The Clinch ( An Erotic Novella ) by Samatha K. Spears Read Free Book Online

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    Ok, so my girlfriend Simone thinks I am insane. Maybe I am. I mean what else would you call a thirty six year old woman, a working mother, a career woman even, who would agree to do what I plan on doing tomorrow?
    Oh my God, it is tomorrow isn't it?
    You would think it would stick in my brain better than the name of my first born child, the way I have been dwelling on it for these last three months.
    What is that kids name anyhow?
    Ok...so I joke around when I am nervous. I can't help but be nervous.
    You would to, if you were gonna meet the person who has been reaching into your body and imprinting on your soul for the first time, like I am going to tomorrow.
    Yes, you heard me right.
    For the first time!
    Yes, I know this man.
    Sometimes, I think I know him better than I know myself. I can see you are still confused.
    Alright, let me spell it out for you a little more clearly.
    My name is Brianna.
    I have been divorced for seven years now. Yes, I have dated on and off, but with the way times are nowadays, just climbing into a guys car, makes them think you've agreed on the type and color of condoms.
    There is NO more romance left in the world. At least that is what I used to think.
    That was before I was in that chatroom back in August. I can still remember the day because it was the same day my son left for his dads.
    He goes one month every summer, and usually I dread his going. It leaves me all alone for a whole month, me and the dog. I get through any projects I had set aside in the first week and after that the boredom sets in.
    I had just waved goodbye to James.
    As I wandered through my now empty apartment, I saw that yet again, James had left the door to his room wide open.
    How am I supposed to keep the dogs hair off this bed if he practically invites Scruff in. I went to go close it and I saw that not only had he not closed the door but he had left his computer on.
    Another bone of contention between us, I assure you. Little did I know that James's faults would end up bringing me the most fulfilling relationship I had ever had.
    Instead of wandering into his room tripping over tossed clothes and basketballs, I was able to walk directly in (that is what withholding vacation money until the room is clean will win you.
    I only meant to shut down his computer, but as I slid into the chair, I noticed that James had been surfing (I think that is the term) the chatrooms again.
    I always worry about him when he does that, but he is a smart kid, his screenname is vague and he doesn't tell anyone nuthin (his words!) I sat there for about 20 minutes just reading the comments that were scrolling past me. This was a teen room for sure.
    They talked about music, shopping, girlfriends, boyfriends. It wasn't very interesting but somehow I just sat there transfixed, reading and waiting for something to happen.
    The time just flew by. Now I knew why that kid rarely got the chores done I assigned him.
    Shaking my head in wonder, I reached for the mouse. Upon closing the chatroom window, I saw under it, a listing of choices for other rooms.
    God, I had no idea.
    There seemed to be something for everyone.
    Scrolling through the list, I suddenly was tempted. I clicked on the 30something room and in I went. Tentatively I typed hello. Immediately I was bombarded with hi and hellos from everyone in the room.
    I returned a few and then sat there reading comments about husbands, wives, sex!!!, anything and everything seemed legal to chat about.
    I tossed a few comments of my own in now and again and was surprised to find people typed responses back to me. One person asked what a teeny bopper was doing in the room, and I had to laugh.
    I forgot I was using James's name still. I quickly explained that I was James's mother.
    I had no name of my own.
    Nor did I know how to make one.
    Suddenly up popped a new window. It was a private message from a good samaritan in the room willing to instruct me on the making of my own name. She