A Journey Resumed
By James Bellamy
Chapter One
"Francesca?!!"
"Uh ......yes?"
The voice was vaguely familiar. But, Francesca
couldn't quite place it. She disliked phone calls
that started with this guessing game. It made her
uncomfortable - someone familiar enough to use her
first name, but not quite recognizable.
"I'm just calling to see if I'm still the only person
who is allowed to call you 'Frannie'?"
"You're kidding me! Emma? .. Not good Em? It
can't be you, .. really?" She felt a strange
excitement mixed with incredulity. Emma, her best
friend from ........ how many years ago ..............
Twenty, twenty-five?
"Yes!!!!!"
"Good grief, how long .......... How long has it been?
I guess it is, can it be ....twenty years? I remember
you as an annual post card from Paris, or Timbuktu.
Good grief, how are you? I mean, where are you. How
did you find me? All those questions!!!!!!!!"
"Well, I am back in the USA and just visited the
home town, found your still there and 'Voila',
here I am practically on your doorstep! And stop
asking me how long it has been, you snot, it will make
me feel old! And I'm not, by the way. Bet you're not
either, right?"
Emma had been her best friend up until the age of 17
when her moved to, first, Texas, then Paris,
then someplace in the Far East. They had long since
lost any real touch with each other. Francesca
thought of her sometimes, relishing the memories and
sometimes feeling about the "growing-up"
insecurities they had shared. All the
neighborhood childhood games, going to camp together,
figuring out boyfriends together, it sprang back
easily and sometimes uncomfortably, but mostly it was
a warm place to retreat to. She missed that kind of
friendship in adulthood.
"Right! I'm still just the same, haven't gained a
pound or formed a wrinkle. Lucky, eh?"
Their easy laughter still came bubbling to the surface
quickly, easily, like a warm friendly spring flooding
over them.
"Well, where are you, Em? Are you really here? Here
in Chicago? Where? How can we get together? You
better not be kidding me!"
"It is a little strange, babe, but we just moved here;
here to Chicago. I live about ten blocks south of
you! I just walked in the door and couldn't wait to
call. Can you come over here? Can you come now? We
need to catch up, big time! I'm literally dying to
see you. Say you'll come!"
"Why not, I really planned to get at that laundry, but
I guess I could break the date! How do I get there?"
The taxi ride was a short one. Just ten blocks down
Outer Drive Parkway. Francesca passed her mind's eye
over a fairly normal childhood of fond memories -
slumber parties at Emma's house, sharing intimate
details and questions huddled on her bed in the big
pink bedroom that had been their home and haven from
the world. She felt a strange tingling as she thought
of it.
Really, Emma had probably been the first person she
really felt love for -- probably only recognized now,
from the vantage point of maturity and a well-
developed understanding and appreciation of life.
Yes.. love, that was definitely the word for it.
"Now what is it going to be like. God, what if we
hate each other? What if we are bored? Think of all
the memories sullied!" She couldn't get over the
excitement of seeing her again. "Mustn't raise the
hopes too, high," she thought. We've both gone off
and found our part of the world, both changed in god
knows what ways."
The door to Apartment 1510 opened immediately and a
still willowy, now blond, grown up version of her
friend Emma wrapped her in a welcoming bear hug.
"Frannie - you look wonderful," a big kiss followed.
"I promise that's the last Frannie' I'll utter,
promise!"
"Emma, look how you grew up. God, you're a Vamp!"
She led the way to an opulent sunken living room with
deep pile rugs scattered over a white carpet. Emma
handed her down two steps and into the arms of a large
curved sofa, so soft and plump that Francesca felt
engulfed.
"How about something to drink?" Her smile was just as
it was when she was fifteen -- wide, full of teeth and
warm.
"Yes, please, white wine would do fine?"
Over a bottle of Chablis, their conversation sprang
immediately back to life in spite of the years that
had passed. It was amazing, especially considering
that they were seventeen years the last time they
were together. It soon seemed as if there had not
been a lapse and really, they filled in the gaps with
fast talk between reminiscences of growing up.
In a pause between stories, Emma finally said:
"You know, I worried that we would have trouble
talking after all these years, or that we would have
grown in completely different ways! But, look, we
haven't stopped talking and it's already eleven
o'clock. Especially since our prime interest the last
time was sex and boys, sex and boys!" Her peels of
laughter were infectious.
'Right, and look we haven't even talked about that.
How's your sex life, Em, wasn't that the way we used
to say it?"
Emma got up to get more wine and Francesca couldn't
help admiring the full beautiful curve of her bottom
under the tight white slacks. It was simply a
beautiful bottom, an artist would kill to be able to
paint the curves. She shook herself.
'Whoa, what is that about? she asked herself, laughing
quietly to herself. She also noticed that two buttons
on the silk blouse were unbuttoned. "Weren't they
buttoned before? she asked herself.
"Well, since you ask, pretty good, I'd say. James and
I have been for lo' these past fifteen years;
fairly compatible, I'd say. You've not married? How
about lovers?"
"Well yes, they've come and gone, haven't found one
yet I couldn't live without I guess! No one I found
worth giving up my privacy for. Some very nice people
though, for the most part. Maybe I'm too fussy?"
"Ugh, can't be too fussy about that subject! Anyone
currently?"
"Not at the moment, I seem to need an occasional
celibate season, I guess that's what I'm in. Sound
crazy?"
"Nope, being has its down side, though I think
we are fairly happy. It is a long time between
........... well, how should I say it. .......... You
don't get exactly stale, but something like that.
Sometimes you want something new and different to
happen and it usually doesn't. At least you can pick
your poison -- even change it!" she laughed.
"Yes, go onnnnnn! That sentence sounds like it needs
a "but........" at the end."
"Well, it doesn't matter really whether you are
married or not, if your bod says I want a new
adventure, you will eventually do it, won't you? I
mean it just makes it a bit more complicated to be
married, eh?" Emma was getting borderline
philosophical. She laughed and shook her head.
"What is going on, Em? Come on, you can tell me."
She slipped off her shoes and swung her feet up on the
couch, slipping her nylon covered toes under
Francesca's thigh as if seeking warmth. They had each
done that same maneuver back in the days; a sign
of affection and intimacy. Francesca felt the same
warm glow it had given her years ago. She waited for
Emma to continue.
"Oh, never mind, what are we getting serious about?
Remember when we were twelve you were trying to decide
to let Billy Bowman play with your or not? We
sat there and play-acted for practice and I played
Billy? Then I put my arm around your neck like in the
movies and put my hand on your tit?"
"Yes, then we fell on the floor giggling so much that
your came up and wanted to know what was so
funny?"
"Yeah, I was afraid she'd decide to throw a bucket of
water on us!" Emma guffawed.
"You must have been good, though, because I remember
that on the next Saturday, Billy got his dreams
fulfilled! I thought he was going to have a heart
attack, he was so surprised!" Francesca squeezed the
arch of Emma['s foot, strangely attracted by the sleek
nylon and warmth of her friend's foot. She withdrew
her hand quickly, regretting the squeeze a little.
Then, embarrassed at the feeling, she put her hand
back and squeezed again. They looked at each other
and smiled happily.
"It is nice to be together again, isn't it,
Francesca?"
"So, how about this James guy you married?"
"Oh, You'll like him; I'm sure. He's a true Texan.
All oil man, as they say. He's funny, easygoing, and
actually quite sexy. This sounds like a joke but is
actually true. The only compatibility problem we have
had is size!" Emma giggled wildly.
"Size?"
"Yes, size, you remember when you had that theory that
a boy's penis size could be predicted by the size of
his pointer finger? Well, wait 'til you shake hands
with James!"
They fell about laughing on the couch, ending in a
mutual hug. Francesca was aware of her
brushing Emma's and felt her nipple bristle at the
touch. It was strangely erotic, touching this
friend even in this casual way. At least it should
have been casual. "But why this ticklish feeling in
my stomach," she wondered.
Francesca had her coat on, ready to leave, when the
door swung open and the Texan himself strode in like
the Marlboro stepping off his billboard.
"Hey, howdy, where y'all headed? I'm James, and you
would be the ......... Fran .....cesca????" He
waited expectantly, his big open smile and craggy good
looks immediately making her feel comfortable, to say
nothing of the sincere blue eyes smiling into hers.
He held out his hand and she took it. Its size
dwarfed hers and she turned to Emma to greet the
expected laughing face.
She slipped her hand around his pointer finger and
squeezed. The two women laughed and leaned against
each other, weak from giggling while James stood by
with a quizzical look.
"Inside joke," Francesca, managed to gasp. "Good to
meet you, James. I'm too embarrassed to explain, but
I'm sure my best friend won't be able to keep her
mouth closed, so next time we meet I'll be embarrassed
again! ............. Promise you won't hold it
against me."
They nearly had to hold each other up with laughter as
poor James stood helplessly wondered what the hell was
going on. He felt strangely left out.
"Hey Frannie, remember at scout camp we had the
sex lecture and got scared that everyone would think
we were queer if I kissed you, my very best friend.
And I said I'd have to take you behind the door to
kiss you? Want one behind the door before you go?"
It had amused them then and here tonight, the memory
was fun again as Emma squeezed her behind the door and
planted a slightly wet kiss on her lips. Again that
tingling in her stomach. What the hell was that. A
childhood crush revisited? Good god, not with another
girl?
Francesca was a little perplexed as she stepped onto
the street and stood waiting for a cab. A frown
crossed her forehead as she pondered the evening. It
had been a sheer delight. What a treat to find that
the years could melt away and reveal an apparent soul
mate. Seemed impossible, but there was nothing about
the evening that wasn't ............... well, ......
terrific. Impossible. But what about the tingling
sensation she kept getting from the closeness, and
especially the touching..........?
The cabby opened the door and asked "where to, Miss?"
she started to get in, then stopped. "Sorry, I
changed my mind." She slammed the door. She had
spotted one of those white drawn hansom cabs.
"I need a new adventure, is this where you start? She
asked the driver.
"You bet, hop in! What's your pleasure?" He dropped
the lap robe across her lap and tipped his hat before
swinging up to his seat.
Francesca leaned back into the seat, inhaled the crisp
fall air deeply and thought over the events of the
evening re-living the from her teen years.
She put her feet up on the other seat and leaned back,
her hands in her lap under the robe. The glow of the
streetlights cast their shadows as she passed. She
found herself unbuttoning one button of the tailored
dress, rubbing slowly across her stomach and then
fondling the tuft of curls marking her prominent mound
of Venus. (She giggled at the old-fashioned romance
novel term).
Slowly, she pulled her slip up until the warmth of her
mound was under her fingertips, the silkiness of her
panties enhancing the sensual feeling. Her finger
slipped under the elastic and lace and found it's way
to the center crease of her body.
As she parted herself and slipped the finger along the
very wet valley, she muttered. "I thought so. You
tramp! All lady on the outside, but a tramp
underneath it all."
"Beg pardon?" the driver turned.
"Oh, nothing, drive on! Just muttering to myself."
She thought, 'if you only knew.'
She gazed at the stars and continued her stoking and
found her clitoris, now rigid and longing for
attention. She was very moist, ........ she loved the
feel of the creamy juices lubricating her way.
With the other hand she pulled the blanket up and
cupped her generous breast, remembering how her nipple
had tingled when they had bumped accidentally. 'It
was accidentally, after all, that was the right word,
wasn't it?'
They hit a bump, her legs tensed, and then she felt it
beginning. Her fondling finger, rubbing from side to
side rapidly now, was bringing a rising warmth, a
rattling, raging shudder up from the root of her
clitoris, up over her mound, the point of her body,
into her stomach and now exploding behind her
somewhere. Francesca clamped her legs together and
hung on as the big shudder of orgasm cascaded around
her body. She tensed her shoulders, seeming to
squeeze her large together for their combined
pleasure.
"Ohhhh!" she heard herself gasp, her eyes closed in
pleasure.
"We're here miss. How did we do?"
"I beg your pardon?" she started, looking at him
quizzically.
"How did we do? .......... I mean, at starting your
new adventure?"
"Oh,........." she laughed, "Well, we'll see. We'll
see. Very promising so far, though. Very
promising!!!"
She turned to go, then came back.
"Excuse me? Could I shake your hand for luck?" He
extended his hand; she found his pointer finger long
and thick. She smiled at him. "Have a good one!"
End of Chapter One
Comments to jbellamy@renman.net
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