The meeting ended, and he went to his daughter’s company. They walked to a nearby park and after they sat down on a bench he told her that he came to take her home. She would not listen. He tried, but “she would not listen to me.” Then she hit him with, “New York is my home now” and then she demanded he accept her being a lesbian and accept her marrying this other woman.
“She turned and walked away and I came home.”
Maya unwisely asked him why he could not just accept his daughter.
“Jesus, Maya, don’t you understand? What she is doing is so wrong and my job is to save her.” When Maya tried to press the issue, he dismissed her with a “you don’t understand. I have to go now” and he hung up.
Meeting Maya
William did not call for several weeks, but Maya understood he was suffering, though she could not fathom its depths. His silence increased her anxiety about him and her growing affection for him. But then he called on Sunday morning, September 23. “It’s done,” he said. His daughter had married another woman; he saw pictures on Facebook. He asked if he could take Maya for a drive and lunch. A first.
An hour later, the couple was across the Golden Gate Bridge on the way to Bodega Bay in his Tesla. William wore a scarlet Stanford polo-shirt and blue jeans—his paunch more visible than when he wore a suit—and dock-siders. Maya was in black slacks and wore a light blue collarless shirt and flats. Her hair in a ponytail.
They spoke little on the drive up, mostly about work and tech things relevant to their jobs and a bit about her family, just trying to pass the time. Maya was attempting to grasp what the hell was going on. It was big.
For his part, William had a pretty good idea of what the hell was going on. After his wife left in early July, he had what his father had described to him as “urges.” He found himself increasingly exploring the internet for relief. But that was not-quite-satisfactory physically. Now he was sitting near the Pacific having lunch with Maya Yang.
Before ordering a second glass of red, he asked if she would drive them back, and he had the second when she said she would and then he began to hold court, telling her war stories of his early days at his firm.
After they finished, she drove south, the sun about an hour above the horizon. He asked if she had time to stop at his place and she did. It was dusk when she turned into his driveway. He was relaxed but he was not drunk, and she followed him into his house. Once inside, William stepped up and kissed her. She was surprised but pleased as he led her upstairs. He said his bed was a mess and led her into a bedroom across the hall and resumed kissing her, reaching to pull her shirt up and over her head, with her help. She was in her small bra, and he unclasped and removed it. Her nipples were hard, and he caressed her left boob with his soft right hand and she moaned, eyes closed. She could just about see her heart disappearing to him.
He quickly pulled the Stanford polo over his head and resumed his kissing as his hands now undid her belt and unbuttoned her button and she pulled her slacks off after kicking off her flats. Now she was naked except for her panties, and he quickly undid his belt and unbuttoned his button and his trousers were gone with his dock-siders and then he tore his underpants off as she did the same with her panties.
She started to lower herself to engulf him, but he stopped her. He wanted no sideshow. He wanted her, and he pulled the comforter off the bed and folded the blanket and top sheet to the side so he could lower Maya. She positioned herself in the middle and he positioned himself above her and his hands ran up and down her and then he lowered his head and she spread her legs as he reached her shaved pussy and in a moment his tongue was doing she-cared-not-what and she was mouthing she-cared-not-what as her hips began to rock beneath him and her hands ran through his balding hair.
He enjoyed her taste and inhaled her smell but it was not enough. He stopped and raised himself and the panic in her eyes was gone as he asked, “Is it safe?” and to her “I’m on the pill” his dick was suddenly inside her and for the first time, she felt what it was like to be made love to, to be filled by a man, this glorious, brilliant, wonderful, fucked-up man. She could love him. If she did not already.
To call her wet would be an understatement. Her juices, as they say, flowed, and he entered her with not the least resistance. His breathing and his thrusting accelerated, as did hers, and then after his grunt, she found herself filled by his wonderful cum as he exploded again and again. But as suddenly as he began and as quickly as he came, he was gone and she was alone. Frustrated as never before, she reached down and dipped her right fingers into herself and coated them with his seed and lifted them to her lips and tasted him and then she returned those fingers to her pussy and started pumping in-and-out as her left hand started a furious rubbing of her clit until she burst through an orgasm as strong and satisfying as any she ever experienced.
Maya lay there, recovering, waiting for her lover to return and only then, looking around and seeing trophies and Stanford memorabilia, did she realize in whose room it was and it stunned her and then she was stunned further when William appeared at the door, now fully sober and in a robe, and told her he had some work to do and that he would drop her off at the station.