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Subject: {ASSM} (Jack) An Extraordinary Woman <*> (MF, Rom)
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{ASSM} (Jack) An Extraordinary Woman <*> (MF, Rom)

This work of fiction is for the entertainment of adults in
locations where it is legal.  If it is illegal in your location,
don't read it!  This work is copyrighted.  Reposting or any other
use is strictly prohibited without the express, written
permission of the copyright holder.  E-mail me, I'll probably
give you permission.  I just want to know and control where it is
posted.  This story may be posted as part of a review or to the
ASSM archive.

My thanks to Expert Editor, Ruthie, for her editing and
suggestions.  Any errors you find are my fault not hers.

Tell me what you liked, or didn't like.  Please!

E-mail address:  jackofalltrades@post.com

My stories can be found at my website: http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/j/wwwoat
or http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/Jack_of_all_Trades/

Copyright 2000 by Jack of all Trades



Special thanks to Ruthie, an extraordinary woman in her own
right, for providing guidance when I strayed from the path.



An Extraordinary Woman
by Jack of all Trades

I sat at my desk, morning cup of coffee at my right hand. I
flipped to the sports section of the paper first. Caught myself
up on the scores from the night before. Found out which rich
baseball player was going into rehab this week, which football
player was charged with a violent crime. Then I flipped to the
obituaries. Middle age does that to you. Instead of being
occupied with the here and now, you're occupied with the
hereafter. Or at least I was. That's how I found out Jill
Marquiss had died. I hadn't seen her in years, although I never
stopped thinking about her and what she meant in my life.

-----

I first met Jill when I was a young man of seventeen, a senior in
high school. She was twenty-six and lived in the next town. I
will always remember the date - June 7, 1975. Jill was the most
gorgeous creature I had ever set eyes on. Long chestnut brown
hair, so full and curly, it could have been a pillow. Gray eyes,
the color of a dirty sky, sparkled with mischief and mirth. Full
red lips drew attention to a small beauty mark at the right
corner of her mouth. But the most beautiful thing on her face was
the smile. Sexy with a touch of innocence, it could melt men's
hearts and often did.

If you only saw Jill's face you could fall in love with her. But
once you saw her body there was no doubt. Her body screamed sex
in big, bold, capital letters. Full, firm breasts capped with
strawberry nipples that were at least a half-inch long when
erect. Her breasts stood out from her chest proudly and never
needed support. Long, long legs and at their juncture a small
triangle that accented the lips of her sex. She had an ass, Lord,
what an ass. It was perfection in shape and size.

That first day I was more nervous than a long-tailed cat in a
room full of rocking chairs. I knocked tentatively at the door,
and she greeted me with a big smile and a warm hug. She invited
me into a narrow, dark foyer that smelled of musty carpets. The
room she led me to was average size for a bedroom, with a large
bed against the wall between two windows. The wallpaper and
comforter were decorated with matching lavender flowers. On one
side of the bed stood a single wooden chair, on the other a
nightstand and lamp with a blue shade that matched the flowers.
The room was neat and orderly with a scent, Jill's scent, I would
come to discover, of lavender. The room was understated,
contrasting sharply with its occupant. She was dressed in a silk
kimono, hair pinned high, face marvelously made up, bright red
lipstick. Wild flowers and colors competed for attention against
her beauty.

"My, you're a handsome fellow," Jill said.

"Th-thank you, ma'am."

Jill laughed. "None of that ma'am stuff when you're with me,
unless you want to play those sorts of games. Just call me Jill.
What's your name?"

"R-r-russell, Russell DeWitt."

"Hello, Russell. Would you mind if I called you Russ?" I shook my
head no. "Good. Well, Russ, what's your pleasure? Got anything
special in mind?"

"N-n-no."

Jill walked, no, glided over to me. She took my hand. "Goodness,
you're shaking like a leaf. Do I frighten you?" I wasn't scared
of her, just frightened by her beauty, among other things. I
shook my head violently. "Russ, honey, I need you to answer this
one for me. I know it might be embarrassing, but are you a
virgin?"

"Yes," I whispered. And I was here for precisely that reason. I
wanted more than just a hurried encounter in the backseat of a
car. A friend told me about Jill and I saw her as the solution to
my problem. His description of Jill hadn't done her justice.

"Oh, honey, that's so sweet." She wrapped her arms around me,
crushing her breasts against my chest, and brought her lips to
mine. She kissed me with a passion that left me breathless,
shaking and quivering in my shoes. Jill tugged my hand and led me
to the bed. "Sit for me, sweetie." I sat on the edge of the bed
and Jill removed my shoes and socks, put a sock in each shoe, and
shoved them under the bed. She stood up, then sat beside me. Jill
leaned over and kissed me on the cheek. "You just relax for me,
sweetheart. We're going to have a good time." Her fingers
unbuttoned my shirt, then her hand slid inside to rub my chest
softly. She peeled my shirt over my shoulders and pulled the tail
from my pants. Folding it neatly, she placed it on the chair by
her bed.

"Good Lord, Russ, you sure do have a lot of muscles. Do you work
out?"

"N-no, ma'am, I mean Jill." She smiled sweetly at my mistake. "I
work at the feed mill on weekends and after school."

"And you got all those muscles from doing that?"

"Yes."

She slid off the bed and knelt at my feet. "Stand up for me,
baby." I stood and Jill expertly undid my belt buckle and
unfastened my jeans. She grasped the tab to the zipper, and
slowly pulled it down. Little tremors shook my body as each tooth
on the zipper parted. I was almost panting by the time she
reached the bottom. She let my jeans slide to my feet, then her
soft hands slid inside the waistband of my shorts. Jill worked
them slowly over my hips, sliding them downward until my erection
sprang free. "My, my, my," she murmured. She let my shorts drop
to my feet. "Step out of those for me, sweetie." I stepped out of
my clothes and Jill picked them up, folded them, and placed them
on the chair. She turned down the comforter on the bed, exposing
the crisp, clean sheets below.

"Climb up on the bed and make yourself comfortable, Russ." I
followed her directions and lay back on a pillow. Jill climbed
onto the bed and lay beside me, pressing herself softly against
my arm. She rolled up on her side, softly stroked my cheek. Her
gray eyes stared into mine. "You're still trembling," she
whispered to me. "Honey, it's okay. We're going to have a lot of
fun together, but we need to get past this." Her hand slid down
my stomach then softly gripped my shaft. I moaned and shook.
"See, you're entirely too tense." She kissed down my chest,
across my stomach. I moaned and shook some more, having a good
idea what was coming. Jill didn't disappoint me, her lips wrapped
around the head of my penis, then she slid me into the heat of
her mouth.

It started in my toes. They clenched tightly, my legs shook, and
my stomach quivered. Then I convulsed and pulsed, thickly and
powerfully, jet after jet, until I felt so weak I could hardly
move. Jill slid up my body and lay back down beside me, kissing
me softly on the cheek. "You taste so sweet," she whispered then
hugged me tightly to her breasts. I was dazed and fulfilled,
completely under her spell.

Jill let me rest for a few moments more, then relaxed her hold on
me. I sank back into the pillow. "Russ, you need to make a
choice. I can get you hard and we can make love, or I can teach
you how to love a woman. Which do you want?"

It's funny how life presents you with choices when you have no
idea how important your decision will be. I wanted nothing more
than to make love to Jill, to sink inside her and lose myself in
her arms, to lose my virginity. That was why I came here after
all. And now I lay beside the most gorgeous woman I had ever met
in my life, a woman who was perfectly willing to help me
accomplish my goal, and it no longer mattered. "Teach me," I
whispered.

Jill laughed, rolling on top of me and kissing me so hard my lips
hurt. "God, baby, you have no idea how much fun you're going to
have. Sweetheart, when I'm through with you there won't be a
woman in the state safe from your charms."

-----

Jill taught me, Lord God, did she teach me. But she was wrong.
There was at least one woman in the state who was immune - Jill
herself - and, unfortunately, she was the only one I wanted. My
education in lovemaking was expensive. Jill didn't work for free,
but it was worth every penny I paid her.

I saw her as much as I could. I worked odd jobs after classes and
weekends to scrape together her fee. I returned to the small
Victorian house at the end of the street whenever I had enough
for that month's lesson. I'd ring the bell and Jill would open
the door, welcoming me with that big smile and a tight hug. Her
clothes, most often a soft, sheer, flowery kimono, were designed
more to arouse than to cover. We'd talk softly as she led me to
her room. Loud voices simply weren't in keeping with the nature
of the occasion or the woman.

Jill's voice had a breathless quality that left me weak. She
always started by asking me how I was doing in school. She seemed
to take a real interest, then she would instruct me. "Honey, to
seduce a woman you need to get inside her head. Talk with her,
find out the things she likes. Touch her softly, just little
touches, nothing obvious. Watch her eyes, don't glance downwards.
It's not her body you want, it's here," Jill said tapping her
forehead.

Jill would teach and then we would make love. She was determined
I would learn all the techniques, all the nuances that went into
loving a woman. Those were my favorite moments, gentle breezes
rustling the curtains, the smell of lavender and Jill, a gasp, a
sigh, a laugh, and finally a smile as I melted into her arms.
There I would lie, cushioned by the pillows of her breasts, until
I recovered.

She would rock me awake and send me on my way. "Baby,
we're done for today. You need to practice this a lot. You get
this down and the rest is easy. Come back and see me when you're
ready for the next lesson."

It wasn't easy to leave her. Even worse were the times I had to
skip a month because I was short money. I missed her warmth, the
sweet smell of lavender. At least I could talk to her on the
phone. I was happy when I could tell her I wanted to come see
her, happier still when I was ringing the doorbell.

Each lesson was important. She taught me patience and how to take
my time. "Sweetheart, once she's undressed you don't rush to make
love. You need to stroke her softly, let the softness of your
touch arouse her body. Like this." Jill stroked my arms softly,
across my chest. Little tingles shook my body. "Now you try," she
said lying back on the bed. I stroked along her side, my hands
slid across her flat stomach, then upward to stroke the softness
of her breast. Jill grabbed my hand. "No, baby. Too fast. You
have to make her want you to touch her there. Your hands have to
touch everywhere else. You never touch between her legs or her
breasts until she's ready. You know the signs, watch for them."

I scrimped and saved with a discipline I didn't know I possessed
to come up with Jill's fee each month. Finally, she told me she
had nothing left to teach. I was disappointed and dejected, but I
knew I could still see her when I had the money. By then I loved
her, desperately, with an all-consuming passion that left me weak
in her presence.

---------------

The date was June 7, 1980. I was 22 and thought I owned the
world. It was five years to the day since I first met Jill. I had
just graduated college and was still seeing her as often as I
could. Although the lessons were long over, I had never even
tried to tear myself away. She was the woman I'd loved since high
school. I couldn't imagine living without her. I remember the
date well, not only because my formal education was done, but
also for what I decided to do.

I quickly found a job selling pharmaceuticals for Pfiskar, who
had a large factory at the other end of town. Between seeing Jill
almost every month, buying a car, and taking over my living
expenses from Mom and Dad, I wasn't able to save much money at a
time. I determined to watch every penny spent, then celebrate
next June 7 in a special way. A few days before June 7 rolled
around again, I went to Rickard's and purchased a ring. It was
small but it represented all my love, all my dreams. I knew she
would accept my proposal. She loved me and wanted to be mine. I
simply knew it.

The sun shone brightly and there was a slight breeze that made
the early-morning heat comfortable. A few wispy white clouds
scuttled across the sky, pushed along by the breeze. I had a
spring in my step, almost a bound, as I was pushed along by
excitement and anticipation. I could picture Jill the day we
would marry. Dressed in white, breathtakingly gorgeous, sunlight
through the stained glass windows cascading a kaleidoscope of
colors across her. I held her hand as I slipped the ring, my
ring, onto her finger. I bounded up the steps to her house with a
smile on my face, shaking my head to clear the daydreams. I
wanted to remember every part of this, every moment as long as I
lived.

I pressed the doorbell, hearing the soft chimes ring within the
house, while I stepped nervously from foot to foot. Jill opened
the door, flashed her smile at me, and for a brief moment I
forgot why I was there. She was dressed in a negligee of the
deepest royal blue. Her chestnut hair swooped and curled down
across her shoulders. Gray eyes appraised my reaction to her and
twinkled with delight. She had never been more beautiful. I
remembered to breathe and gasped in a deep breath. My heart
melted, I needed her so much.

"Hi baby, I've been waiting for you," she said, stepping back
slightly so I could come in. I walked, legs barely able to hold
me up, inside to her small foyer, then dropped to my knees and
took her hand. "Will you marry me, Jill?" I stared up at her,
seeing in her face a mixture of love and anguish. She stroked my
cheek softly. She managed to hide what I know now was surprise.

She pulled me gently to my feet and led me to her bedroom, where
she plopped me down into the wooden chair next to her bed. What
she said next was difficult for me to hear, but I think even more
difficult for her to say. "Oh, Russ. I'm not the sort of girl you
want to marry. Honey, what we have, it's... it's all about sex,
not love. You're a man who needs both, Russ. You need to find a
woman who can give you both. You know how to love a woman, now
you need to find one worthy of your love." She wiped a wayward
tear from my cheek. I felt lost and despondent. "Russ, if ever
there was a man I could marry, it would be you, but I'm not the
marrying kind." I nodded. There wasn't much else to say.

It hadn't happened at all like I had imagined. I hurt for a while
but couldn't stay away. The next time, she greeted me as if
nothing had happened and loved me like I was the only man who
existed. I was happy again.

-----

I tried to find the elusive woman Jill had described. Monthly I
would return to her and we made love. Sweetly, passionately,
completely, but only for an hour. As that special hour of each
month passed in her arms, my love for her never wavered. The next
year on June 7 I asked her again to marry me, and again Jill
rejected my proposal. For a short while she became angry with me.
She was clearly losing patience with a 23-year old, whose
fantasies wouldn't allow him to take no for an answer.

"I didn't teach you all that I did, just so you could use it on
me. Find someone you can love and use it on her," she demanded.

I had already had several girls during college and after, but
none of them meant anything to me, not like Jill. "I already did,
it didn't work."

"Damn you, Russ. I can't marry you, even if I wanted to. You
can't be married to a prostitute. Think about what it would do to
your future. I'd be like a giant stone hanging around your neck.
You don't need that."

The hell of it was, I did.

But Jill was right. I couldn't afford the burden of marrying a
prostitute. Not while I was building my career. Scandal and
gossip weren't conducive to advancement. But I still loved her
with all my heart. Nothing else mattered, it seemed. I promised
myself that once I was set I would ask Jill again.

-----

I continued to see Jill every month. She was my obsession. In her
arms I was content. In her room of lavender and flowers I was at
peace. Into her body I poured my love. As my financial situation
improved I saw her more often, treasuring the moments we had
together. Basking in the glow of my love for her. Jill chided me,
softly, gently, to find a woman I could love who would return
that love to me. I tried, but the women I met couldn't compete
with the woman I loved.

I did love her. Completely, unreservedly, and I didn't give a
damn about scandal or careers or anything else but her. I
fantasized about life with Jill. I even came to accept that if we
married she would continue to see customers. I didn't care, the
thought, the dream, of holding her in my arms at night was so
overpowering that no obstacle, no matter how large, was going to
stand in my way. Through it all I worked and maneuvered my way
through the corporate labyrinth. I applied some of Jill's
teachings to work, watching and observing, learning everything I
could. I was finally offered a position as Sales Manager of one
of Pfiskar's smaller product lines.

I was valuable enough to the company that I knew they wouldn't
fire me over a personal peccadillo if they ever found out about
Jill. I told her so at our next meeting, June 7, 1983, our eighth
anniversary. I should say, the date I counted as my anniversary
with Jill, the date I first met her and the date I first asked
her to marry me. She didn't have a sentimental streak, didn't
distinguish one date from another. Things like that were
meaningless to her. I remember her telling me she never even
observed her birthday. As I had for all the years I knew her, I
asked Jill to marry me. Jill, of course, refused.

"Russ, you have to stop. It isn't doing either one of us any
good. Honey, you can see me anytime you want, you know that. If I
married you I'd have to give all this up, but I can't do that. I
enjoy it." She smiled wickedly. My heart fluttered. "And honey,
you know better than anyone else just how much I enjoy it."

-----

The next year I fell in love with a wonderful woman, or at least
the part of my heart that didn't love Jill did, and we married. I
was 26 and ready to settle down. She was a few years older than
me. I guess Jill had given me a taste for older women. For the
first few years she was enough. When she became pregnant with our
first child, I found myself thinking of Jill more and more. I
needed to feel her warm body, smell her aroma, slip into her
wetness. I don't know how many times I picked up the phone to
call her. I fought it until I was exhausted.

Jill welcomed me into her arms. She hadn't changed much, just a
few more pounds that added to her body's lushness. She was still
beautiful and sexy, time seemed only to enhance her. Every
movement she made was erotic and heightened my arousal. When I
felt as if I would burst, she took me to bed.

We made love passionately, furiously, as if we were trying to
cram all the times we had missed into one hour. At the end of the
hour she told me she had no one else scheduled if I wanted to
stay longer. I did. With the clock stopped, I took my time. I
relished the sight of her, with her chestnut hair fanned out
around her on the pillow, the soft curves and unblemished skin
that were heaven to touch. I reveled in the quiet sighs, and soft
moans I coaxed from her. I drank from her sweetness until neither
of us could wait a moment longer, then plunged inside her,
shivering and shaking while sweat cooled on our bodies. When we
recovered we talked.

"Russ, tell me what's wrong. Why are you here? Your wife is
waiting for you somewhere out there."

"I don't know. It's not anything in particular, it's just, just,
she isn't you."

"Jill smiled at me sadly. "Honey, she never will be. She can't
be. But she's your wife. You love her and that's enough. I'll be
here for you if you need me but you need to stop. You're getting
older now with a little baby you should be thinking of more than
me. I'm not good for you, Russ. You have to stop the fantasies,
they aren't going to happen."

-----

At the very beginning, when I first met Jill, I thought about her
constantly, loved her with an all-consuming passion, begged her
to marry me and was constantly rebuffed. As the years passed and
my life changed, my passion changed too, seeming to dissipate
more each year. I still hungered for her much too often, but it
was different. I hungered for the Jill of 1975, the Jill that
patiently instructed me in the art of loving a woman, the Jill
that made me a man. She was a figure of my past, a dream
unrealized, a longing that time, in its relentless march, quieted
into fond memories of a life I used to have.

It was now 1990 and for the first time in many years I felt I was
past where I still had to cling to Jill. Her words connected with
me and I realized now she was a dream I could possess only as
long as I had the requisite fee and an imagination that could
overlook the obvious. Rationally, I knew she had never truly felt
for me what I felt for her. I was her lover, yes, but I was first
and foremost her paying customer. I hurt inside for the loss of
the illusion and because I finally realized that the love I had
for her for fifteen years, had never been rational.

And that, perhaps, was Jill's greatest and final lesson. I packed
my love for her away in a special place that no one could ever
touch or see, and opened the rest of my heart to my wife. With
her I finally found what I had been searching for in Jill's arms.
I realized, finally, that she couldn't be Jill. She could be
better.

-----

I wept at Jill's funeral. I hadn't seen her in years, but I wept
anyway, wept for all the years of unrequited love, for the
countless hours in her bed, sun streaming through the window,
spilling across her to highlight the wondrous curves of her body.
I wept because the dream I had so carefully nurtured, lovingly
packed away in the recesses of my mind, was dead. And because a
part of me, a part of my past, had died with her.

There were many mourners, mostly men. That wasn't surprising. She
died because a drunk driver ran a red light and plowed into her
car. I stood there, staring at the gravesite. I had no idea what
I was waiting for. A sign? Yeah, that it was truly over. A
whisper of a breeze wafted the scent of lavender from the flowers
that adorned her grave. Tears welled in my eyes and my throat
tightened. I still loved her, but it was time to bid farewell to
the extraordinary woman that taught me how to love.

I clutched the piece of paper they handed out at the funeral. I
read it one last time.

Jill Elise Marquiss
Born: March 12, 1949
Died: June 7, 1996

I wept.

THE END


--
Jack of all Trades

E-mail:  jackofalltrades@post.com

My stories can be found at my website:
http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/j/wwwoat
or
http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/Jack_of_all_Trades/

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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