Dodi's Tale Ch. 01

It was a confusing time for me. I was discontent for a variety of good reasons. I'd ended a long term relationship and, for the first time in a long time, I was being a bachelor. And the new woman I was involved with was not keeping me happy. That gal, my "regular girl friend" Lisa, was married, and juggling my balls around once or twice a week didn't get it.

It wasn't that Lisa was bad for me. I'd known her for years through the Court system and her attraction for me was flattering. And she was sharp. She was super thin, maybe 5'7. Someone called her my own Allie McBeal, although she was better looking than the T.V. actress. She had long beautiful hair, nearly waste length and thick. Her hair vacillated from various shades of blonde to red, and she had a strong face that sat atop her size 0 frame. Nude? Well, she liked to hang out nude. A couple of times we rented a hotel room - once across from the courthouse - and hung out nude, drinking wine and fucking, all day. Lisa had an unusual body, lean and thin, small breasted, no kids. Unusual was that she had several surgical scars from complex accidents. Different, quite different, but still very attractive. And she was a cum laude law school graduate, an Order of the Coife.

But the fact of the matter was that she referred to her husband Brad as a cuckhold, and I was uncomfortable with the circumstance. I was particularly uncomfortable when I would pick her up at their apartment. We were in a very hot sexual relationship and she would ask me to come by their home in German Village. Sometimes her husband Brad would answer the door, we'd try to make small talk, and then I would take out his wife and have sex with her. And I was also uncomfortable when I fucked Lisa in their bed, while he was "away". One night we were out, drinking beers and shooting pool, and it was getting late. Of course she invited me into their apartment, and we started kissing on the couch. We progressed to the bedroom, and I laid out on the bed. She stood in front of me, nonchalantly, and stripped nude. She climbed in "their" bed beside me, and I enjoyed her. Things went slowly at first, with my fingers in her pussy and my tongue in her throat. Then a full sixty-nine, followed by her riding me on top until I came. But it was a passion in which I kept one eye open. Was her husband behind the closet door, or on the other side of the curtain? It made no sense. Apparently he liked the fact that I was fucking his wife. Now, I wonder why he didn't confront me.

The ex (XS) and I, before Lisa, we were wild. We'd been members of an online adult dating service for years. XS and I had joined as a couple, looking for another couple, and although we posted our nude photos and exchanged email contacts with other couples, nothing, not one thing, ever came of it. So our membership sat, and we forgot about it. But our pics were still showing. The service owns them and can post them however it sees fit.

For some fateful reason, I came in contact with a woman named Dodi Evans. Dodi lived here in Ohio, around 120 miles from me. Maybe I saw her pics on the adult connection, maybe she saw ours. We passed a few emails. She seemed both intelligent and friendly, and was not put off by my being a lawyer. Her brother is a lawyer, in Illinois, she said. As our communication increased to the telephone level, we decided to meet on a weekend Saturday night, maybe for dinner and drinks, and then, as they say these days, who knows...

I had studied the pics she had sent me. Dodi looked good - about 5'5, 125 pounds, with dirty blond hair. She had confessed to me that she was in the middle of a divorce, and she was not regularly dating anyone. Myself, I am a reborn bachelor, confident and game. I am 6'1, 190 pounds, toned, handsome and in great shape. Keeping fit means a lot to me, especially as I age. I do 100 sit ups a day and get no less than 3 one hour strenuous workouts each week.

The Ohio city of Mansfield was a half way for each of us, and our plan was to meet there. I had extra money and was feeling full of myself. I decided to drive my new Ford pick up to Mansfield early and to rent a hotel room, and whether this gal stayed with me was not important. It was a beautiful blue sky afternoon, July 12th, warm but not ungodly hot. No matter what happened, I thought, I'd get my full of something and at worst, if we didn't hit it off, I'd pass out. We would meet, maybe do dinner, or just sit in a bar and drink. I had her cell phone number and I relayed these plans to her for her feedback as they developed.

I drove into Mansfield looking for that old hotel, the one from some old movie, in the center of town, like the Netherlands in Cincinnati from where people can walk around downtown. Couldn't find that in Mansfield. I drove out to where hotels are these days, at freeway interchanges. I found nothing but dumps, shit holes, places I would rather drive the hour home drunk than attempt to sleep in. With me I had my 'Back Roads Ohio' map, and it showed a small lake east of town, with some campsites. My thoughts were that I might find a nice bed and breakfast in the country, a place far better than a Days Inn.

As I was driving down some country road, my cell phone rang. There was a female's voice when I answered. I thought it was my date, but she didn't sound the same.

"Louie, are you busy?" I heard over light static.

"Not really, I am in my truck driving around. Who's this?" I responded.

"This is Lisa, and we need to talk."

"Talk? About what?" I said, and I thought to myself how, a few days before, she announced that she was going to be faithful to her husband.

She said that to me in the early morning light, in my bed. The night before, unexpectedly, she showed up at my house. It was around 11:00 P.M., and I was standing in the kitchen in my old boxers pouring a glass of wine. I let Lisa in and she followed me back to the kitchen. Without a word of explanation, she got on her knees and tugged my boxers down. Her hands took hold of my cock, she took the top in her mouth and started that slow suck that she liked to give me. After getting me so hard, she stood up and took her size 0 jeans off. She had on pink low rider panties. With that as a hello, I said "Ok" and walked her up the stairs to my bedroom. Right away she was nude and under me. Her thin flexible frame allowed me to place her ankles over my shoulders and lean all my cock into her. Lisa got my first round quickly, she always had been an aggressive fuck who bragged that she fucked like a man. And when I am on top I can spill like a glass of milk. I emptied my semen in her, knowing, hoping that her husband might detect some trace the next time he was with her. I rolled over and Lisa immediately went to sucking again. She gave a talented blow job, and after a few minutes she had me up again. Next she was on top, riding me. We screwed that way, and every other way, all night.

But the next morning she started in on me. Lisa was in my bathroom, she was giving herself a douche. I watched through the door as she used Summers Eve on herself. She thought that her husband wouldn't know she'd been fucking around if she used a douche. And she complained that I had a strong semen odor that I left on her. It was an odd complaint, never heard before by me. It was a Shakespearian slip I suppose, "out you spots!" can't wash the spots off. Then she spat the lines that she had wanted one last night of sex with me, with emphasis on it being the last. So I make a date with someone new, and then the married Lisa calls.

"We've got some things we need to discuss, Elliot," she said.

"Lisa, I'm out on a date. I'm near Mansfield, I'm looking for a bed and breakfast where I can meet up with a new gal." I told her.

"Well, there's some stuff I need to say to you, about my husband Brad, you know" she went on. She went on about how Brad had left her alone, and that it was a beautiful day in Columbus.

A couple of things were clear. Lisa had me on the cell line and she wasn't going to get off. She wanted to use me more. More sex, more attention, more walking around the most expensive shops in Easton Towne Center while she tried on and purchased a thousand dollar's worth of clothes. Maybe, I thought, she has used me up. So I sat the phone on the seat, with the phone charger connected to the lighter, and continued driving. I could here her ramblings, as well as I wanted to hear her, with the phone on the seat.

At that time I was fruitless in my search for a B&B, but I did notice a bar. The bar was in a tiny village, it had a few cars outside and the bar was obviously open. The place was made of wood, cheap paneling and was painted dark brown. There was a gravel parking lot in front, and the bar was on a corner. It had few windows, and the entrance had a screen door like you would find on a house trailer. I stopped my truck, all the while with Lisa talking on, I grabbed the cell phone off the charger, and I went inside. I heard Lisa's voice on my cell and I interrupted her.

"It's OK if you want to talk", I said, "but what is it that you want to talk about?"

No real response to my question, maybe she had sat her phone down too.

Inside the bar, I moved to the barstool. Then the barmaid approached me, and I placed the phone down again. Lisa continued reaming me, and I didn't need the phone at my ear to hear her.

"What do you have for beers? Any imports?" I asked the barmaid.

She said that they had some Killians, which apparently she thought was imported, so I settled on a Bud. Lisa, still on my phone, went on talking nonsense, mostly about the law business, total nonsense, I figured that she was high on oxycotin. And I figured that her husband was off playing golf. She didn't know I was in Mansfield that afternoon when she called my cell. Lisa was lonely, thinking that she could come over to my house and that I would make love to her. And a huge part of me wanted to make love to her again, maybe even forever.

"I can't do it tonight, not now" I told her.

She mumbled "Why not?" and I hung up.

The bar actually was a family restaurant, with wooden booths and dinner specials. The barmaid's kids were there, and the mother / grandmother owned the place. A few locals were at the bar, but the place was pretty much empty.

"Do you know of any bed and breakfasts around here" I asked the barmaid. Not shy, I asked loud enough so that the other folks in the bar could here me. After a few moments, the barmaid started to respond, but she did so with the help of a customer, an old man, drinking a beer.

"There's that place..." she started, and openly wondered what to say next, and, after a few second pause, the customer followed in "over off Route 60, it's the only one I know around here."

"How do I get there? I asked.

"Well... take the main road here, and drive up the hill over to a stoplight. Take a left, and when you find blinking lights and an intersection, turn left again, it's there. It's about ten miles.

"Is it a nice place? Do you know what they charge?"

"I don't know anything about that," he said " but I have never heard a bad word about the place."

I finished my beer and declined having another one. The beer was $1.75, and I left $4.00. I'll probably get great service if I ever go back. Off I drove, in the direction described by the old man. My first realization was that he had discounted the distances. Up and over the hill to the stoplight was itself several miles, and I was about ready to forget it.

I called my friend on her cell to update her. She answered in her car, which reassured me that she was on her way and that she would show up to meet me. After all, I had never seen her before.

"Dodi" I said, "I figured that I wouldn't want to drive home tonight, so I went looking for a hotel room. You know that I like wine, and I thought it best to get myself straight for the night. In Mansfield, I couldn't find much of anything, I even stopped at a tourist information booth, there's not much here. But I have a lead on a bed & breakfast, what do you think?"

"That sounds fine", she said.

"And you're on your way?" I asked, more than a little worried that she wouldn't show.

"Yes" she said, "I am about 45 minutes from Mansfield."

"Great. This B&B is on your side of Mansfield, off Route 60. I'll call you back when I find it. Drive carefully" I said, confident that she was going to show up.

From the stoplight I took the left turn, as the old man directed. The road went straight north, and I drove several more miles. Finally, I came to the flashing lights. At the intersection, on my left, was the sign for the Windham Bed & Breakfast. I stopped for a moment and scoped the place out. From the curb, it looked fantastic. I pulled into the long blacktop driveway that circled around a large Victorian brick home. The property was meticulously landscaped, the brick house itself was painted white, with green shudders and trim, there were brick patios, landscaped gardens, walkways and giant white canvas umbrellas - but no guests. The parking lot was empty. A couple was outside walking, and they appeared startled by my appearance. They must own the place, I thought. I stopped my truck, got out, and I spoke to them.

"Hello folks. Nice day isn't it? I am looking for a room for the night, tonight only, for myself and my lady friend. Do you have any rooms available?"

I could feel the couple sizing me up, wondering who the stranger was. They looked at me like I was from Mars. Obviously I had no reservation. As they looked at me, they listened to my speech patterns, listened that I correctly strung nouns and verbs. They noticed the inconsistency between my speech patterns and my shaved head, jeans, tee shirt and pick up truck. I looked back at them, awaiting a response. The male was older than I am, and a bit taller than my 6'1. He was gray, balding and overweight, and his wife was much shorter, maybe 5'3, also gray and plump. This place was their retirement dream. On the other hand, my pick up truck is new, bright red, and there I was all flexed, toned and ready for a romantic rendezvous. There was an open contrast. This couple hadn't had a romantic evening in quite a while. But as they listened to my discourse they realized that I could afford their rates, and that was all that mattered. I had more than $400.00 cash in my pocket, and a half a dozen credit cards.

"Yes, we do have a room. Would you like to see it?" the guy said to me.

"Please," I responded.

The three of us walked to the house, making small talk. The grass was freshly mowed, there were flower gardens in bloom at every possible angle, and a light breeze moved the scent of fresh hyacinths into the air. I inhaled. So far, the place was a jewel. They took me inside, into the kitchen area first, and my look around told me that the inside was as polished as the rest of the place. The lady directed her husband to show me the Master Suite. The suite was on the ground floor. He opened the keyed door. The bedroom was large and ornately furnished with restored antiques, the bathroom was nearly as large as the bedroom and was equally well appointed. The suite included a full living room, with working gas fireplace, an elaborate television, all the things the hosts determined that potential guests would expect. It was immaculate, and it was their prize.

"How much?" I asked.

" $110.00."

I was ready to pay $110.00, hell, I didn't care. It was really nice, nicer than hotels where I have stayed in Europe that cost me a lot more money. But I didn't respond right away, I thought about different circumstances I have encountered, I thought about bartering. My gal wasn't even there, I thought, do I need a suite? So I kept my mouth shut, I said nothing. He cast the bait at me, I didn't bite at the first strike. Plus I didn't like the ground floor location, and we didn't need a bunch of rooms. I had no plans of watching any T.V. What we needed, I hoped and I thought, was a bed. A comfortable bed, a soft bed where I could push this internet stranger as far as she wanted to be pushed...we didn't need a suite.

My host paused and gauged my reaction. I shrugged my shoulders.

"I have another room I can show you, follow me". And he led me around, back through the kitchen and up the narrow staircase. At the top of the stairs, there were numbered rooms, and he opened room number 2. We walked in. The first steps were into the bathroom. The bedroom was beyond the bath, we needed to pass through the bath like a hallway to get to the bedroom. Very private. The bathroom was nicely done. But the bedroom...it spelled romantic, it leaped, it jumped romantic. There was a wooden poster bed with a hanging sheer canopy, the bed was huge and dominated the room, the pillows were big and fluffy, there was a wardrobe that doubled as an entertainment center. The more interesting things I found about the room were the minor decorating details placed in every corner - antique luggage stacked in size rotation above the wardrobe, an old pair of eyeglasses, some hats, antique books stacked and arranged here and there. What a place.

"This one is $75.00", he said.

I thought to myself, this is perfect, who would possibly rent the suite when this room, with a nice attractive bath, was available for less.

"I'll take this room", I said, and then I retreated, "unless my gal says that she doesn't like it. I am leaving it up to her. She might prefer the suite, she should be here in a few minutes."

We walked out and I was having second thoughts. I should jump on that room, I thought, it was very nice. As we descended the stairs, I considered the options. When she shows, if she shows, she'll want the suite. Leaving anything up to a stranger shows uncertainty. So I decided to commit to the upstairs room. It's my money, I thought.

"Sir", I said as we entered the kitchen, "I'll take the upstairs room. Do you want me to pay now? Do you want cash or a credit card?"

"Are you sure that you don't want the suite?" was his response. "We have a special on the suite that is advertised on the internet. I can give you the same price. Buy one night at full price, and the second night is free. A two for one, or half price deal. Interested?"

"No, I'm not. My gal has to work tomorrow and she'll be leaving early. We'll only be here one night, and the upstairs room will afford us a lot more privacy. It's really nice, and exactly what I want. I am happy with it."

"We'll need to clean it up then" and he summoned his wife to record my relevant information. After giving her my life history, she showed me around the kitchen. Copper trim - my favorite - was everywhere, and the fridge had wine and beer. Thank god, I thought, I can drink and be considered normal.

Then the husband returned and we engaged in small talk. I was interested in antiques, but not so much as my date, she had made a few dollars selling antiques over E-bay. And these people had many attractive pieces, showroom pieces, big and small, they are lucky that I am not a thief. The guy gave me the tour, showing me rooms under construction, rooms with beautiful antiques, places where guests were not allowed. I enjoyed it, it was delightful.

I mentioned something about Europe, probably that I had just returned from Europe, (which I had) and that I like to stay in B&Bs in Europe when I travel there. I know I mentioned Karen Brown's B&B guides, it's pretty good small talk. And then the guy told me the truth. "We have had a horrible year," he said. "Ever since 9-11, no one travels. Our business has been terrible. We had a great year before 9-11, but with the economy so bad, it's been difficult."

"Things are different now" I responded, "It's not the same as it has been for the past few years. In Europe, the changes are clear, and they are obvious. A couple of weeks ago I was in Germany. As an American, I was hated. They tell me that Americans have been jumped and beaten up. I have been to Europe many times, my brother lives there, but I have never felt hated before. We are trying to bully the world, and the world hates a bully."