Callie loves Barry…till he cheats on her. She breaks up with him and subsequently gets involved in an email relationship with a mystery man: Green Knight. Callie and “Green” are both involved in a local dog-lovers’ group, fighting City Hall. One day her mystery man invites her to a costume party. Will she finally get to meet the man she has been fantasizing about? Will he be a suitable romantic partner? Can she trust him not to cheat on her? Is there a happy ending in store for her? The heat ramps up starting with a tryst in a greenhouse as Callie and “Green” go at it surreptitiously, away from the other partygoers. Will they get caught? Can they see each other again after this? Do they have a future together?
Callie wondered if GreenKnight might be her “white knight,” the man who would sweep into her life, rescue her from her aloneness—and her residual anger and hurt over Barry—and bring new joy and a new dimension into her world. But of course, she had never seen his face. She didn’t know if he was young, old, or possibly even had an offputting face in some way. Well, she could even handle it if he was disfigured, but if it turned out she was building fantasies over a teenager or a geezer.…
And she was building fantasies. There was no denying it. She was caught up by, enraptured with this crusading do-gooder with the can-do attitude and the get-it-done results. But she had to know if she was chasing up a blind alley.
They had begun a correspondence by now. Callie took it as a good sign that “Green” (as she now called him) was interested enough in her to write back and forth to her, and she used this opportunity to try to find out more about him. “It’s unusual to find someone with the energy of a teenager yet enough free time to do as much as you do, such as usually only a retiree would have at his disposal. Am I stereotyping here or what?” she wrote cautiously.
Callie held her breath when she got his reply, but she exhaled deeply and gratefully when she read: “I am neither a teen nor a geezer. LOL. Try splitting the difference. I am in my early thirties.” She was twenty-nine herself. Whew! He was just the right age for her.
Callie’s next discreet inquiry was regarding Green’s occupation…if he had one. Since he had so much free time, she reasoned, he might be unemployed. Once again, the answer was reassuring: “I’m on the tech crew of the Sunnyside Theatre. I have so much free time by day because the bulk of my work is done in the evenings. Yes, we have rehearsals and other work during some daytime hours, but most of my working hours are put in after dark.”
The correspondence flew thick and fast now, although they still mostly talked about Pro Dog matters. Callie did tell Green that she managed a floral warehouse, and Green did admit to an overwhelming fondness for chicken-fried steak, but mostly they didn’t talk about themselves except in relationship to the organization. The more passionate Green became about their cause, the more Callie respected him. The more creative Green became in dreaming up ways to advance their agenda, the more Callie admired him. She was halfway enamored of him already…and she still didn’t know his name or what he looked like.
Maybe it’s best if I never meet him, she thought to herself more than once. This way I can’t get hurt or disappointed. She certainly didn’t want a repeat of what had happened with Barry. Then again, she did want a boyfriend. She did want to fall in love again…if only she could have some kind of guarantee that this time she wouldn’t get hurt. She knew she couldn’t go through life forever shying away from relationships for fear of getting her heart broken, yet she couldn’t help being gun-shy after this last bad experience.
Again his tongue made contact with her clit, but this time, too, the contact didn’t last. She reached for his head in the darkness, found it, and tried to press him down against her mound. He fought free. It was clear he was determined to set the pace himself, and it was also clear that that pace was to be a slow, taunting, teasing one.
Now his tongue made a circle around her clit without ever touching the tip. Callie was in an agony of need. She groaned mightily and put her hand to her clit. Green firmly removed it and gave it a light slap as if to say, “Naughty! Naughty!” But he did resume his licking, and this time he left his tongue in place and slid it across her clit repeatedly. Using the raspy side of his tongue, he tantalized her clitty button with slow, measured strokes that were far less frustrating yet not fast enough to bring her to the orgasm she needed so badly.
She humped up and down, her fuck motions frantic and furious as she strove to get off, and finally Green took pity on her and got down to pleasuring her in earnest. Now his tongue zeroed in on her clitty and stayed glued to it. He drilled her clit with precision despite the way her body was jumping all over at the surging need that roiled through her loins. Her breath was short and shallow, her head rolled from side to side, and her fists beat a tattoo on the wooden flooring as she drummed it frantically. She was almost there.
“Don’t stop now!” she whispered, straining to reach her climax, and he stayed with it and didn’t stop, flipping his tongue rapidly across the very tip of her clit. She was rising higher and higher toward climax, gasping for breath now, straining to get off, desperate for the release of orgasm. And then she was there, tumbling over the edge as waves flooded her body. She relaxed, her fists uncurling, her toes uncurling, the taut muscles throughout her body letting go and going limp.