Archive-name: SpecMome/mikejane.txt
Archive-author: 
Archive-title: Mike and Jane - a story, sort of


Mike met Jane through the personals on the net.  One of those rare
success stories.  Jane was an aspiring porn writer - from a woman's
perspective - and was gaining notoriety and success.  Fantasy
written by women was becoming popular and she was riding the crest.
Mike had read her stories published in A.S.S, and had been impressed and
excited by them.  He'd sit in the nude reading her stories, hard cock in
hand.  He resolved to meet her no matter what it took.  He'd fly
anywhere, do anything, to meet (and, hopefully, fuck) the porn writer of
his dreams.  He wrote the following fan letter to Jane:	 

	 Dear Jane,

	 I'm sure you get hundreds of letters from horny men
	 with DSB (Deadly Sperm Backup), but please read this
	 one note before you hit the delete key.  

	 Jane, your stories obsess me.  They're the best I've
	 read on the net.  They're truly erotic without being
	 formulaic; you have the gift of imagination.  I sit
	 here reading them and become delirious with desire -
	 for you or the stories, I don't kow.  All I know is I
	 must talk to you, meet you.  I don't care what you
	 look like.  Your erotic imagination is all I need.
	 I'm 25, 6'2", 175 lbs., black hair, green eyes.
	 Jane, I want to spend hours pleasuring you.
	 Write to me.

Naturally, Jane had received hundreds of letters from would be lovers and
this was no different.  The black hair and green eyes did catch her
attention so she replied.  To their mutual surprise and pleasure, they
discovered that they both lived in Boston!  The chances of that
occurring were too small to be ignored; they decided it must be the
hand of fate.  They arranged to meet at Fridays in Boston's Back Bay on
the corner of Newbury and Exeter.

When you enter Fridays, you step down into a three-tiered basement
setting, which gives the restaurant a bistro quality.  The first tier of
the restaurant is at street level and covered with a glass canopy.  This
allows the diners to sit on Newbury street, enclosed in the glass room
and observe the parade of Bostonians sauntering along one of the city's
most colorful strips.  The best and most exclusive shops are located on
Newbury, as well as Boston's most successful art galleries.  The second
tier contains a large rectagular bar that affords a view of the street
above and the dining tables below on the lowest level where the lighting
is low and the earth-tone colors are warm and muted.  Mike arrived early
and sat at the bar where he could observe the bustle of the street
through the glass and the patrons dining below.  

Jane had described herself as having long multi-hued brown hair -
streaks of blonde and dark browns woven through it like the play of
sunlight and shadow in a deep wood.  Her eyes were also a very
deep brown; her eyebrows were full and dark.  She was tall, about
5'8", and thin with small, perfect breasts.

Mike recognized her immediately as she descended towards the bar.  She
had an intensity in her gaze as she surveyed the restaurant that
betrayed both power and self-assurance.  She was even more beautiful and
captivating than Mike had imagined.

She recognized him quickly from his stare and sat on the bar stool next
to him.  She extended her hand and said, "Pleased to meet you."

"My pleasure.  You're more beautiful than I had even imagined.  This is
so exciting for me.  You can't believe ..."

"Calm down sweetheart.  I'm only human too."

"How human?"

"You'll learn that later.  All too human, I'm afraid."

Mike and Jane had only corresponded briefly before deciding to meet so
Jane was at a slight disadvantage when it came to knowing much about
Mike.  Mike knew Jane through her stories, and knew a writer can't hide
much of him/herself in his or her fiction.  He knew Jane's sexual
predilications, fantasies.  She knew nothing of his.

"Have you been here waiting long?"

"I've been waiting for you since I read that first story you wrote, the
one about the three girls."

"Oh, yes.  I was exploring my lesbian fantasies with that one.  I've
never actually been with two other women."

"Would you like to?"

"Not really.  I enjoyed writing about it though.  I've know one or two
women. Good friends. I don't make a habit of it."

"I've noticed that women seem to have more same sex fantasies than
men do?  Do you why that is, as a writer, I mean?"

"As a writer?  Why should I know?"

"Thought you guys had some other wisdom that we engineers don't have."

"Yeah, we probably do.  Just because we study people and you study
things.  Perhaps it's because women are being more honest about their
fantasy life?"

"Whoa.  I don't know about that."

"Well, you asked," she replied.

"I'll be careful what I ask from now on."

"Don't be," she said.  "Being careful is for the timid.  Are you timid?"

"No. I'm not."

"Aren't you ever going to ask me what I want to drink?"

"I'm sorry."

"I'll have a Stolis on the rocks with a twist of lemon."

Mike ordered the same.  He couldn't take his eyes from her.  Her
movement, the way she moved her body, the indefinable quality of her
person, seemed to have reached out and clicked hold of his heart or
sprit or whatever you want to call that part of us that gets captured
and held prisoner by a woman.  He knew this was something more than sex.
It was the deepest lust he had ever felt, and something beyond at the
same time.  He couldn't find the words to describe the feelings he was
having as he sat there next to Jane, the woman who wrote pornography.
And he knew when you can't describe it, the only word for it is love.

Jane said she had an apartment around the corner on Marlborough, and
suggested they go back to her place after they finished their drinks.
Mike, for a brief instant, felt a profound seriousness and then a flood
of joy and excitement washed over it like a flood, and it lay there at
the bottom - something dark and sad.

Janes apartment was on the top floor of an attached brick townhouse -
the old eighteenth century red brick buildings that give Boston some of
it's old-world charm.  The apartment was very bright, facing west
overlooking the Charles river and Cambridge on its opposite bank.

Jane popped two beers and sat on the couch.  Mike sat beside her,
his arm extended on tha back of the sofa, one shoelss leg curled
up under him.  "Jane, I ..." he said.

"Shhh, I know," she interrupted and leaned close into him.  He
could feel his cock pushing against the buttons of his jeans.  He
kissed her.  For a moment, the world fell away and he felt as if
he were travelling at the speed of light into an unknown space.
Then the moving sensation in his brain slowed as his body began to
ease into the kiss.  She had her hand on his hard cock and was
gently squeezing and rubbing it.  She moved back and unbottoned
her blouse and removed her bra.  Her breasts were perfect, her
nipples stiff.  She removed her jeans and panties and was now
completely naked.  To Mike, she seemed brighter than the sunlight
filling the room.  He stripped quickly.  He positioned her so both
palms of her hands were against the back of the couch, her legs
spread wide.  He slid under her and begain sucking her pussy as
she stood with her legs spread wide, leaning against the back of
the couch.  She was as a bridge above him, a bridge to feelings he
hadn't known.  He licked and sucked in in this position until she
could no longer steady herself.  She sat on the couch.  Mike
spread her legs very wide, his hands pushing on her thighs.  He
tongued her clit with a delicacy that made her come in a long,
slow orgasm, as if it were an orgasm of great relief, something
long expected at which she had finally arrived.  She sat on the
couch and took his prick in her mouth and began to suck him,
running her tongue up and down the length of it and then taking it
fully in her mouth and sucking.  He watched his prick slidingin
and out of the mouth of this woman he adored, could hear the slurp
of her sucking as she gave him pleasure.  She swallowed as he came
into her mouth.

The orgasm did nothing to diminsh the fullness of his erection.
His slid his cock into her and fucking her slowly, drawing it in
and out and teasing her clit with the tip of his prick.

"You sit, let me get on top," she said.

He sat on the couch and she fit onto him, her legs wrapped around
his sides.  He rubbed her clit as she squirmed on his cock that
was deep in her.  Holding her, he lifted her up and down the
length of his prick while sucking her perfect, pink nipples.  
She started bucking on his prick, hammering on it to reach her
second orgasm, which was farther away than the first.  She fucked
him and rubbed her clit on the bone above his prick until it came
again, exploding on her this time like a bomb that had been buried
in her.  

*****************

And I guess they fucked from then on happily ever after :-) Isn't
that sweet?