you can love and use it on her," she demanded. I had already had several girls during college and after, but none of them meant anything to me, not like Jill. "I already did, it didn't work." "Damn you, Russ. I can't marry you, even if I wanted to. You can't be married to a prostitute. Think about what it would do to your future. I'd be like a giant stone hanging around your neck. You don't need that." The hell of it was, I did. But Jill was right. I couldn't afford the burden of marrying a prostitute. Not while I was building my career. Scandal and gossip weren't conducive to advancement. But I still loved her with all my heart. Nothing else mattered, it seemed. I promised myself that once I was set I would ask Jill again. ----- I continued to see Jill every month. She was my obsession. In her arms I was content. In her room of lavender and flowers I was at peace. Into her body I poured my love. As my financial situation improved I saw her more often, treasuring the moments we had together. Basking in the glow of my love for her. Jill chided me, softly, gently, to find a woman I could love who would return that love to me. I tried, but the women I met couldn't compete with the woman I loved. I did love her. Completely, unreservedly, and I didn't give a damn about scandal or careers or anything else but her. I fantasized about life with Jill. I even came to accept that if we married she would continue to see customers. I didn't care, the thought, the dream, of holding her in my arms at night was so overpowering that no obstacle, no matter how large, was going to stand in my way. Through it all I worked and maneuvered my way through the corporate labyrinth. I applied some of Jill's teachings to work, watching and observing, learning everything I could. I was finally offered a position as Sales Manager of one of Pfiskar's smaller product lines. I was valuable enough to the company that I knew they wouldn't fire me over a personal peccadillo if they ever found out about Jill. I told her so at our next meeting, June 7, 1983, our eighth anniversary. I should say, the date I counted as my anniversary with Jill, the date I first met her and the date I first asked her to marry me. She didn't have a sentimental streak, didn't distinguish one date from another. Things like that were meaningless to her. I remember her telling me she never even observed her birthday. As I had for all the years I knew her, I asked Jill to marry me. Jill, of course, refused. "Russ, you have to stop. It isn't doing either one of us any good. Honey, you can see me anytime you want, you know that. If I married you I'd have to give all this up, but I can't do that. I enjoy it." She smiled wickedly. My heart fluttered. "And honey, you know better than anyone else just how much I enjoy it." ----- The next year I fell in love with a wonderful woman, or at least the part of my heart that didn't love Jill did, and we married. I was 26 and ready to settle down. She was a few years older than me. I guess Jill had given me a taste for older women. For the first few years she was enough. When she became pregnant with our first child, I found myself thinking of Jill more and more. I needed to feel her warm body, smell her aroma, slip into her wetness. I don't know how many times I picked up the phone to call her. I fought it until I was exhausted. Jill welcomed me into her arms. She hadn't changed much, just a few more pounds that added to her body's lushness. She was still beautiful and sexy, time seemed only to enhance her. Every movement she made was erotic and heightened my arousal. When I felt as if I would burst, she took me to bed. We made love passionately, furiously, as if we were trying to cram all the times we had missed into one hour. At the end of the hour she told me she had no one else scheduled if I wanted to stay longer. I did. With the clock stopped, I took my time. I relished the sight of her, with her chestnut hair fanned out around her on the pillow, the soft curves and unblemished skin that were heaven to touch. I reveled in the quiet sighs, and soft moans I coaxed from her. I drank from her sweetness until neither of us could wait a moment longer, then plunged inside her, shivering and shaking while sweat cooled on our bodies. When we recovered we talked. "Russ, tell me what's wrong. Why are you here? Your wife is waiting for you somewhere out there." "I don't know. It's not anything in particular, it's just, just, she isn't you." "Jill smiled at me sadly. "Honey, she never will be. She can't be. But she's your wife. You love her and that's enough. I'll be here for you if you need me but you need to stop. You're getting older now with a little baby you should be thinking of more than me. I'm not good for you, Russ. You have to stop the fantasies, they aren't going to happen." ----- At the very beginning, when I first met Jill, I thought about her constantly, loved her with an all-consuming passion, begged her to marry me and was constantly rebuffed. As the years passed and my life changed, my passion changed too, seeming to dissipate more each year. I still hungered for her much too often, but it was different. I hungered for the Jill of 1975, the Jill that patiently instructed me in the art of loving a woman, the Jill that made me a man. She was a figure of my past, a dream unrealized, a longing that time, in its relentless march, quieted into fond memories of a life I used to have. It was now 1990 and for the first time in many years I felt I was past where I still had to cling to Jill. Her words connected with me and I realized now she was a dream I could possess only as long as I had the requisite fee and an imagination that could overlook the obvious. Rationally, I knew she had never truly felt for me what I felt for her. I was her lover, yes, but I was first and foremost her paying customer. I hurt inside for the loss of the illusion and because I finally realized that the love I had for her for fifteen years, had never been rational. And that, perhaps, was Jill's greatest and final lesson. I packed my love for her away in a special place that no one could ever touch or see, and opened the rest of my heart to my wife. With her I finally found what I had been searching for in Jill's arms. I realized, finally, that she couldn't be Jill. She could be better. ----- I wept at Jill's funeral. I hadn't seen her in years, but I wept anyway, wept for all the years of unrequited love, for the countless hours in her bed, sun streaming through the window, spilling across her to highlight the wondrous curves of her body. I wept because the dream I had so carefully nurtured, lovingly packed away in the recesses of my mind, was dead. And because a part of me, a part of my past, had died with her. There were many mourners, mostly men. That wasn't surprising. She died because a drunk driver ran a red light and plowed into her car. I stood there, staring at the gravesite. I had no idea what I was waiting for. A sign? Yeah, that it was truly over. A whisper of a breeze wafted the scent of lavender from the flowers that adorned her grave. Tears welled in my eyes and my throat tightened. I still loved her, but it was time to bid farewell to the extraordinary woman that taught me how to love. I clutched the piece of paper they handed out at the funeral. I read it one last time. Jill Elise Marquiss Born: March 12, 1949 Died: June 7, 1996 I wept. THE END -- Jack of all Trades E-mail: jackofalltrades@post.com My stories can be found at my website: http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/j/wwwoat or http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/Jack_of_all_Trades/ -- Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated. +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+ | alt.sex.stories.moderated ----- send stories to: | | FAQ: Moderator: | +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+ |Archive: Hosted by Alt.Sex.Stories Text Repository | |, an entity supported entirely by donations. | +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+