Sheila Ch. 01

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Sheila is a minor character in my yet to be released story about Britt (Falling from Grace). I thought it’d be fun to have her meet Camille (Grounded in Toronto). I hope you enjoy reading it.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, merchandise, companies, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. All characters are 18 years or older when in sexual situations.


Meet Sheila

Hey, I’m Sheila … Sheila Lawson. I’m full blooded Irish with a full head of strawberry blonde hair. I’m a bit tall, about 5’8″, not much of a surprise since my dad is 6’4″ and my mom is 5’10”. If you saw my mom you’d know what I look like. She’s a big girl with a large bust and wide hips. But I’m 25 years younger than her and haven’t had two kids, so I’m a bit longer and leaner.

I fit the stereotype of the redhead with big tits. I love my breasts … the way they hang down with just enough droop … with pinkish areola and nipples. Even have freckles dotting my breasts. Many have visited them. No one has ever complained.

I also have a hot temper. I’m sure that’s part of the stereotype as well, right? Anyway my mouth has gotten me in trouble more times than I can count. I had to change jobs once because I couldn’t help but say what was on my mind. The HR Director of my then employer didn’t agree with my frank (and accurate) assessment of her faults … which were many. I found myself in the parking lot, holding the contents of my desk in a cardboard box, not more than an hour after my choice comments. So don’t expect me to keep it together at all times. Sometimes my demons get out. Live with it.

I’m here to tell you about what happened a few years ago. It was one of the high points of my life. It started in a most innocuous way …

Chapter One

They Meet

“Another boring seminar,” I was thinking as I sat for the third hour on an uncomfortable banquet chair in a windowless hotel ballroom. Plain and simple, I was bored as fuck. “Two more days of this boring shit,” I lamented. I fingered the hem on my skirt, and then slipped my heels off, knowing I would regret it when I tried to get them back on. I ran my sore feet on the carpet, seeking the coolness of the short nap. My mind wandered … there was a sale at Nordstrom’s I had to get to … I remember a cute pair of shoes I had tried on … and there was that sexy shoe salesperson, a woman with bleach blonde hair and a captivating smile …

A person got up in front of me, disturbing my daydream. I tried to get my mind back on the shoe salesperson and what she would have looked like naked. Then someone’s phone went off. My daydream over, I struggled to come up with something (anything) to burn the last fifteen minutes of this lecture.

I scanned the room to look at the people, ignoring the complicated power point slide displayed on the large screen. I spotted what I was looking for – eye candy to get me past this last painful fifteen minutes. She was a beautiful brunette sitting across the aisle in the row in front of me. Even though I couldn’t see her face, I could see her long straight hair down her back and her smooth, slender tanned legs, crossed at the ankles. The brunette absentmindedly ran her hand up and down the outside of her exposed thigh as the lecturer droned on. I started imagining it was me running my hand up her thigh, watching her eyes flutter as I caressed the soft skin of her inner thigh. She then started flexing her foot, with her shapely calves pulsating with each movement of her dainty foot. I suppressed the impulse to hurdle the table I was sitting at and take her right there and then.

I love well-dressed women, and this piece of eye candy was wearing a designer outfit with heels that I could swear were Manolo Blahniks. Thankfully, as my fantasies about her started running away I heard “in closing” as the final slide was displayed. The seminar was over for the day, to resume the following morning.

The assembled crowd rose from their chairs as the lecturer left the stage to scattered applause. The brunette turned around to leave, and I saw that the front was even better than the back. The brunette was a very attractive thirty something woman with “C” cup breasts under an expensive silk blouse. She was shorter than me and also thinner. I’m sure I outweighed her by at least twenty pounds.

The shoes were indeed Manolo Blahniks. I knew for sure because I owned the same pair in a different color. I followed the brunette out of the room and into the large foyer, where mid-afternoon refreshments were available. The brunette headed for the coffee urns. I grabbed an empty cup and got behind her.

“I was bored as fuck,” I sighed in the direction of the brunette, who was drawing a cup of regular coffee.

“So was I,” said the brunette as she turned around. We escort levent sidled off to a nearby high top to put down our coffees and begin our conversation in earnest.

“Sheila … Sheila Lawson,” I said as I extended my right hand. I tried to keep it businesslike even though I was trembling a bit on the inside.

The brunette gave me a firm, yet not crushing handshake. “Camille Durand.” She was in business mode as well, although it was obvious that we were both checking each other out.

“Pleased to meet you Camille. Do you come to many of these conferences?”

“Unfortunately yes. I come to this one every year. My employer requires it.”

“Oh, what do you do?”

“Drug rep for a Swiss company you’ve never heard of.”

“Try me.”

“EFB International.”

“I used to work for them. About ten years ago.”

Camille’s face brightened. “Really? Do you know Dennis Watson?”

“Asshole,” I responded without hesitation. Her reference conjured up a mental image of the fuckhead. It was not a good memory.

Camille gave me a wry smile. “I guess you do know Dennis.” She paused. I could see the wheels turning in her head, trying to place me. “I’ll be damned. I’m just wondering how we haven’t crossed paths before.”

“Lucky … or maybe unlucky,” I mused, wishing I had met Camille ten years earlier.

She had the knack of changing the subject at the right time. “I like your outfit,” she said, sizing up my clothes. “And I love your shoes.”

“Jimmy Choos.” I loved compliments on my shoes. Her approval was particularly meaningful.

“You didn’t have to tell me.” She was clearly shoe knowledgeable.

“And you’ve got Manolo Blahniks, I noted, proving my street cred on shoes. “I’ve got the same pair in a different color.”

“Forest green?” she asked.

“Yep. How did you know?”

“That’s the color I was going to buy if I didn’t buy these.”

I was thoroughly satisfied with our introduction. “Well Camille, it looks like we’ve got a lot in common.”

“I’ll say we do.”

I couldn’t help but notice that Camille was sporting a large diamond on her ring finger. “Married?”


“What’s your spouse’s name?”


“Lucky guy.”

“He’s a she.”

“Oh my God. I’m so sorry.” I felt like an idiot.

“No offense taken. Happens all the time.” Camille paused, studying me. Then out of the blue she blurted, “Want to get together for dinner?”

It was my turn to give her my best smile. I was truly flattered. “Honey, I love women and you’re amazing. But as a rule I don’t go out with married women.”

“Kasey doesn’t care as long as I share.”

I let her answer sink in. My reply was obvious. “What time?” I asked.

“How about 7?”

“Perfect. I assume you’re staying in this hotel?”


“Let’s meet in the lobby,” I proposed. “I know a seafood place that no one here knows about. It’s fantastic.”

“Sold. See you then.” She gave me a peck on the cheek and walked away with her coffee. I watched her sashay back to her room. I was certain that she knew I was watching. I admired her gait as she walked effortlessly in her four inch stilettos, her hips swaying just so.

I went back to my room. What to wear for someone who so clearly appreciated clothes? I wished I was back home with full access to my closet. Fortunately, my best bra and panty set was still clean, and the blouse I wore on the first day of the conference was passable. I had a matching skirt in my suitcase so a quick press and I was all set. Now the hardest question. Which pair of shoes? I had four pair to choose from and picked the Stuart Weitzman’s; classic black pumps. Just an hour ago I was bored out of my mind and now I was getting ready for a date with a woman I was worshipping from afar.

We met in the lobby as planned and had a hearty laugh when we saw each other. We had each picked out the same pair of shoes, just in different colors. I have to admit they looked better on Camille. She had picked out a sparkly and clingy low cut cobalt blue evening dress and matching pumps. She looked stunning.

“I love your red hair,” she commented to me. “My wife Kasey has red hair.”

“You’re in luck,” I answered, shaking my head to make my hair bounce. “I’ve always been a redhead and always will be.”

We went outside and had the doorman wave a cab forward for us. We went to a seafood restaurant that was a ten minute cab ride from the hotel. It looked like someone’s home, a nice home at that. I walked up the wooden stairs to a large veranda, there to be welcomed by the restaurant’s host.

“Sheila, so happy to see you back so soon.” She hugged me.

I was a bit embarrassed. Sheepishly, I said to Camille, “I’m sorry. I ate here by myself last night. It’s that good.”

“Don’t apologize. If the food’s that good I forgive you.”

She took my hand as we walked into the dining room. I was already falling for her.

We sat down at our table. I took escort istanbul my napkin and placed it on my lap. As Camille picked up her menu I said, “Would you like to hear about today’s specials?”

She put her elbows on the table and rested her beautiful face on her hands. “Do tell,” she said, obviously amused.

“We have an Alaskan halibut, served on a bed of mashed potatoes with a truffle puree on top. We also have wild king salmon, Copper River, seared on a cedar plank with fingerling potatoes. Finally, we have wild Gulf shrimp, served with dirty rice.”

Camille softly clapped her hands. “Bravo. But I must ask, is the halibut fresh?”

I screwed up my face as if she’d hurled an insult. “Of course it’s fresh.” Just as I was delivering my answer the waitress approached the table.

“Our halibut is fresh,” she added. “Did you cover the shrimp and salmon specials already?”

I nodded, proudly.

“Great. You’re so helpful.” The waitress was a cute young thing, probably in her mid-20’s with a curvy body and great legs. “How about I start you with drinks, and I’ll take your dinner order when I get back?”

“Do you have a wine list?” I asked.

She handed me one. I perused the list. I was on an expense account and hadn’t really used it much on this trip. I decided to splurge and maybe impress my new friend. “I’ll take the Kistler chardonnay please.” I showed her on the list. She nodded and left.

“Which vineyard designate?” Camille asked, now surprising me.


“Ahh. I like that one. Also Durrell.”

Now I was the one who was impressed. “So you know your wine,” I pronounced in judgment.

“You can’t help it when you’re a drug rep,” she confessed.

I should have known. “After a thousand business dinners I’m sure you learned your way around a wine list.”

Camille’s eyes softened. She had enough of the wine talk. “Tell me about yourself.”

“I don’t want to bore you.”

“I’m anything but bored.”

“OK. You asked for it. I’m an Army brat. I probably lived in a dozen cities growing up, but I identify mostly with the West Coast. My parents divorced when I was sixteen and I lived with my mother in San Diego until I went to college at USC. I married a guy I met in one of my classes but knew deep down inside that I was attracted to women. We divorced a few years later. I joined EFB out of college and then went with two other pharma companies before joining Divcon. I’ve been on the road for the past ten years. I still keep an apartment in Los Angeles, but I’m never there.”

“Attached?” she asked the moment I finished my diatribe. That was the essential piece of information I left out. I was happy that she asked.

“I was. I was living with Shannon, who was a professional dancer.”

We were interrupted by the waitress, who served us each a glass of chardonnay and took our dinner orders. I ordered the salmon. Camille got the halibut. I had the halibut the night before and it was superb. Camille was over the moon about the quality of the fish.

“What was Shannon like?” my brunette honey asked me while taking a forkful of the halibut and daintily placing it in her mouth.

“Imagine a dancer’s body, but with slightly fuller breasts. I saw her dancing in a Broadway show and was introduced to me by an old high school friend who’s a dance instructor in New York. I was in love with her. She was kind and beautiful,” I said wistfully, becoming a bit teary as I thought about her.

“What happened?” she asked as she took her first sip of her wine.

“She wanted more of me than I could give. She wanted to get married. I told her that I couldn’t settle down yet.” I paused, thinking about our expectations on what to happen after dinner.



“Can I be upfront with you?”

“Of course.”

“I love women. I love the variety. I have a hard time imagining myself with the same person for the rest of my life.”

Camille put her hand on mine and looked me in the eye. “That’s why Kasey and I have an open relationship. We love each other, but know that we can’t be exclusive. Our way of dealing with it is to share. That minimizes the jealousy.”

That made sense. Especially for me. I’d already been playing the field for 15 years and hadn’t tired of it.

“Does it sound like we’re on the same page?” she asked, knowing the answer but wanting to hear it from me.

“We are,” I replied, sliding my foot up the inside of her thigh and under her skirt.

Camille didn’t flinch when she felt my foot. “You love sex,” she whispered across the table.

“I do,” I whispered back. “And right now I’m thinking about you.”

“Should we go back to the hotel right now?”

“I think you should allow me the honor of buying you dinner first.”

We traded sexually suggestive comments throughout dinner. As we received our dessert menus I felt her bare foot touch my calf, and then trace upwards under my skirt, rubbing against the inside of my thigh. escort fatih I closed my legs together, trapping her foot between them. Her eyes opened a bit wider.

“Looking for something?” I asked.

“I am,” she said in a sultry voice. “Care to help me out?”

I parted my legs slightly, freeing her foot. She slouched slightly in her chair as I felt her big toe touch the gusset of my sopping wet panties.

I sucked in my breath. “I think you found it.”

“Why don’t we have dessert back at the hotel?”

I waved for the waitress and gave her my credit card.

“I thought I was paying,” Camille said to me.

“Oh … you will,” I assured her, giving her a big smile.

Chapter Two

The First Time

We went back to the hotel and stopped at the bar to have a nightcap. We sat in leather club chairs with a round white coffee table between us. The hostess took our drink orders and returned shortly with two single malt scotches, liquid amber in a crystal tumbler.

“So, Camille, tell me about Dennis Watson,” I said as I took my first draw off a super smooth 15 year old scotch.

She smiled. She appreciated the fact that I wanted to make a connection with her. She obliged. “You mean how Dennis groped me?”

I nodded.

“Dennis was my direct supervisor. I was with him in his office, standing next to him, and the shithead told me he was about to draft my performance review and leaned over and slipped his hand inside my dress. He said, ‘Oops, I’m sorry I lost my balance,’ when he knew and I knew that he was taking advantage of me. I had on a nice pair of Jimmy Choos with a pointed toe, and I found out that they’re also effective at kicking a guy in the groin.”

I winced in response, and then proceeded to give her my story. “Dennis and I travelled to Vegas for a big drug convention. We stayed at the same hotel. One night I was already in bed when I heard a knock at my door. I opened it a crack.

“Hello,” I said with squinty eyes.

“It’s me,” replied Dennis. “Let me in.”

I opened the door and he came in wearing a robe and slippers. I asked him what he wanted and he stumbled a bit before saying he wanted to discuss our presentation the next day and the way he wanted to revise it.

I said, “You fucking woke me up at midnight to talk about tomorrow’s presentation?” I gave him my best death glare.

“Well … not really,” the shithead replied. He tugged on the cloth belt of his robe and it fell open to show me that he was sporting a not insubstantial piece of hard meat. I looked at it in utter amazement and then looked him in the eye.

“Fuck Dennis!” I shouted at the top of my lungs. I’m sure I woke up everyone on the floor.

“So tell me …” said Camille anxiously. “What happened next?”

“What happened next is he pulled his robe shut and ran out of my room,” I said, starting to laugh.

Camille also started laughing and tearing up. “I can see Dennis’s expression. That must have been priceless.”

“It was,” I said, still trying to suppress giggles. “I thought Dennis was going to wet the floor.”

As we were laughing I was wondering why I didn’t meet her ten years ago and get married to her. She was everything I looked for in a woman – witty, wonderful and willing. She radiated her beauty. I pictured her wife Kasey as a woman of commanding presence. No one else would be able to tame the woman in front of me.

I was looking at her luminescent blue dress clinging to her body, showing every shapely curve. I wanted her. I wanted her more than anything I’ve wanted before. I was trying to think of a clever way to broach the subject. I needn’t have wasted the mental energy.

“Look,” said Camille, leaning forward ever so slightly. “I know it’s trite, but is it your place or mine?” Camille tossed her room key on the table between us. We both stared at the white piece of plastic, encased in a cardboard jacket with the room number written on it. Then we both looked up at each other.

“Yours,” I said, picking up her room key. “I’ll be there in five minutes.”

My heart was racing as I went to my room to freshen up my make-up and give a quick brush to my hair. I looked at the mirror, seeing an attractive redhead who was clearly in lust. I snapped off the bathroom light and walked out of my room.

I got in the elevator and noticed that my heart was still beating hard in my chest. I’d been with dozens of women, but somehow this rendezvous was different. I was nervous. I didn’t know exactly why. Sure, Camille was attractive, but I’ve been with many attractive women. Was it the promise of being with Kasey as well? I’d never been in a threesome and didn’t know if it was for me. Maybe that thought was fueling my anxiety.

I arrived at her room and hesitated. Did I want to go through with this? I did. I knocked on the door. It opened. Camille was still in her dress, looking as sexy as ever.

“You didn’t want to use the key?”

“I thought I’d be polite.”

“Please don’t,” she said as she pulled me into her arms. We kissed. The first kiss is always the best. I wasn’t disappointed. She kissed me tenderly on the lips, ever so slightly moving her head and allowing her hair to brush against my face.

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