Home > culture, religion, romance, seduction, sex, vigilante, writing > Lured Into A Secretive Squad (continued 17)

Lured Into A Secretive Squad (continued 17)

I told Aileen Schachter that I wanted to bow out of N3. Shooting people and blowing up buildings is not my thing. She understood and didn’t argue with me about it.

“That doesn’t mean I won’t see you again, does it?” she said, her eyes searching my face. In fact, I didn’t intend to stop seeing Aileen socially and I told her so. I like her and she’s a very good, uninhibited lover. She likes to explore sexual possibilities. I’m no monk, but she did know a thing or two that I had not previously tried. It’s always wonderful when something that’s great actually goes a step or two beyond average limits.

Relieved, I went home to my own apartment, showered and put on fresh clothes. I was feeling good. I felt free and unencumbered and just wanted to absorb this feeling. I realized for the first time how much real stress I was feeling with the N3 group. Of course I resent discrimination, especially against Jews because I come from a Jewish family. Even though I’m and atheist by choice, I can’t and wouldn’t want to deny my proud heritage.

I was settling in with a tight dooby and a new episode of ‘The First 48 Hours’ when the doorman rang me from downstairs.

“A miss Cheslow to see you,” he said. His voice conveyed how he felt about the gorgeous amazon he was watching as he spoke.

“Geeze,” I said. “Okay, Larry, please send her up.”

“Yes sir,” he said, “I sure will send her right up.”

I thought ‘what the hell does she want?’ I immediately thought of my answer: Aileen sent her to get me back into N3. Fuck that! I was done with that cowboy stuff even if the stunning Ms Naomi Cheslow asked me to. It’s not the life for me. I saw myself as more of a gentle artist, drawing, painting, writing and photography were my pursuits of choice. I decided that I wouldn’t do anything to prepare for her arrival. I’d just turn off the television and smoke my joint. She tapped lightly on the door.

I went to the door and paused for a moment to prepare myself for the sight of Naomi Cheslow. She is the most stunning woman I’ve ever seen in person. She’s about six feet, two inches tall. Probably weighs about one hundred and forty pounds, spread out over the-six-foot two finely sculpted frame. I opened the door to find that my preparation didn’t help. Feelings of lust and vulnerability took over.

“Hello,” she said with a devastating smile. I admit that I was not comfortable facing a desirable woman who could easily physically overpower me.

“This is a pleasant surprise,” I lied.

“May I come in?” she said.

“Please do. Make yourself comfortable,” I said. “I wasn’t in the middle of anything.”

“Thank you,” she said. As I closed the door, I watched her, expecting to see her scan the place to see how I live. She didn’t, so I was surprised. She went straight to the sofa and made herself comfortable. She had a large tote bag over her shoulder. She placed it on the floor at her feet. “You must be hungry,” she said. “I can smell the fragrance of your appetite enhancer.” She fished a pastrami sandwich out of the bag, and a can of Vernor’s Ginger Ale. The fragrance of my favourite deli sandwich whetted my appetite.

“What’s this all about?” I said. I sat across from her in an easy chair. She took a sandwich and drink can out of the bag for herself and put it all on the low table between us.

“Can’t a girl court a fella?” she said and unwrapped the sandwiches.

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