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The Proposal

THE PROPOSAL

A Seemly Sex Story

by

BobbyB.

This story, like all Seemly Sex Stories, is pure fiction, an imaginary concoction of the seemly but mischievous mind of BobbyB. Any resemblance to any actual person or situation is completely coincidental.

Published by seemlybobbyb at Shakespir

Copyright 2017 seemlybobbyb

THE PROPOSAL

There was no mistaking the source of the excited feeling Bob got as he pushed open Sylvia’s apartment building’s main door for her. It was sexual arousal, pure and simple. But even more unmistakably the feeling was inappropriate, for in the dozens of dates they had shared Sylvia had never given him reason to look on her romantically, and certainly not as a sex partner. For their first four or five dates she had always said goodnight to him right here in her apartment building’s foyer: Opening the inner security door, saying goodnight with a handshake and then entering the building alone. He was on the verge of deciding she is a hopelessly sexless prude before she let him escort her to up to her apartment. But even then the handshake farewells continued for their next several dates. Only after they had been out a dozen times did she finally allowed him a goodnight kiss … on the cheek!

Bob knew all this, and he knew it well. But he kept asking Sylvia out. Even worse than that, he had stopped asking out any of the other women he knows. He couldn’t help himself. There just is something about Sylvia that simultaneously intrigues and pleases him. She is quite attractive, of course. But he knows several attractive women, yet he has stopped dating any of them, even those he knows he can score with. At times he thought he was going out of his head. Still he continued to date Sylvia, frequently and only.

So now he was sexually aroused but fully aware that he’d be sexually frustrated when they got to her apartment door. Yet he was happy to stand beside her in this unhappy state as she entered the unlock code on the security door’s keypad. At least he knew she now would allow a real goodnight kiss … on the lips. But after one kiss she’d enter her apartment alone, and he would go back to his place to finish summarizing the sales numbers he and his assistant Phil had promised their boss for the next day’s meeting. He would be sexually frustrated again, but he had know he would be when he accepted her impromptu phoned invitation to join her for a late night dessert at a nearby cafe.

After she keyed in the code the lock buzzed and Bob pulled open the security door. Sylvia entered, thanking him with one of those radiant Sylvia smiles. That only made things worse. Her smile is more certain to further his sexual arousal than his pull was certain to open the door. They walked to the elevator without talking. The elevator door opened when Sylvia touched the UP button. Bob stepped aside letting her enter first, then he entered as she selected her floor. She got her key out of her purse as the elevator rose. When they got to her floor he again stepped aside, letting her exit first. Then he followed her to her apartment door. She unlocked the door then turned to look up at him with another of those radiant smiles.

“Thanks for joining me. That was fun.” she said, then she turned her face up to him, invitation for a goodnight kiss.

Of course Bob eagerly accepted the invitation. It was another of Sylvia’s pleasant but passionless parting kisses. But when Bob pulled back she didn’t enter her apartment and close the door as she always had before. Instead she softly asked, “Would you like to come in for a while?”

II

Would he!! Finally she had said that short sentence that often is an invitation to intimacy. Or at least an expression of a willingness to consider it. Obviously the question increased his arousal … enormously. Bob had to struggle to keep the increased excitement from making him shout his answer. The struggle showed up in his response, a weakly mumbled “Yes” followed by coughing, clearing his throat, then an audible “Sure!”

Sylvia smiled another of those Sylvia smiles, turned, opened the door and entered her apartment leaving the door open for Bob to follow. He stepped through the doorway then gently closed the door.

He looked around while Sylvia was hanging up her coat in a closet next to the door. The apartment is one of those small units single young adults rent. In one corner is a kitchenette with a small table and two kitchen chairs. Across the room is a couch, and across from the couch a closed door, apparently leading into a bedroom. Something about the place bothered Bob, and at first he didn’t know why. So he looked more carefully and then he realized what it was. The room wasn’t neat and tidy. Things weren’t picked up and put away.

Books were piled on one kitchen chair, and a cooking pot was on the other. One end of the couch had clothes piled up on it, so only two people could sit on the three person sofa. This clutter bothered Bob. He would have bet serious money that Sylvia’s apartment would be neat and orderly, for certainly every other thing he knew of her always was. That’s one of the things he likes about her, for he also tends to be habitually neat. And it would have been so easy to tidy up the apartment. The clothes on the couch were all with hangers. All one would have to do to straighten up the sofa would be to grab the hangers and hang the clothes in a closet. There was a bookshelf along one wall with plenty of room for the books piled on the kitchen chair. And that pot surely didn’t have to be on that chair. There were cabinets in the kitchenette which must have had room for it. And even if not, it would be more appropriate on the stove than on a kitchen chair.

“Let me have your coat” Sylvia requested. He removed it and handed it to her and she turned and hung it carefully in the same closet where she had hung her own coat. With an automatic move which Bob took as the wise habit of a woman who lives alone, she engaged the door’s deadbolt. Then she led him into the room.

“I must apologize for the mess. I was reorganizing some things when I thought of asking you to join me for a late dessert. So when you agreed, I just left everything where it was. But there’s still room for us to sit here on the couch.”

So saying, she sat on the couch and patted the adjacent position as an invitation for Bob to join her. Well, Bob thought, there was one nice thing about the clutter. It left only one place for him to sit: Right beside her. Obviously, that’s where he wanted to sit, but with all the other seating places occupied, he didn’t have to connive to get to where he wanted to be: Within kissing range.

She made an inconsequential remark about the late dessert they had just shared, and this started an equally inconsequential conversation. The pile of clothes on the end of the couch was taking up so much space they were compelled to sit quite close together. So close, in fact, that Bob had almost no choice but to put his arm around her shoulder. This position was so cozy and inviting he couldn’t resist trying to steal a little kiss, a kiss which she accepted contentedly. Embolden by her acceptance of the first little kiss, he soon offered another, which she also willing accepted. And in the way these things happen, they soon were doing more kissing than talking.

As already noted, Bob is orderly about everything he does. So, not surprisingly, he has an orderly way of going about what he was delighted to finally be going about with Sylvia. His technique, if we may call it such, involves brushing a hand gently across his lady companion’s breasts, so gently as to seem like an accident, which is what he’d ascribe it to if the lady objects. But if she doesn’t object, he’d do it again in a manner a little less accidental. And each successive supposedly accidental breast touch to which the lady does not object spawns another more deliberate one.

Since Sylvia was fully cooperating in the kissing, Bob decided to employ his touching technique. And Sylvia didn’t object. Apparently, Bob thought, Sylvia has a slow fuse, but once lit, it burns hot. After several breast brushes with no objection from her he decided it was safe to go for broke. He was sitting to her right. So he leaned over and kissed her passionately, placing his right hand on her left hip. And as the kiss lingered he slowly and tenderly, but quite deliberately slid his hand up and cupped it over her left breast. He didn’t grab, but in every sense of the word it was an unmistakable full frontal sexual approach.

Sylvia reached up, gently grasped and removed Bob’s hand, pulling her head away from the kiss as she did.

“Bob, there’s something you should know. I’m not into one-night stands. In fact, I’m a virgin, and I plan to stay a virgin until I give myself to the man I choose to be my life’s companion.”

That’s exactly what he would have expected to hear from Sylvia at any time before they had started doing what they had been doing for the past several minutes. But in view of her ready participation in those amorous activities, he was surprised and puzzled at the contradiction between what she said and what she had been doing.

But contradiction or not, it was a rejection. Once before a gal to whom he had made a sexual advance had turned him down with a similar message, and that event had been enormously embarrassing. He hadn’t known what to do or say. If that particular gal wasn’t interested in sex, then he wasn’t interested in her. But obviously he wasn’t so crude as to say this. However, the only other thing to do was to leave. But that, in effect, said the same thing. He’ll never forget how awkwardly and ungraciously he left that lady’s apartment.

But this was Sylvia. Even if she wasn’t interested in sex, crazy though it was, Bob was still interested in her. He didn’t want to leave. If necking was all she was willing to do, he was eager to join her in that circumscribed amorous activity. But he didn’t know how to say so, nor what to do.

Sylvia, however, did.

“So now you know.” she said matter-of-factly, and she leaned forward and kissed him sweetly.

Bob was totally confused, but grateful and contented that she was willing to allow him to stay. The inconsequential conversation returned for a short while, but soon the necking resumed … and progressed. In the course of their resumed kissing Bob’s hand accidentally brushed across one of Sylvia’s breasts. This was a genuine accident, not part of his technique. But she took no notice of it. A little later another genuine accidental touching occurred, and again Sylvia did nothing. In fact, if anything, her kissing became more passionate.

Bob was confused but delighted. And since he was in the middle of a necking session… a necking session with Sylvia! … he had neither the leisure nor inclination to contemplate the obvious inconsistency between her “I’m a virgin” announcement and her enthusiastic petting participation. So he didn’t consider it. Instead, in his extreme and growing sexually excited state he again initiated his touching technique. This time it went like clockwork.

Soon there were buttons unbuttoned, zippers unzipped, buckles unbuckled, fasteners unfastened and skirts pulled up. And two pair of happy hands were eagerly exploring bodies they had never touched before.

This hand activity soon got so active it was on the verge of getting out of hand. At that point Sylvia withdrew her own hands, removed Bob’s, stood up and softly announced, “I think we’d better finish this in the bedroom.”

She reached down and grabbed Bob by the hand then led him across the room to the closed door which she opened. Indeed, it was the door into her bedroom. She led him into it then let go of his hand and stepped over to another door which she opened. It was the bathroom door. She stepped in and turned on a night-light. Leaving the bathroom door open she crossed back to the bedroom door where she reached into the apartment’s main room and turned off its light. Then the only illumination was the bathroom’s dim night-light which romantically lit the bedroom with the bare minimum amount of light to see by.

Sylvia stepped up to Bob, kissed him and began undressing him. Since she was being so kind as to undress him, he was obliged to return the favor. Shortly they both were completely nude. Sylvia kissed him again, stepped over to the bed and pulled the bedspread and blanket off onto the floor at the end of the bed. The only remaining bedclothes was a sheet which she slipped under. Bob didn’t have to be asked to join her. And between the sheets he then did with Sylvia that which he had always wanted to do with Sylvia, but which he had doubted she’d ever allow.

III

They lay quietly together for a long while after their act was finished. Then Sylvia kissed him and said, “Excuse me a minute.” She got up, scurried into the bathroom and partly closed the door, leaving just a sliver through which a tiny bit of light came into the bedroom.

Bob lay on the bed with nothing to do but think about what had just happened. Now he had time to ponder the inconsistency between Sylvia’s “I’m a virgin” announcement and her eager participation in an act which no virgin has ever experienced. Not only did he have time to think about it, he had a lot more to think about, for not only had Sylvia been eager in bed, she had been downright skillful, coaching him to proceed much more slowly than is his custom, a leisurely approach he at first found frustrating, but which in the end he discovered to be vastly more gratifying than any sex he had ever experienced.

He couldn’t make a bit of sense of Sylvia’s contradiction, but soon he decided he shouldn’t be trying to figure it out at the moment. The time had come for him to go. He had shared an intimate experience with an unmarried young woman who lives in a busy apartment building. If this apartment complex were like all the others he knows it has some tenants who have a critical opinion of such goings on. So the gentlemanly thing to do would be to get dressed and discreetly leave before it becomes obvious to such neighbors that his and Sylvia’s relationship is much more than neighborly.

Accordingly he got out of bed and stepped over to the chair where Sylvia had laid his clothes. As he approached the chair he noticed the neat way she had placed them. Despite the excitement of the undressing, she hadn’t just thrown his clothes on the chair. Rather, she had neatly hung them over it. This orderliness was what he would expect from Sylvia, but it only made him wonder all the more at her contradictions, at the difference between the neat way she had arranged his clothes and the messy way she had piled things on the chairs and couch in her kitchenette/living room.

Just as Bob reached the chair and was putting on his shorts Sylvia came out of the bathroom.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“I thought I’d better get out of here before your neighbors start gossiping about your having a man in your apartment in the middle of the night.”

“I don’t care if they talk about you being here. In fact I expect they will. So what?”

That did it! Not only couldn’t Bob stop thinking about her contradictions, now he felt impelled to confront her about them.

“Sylvia, you puzzle the devil out of me! On the one hand you’re the most prudish woman I’ve ever dated. We’d been out a dozen times before you even let me kiss you goodnight … on the cheek! But now you say you don’t care if your neighbors know you slept with me!”

“Sleep, my dear Robert, is not what we just did.” she teased with a coy smirk.

“There you go again!” he accused. “No girl who won’t kiss on the first date should say something like that. That’s something only a … a …”

He couldn’t think of any word appropriate to describe a woman who joked about a sexual encounter, any word that he was willing to apply to Sylvia. So he just stood there stuttering.

“What kind of woman would say that?” she teased again with a big mischievous grin. Bob, however, may not have realized she was playing with him because she was standing nude on the other side of the bed, and he was having the devil’s own time trying to think of anything other than her exciting and enticing nudity.

“Well, it’s for sure no virgin would.” he finally answered. “And that’s another thing. All that malarkey about being a virgin and saving yourself for your future husband. What was that all about?”

“I was just letting you know the ground rules.”

“What ground rules?” Bob demanded.

“The rules saying that what you were trying to do is equivalent to a marriage proposal, and if I let you do it, I accepted.”

“Oh no!! Oh no you don’t! You’re not going to trap me that way! I’ve been around the block. I know how you desperate women try to catch husbands. Next thing I know you’ll be telling me you’re pregnant. But it won’t work.”

“I’m not pregnant. You can rest assured on that.” Now she wasn’t teasing. Now she spoke quite matter-of-factly, maybe a bit sternly.

“Yeah, you say that now. But next week you’ll come crying to me saying you missed your period and I have to marry you.”

“Well I thought you wanted to marry me because you love me. But if you don’t love me, you won’t have to marry me on account of any pregnancy, because at the moment I can’t get pregnant.”

“Oh yeah? Why not?”

“Because at the moment I’m on the pill.”

“Oh sure! You’re on the pill. Sylvia, you’ve got more contradictions than a squirrel has nuts. So tell me, why would a virgin be on the pill?”

“Because this virgin could see where our dating was heading: Only dating each other, and two to four times a week. Where else could it be heading? I didn’t want anything to interfere with our first love act, anything like messing around with condoms and such. So at my last gynecological exam I had my doctor give me a prescription for birth control pills.”

“I don’t buy that for a minute. If you’re on the pill you’re no virgin. If you’re on the pill it must be because you’ve been fooling around. That explains a lot of things. No virgin can do the things in bed you just did with me. I mean, you really know your way around between the sheets. The way you stopped it when I …”

He had to pause because he was embarrassed to acknowledge or mention that he had almost had a premature response which would have terminated their love act while it was barely beginning. Finally he found a circumlocution to use.

“Well … when I almost … almost went off too early. You sure didn’t learn that trick selling Girl Scout cookies.”

“Of course not. I learned it from a sex book, one of the two I read that my OB/GYN recommended to me when I told her I was planning on getting married. You do remember what books are.” she resumed her teasing, “Guttenberg and all that? And aren’t you glad I do read? It really worked. I guess I should be flattered that I excite you so much you can’t control yourself. But your prematurity, if that’s what we should call it, could have ruined everything.”

“Sylvia, stop talking like that! And stop pretending you’re a virgin. I’m not going to fall for your you-took-away-my-virginity blackmail and marry you.”

“I most definitely am a virgin! Or at least I was till you deflowered me a few minutes ago. Didn’t you feel it when you broke my hymen? My gynecologist said she could open it surgically, but I though this way would be more romantic. And maybe in the back of my mind I thought you might not believe me unless you broke it yourself. After all, a virgin in this day and age is not what anyone would expect.”

Bob just stared at Sylvia. Sylvia, the girl who wouldn’t kiss on the first date … who wouldn’t even kiss till the twelfth date … Sylvia was standing there in the nude calmly talking about having sex and rupturing her hymen! It had Bob’s head reeling. Her nudity alone was making his head reel … making it spin with a growing desire to perform what classical musicians call a reprise, and jazz musicians launch with the happy call, “One more time!”

“If you don’t believe me look at yourself.” she instructed. “You probably have some of my blood on your penis. That’s why I went to the bathroom: To wash myself off.”

Bob still couldn’t think of what to say. All he could do was stare at her in confusion … and rekindling desire.

“If you don’t believe me just look here.”

So saying Sylvia grabbed the top sheet and pulled it off the bed. In the middle of the bottom sheet was a small but noticeable blood spot. Bob just stared in wide-eyed wonder. That was pretty convincing evidence.

“Why don’t you go in the bathroom and wash yourself off too.” she advised. “Your towel is the one with His embroidered on it. I thought His-and-Hers towels would be a nice touch on our first time. But I guess I was being too cute and feminine. Maybe that’s why you don’t want to get married. Maybe you don’t like feminine behavior.”

“You bought a set of towels just for us? For tonight?” Then the full explanation of what happened that night dawned on him. “You planned this! You seduced me!”

“Well what do you think? You don’t think I’m a slob who usually leaves things piled up all over my apartment, do you? Why would a neat and orderly man like you want to marry a slob? I wasn’t sure you’d realize that I’d made up my mind to accept you, so I put those things on the chairs and couch so you wouldn’t have any other place to sit. I thought that would be more romantic than verbally telling you I’d made up my mind and wasn’t going to hold you back any more. Actually, I couldn’t think of any good way to say anything like that, so I rigged the apartment so you’d have to sit romantically close to me and it would all happen naturally.”

Bob just stared at her in silent astonishment. Finally, Sylvia broke the silence.

“Go on in there and wash off. Then you can come back and help me change this sheet.”

And in complete confusion Bob slowly walked into the bathroom to do as she instructed.

IV

“My birth control pill thing is on the bottom shelf of the medicine cabinet.” Sylvia called after him. “I don’t want you to have any doubts about my maybe being pregnant, so take a look at it. It’s that wheel-like thing with each pill in a separate little bubble for each day of the week. You’ll see that today’s pill has been taken and tomorrow’s is next up. I want you to marry me because I thought you loved me. I’m not trying to trap you. And I’m not pregnant.”

Not sure that he would do as she suggested, she stepped into the bathroom, opened the medicine cabinet and removed the pill container.

“See?” she said, pointing to the appropriate bubbles as she spoke. “Here’s where the pill for today, Thursday, was. And right next to it is the pill I take tomorrow, Friday.”

She returned the container to the medicine cabinet then grabbed a washcloth and hand towel which were neatly hanging on a towel rack. She handed them to him, and even though the only illumination was from the night light, Bob could easily see that each was embroidered His.

“These are yours.” she said then she left the bathroom, closing the door as she did.

His head reeling with all that had happened, and was happening, he went about washing up in a robot-like manner. He removed his shorts and inspected himself. And just as Sylvia had suggested, he found traces of blood, evidence that he had indeed ended her virginity.

When he finished washing up and put his shorts back on he opened the door to return to the bedroom. Sylvia was sitting on the edge of the bed.

“Leave the door open so we can see.” she requested. “I never realized how pitch-dark it is in this room without a light. I couldn’t see to remove the sheet, but I didn’t want the glare of any bright light.”

But actually she didn’t want Bob to see that her eyes were tearing, the result of his negative reaction to her not-the-least-bit-subtle way of telling him she was ready to be his wife. Resignedly she stood up, still completely nude, and started untucking the stained bed sheet.

“Help me.” she sadly requested.

Still in his robot like state Bob went to the other side of the bed and did as she asked. Beneath the sheet, right under the spot where she had expected the evidence of her changed sexual status to accumulate she had placed an impermeable plastic liner of the kind used under the sheet of an infant’s crib.

“I didn’t know how much I might bleed, so I put this down to protect the mattress. I thought we could store this away and use it with our first baby, but I guess that’s not going to happen if you don’t want to marry me.”

So saying she wadded up the liner, took it into the bathroom and placed it in the tub where she could wash it off in the morning. Bob watched her, marveling about how carefully she had planned out every aspect of the seduction she had hoped would be the beginning of their honeymoon. She returned to the bedroom and grabbed the stained sheet. Directing Bob on how to help her, she folded it up neatly.

“I was planning to save this as a keepsake, a romantic reminder of our first lovemaking. But I guess if you won’t marry me it’ll just remind me of what a fool I was to think you loved me. I guess I’ll burn it instead.”

She may have threatened to burn it, but the careful way she folded it suggested she wasn’t yet giving up on Bob as her lifemate. She set the folded sheet on a chest of drawers, then from one of its drawers she removed a clean one. With Sylvia again giving Bob directions on how to assist her, they went about tucking the sheet around the mattress. Then they replaced the unstained top sheet.

Bob assisted in the bed-making still in his robot-like manner. When the top sheet was replaced he sat down on the corner of the bed in an obviously dejected manner.

“Sylvia, I feel awful about this. I didn’t know you were a virgin.”

“I told you.”

“Yeah, but not until you got me all hot and bothered with your kissing. You should have stopped me, but you didn’t.”

“I told you what it meant if we continued.”

“But I didn’t understand. I mean, for God’s sake what made you think I wanted to get married?”

“I thought the fact that we’ve been out together two to four times every week for the past two months made that pretty clear.”

“But how did you know I wasn’t going out just as much with some other women?” It was a relevant but deceptive question because from the first time he dated Sylvia he hadn’t dated anyone else.

“Well if you had been, you wouldn’t even have had enough time left to sleep or work!” she announced as she sat down on the opposite corner of the bed.

“Sylvia, I can’t get married.”

“Why not? Are you already married?”

“No.”

“Are you a Catholic priest?”

“Of course not.”

“Then why can’t you get married?”

“I don’t know, I just can’t.”

“Well, I guess that means you don’t love me.”

“I didn’t say that!” he objected.

“Then do you love me?”

“I don’t know. I mean, I’ve never really thought about it.”

“Then all those dates were only your way of getting into my panties. All you were after was a piece of ass.”

“Damn it! Don’t you dare say that! You’re not just ‘a piece of ass’, and don’t you ever say you are, or say that I treat you like you were!”

Anyone who might have heard him would have recognized from what he said that, whether or not he himself yet realized it, he in fact looked on Sylvia with exactly the kind of respect that comes with love. But Bob was just beginning to appreciate this fact.

V

There was a long silence as each sat on opposite corners of the bed, each dejected and apparently in deep thought. Finally Sylvia decided the affair was at an end, so she stood up, pulled back the sheet on her side of the bed and crawled in. She didn’t say a word. After another long silence Bob spoke.

“So what are you going to do?”

“I’ll just have to get on with my life. What else can I do? It won’t kill me if you won’t marry me.”

“But you’re not a virgin anymore.” he objected.

“That was my mistake, and I’ll just have to live with it. I’ll survive. It probably won’t even matter. There don’t seem to be any men around anymore who appreciate having a virgin for a bride. You sure don’t.”

She rolled over facing away from him. Bob thought he heard a sob.

“Now don’t you go crying on me!” he demanded.

“I’m not crying!” she insisted. However the sound of her voice indicated that she was having to do everything in her power not to.

Bob suddenly and angrily stood up and took a couple determined strides toward the chair with his clothes, the chair where Sylvia had so neatly placed them when she had romantically undressed the man she thought had agreed to be her lifelong companion.

“Damn! Damn! Damn it all to hell!” he exclaimed as he strode.

“Are you leaving?” she asked sadly as she rolled over to face the side of the bed where he was cussing.

“No! I’m not leaving! I’m making a phone call.”

He brusquely grabbed his pants and equally brusquely pulled out his cellphone. He threw his pants back down on the chair. Neatness was the last thing on his mind at the moment. He pressed something on the device then put it up to his ear.

“Phil? It’s Bob. (pause) Sorry to call so late, but I need to know: Did you run your numbers? (pause) So they are just what we expected. Good! (pause) No, I only got started on mine before I was rudely interrupted. They were coming out like we thought, but I only got about a quarter of the way through them. Listen, Phil, I can’t make it to work tomorrow. (pause) Well, I have a problem, a headache, a major headache. (pause) Thanks. I’ll be OK. Just tell the Old Man that everything looks good, and that I’ll be in Monday with the whole thing. (pause) Thanks. See you Monday.”

Bob pushed something else on the cellphone to terminate the call. Then he threw it down on top of the pants he had thrown down before making the call, and strode back to the edge of the bed.

“There’s some aspirin in the medicine cabinet you can take for your headache.” Sylvia sat up and suggested sympathetically.

“It won’t help. My headache is not in my head. It’s in the bed. It’s you.” he charged. “You told me you earned a comp day your supervisor has been after you to take. Can you take it tomorrow?”

“I guess so. There’s nothing particular going on at work at the moment.”

“Good! Then tomorrow you’re taking it.”

“Why?”

“Because tomorrow we’re going to catch a flight to Vegas where we’ll stand in front of some clown dressed in an Elvis costume and get married. That’s why!”

Bob pulled off his shorts, pulled back the sheet on his side of the bed, slid in, reached over and pulled Silvia to him.

“Are you satisfied now, Miss Smarty Pants?”

“Since we’re going to get married, it’s Mrs. Smarty Pants.” she corrected him. “And no, I’m not completely satisfied.”

“Why?” Bob asked. “What else do you want?”

“It’d be nice to hear you say you love me.” she answered.

“Oh yeah? Well, you seduced me to get me to marry you, so you’re just going to have to seduce me again to get me to say that.”

“That can be arranged.” Sylvia cooed as she snuggled into his arms.

“And there’s another thing, Mrs. Smarty Pants.”

“What, Mr. Smarty Pants?

“On our fiftieth anniversary I’m going to call in our kids, our grandkids and our great-grandkids and tell all of them just how you seduced me into marrying you. That’s what!”

“Tattletale!”


The Proposal

"One can not judge a book by its cover." So we are told. But a cover is usually the only thing a reader has to base a judgment on. Smashwords tries to aid readers by providing summaries, one short, one long, for each book it distributes. For non-fiction this works well. But this, it seems to me, defeats the whole purpose of fiction. After all, one reads a story to find out what will happen. It’s the uncommon twists and turns that make a story interesting. But if a summary has told all this beforehand, what fun is to be had in the reading? Therefore, no summary of the present short story is given. It's short and it’s free! So read the whole thing and see if you like it. I ask you to do this because I think it is the best book judging method. To find fiction you like you must first read around enough to learn something of the style and stories of different authors. Then you can judge books, not by their cover, but by the your opinion of the writer. I'd like to help you do this. The present short story is one of several which I will make available free at Smashwords. Read a few (or all of them) and decide if you like them. It won't cost you a dime. If you like them, you can then purchase some of my not free (but still inexpensive) longer stories. All these stories are of one particular kind. To reflect this similarity all have the same cover picture, the Kitty & Rose shown above. So after you’ve read a few, you can, in fact, judge them by their cover. The common theme of the Kitty & Rose stories is human sexuality. This is not unusual. Most fiction concerns sex in one way or another; ranging from romances so sedate and demure an extraterrestrial could never know sex is at the root of everything described, to erotica so unrestricted even an extraterrestrial might blush. Kitty & Rose stories are in the middle of this range. All deal with human sexuality, but none do so explicitly. Rather, they are seemly. The dictionary gives three meanings for seemly: Attractive or agreeably fashioned; Decorous or conventionally proper; and Appropriate or suited to its purpose. With respect to appropriateness, seemly sex stories range from the humorous to the inspirational, but all concern human sexuality. So they are clearly appropriate. These stories are also seemly in the decorous and conventionally proper sense. For, while they treat sex candidly, they do not do so graphically. There is nothing pornographic nor erotic in any seemly sex story. Of course, different persons’ opinions about this may differ. A few consider frank pornography decorous. At the opposite extreme are those like the abbot of the monastery where the great biologist Gregor Mendel did his epochal research. This abbot thought Mendel’s studies were decidedly indecorous because they involved the sex of pea plants! Finally, there is the principal sense of seemly, attractive and agreeably fashioned. Like every author I exert my every effort and ability trying to make these stories seemly in this regard. But like every author, I must await your determination of the degree of my success. Since both of us will be pleased if you find them attractively seemly, I very much hope you do. Happy reading! BobbyB P.S. This story is being uploaded on 2-14-2017, Valentine's Day! Fourteen more short stories will be uploaded, one each weekday. Then four longer stories will be offered for sale.

  • Author: Bobby B.
  • Published: 2017-02-15 05:20:07
  • Words: 5740
The Proposal The Proposal