The proposal, p.1
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       The Proposal, p.1

           Andy Morris
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The Proposal

  A Seemly Sex Story



  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.

  Copyright 2017 seemlybobbyb


  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?"


  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, plac
ing 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
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