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He’d talked to her an innumerable number of times on the telephone. As a matter of fact, they had been casually flirting over AT&T for nearly 6 months. Neither had seen one another so as they walked into the meeting room where they were supposed to have their week-long meeting, both were looking for the other. He knew her right away because she was the only woman in the room. Before the meeting began, he made a point of walking up and introducing himself. “Hi, I’m Peter Watkins,” he said. “I believe we’ve met, over the phone.” Her handshake was firm but there was no commitment there and her eyes only glimpsed his as they said their pleasantries.

It was a working meeting and she was in one group while he was in another. Only occasionally did they have to address one another. Toward the end of the meeting, he asked for some assistance from anyone in the room. As she looked at him, their eyes met, seriously, for the first time. He knew, she was his. Of course, in a meeting such as this, there was no time for exploring the relationship further. But tomorrow was another day.

Since she lived in the general area, she left with her car pool and he wandered back to the hotel following the meeting. The next morning, he was in the meeting room getting ready for the meeting when she came in with an arm full of papers to be distributed. He jumped up to help her and lifted the load from her arms. As he did, his arm brushed against her body. To anyone else, it would have looked innocent, but he knew there was electricity passed on that casual touch. So did she; they both knew it. During the day, he had several other opportunities to be close to her. His touch was returned, albeit only slightly, each time. He knew she was his. She knew she was attracted to this man.

That’s all there was to this first meeting. Although they did go to dinner at her home and met her husband, two children, dogs, cats and assorted other house guests. He knew, however, there would be many more meetings and the foundation had been laid. She knew too.

The next time was a working meeting in Phoenix, far from both their homes. As usual, the first day was casual, with the greetings and small talk that normally accompanied such meetings. Oh sure, they got their work done but the real meeting was to take place later.

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The whole week had been hot. Actually, the whole damn beginning of the summer had been hot. And now, a small vacation. 24 free hours. 24 free hours were going to be spent in a nice, clean, quiet, motel room. But, that was yet to come…

Kathy bound out the door toward the car. Naturally, being the gentleman I am, I opened her car door for her and took her bags. I carefully placed her luggage in the trunk and quickly got back into the driver’s seat. Although we both knew what lay ahead this weekend (sex), of course, casual small talk took over. We had known each other for about a year at this time. Sex became something to look forward to for both of us. But, we wanted to put a deliberate twist into our sex to liven things up. Quite a few subjects were tossed in the air and commented on as we drove to the motel. But, not much substance to the conversation could be recorded. Ultimately, like all conversations where some anxiety or anticipation is present, the topic we returned to often was the weather. And, ironically, it was an appropriate subject. It was hot. And, it wasn’t going to get any cooler.

Through the whole summer, we had exchanged letters. We often met on weekends and had frequent retreats to motels. Sometimes motels could wait, sometimes hotel rooms were paid for in haste with no real sleeping involved, and sometimes we bummed around Indianapolis first to highten the anticipation for what was to come. After each liason, our letters would often jump into the subject of sex–literally. One subject never connected to another. These discussions would often lead to fantasies that we would both someday like to bring to reality. Unknown to myself, one of those fantasies we discussed would soon be reality.

I was soon surprised. Our favorite cuisine for that summer was Korean and Chinese food. As we were sitting in a Chinese restaurant, Kathy casually dropped her plans right in my lap.

“So, Allan, are you up for tonight?”

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Adam sat in silence on the park bench, idly watching the ducks swim aimlessly around in circles on the surface of the muddy boating lake. It was quite warm for February, and the sun was shining with such intensity that he was forced to screw up his eyes against the glare which was reflected off the water.

What was he going to do? How could he possibly not know who he was or where he came from? If he knew what amnesia was (and he recognized the word as soon as the doctor used it) how could he not know anything about himself? It seemed so strange… to know things you were taught in school, mathematical formulae and historical facts and figures, that Paris was the capital of France and that Gordon Brown was the Prime Minister, and yet not know your own name or even if your parents were alive or dead!

“I’m sorry I can’t say something which sounds more hopeful,” the doctor had said, less than an hour ago as Adam had been discharged from the Infirmary. “I can understand how lost you must feel, but rest assured that most amnesiacs do recover some of their memory if not all of it.”

Adam smiled wryly. “And some never get their memory back at all, correct?”

The doctor nodded. “I’m afraid so, but the percentage is very small. Usually their relatives identify them from the newspapers or through the police, and once the patient is back in their home environment little day-to-day things keep jogging their memory.”

Adam wasn’t encouraged. He’d been in the hospital for over a month, ever since the police had found him, dazed and bloody from a head wound, wandering through the streets late one night. The media had latched onto his case, and for several consecutive days his face had been on more newspaper covers than Princess Diana’s.

But nothing had come of it. No one came forward to claim him, the police drew a complete blank, and, mysteriously, he had no form of identification on him.

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For as far back as I can remember I have had an interest, you could say an obsession, with beautiful women who were well-built and physically strong. As the years have gone by I guess I have become more “hardcore” in this interest. In fact it is a sexual turn on for me to think about a beautiful woman beating me in physical tests of strength such as arm wrestling and wrestling. I have thought about boxing as well, but I am afraid of black eyes, etc. At any rate, this story is about how I was introduced to a club of women who are all beautiful, well-built and physically strong.

I had been writing to Cat – a real live woman, believe me, for some time when circumstances made it possible for me to travel and spend several days in the area in which she lived. Cat had told me that she loved to wrestle and dominate her ‘victims’ physically before she took them apart sexually and that she had some female friends who did the same thing. I was so excited that I could think of nothing else. I arrived and contacted Cat to tell her the hotel where I was staying. She said, ” I’m so glad you are here. I have told the other girls about you and they can’t wait to see us wrestle. It’s really amazing, but I don’t remember ever being as strong as I am now. You get unpacked and settled in and then a few of us will come over to your room and we’ll have a little warm up contest to see who pays for dinner tonight. I hope you brought enough cash ’cause there will be five of us going out for a big steak dinner on you.” I hung the phone up and got all my things unpacked. It wasn’t long before I heard a knock on the door and I could feel the excitement as I opened the door.

Standing there were four big, beautiful women. I knew at this point that I would be no match for any of them. They were all dressed in tight sweaters, short skirts and high heels. It seemed to me that their legs were a mile long. They greeted me with big smiles and as each one shook my hand and introduced themselves they each gave my hand a sample of their strength. Cat said, ” We are starving so we’ll make this quick. Come over here and kneel down in front of me and let me give you a sample of my scissors hold. We could wrestle and the result would be the same; this way we don’t get all messed up before dinner. If you can last for 30 seconds without submitting then we’ll buy you dinner. ” I knelt down and Cat almost gently placed my head between her long legs. My throat was resting on her crotch and I was looking up into her smiling face. The girls counted to three and then Cat winked and squeezed.

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I was happy, a little excited even, to provide a night of lodging to Rod, the fellow from the home office, upstate. We had been working together on the new facility design for months. He was gorgeous and I enjoyed the few opportunities I had to be with him outside of the office — lunches and on one occasion a late-night cocktail at my apartment.

Not wanting to put him off or give him the wrong idea, I offered to sleep on my couch. Rod laughed looking at the loveseat that I called a couch. Not necessary, he said.

I didn’t dare assume anything from his casual observation that my king size bed looked like it could easily accomodate more than just the two of us. I crashed early, freeing the bathroom for my guest and creating what privacy I could by my sleep.

I lay quietly for over an hour before I heard him snap off the t.v. and come in to the bedroom. He stood in the doorway, framed from behind by the light in the bathroom and gently illuminated from the front by the lamp near my closet. I feigned sleep, watching him closely through thin, veiled slits.

I don’t know if I was hoping to see him undress, maybe, yes, that was a hope but one that I wouldn’t let get too high. He peeled off his slacks, shrugged out of his shirt and stepped out of his sleek briefs. My throat tightened. God, he looked terrific.

He pulled a dacron night shirt over his head adjusting it around his hips. After a few moments in the bathroom the light went out and he padded across the room. I felt the bed adjust itself as he lowered himself gently, even cautiously, into bed. It was clear he though I was asleep. Minutes passed, maybe an hour, I couldn’t tell. His breathing slowed, went deep and more quiet. Eventually I drifted off, too, full of notions and feelings that I refused to try and articulate for fear of what I might find.

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