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No Longer Alone 1 – The Women’s Club

The one part of becoming a successful senior executive that Naomi Marsden hadn’t anticipated was the isolation.  The male members of the board were all involved in full lives, with either wives and children or young sweethearts. Many had second marriages.  While Naomi Marsden appreciated the whistles and shouts of the construction workers on the street, she couldn’t see herself having a relationship with any of those guys.

Her club was for women only.  Her schedule didn’t allow for any of the usual social opportunities.  The only time she was face to face with men was during business hours, and the conversations at those times always centred on profit and loss, acquisitions, and divestitures… not conducive to sexual stimulation.  Most days, Naomi had a ‘working lunch’ with various vice-presidents and department heads.  All too often, her late suppers were taken alone, either at a favourite delicatessen or at her club, ‘The Lady Jane’, an exclusive club for established women.

Naomi took her late suppers at the club most often on Friday nights.  When she had a free weekend, it was in some ways, worse than a weekend busy with work.  Facing the empty days – and nights – was a depressing and frustrating chore.  She knew she was attractive.  She knew men stared at her and lusted after her, and made her the subject of their fantasies.  However, that was no consolation for the lack of love. She needed kisses, tender caresses, and… orgasms that did not involve batteries.

Naomi sat alone at her table in the club, picking listlessly at the excellent Caesar Salad.  In the nearly empty, silent dining room only two other tables were occupied.  At a table at on the far side of the exquisite room, a pair of young women was conversing quietly over veal medallions and red wine.  An African-American woman that Naomi had seen there often sat alone at a table near Naomi’s.  She was reading with rapt attention from the screen of a slender laptop computer.

Naomi inspected the woman calmly, exploring her features.  It seemed she lived a life similar to Naomi’s… perhaps even more lonesome.  She was in the club dining room every time Naomi was.  Eight or ten times a month.  Possibly, the beautiful black woman was there every night.  Naomi could easily imagine that this woman with her golden complexion and magnificent features had all the same problems of success as Naomi, only worse, because she’s black.

Suddenly, as if she’d heard Naomi’s thoughts, the woman turned her head away from her computer and faced directly at Naomi.  She smiled warmly with her dark red lips and nodded.  Naomi was unsure if it was a nod of greeting or a nod of agreement with her thoughts.

lone diner 3

“May I join you?” she said.  “A meal is always warmer with company at the table, don’t you agree?”  The physical rush she felt at the sound of the woman’s voice startled Naomi.  It was rich and calm and the low sound flowed over Naomi like warm honey.  Struggling to ignore the embarrassing tingle she felt, she smiled back.

“By all means,” she said in a somewhat formal, defensive way.  “It’s difficult to have an appetite, isn’t it, when one is alone.”

“Yes,” said the woman.  “Any kind of appetite.”  She stood up and approached Naomi’s table.  Naomi stood to greet her, and as they shook hands she noticed that the woman was a head taller than she was, and beautifully built.  She might have been a bit older than Naomi’s forty-two years.  “I’m Lenore Randall,” she said.  “Call me Lennie.”

“Pleased to meet you, Lennie.  I’m Naomi Marsden.  I’ve seen you here several times.  Have you been a member long?

“Actually, I own the club.  I started it twenty years ago, after I was refused membership in every club in town.”  The two women shared tales of the difficulties making one’s way in this man’s world.  Both women had foregone having children, choosing instead professional success, and neither had any misgivings about the decision.  Each loved her work.

They talked for hours, the club staff lounging impatiently in the background, eager to shut down.  It was already long after normal hours.  Lenore Randall noticed and interrupted Naomi.

“Look, we’ve been talking for hours,” she laughed and put her hand on Naomi’s.  It sent a surge of lust through Naomi.  “We should let the staff finish up.  Come on upstairs to my place for a nightcap.”

“Oh, I can’t”, Naomi sputtered. “It’s my policy, I won’t drive if I drink, and I’ll have to get home,”

“Do you have somebody important waiting for you at home,” Lenore asked, quietly probing.

          “No,” said Lenore, and looked away uncomfortably.  “Nobody.”

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