choices

welcome readers!

i must say that i’ve missed you. i hope that all is pleasant in your world. i realize that it’s been about four months since my last post, but i was productive during those silent moments. hopefully, i’ve made up for my absence with the new story i have for you.

i really appreciate your support, whether it’s feedback or encouragement, or just stopping by to read one of my stories: i am grateful for it all.

thank you for taking the time to come by; i do hope that you enjoy, choices.

choices

“Your total comes to $33.87.” The short clerk’s smile faded as she watched Tod fish around in his pockets.

He checked his wallet. Twice. “I’m sorry, I can’t find my debit card.” He shook his head. “Just void every—”

“Excuse me, just add my three items in with his. I’ll pay for his groceries,” an olive skinned woman behind him said.

“Are you sure?” the clerk asked.

“I can’t let you do that,” Tod said.

“I insist.” Passing her card to the clerk, Shani lowered her voice. “Besides, people are starting to sigh and roll their eyes.”

“Thank you so much. I can pay you back.”

“That’s not necessary. I was only happy to do it.” She reached for her eco-friendly bag, smiled, and fluttered her fingers before heading toward the exit.

Tod was shamefaced, but intrigued. Grabbing his groceries, he and ran wildly after the woman, calling out to her and almost running into someone’s cart in the process. “Miss!”

Shani was steps away from her car when he’d finally caught up with her. She stopped and turned around to a tall man with a solid build and a disheveled, medium-length shag hairstyle. His face was scruffy, as if he’d not shaved in a week. Still, she thought he was adorably handsome; and then some.

Out of breath, Tod said, “Really…I can pay you back. I must have left my debit card at home.” He’s not sure what came over him, but he blurted out, “Or dinner! I can make you dinner.”

She was taken aback by the unexpected invitation. “What’s your name?”

“Tod. And yours?”

“I’m Shani. Listen Tod, it’s okay. You don’t need to pay me back or cook me dinner.” Thinking he’d be satisfied with that answer, she placed her bag in the trunk.

He wasn’t sure if it was her kindess, or her sensual look that caught and held his attention, be he didn’t accept her graceful decline. “Shani. That’s a pretty name…very sophisticated.”

“Thank you, that’s kind of you to say.” She was mildly impressed at his approach.

He cocked his head. “You’ve gotta eat sometime…”

She smiled to hide her irritation. “How do you know that I’m not married?”

“I don’t. At least I hope you aren’t.” Tod paused for a moment. “Are you?”

“No.”

“Good, because that would have been awkward. Now what do you say?”

Seeing that he wasn’t going to take no for an answer, she closed the trunk door and pointed at a box of cereal sticking out of his bag. “You’re not going to feed me that, are you?”

☼

That next evening, Shani found herself in a cul-de-sac of townhouses. She located Tod’s address and parked next to a red truck in the driveway.

As she approached the door, she smelled smoke and heard the high-pitched piercing sound of an alarm coming from inside. Anxious to see if he was all right, she rang the doorbell and knocked.

Almost immediately, he opened the door with a towel and an embarrassed look on his face. “I burned the rolls,” he said, welcoming his guest inside. “Would you mind opening those windows?” He gestured around the room and ran back to the alarm, fanning the smoke away with the towel.

Shani placed her purse and a bag of gourmet coffee on a sidetable near the door. The coffee, an Ethiopian After Dinner Blend, was a thank-you for dinner; a dinner that would be eaten without rolls. She quickly opened the windows and it only took a few seconds, but the smoke alarm finally stopped beeping. “Is there anything I can do to help?” she asked.

Tod was multi-tasking: dumping burned bread into the trash, tossing curly pasta with spring vegetables, grabbing plates from the cabinets, lighting candles, and placing a salad on the table. He doesn’t need my help, she thought.

A long conversation started over dinner. They talked about several things including movies and sports.

When asked about what she did for a living, Shani said, “I own a small flower shop downtown, Wild Flowers.”

Tod listened attentively as she discussed her love of all things flowers: How the smell of certain ones brought to mind memories of an autumn destination wedding she provided the floral design for, or the time she vacationed with friends at a beachfront villa in Costa Rica. She loved her job and took pride in her creativity, satisfied the most when she was helping others find the ideal bouquet to express their feelings. Her face lit up and he couldn’t help but smile.

“That’s enough about me. I can talk your ear off all night about this,” she said. “What about you? What do you do?”

“Well,” Tod began, “up until a few weeks ago, I was a risk analyst. The company I worked for decided they only needed one agency, and I was one of many that was gently let go. I’ve got a few things lined up, but in the meantime, I do freelance consulting. The client I’m working for is a thorn in my side, but it keeps a roof over my head.

Shani opened her mouth to apologize, but she changed her mind. “It’s such a devastating time for the economy. So many are struggling through it,” she said instead.

He agreed, going on to tell her that a few of his neighbors had to resort to garage sales to generate extra money. “Things are literally falling apart for so many people. I just hope this downturn doesn’t last forever.”

Shani helped clean up after dinner. She and Tod continued their talk over a glass of wine: sharing some similar interests and views on life, and discussing the people who influenced them the most growing up. He was very intelligent, she thought. She appreciated the fact that he was ambitious and pleasantly surprised to know that he preferred small, intimate groups instead of large crowds.

She also hated to interrupt the pleasant moment of their conversation. “I really should head home now, Tod. I’ve got an early day tomorrow. Dinner was fantastic; thank you.”

He insisted on walking her to her car and she didn’t refuse the offer. “Maybe we could meet for lunch sometime? I know the best place to get Belgian fries.”

She said, “I enjoyed your company…”

“But,” Tod interrupted. He almost expected a ‘but’.

“But,” she began with a smile, “our ages; I’m too old enough for you.” Shani didn’t want to hurt his feelings, but it was important that she be honest with him.

“I’ll be twenty-seven real soon,” he smiled. He knew the challenging subject would come up. But he liked her and didn’t mind the difference in their ages. He just wanted to see her again. “Will you at least think about it?”

She didn’t need to think about it. “Good night, Tod.”

A WEEK LATER

Shani was changing the decorations in the display room to reflect the upcoming Easter holiday.

Gia, an employee at the shop for the past three years, was arranging vases of fresh cut flowers in front of the shelving. “So…why haven’t you called him?” she asked.

“I’m just not interested.”

Gia rolled her eyes. She knew that the only person Shani was trying to convince was herself. “Oh, bull. That’s just you hiding behind the age thing. He asked to see you again, he’s obviously smitten with you.”

Shani shrugged.Gia’s comment about hiding was right, but there were still these frightening conflicts that, in her mind, were working against them: She had difficulty understanding what Tod could possibly want with someone her age; she was forty-five years old, and figured it wouldn’t be long before he set his sights on someone his own age. She never had an issue with her voluptuous figure, but her body was beginning to show signs that time was taking its toll on her. She’s also been married – twice.

Both times Shani allowed herself to think that she’d found the one she’d spend the rest of her life with, and both times she suffered physically and mentally at the hands of men who thought it was perfectly okay to abuse women. Her last marriage was the most damaging: Paul was an alcoholic, and an angry one. His violent rages seemed to grow worse with each drink. Dedicated wife that she was, she tried to help. She tried to stay. A broken arm and a dislocated jaw finally gave her all the motivation she needed to leave. Shani had sacrificed so much for both of her marriages, and she told herself that she’d be damned if she gave up what little dignity she had left.

With two failed marriages behind her and a new start on life, she didn’t have the desire to open her heart again; especially for a younger man. She had to keep things in perspective; if for nothing else, to maintain her integrity. “He’s probably never even been in a serious relationship, Gia.” Shani sighed.

“So? Who said anything about getting serious? Stop trying to predict what’s going to happen in the future. He asked you on a second date. Forget about love and just have fun.”

“I’m old enough to…”

“Be his mother,” Gia finished. Just then the doorbell sounded and a man with a cane came in. She walked over to greet him, but not before looking back at Shani and mouthing the words ‘call him’.

Thirty minutes later, the doorbell sounded again. Shani looked up from her workbench to see Tod holding a bouquet of white and purple orchids in one hand and waving with the other.

“Hi.” Moving toward her, he held out his arm. “These are for you.”

“You do know that I own a flower shop, right?” she asked, crossing her arms in front of her.

“I know. I haven’t heard from you in a week and I needed a cheesy excuse to come and see you.”

“I’m sorry.” she said, looking over just in time to see Gia smiling widely.

“Was it the rolls? Cause I can try again.”

There was a regretful look in his eye that Shani tried to ignore. Trying to keep her voice down, she said, “It wasn’t the rolls. I just didn’t think another date would be a good idea.”

Apparently Tod did, and he said so. “Come on, one friendly drink? I promise I won’t bite…unless…you’re into that kind of thing.”

Realizing she wasn’t going to win this battle, Shani rolled her eyes and shook her head. Relenting, she stepped from behind the workstation and took the bouquet with a smile.

☼

That evening, during a small chat on the phone, a time and location were arranged. Shani promised to be at Tod’s house at seven o’clock sharp and dressed for weather that threatened to rain: a polka dot cotton top, cardigan, and relaxed fit jeans. After pulling her long hair into a funky, curly updo and putting on her shoes, she grabbed her purse and headed out.

At the restaurant, he was a gentleman the entire time: holding the door open for her, pulling her chair out, and making her feel as if she was the only one in the room. As they talked over drinks and appetizers, a pleasant feeling overcame Shani and she became mezmerized by her dinner companion’s deep green eyes that were flecked with blue, and fascinated by the sound of his laughter. The back and forth went on until they realized that they were one of the last few customers left.

A drizzle of rain left the streets glossy and wet. Wanting a chance to enjoy Shani’s company more, Tod suggested a leisurely walk. Just a couple of streets away, they strolled along the waterfront park, enjoying the tree-lined walkways, fountains, and high railings. They even made an impromptu stop at a late night dessert bar and shared a pint of condensed milk ice cream.

When they got back to Tod’s truck, he opened the passenger side door first and waited until Shani buckled her seat belt before making his way to the driver’s side. A block later, when his truck eased to a stop, he announced that he had gotten a call back from a company he applied to and would start work in a week.

“That’s wonderful!” Shani beamed, placing her hand on his thigh. It was unexpected, but then so was him kissing her. It took a moment, but her mouth relaxed against his. He kissed her deeply – so deep that she almost forgot to exhale. She tasted aged bourbon on his tongue: Damn he’s a wonderfully talented kisser, she thought.

It was the impatient drivers behind them blowing their car horns that pulled them apart.

Ten minutes on the highway, three traffic lights, and four turns later, they were back at Tod’s house. She thanked him for dinner and told him that she had a great time – which she did. As he walked her to her car, she was prepared to give him a good night hug when his next words caught her off guard. “I’d like to see you again, Shani.”

Despite the kiss at the stop light, she knew how she felt. The age difference was awkward. It had nothing to do with social taboos; it was her, and those ill at ease ideas made her feel as if she wasn’t sure if she wanted to commint to another date. Shani decided the best thing to do would be to let him down gently. In the most polite way possible, she said, “I don’t want to lead you on, but I don’t see us on future dates, Tod. I’m sorry.”

He was determined to get her to reconsider her opinion and not let her strong personality deter him. “I like you. And I know you like me.”

He was right; she couldn’t deny the chemistry between them. But even though Tod was more balanced and mature than her two ex-husbands would ever inspire to be, she wanted to tell him that they were in different phases of their lives. That he needed to travel; see the world and experience several relationships with various women. There was no time for that. Tod leaned in and kissed her with a long, incredible force.

Shani’s keys and clutch purse fell to the ground. Fuck it, she thought, pushing out a whimper when his lips connected with hers. She wasn’t fighting it any longer. Just as she sighed into his mouth, her arms closed around his neck; her anxieties replaced with exhilaration.

Tod pulled her closer. His body: warm and solid, felt incredibly good pressed against hers. Slowly, his hands roamed freely over the lush contours of her figure, stroking up and down her back through her clothes.

Enjoying the heated moment, Shani drew his tongue into her mouth, sucking it energetically while fisting the loose, shiny waves of his hair. Soft hums spilled from her mouth as their tongues slowly entwined, it was like she’d been longing for this kind of indulgence all day.

Eventually, their kiss ended and a breathless Tod tugged at the button of her jeans. Drawing the zipper down, his impassioned eyes studied her; drank her in right there on his dimly lit street.

Kneeling down, he helped her step out of her jeans. He smiled when he heard the low tones of her mewling as his fingers followed the plump outline of her labia through the fabric of her panties; lightly caressing her lips one at a time.

A series of pecks and playful nips sent feelings of euphoria racing through her body; her exquisite moisture saturating her panties. He quickly removed the damp material and tossed them aside.

Now exposed, Shani’s first instinct ought to have been to cover herself. Instead, she planted her feet firmly on the ground, leaned against her car, and sighed with content as that first trace of his breath lingered over the vulnerable area.

It was such an intimate moment, the thought of someone approaching and catching them in the act should have terrified her but it didn’t; there was something about being on display and having the moist air provide an erotic contrast to the heat radiating between her legs that only added to the excitement.

Tod made a soft sound and inhaled deeply, her natural scent filled his lungs and drove him crazy. “You smell so good, Shani,” he murmured. Flattening his tongue against her, he began his journey: licking the lines that formed her inner and outer labia with slow, measured strokes.

Biting her lip, Shani moaned loudly. This wasn’t lack of patience from someone whose hormones were out of control; each move had a purpose. Gently, he pulled the delicate folds of her pussy deep into his mouth. She tried to say ‘suck my lips’, but desire was weakening her and all that came from her were ragged sighs. He didn’t need direction, though; alternating between sucking and soft kisses.

She felt him stop, and it almost pained her when he withdrew from her.

Tod gingerly inserted two fingers inside the warmest part of her; stroking and scissoring within her deliciously swollen pussy. As he continued to get more familiar with her intimately, he couldn’t stop himself from moaning as he explored what she felt like: smooth, warm, and wet.

Struggling to breathe, Shani closed her eyes, listening to the slippery noises and enjoying the sensation of his hand. Demonstrating his talent put her on the edge of orgasm; each rapid movement excited her body and made her squirm from the irresistble pleasure that had awakened in her. In her mind, she cried out and pleaded for him to stop. In reality, she breathed out her satisfaction and relished being at his mercy.
.
When his digits were well lubricated, he pressed gently on the front wall of her vagina, stimulating the her spongy G-spot. Shani grunted loudly as his fingers crooked inside of her. Her back nearly came off the car as he deftly curled and uncurled his fingers within her walls, then she felt his hand shift in a way that allowed him to press his thumb against her clitoris.

Keeping a steady rhythm, Tod made little circles, reversing direction every few seconds. Seductive moans left his mouth as he removed his sticky fingers and licked them clean. He rubbed his nose across her tender spot when it stood noticeably at attention: begging for him to suck it. Breathing rapidly, he pushed the hood back, then softened his tongue to tease the sensitive mass of nerves. Then, he closed his mouth around her tiny erection. After several minutes of sucking, licking, and rolling, he paused for a moment, just to tease her – to make her need his tongue.

At that moment, Tod wanted nothing more than to have his dick surrounded by her divine pussy, but he ignored the need stirring in his groin and placed one of her legs on his shoulder. With an open mouth, his head drifted back to lapping at the soft shape of her sex. He murmured words that no one would recognize and held on to the swell of her hips as she pushed her pelvis forward. Turned on even more by the way she responded to him, he grabbed her thighs and pushed his tongue deeper inside her welcoming entrance, almost whining at the pleasantly sharp taste of her womanhood.

Rocking her hips frantically, Shani’s orgasm came without warning. Through a contorted face and tight jaw she clasped her fingers around Tod’s head, pulled it against her, and fiercely grunted out his name. She heard curse words being called out, though she can’t recall which one of them said them.

Tod’s nostrils flared. He growled and steadied her when she released her lust; and he happily took it all.

He stamped her damp inner thighs with kisses while she cooed softly as the pulse of her climax subsided. In an instant, mischief hit him. He gathered her clothes, rose, and kissed her bottom lip. “You want these?” he smiled. “Then come and get them.”

And with that, a barely breathing, half-naked Shani and her unsteady legs followed Tod into the house.

THE NEXT MORNING

Wearing only a towel, Shani stood in the doorway between the hallway and the bedroom. She watched Tod sleeping; his foot and arm dangled over the bed like the previous night’s encounter had reduced his strength.

They’d made love twice; and the gratification of her many orgasms still radiated in her body.

While the world slowly woke up, Shani removed the towel and climbed in next to him. When her body was even with his, Tod cradled her, and she settled into the embrace she carefully disengaged from earlier. At that very moment she realized something: She had finally stopped obsessing about the outcome and just enjoyed the moment.

Attraction is not dependent upon a number. And ages: his or hers, didn’t matter.

It doesn’t get more simple and real than that.

© enchanted.ladybug 04.07.2013

decadent passion

welcome, readers. i hope that you all had a wonderful christmas holiday. if you’re going out tonight, please be safe and drink responsibly. i hope that the year ahead brings new hopes, desired happiness and all kinds of colorful experiences for you and your loved ones.

in my blogiversary post, i promised a new story. this will satisfy my personal goal of posting one story each month for a year. as i mentioned in that post, i know it’s an insignificant milestone, but it holds a special meaning for me since it was the first time i wrote without taking a long break as i did in the past.

thank you for taking the time out of your day to read, decadent passion. i hope you enjoy it.

decadent passion

 After shutting her computer down, Maia packed her briefcase and observed the city from her corner office on the 19th floor. Rooftops were dressed up with cheerful holiday decorations. The sidewalks were covered with festive sculptures. Christmas lights twinkled throughout the city, some blinking a bright red and green just like in the song. It had been a long day – a long week, and she couldn’t wait to get home where a relaxing shower and eggplant purple bed sheets waited for her.

“Maia, I mailed those custodial agreements by certified letter this afternoon. Mr. Landry called and said he’d be available after the first of the year to negotiate a possible settlement.” Garrett poked his head around the door. He was barely out of college, but he was an efficient assistant; unlike that temp that was here before him. When she couldn’t figure out how to send a simple fax, Maia promptly relieved the girl of her duties.

“Thanks, Garrett. You’re a gem.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to come to Boston with me? My parents won’t mind one more,” he asked.

“I’m sure, but thank you.”

“I got you something. It’s not much, but…” he stepped inside the room.

“You didn’t have to get me anything,” she smiled, taking the gift bag from his hand.

“No peeking until Christmas,” he said.

“I promise. But that means you can’t open your gift until then, either.” Maia swiveled in her chair and unlocked a file cabinet. Turning back around, she held out a beautifully wrapped gift with a card attached. Inside the box was an iPad mini. Their last case required lots of long hours, lots of paperwork, and Garrett was there the entire time: attending every meeting, deposition, preparing appeals and he didn’t complain once. He not only earned the tiny tablet, he deserved it.

“I promise, thank you so much!” he beamed, pulling his boss into a hug.

“You’re welcome. Now go. You have a plane to catch.”

“I’m going. Merry Christmas!”

“Merry Christmas, Garrett.” After waving goodbye, she exited her office and locked the door.

☼

“Good evenin’ Miss Duvalier.” Ben Jameson, the night janitor looked up from his cleaning cart to see Maia coming down the hall.

“Good evening, Mr. Jameson. Merry Christmas; please tell your wife I send my love.” She handed him a container with a smile. Each year she made a different baked good for him and his wife. This year it was homemade gingersnap sandwich cookies with a lemon-ginger cream filling.

“Yes ma’am. Thank you, and Merry Christmas!” he nodded, pushing his cart down the hallway.

At the elevator, Maia pushed a button on the outer panel and in seconds, the doors slid open. She had just stepped inside the car when a familiar voice called out.

“Hold the elevator!” It was Alec Preston, a newly made partner of the firm, walking hurriedly down the hall. He was ten years her senior and had a charming confidence that many women in the office found attractive. Some had no shame in flirting with the man, In fact, a few of them had been very vocal about how they felt after hours: I’d fuck him five ways from Sunday, was often heard while giggling over Pomegranate martinis and Lamplighter cocktails at the local bar around the corner. Being in this field didn’t leave Maia much room to hold any real expectations of getting to know her co-worker better, no matter how good he looked in a suit. She quickly pressed the ‘Hold’ button to delay the doors from closing while he boarded.

“Mr. Preston, I’m surprised to see you here this late in the evening.”

“Just finishing up a conference call,” he offered, stepping into the cabin. “What are you still doing here?”

“Tying up a few loose ends,” she answered, pressing the ‘P’ on the inner panel.

The doors closed and the elevator car began its descent to the parking garage. Maia wanted to ask about his holiday plans, but decided against it. The story going around the office was that his wife of thirteen years left him recently: no warning whatsoever. After a long, messy divorce, she and their five year old son moved to Monte Carlo to start a life with a new man she’d met. “Have you done all of your Christmas shopping?” That was a safer question.

“I have. My son wanted one of those battery operated riding cars. A Mercedes Benz with chrome grille and hubcaps.”

“He’s got great taste.”

“No kidding, the thing has a radio and a working horn. Brooke agreed to a video chat on Christmas morning so I can watch him as he opens it.”

Maia smiled and the elevator jerked, causing the two passengers to stumble. A grinding noise rang out and the car came to an abrupt halt between the 15th and 13th floors.

Alec asked if she was okay and she nodded. He attached an earpiece to his ear, then realizing what he’d done, removed it. “Getting reception in here might be a problem.”

“I’ll try the emergency phone,” Maia said. The conversation was short. “Security’s sending a mechanic, but they said it could take up to an hour to get here and release the doors. Maybe longer because of the holiday traffic.”

“Well…I might as well get comfortable then,” Alec said.

Both attorneys removed their coats. He tossed his aside, Maia folded hers and placed it in a corner.

Taking a seat on the floor of the decorative car interior, she looked inside of her briefcase for something….anything to read. The latest issue of Travel & Leisure was found underneath two legal pads.

“Nuremberg, Germany.” Alec said, pointing to the cover and taking a seat next to her. “Have you been there?”

She found the fact that he was in her personal space a little unsettling. “Hm? Oh, no. I haven’t.” Breathing in the amber scent of his aftershave awakened her senses. Damn, he smells good, she thought. “Have you?”

“Twice. Once for my honeymoon, the other for my ten year anniversary.” An emotion caught in his throat. It was bitterness.

Maia changed the subject.

Time slowly ticked away during their small talk. They exchanged important events that happened throughout their lives. Maia was born in Haiti. Her father taught music and gave piano lessons on the side for extra money. When she was eleven, her mother passed away. Not long after that, she and her father moved to Chicago, then to Greenwich Village, New York when she was fifteen.

“I didn’t speak English when we moved here,” she announced.

“Are you serious?”

“Not one word of it.”

Alec’s mother, according to him, was a retired educator and his son wants to be a fireman when he grows up.

Maia laughed and admitted to him that she also wanted to be a firefighter at the age of five. “It was for all the wrong reasons,” she began. “I just wanted one of those helmets they wore.”

Alec threw his head back and filled the car with his hearty laughter. “So you became a lawyer instead. And might I add, a damn good one. Nice job on that Jensey case.”

“Thank you.” She knew the compliment was sincere. Seventeen years practicing and five years with this firm, she’d built a decent reputation for herself: from her attention to detail, her hard work when it came to recognizing and solving problems, to making sure that she was always available to her clients. She was very straight to the point and didn’t believe in telling a client something because it’s what they wanted to hear.

“Why?” he asked.

“Why what?”

“Why an attorney?”

“My father used to tell me when I was younger that I had this natural ability to fight for what’s right. Once I got into high school, I don’t know, it was just something I knew that I was going to do. What about you?” she asked.

“My father and grandfather were lawyers; so I’m carrying on the family tradition.” He loosened his tie. “I”m starving. What I wouldn’t give for a large pizza and a bottle of Lambrusco.

“That does sound good,” she agreed, turning a page in her magazine.

Alec tilted his head back against the wall and closed his eyes. Even though there was a wonderful article about Nam Hai, Vietnam with beautiful destination pictures, Maia caught herself staring at him every few seconds. After minutes of sideways glances and averting her eyes, she kicked her shoes off. Maybe it was the dim lighting, but her mind swam with naughty thoughts and the tiny morsels of sensuous desire had been planted. Suddenly, she didn’t mind him being so close.

Alec was sleeping lightly. His face, normally serious, looked peaceful. His lids were closed but she had his irresistible, dark eyes etched in her memory. His short, cropped haircut and the stiff, salt and pepper hairs of stubble on his face, though barely there, gave him a rugged look.

She had to. She couldn’t resist. Maia was aware that she was about to cross a boundary she hadn’t crossed before; and never thought to. Before tonight, Alec was nothing more than a co-worker. Tossing the magazine aside, she shifted her body and reached out to touch his cheek; the tiny growth felt rough to the back of her hand.

It didn’t even surprise her when he asked half asleep, “What are you doing, Duvalier?”

“Touching you,” she said boldly.

Alec’s eyes opened to face her. They held one another’s gaze until Maia broke it by kissing him aggressively  It was demanding, lust-filled, and his lips on hers just felt so good. Her tongue pushed past his lips and twisted with his. As they moaned into each other’s mouths, she lowered her hands and massaged his faint erection through the fabric of his designer suit pants. Taking advantage of her roaming hand, she unfastened then unzipped his slacks. No time was wasted in liberating his manhood from the confines of his boxer briefs. Breaking the kiss, she asked with a whisper, “It’s okay, isn’t it?”

Alec only nodded. His ragged breathing wouldn’t allow him to speak actual words. He watched himself grow in her hand as she held the fullness of him. He helped her by lifting his hips and tugging his pants past his waist a little.

Maia wet her fingers and swirled through a large drop of precum that seeped from the thin slit of his meatus. He released a low hum of pleasure when she smeared it on the tip, then flattened and glided her palm over the fleshy head. His manhood stood proudly; she turned her hand upside down, gradually twisting her way up his shaft. Her fingers wandered and lightly thrummed on the small, sensitive flap of his frenulum. Maia lost herself in the moment as her hand closed around him to stroke his sufficient girth with gentle, yet firm pressure.

“That feels so good,” he sighed in appreciation.

With a slow, soft glide she continued to move her hand up and down his length, sweeping her thumb over the head when she reached the top. “Fuck my hand, Alec.” She smiled when she said it, gripping his distended arousal until he groaned and moved his hips against the pumping pressure of her hand.

The continuous pace drew Alec to the brink of climax with each buck of his body. He was breathless and he loved it.

Squeezing him between strokes, Maia shifted to a kneeling position. It had been a while since she’d given another man a blow job. And she’d never done it in an elevator. That kind of spontaneity usually followed a drink or two…or three. Yet here she was – perfectly sober – about to wrap her lips around Alec’s dick in this small space. It was so unlike her, but at this moment, she didn’t seem to care.

Brazenly, she tightened her thumb and forefinger around the base of him and leaned down; her lips approaching his hard on. She wanted him to relish every single minute of this. Rubbing her lips across the soft, round head, she couldn’t stop herself from humming quietly. Maia teased him with a lick and a gentle blow. Her tongue traced the coronal ridge, dipped into the narrow opening then circled the glans.

She felt a pull from deep within her loins; one that evoked sexual desire and lubricated her inner thighs. It was a clench that she was all too familiar with – and one she’d have to ignore for the time being.

When her head descended on him, the spongy crown of his hardness pushed against her palate. This sensation generated more pleasure because Alec closed his eyes and repeatedly cried out with elation as the warmth of her mouth enveloped him.

Enjoying this as much as he was, she cupped his balls, kneading and rolling their weight between her fingers while she sucked up and down his erection in a smooth, leisurely rhythm. Her head moved with a steady purpose, then eagerly increased until he popped out of her mouth.

He lowered his hand to the nape of her neck and was stopped from twirling his fingers in her hair. “Hands on the guardrail, counselor,” Maia said abruptly, closing her mouth around him. Any other day, she wouldn’t mind a little passionate hair pulling, and she realized that he was submitting himself to ecstasy, but she didn’t want him interfering.

Continuing with her attention, her head eased up and down with gentle pressure. At first. After a few seconds, she abandoned her satisfying momentum, vigorously sucking and licking him with sloppy sounds.

Writhing against her enticing mouth, he did as he was told and grabbed the brushed copper railing, allowing her to do what she pleased. “Right there. Just like that.” The smooth timbre of his voice sent tremors of pleasure through her body. He watched the upward pull of her lips on his shaft and thought it was a remarkably beautiful sight. “Shit…so fucking good.”

Maia was insatiable. Her head bobbed faster; she sucked him long and deep, as if she was encouraging his dick to get harder. Alec’s plump head tapped her gag reflex – saliva dribbled from her mouth and down the sides of his hard length. She continued with her delicious torment; each up and down pass was met with a plea for her not to stop.

And she didn’t. Her lips gripped him firmly. She knew what type of suction to apply; and when. Every few seconds, she would switch techniques: tracing the rim of his head with her tongue, brushing her lips over it, then pulling her mouth off of him to tug and suck his scrotum.

He sighed heavily and moved restlessly, like he was attempting to get away from her.

Several minutes later found Maia lifting her head a little. She relaxed her jaw and took him into her mouth until her lips just barely touched the base. He wanted to fuck her mouth, and asked if he could. When she moaned out a, ‘Mmm hmm’, his pelvis began to thrust uncontrollably, pushing his dick further down her throat.

The wet, messy noises consumed Alec with such a strong desire, that he held the guardrail tightly and, through clenched teeth, announced that he was about to come.

Maia’s body was on fire from the sexual sounds: her insistent sucking and groaning; his whispered words of approval and the moans of delight that escaped his throat.

That same warmth overwhelmed Alec. He thrust himself deep into her mouth, then felt his body tighten.

Maia braced herself for the explosion. Tightening her lips, she wanted nothing more than to milk him; to taste his creamy reward the moment it rushed into her mouth.

With a feral grunt, he called out to her….

☼

The elevator cabin lurched, the lights came on and Alec woke with a jump.

A startled Maia quickly glanced around. The magazine, displaying a one-bedroom villa in Nam Hai was still in her lap, and Alec was not exposed. The jump of the elevator had pulled her from the mindless passion of her fantasy.

It was only a dream, she told herself. A very vivid one, but still a dream. She took a moment to clear her head and push the indulgent images to the dark corners of her mind, hoping Alec couldn’t tell that she was overwhelmed with embarrassment.

The emergency phone rang and Maia scrambled to answer it. The service technician on the other end told her that a power failure was the cause of the elevator getting stuck, but that it should be up and running again shortly. Relaying this information to Alec, they began to gather their things.

“Everything all right, Duvalier?” Alec asked, pulling on his trench coat.

He noticed. “Yeah, I just dozed off and had a weird dream,” she explained with a racing heart.

“Hate those.” The elevator came to a gentle stop in the parking garage. “But, at least we’re free from our cell,” he joked.

With an uninterrupted glide, the doors opened. Maia never thought she’d be so relieved to see concrete and ramps.

“Merry Christmas, Mr. Preston. Enjoy that pizza.” A rapturous smile widened on her face as she stepped out of the elevator and headed to her car.

© enchanted.ladybug 12.31.2012

blogiversary

welcome, dear readers.

yesterday marked what is known in the blog realm as my blogiversary. one year (and one day) ago, i started this humble little corner and it’s been a wonderful journey.

i really want to thank all of you who have taken the time out of your day to visit enchanted.ladybug.

after starting this blog, i gave myself a personal challenge that i never mentioned to anyone. i wanted to see if i could in fact, post one story every month for a year (december story to follow shortly). it wasn’t easy: there were times – many times – when i lacked the energy and inspiration to write. there were times when i just wanted to throw in the towel and give up. but that would make me a quitter, and quitting meant that i would have to admit failure. when i was faced with doubt, i believe that it was those moments of uncertainty that kept the story from speaking to me a lot of the time, but the light of inspiration always seemed to shine on me; giving me the encouragement i needed to push through, and even though it seems like an insignificant milestone, i didn’t give up. i am appreciative to those who took the time out to uplift me when i questioned so much.

a year ago, i mentioned something about there being power in silence: i’m so full of useless drivel. really, don’t listen to anything i have to say.

i know that to grow, to better myself, i need to embrace those quiet periods, but i am working on it. i’m working on me, dear reader. i have to in order to become better at what i enjoy doing so much. writing satisfies my soul – i enjoy researching information i need, i enjoy the feedback. i love that it allows me to experience fantasies i will probably never live out in the real world. i love that i can escape from the unpleasantries of life when i am getting ideas down.

i learned something about myself this year as i toiled away to reach this personal goal i issued myself: that i don’t enjoy deadlines. i have a whole new respect for professional authors who do this on a regular basis. with my work schedule, it’s almost impossible for me to turn out story after story with the hopes of producing something of quality that others will enjoy reading. so i don’t know that i will give myself deadlines anymore. i do know that being a better writer also means having to step outside of my comfort zone a little and i am also working on that.

i’m not abandoning my blog; i love my little corner, and all of wonderful people who visit here. i just won’t be pushing myself to post a story each month as i had done this past year. what i will be doing is incorporating other things that will keep us connected – maybe even actually include you, as i plan on posting some writing challenges.

it’s been a great year, and i thank you for sharing this journey with me: reading my thoughts, encouraging me, just sticking around period. i am eternally grateful.

so, here’s to my first year – with more to come.

be golden.

enchanted.ladybug

manolo’s

welcome, everyone. i hope you all had a pleasant holiday.

i have for you a new read, but this one is a little different from what you’re used to seeing: this piece is written from the perspective of a pair of shoes. sounds crazy, right? i know…i know. but i wanted to try something different. i only hope that you enjoy the material.

thank you, as always, for taking the time out of your day to visit my humble blog. i do hope that you enjoy, manolo’s.

manolo’s

Being a pair of shoes is not an easy task, especially when you are a designer shoe. We are in high demand. Fashion shows, red carpet events. Shoppers; the wealthy and the not so wealthy, the shoe-obsessed, the first time buyer – all with a desire to spend money to feel special and exclusive. They all want us because we are what’s “in”.

Did you know that there are some women who don’t mind the agony of an aching foot if it’s covered with a designer shoe? Some humans are all about prestige.They love labels and names.

I have a name. My creator, a Spanish designer named Manolo Blahnik, beautifully crafted my twin and me in Italy and labeled us Mary Jane. I’m Mary.

Our owner, Dacia, took us home about a week ago.

I’ll never forget the day we met her. Jane and I have heard the associates talk in the stockroom about women, some of whom are well-connected, come in with an attitude of entitlement, drop their bags at the door, give them an indignant look and speak to them with a callousness in their tone that really wasn’t necessary. It was a behavior that the employees were only too happy to tolerate because they know that one swipe of a credit card would give them a nice commission. We remember Dacia smiling. A lot. A well dressed woman of medium height, she wasn’t stunning like other women we’ve seen, but she had happy, almond-shaped eyes and was so gracious and soft-spoken. My twin loved her hairstyle: a romantic, low bun with a few loose tendrils of natural black hair framing her face.

Jane and I belong to a large fraternity, and we’ve met them all: Jimmy Choo, Giuseppe Zanotti, even that pair of Louboutin’s she tried on: The Viva Bellas. That sexy leather, smooth suede and that trademark red bottom; she wore them well. Then she asked for the Manolo Blahniks. She took us, settled into a chair and gently slipped her foot into our inner soles. Jane and I noticed immediately how soft and fleshy her feet were.

The human foot can have a strong odor, but there was something about the scent of her feet that gratified our senses; a faint aroma of perspiration and lotion. We walked to the mirror and saw for the first time how our black patent leather looked against her smooth, dark brown skin. With her new height, she exuded sexiness and I thought to myself, this is a woman who appreciates quality footwear. After admiring us for a moment, her satisfied, austere voice told the associate, “I’ll take them.” And just like that, a size nine pair of Mary Jane Manolo Blahniks were carefully tucked into a shoebox with a dust bag.

On the ride home, Jane and I discussed at length what outfit Dacia might wear with us. We both agreed that a silk, button-down shirt and a pair of striped, wide-leg pants would make for a sophisticated look.

☼

Accustomed with darkness, we waited in the box, though I’ll admit that I was a little more anxious than Jane to get out. We heard the muffled sound of what sounded like Dacia having a conversation with a gentleman; there was some laughter in the room then silence. The next thing I knew, we were removed from our signature white box in succession and placed on the bed. My twin and I took in the decor in the spacious bedroom: A modern layout with purple bedding and an abstract canvas painting above the bed. There was a cozy sitting area next to a window; I thought it added a certain elegance to the room. There was even a built-in shelf along one wall dedicated to books. Jane wondered if Dacia had read them all.

We watched our owner undress. She stripped down to a bra with a suspender belt and fishnet stocking set. Glancing at herself in the mirror, she let her fingers linger over the swell of her hips through the silk fabric – like she was proud of her body. Jane and I admired the decorative lace and black ribbons that adorned her lingerie. She slipped her feet into our insoles and buttoned the straps across her instep. Pausing to look at herself one last time, the corners of her mouth raised into a smile.

There was something sensually empowering about her look.

We walked into the living room to find a man kneeling on the floor in front of a chair. He was naked and his head was bowed. I laughed softly when Jane said that he looked so obedient in that position. I told her that it was probably the same man we heard in the bedroom earlier.

Dacia took a seat in front of him in a beautiful upholstered chair and crossed her legs.

“Good evening, Miss,” the gentleman offered warmly as he lowered his forehead to the ground. “Thank you for gracing me with your presence. I am ready to serve you,” he said. My owner said good evening and called him ‘little one’. When asked if he liked her new shoes, he told her that it was a smart and impressive purchase. She bobbed her foot for a few seconds, then told him that he had permission to sit upright.

After changing his posture, Dacia extended her leg and lightly rubbed my toe box along his chin and jawline. She smiled with approval and licked her full lips. “You may touch me, little one.”

Overjoyed at the opportunity, he very tenderly caressed my shank with his strong hand before cradling my counter.

Next, he took my sole and heel and pressed it right against his chest. Keeping his eyes on her shin, his hand began moving up and down Dacia’s calf and inner thigh. I noticed that her eyes fluttered and her leg jerked a little when his fingers lightly touched the skin behind her knee. Then he lifted her leg a little. Parting his lips, a tongue slowly crept out of his mouth. When little one flattened it against me, I gasped quietly; the moist, rough texture was an incredibly nice surprise.

Jane wanted to know if the man was licking me as a part of some sort of ritual, but the only answer I could provide was that he seemed to be doing it out of reverence. Excitement ran through me like fire as his tongue continued to caress my flat surface.

Dacia softly moaned her satisfaction. “You like that, don’t you?” I heard her ask.

Admittedly, I thought she was talking to me, but little one spoke. “Thank you for the honor, Miss.”

Dacia leaned back in the chair. “Suck it.” Her direction was calm. I watched, enchanted as he slowly took my heel into his mouth. The warmth that enveloped me was an amazing sensation. Little one coiled his tongue around my heel and sucked it deeply. “That’s a good boy. Nice and slow.” She told him that watching his mouth on her shoe was making her wet.

I noticed her hand moving around and heard a sound – wetness, coming from between her legs. Through heavy gasps, Dacia moved her foot and told him to give her other shoe the same attention.

Holding her ankle, little one lowered me gently to the floor to stew in my state of nirvana. When he lapped at Jane’s sole, I heard a familiar gasp from my twin. The inside of his mouth is so warm and spongy, she whispered. Little one sucked her heel into his mouth and Jane cooed. As far as I could tell, she too was savoring the experience.

There was something so enthralling about the way his mouth swallowed each inch of the back of my twin’s shoe. I sat idle, enjoying immensely the sound of my owner’s passionate sighs and watching the push and pull of little one’s head as he sucked the back of Jane’s shoe with such devotion.

Dacia told the him not to stop – that his subservience pleased her. She said that his dedication was the reason she was stroking herself and that if he was a good boy, she would let him suck her fingers when they were done.

With a small smile, little one closed his eyes and gradually increased his pace on Jane’s heel: She told me that it tickled.

At that moment, my owner’s planted foot wandered and I was rubbing against little one’s inner thigh, then against a pouch of skin between his legs. A protruding part of him began to swell and elongate; I couldn’t resist being excited and dizzy. Dacia shifted and flexed her foot. She pressed my sole against his enlarged organ and a thin string of fluid dripped over my toe box. Yes, I tasted the substance. Even though I didn’t have the luxury of seeing my twin, I told Jane that it was slightly salty in flavor.

Through fits of laughter, Jane told me over and over how delightful this feeling was to her. With a soft whisper, I agreed with my ticklish twin.

Little one had this look on his face – he was glowing with contentment. With a faster rhythm, Dacia caressed him. No longer in a position to contain himself, he began moaning as I was being eased up and down the length of him. One of my owner’s hands was still between her legs, her fingers swirled rapidly around a small, fleshy projection while the other hand traced the curve of her bosom before scooping it from her bra. The weight of her breast spilled from the cup with excitement, like it was trying to escape. Smiling, she caressed the surrounding dark circle of skin around her breast with her palm. In seconds, a small, hardened peak protruded from her chest and Dacia wasted no time rolling it between her thumb and index finger.

Pulling her legs away, Dacia’s voice cut through the air. “Sit up, little one.” With a whimper, he did as he was told. Jane and I shared a glance as we noticed that his swollen flesh had grown even more and was now standing proudly at attention. “Such a pretty dick,” Dacia purred.

So, that organ has a name. I can see why Dacia used the word pretty to describe it: Blue veins forked around it’s girth, and the tip of it was bulbous; it looked like a helmet with a hole in it. It was a long, broad prominence that pointed at an upward angle and I admired it the way people admire art.

Shifting her weight, my owner placed her feet so that his dick was sandwiched in between my twin and me. Without hesitation, without warning, Dacia began manipulating his hardness slowly up and down. It was amazing how quickly the heat radiated between us; it was a provocative feeling. Pressing her feet closer together, she massaged his stiff flesh with authority. I heard little one breathing rapidly; profound and throaty as he fought desperately for air.

“Fuck my shoes.” With Dacia’s breathy demand, little one pushed his pelvis forward, forcing his dick between our insteps. “Faster,” she said. After hearing his directive, his thrusts became more insistent. There were beads of sweat on his forehead and a strained look on his face, like he was fighting against the uncontrollable feelings inside of him. Jane and I murmured softly over and over as we endured his powerful gyrations. Suddenly a deep moan came from little one’s throat. Dacia immediately pulled her feet away, planting them on either side of his body. “Look what you’ve done,” she asked opening her legs wider, massaging her crease and the outer folds of skin around it. She coaxed the moisture that glistened from between her legs and spread the fluid on her inner thighs; Jane and I found it attractive and fascinating.

“I’m sorry, Miss.” Little one lowered his head as if he were being scolded. I’m almost sure I saw his dick jerk forward a couple of times, as if it had a mind of its own.

Leaning forward, my owner unfastened Jane’s strap. Slipping her foot from the shoe, she leaned back, draping one leg over the arm of the chair. Dacia began circling that swollen bump of flesh with my twin’s heel. It peeked from a hood and reminded me of a smaller version of little one’s maleness.

Overwhelmed with intense pleasure, all I could do was stare captivated while it was being flicked back and forth. Jane told me that there was a heat inside of her that she couldn’t even begin to explain…but she loved the sensation, especially when her heel moved up and down, encouraging the two petals of flesh between my owner’s legs to separate.

With a soft moan, Dacia asked, “Do you want a snack now, little one?”

“Please, Miss?” After he was given permission to come closer, little one lowered his head to the juncture of her thighs and lapped at his offering. I observed, in a state of still and pleasant contemplation as he flattened his tongue against Jane’s heel and my owner’s wet mound.

Dacia’s fervent sighs and little one’s muffled groans carried through the room as he licked and nibbled his snack. I even heard the sounds of pleasure from my twin and lived vicariously through her; she said she enjoyed the warmth of his breath and the velvety texture of his tongue. At one point, little one curled the tip of it, and lightly tapped my owner’s erect nub. When Dacia finally pulled the shoe away, thin, ropy strands of wetness stretched from her entrance to Jane’s heel. At that moment, she announced that she was coming.

Coming where? Jane asked. Even if I was able to provide an answer, there wasn’t time to do so.

Little one closed his mouth around Dacia’s moist center, growling deeply as her body twisted and shuddered uncontrollably. My owner, unable to contain the passion inside of her, cried out in release. It was the most divine noise she’d made all evening.

Breathing heavily, Dacia’s body relaxed against the chair. A look of satisfaction settled on her face.

Without being told to, little one took Jane from my owner’s hand and cleaned the heel before slipping it back onto her foot. I couldn’t wait to ask Jane how it all felt. It took an enormous amount of effort, but once she gained her composure, she said it was moist, warm and that the sweet, pungent scent of her was lovely.

Dacia reached between her parted legs, allowing her fingers to skate across the milky fluid that wept from her entrance. She offered her hand to little one and he happily accepted. One by one, he cleaned her glistening digits, then lowered himself to the ground and waited silently. Rising from her chair, my owner sauntered off and told him to come to bed.

☼

Moments later, my twin and I were placed in our dust bag and tucked neatly into our shoebox. As we rested on the shelf we listened to what was going on in the bedroom a few feet away; groaning, gasping and the slapping of flesh. The steady, harsh noise of bedsprings  The headboard pounding against the wall. It went on like this for a long time.

Dacia and little one started swearing over and over. Jane said she counted the word Fuck seven times. I told her I counted five Oh Shits and as a lark, I imitated the sounds I heard my owner making.

In the quiet moments following their heated coupling, Dacia and little one shared niceties and soft laughter. Jane and I discussed the excitement of the day, exchanged a smile then said goodnight.

☼

The next morning, while we waited patiently at the foot of the bed, Dacia and little one got ready for work. Two smells lingered in the bedroom: an engaging musky aroma and her perfume. They kissed. This wasn’t a kiss between acquaintances. The way their lips met…it was deep, intimate and arousing – a kiss between two people secure in love. He said he’d make reservations at Aenaria il Ristorante for dinner. She said, “Sounds perfect.”

☼

When Jane and I stepped out into the real world, the rush from the previous evening was still fresh in our thoughts. We said hello and good morning to stilettos, platforms, loafers, wedges, and sneakers as we passed them by. Walking among the rubber, leather, straps and buckles, we wondered how many others like us indulged in the same exciting adventure with their owners - after all, every shoe has a story to tell.

© enchanted.ladybug 11.30.2012

navarro

welcome, everyone .

in the spirit of halloween, i thought it would be nice to write a story around my favorite holiday. while i’ve written a non-human short story before, this is my first attempt at writing a story that afforded my me the chance to see what unfolds between a human and a ghost. the genre of erotica is divided into so many branches, i honestly don’t know if this story would technically fall in the paranormal, non-human, or fantasy elements;  i just know that i enjoyed writing this piece….it’s always something i’ve wanted to try and it was important to me (and my muse), as with all my stories, that i respect the plot, setting and my characters, especially with this piece. i hope that i’ve done that here, and i do hope that you enjoy, navarro – have a safe and happy halloween.

navarro

There’s something vividly beautiful about autumn.

At the end of summer, you can feel a shift in the air letting you know that a change in the season is right around the corner. Trees bursting with gold, red and yellow leaves blanket the ground and crunch under your feet. The air is crisp and chilly. Long drives on remote streets to enjoy the impressive fall foliage. Apples, pumpkins and other locally-grown produce pouring out of bushel baskets at the markets. County Fairs and Halloween. Fall comes in with such an entrance that you’re forced to let go of the hot, sultry dog days of summer.

Normally, Emani spent her October 31st handing out candy to witches, wizards, comic book characters and cute little princesses  This year would be spent at a bed and breakfast; her prize for winning a call-in radio contest. According to the announcer, she was to claim her prize at the studio between between 9:00 a.m. – 5:00 p.m., Monday through Friday within 10 days of being notified. Excited that she’d won anything, she stopped by the front desk of the station right after work, proved her identity with her driver’s license and walked out with a large manila envelope containing her getaway information.

It turns out, she’d read later, that her vacation was part of a Halloween package. Accommodations were made for four days and three nights. The owners promised to provide a one-of-a kind experience for every visitor, including a candlelight walking tour of the neighborhood on Halloween night

She couldn’t wait.

Day One: Check-in

One of the first things Emani noticed were the brick paved streets before studying the distinction of the historic surroundings.The bed and breakfast was a charming building located in a residential neighborhood. Upon entering she was welcomed by the warm and comfortable atmosphere. A curvy woman at the front desk introduced herself as Kim Collins, one of the innkeepers. “Hello! Welcome to the Hillside Bed and Breakfast. How may I help you today?” She wore a dress that didn’t do much to flatter her figure, but she was a friendly woman.

“Hi, I’m Emani Foster. I have a reservation for a four day, three night getaway.”

“Oh, you must be the contest winner! Congratulations, we’re happy to have you with us. My husband Robert is out running errands but he’ll be back later this evening to greet everyone.” After checking in, Kim escorted Emani to her suite on the main floor. Pale jade green and neutral colors commanded the room, from the paint on the walls, the bedding on the hand carved wooden canopy bed and the private bathroom with a jacuzzi tub and shower. This corner suite included a working fireplace and a door that opened right into the intimate courtyard. “We’ll have a reception in the parlor this afternoon with hors d’oeuvres and drinks. At that time, our assistant, Vivian will give everyone a general tour of the grounds and a little history behind our establishment.” Kim smiled as her new guest perused the room. “If you need anything at all, please don’t hesitate to ask me or Vivian.” After a thank you from Emani, Kim nodded her head and quietly closed the door behind her.

Deciding to unpack later, Emani parked her travel bag at the foot of the bed and went right to the garden just outside her room. It was a typical autumn day. In a cloudless sky, the sun was warm and bright but the air was cool. She looked around, noting how beautiful her surroundings were. Rustic wrought iron table and chair sets were tucked away in the tiny nooks of the courtyard, and a small garden pond with a waterfall was proudly displayed in the center of the courtyard. Despite the peaceful environment, Emani suddenly felt uneasy. She was there alone, but had the strange feeling that someone was watching her.

☼

“Originally the building served as a boarding house. Over the years, the property changed hands many, many times. It sat vacant for several years before a local hotel group purchased the property. Shortly after that, it underwent a massive renovation.” Using a cheery voice, Vivian smiled through her presentation. She could probably recite the words backwards in her sleep. “Historians say that this building was built on Native American burial grounds, and some guests have reported seeing spirits that were of Indian descent.”

Gasps were heard, and a few facial expressions grew wide eyed and flooded with terror. After Vivian’s short informational speech, Emani joined a few other guests, and went sight seeing.

Worn out from a day of visiting historical museums and antique shops, Emani took her tired, aching feet to her suite for a long hot bath. After undressing, she stepped into the tub, sank into the water and allowed the exhaustion of the day to fade away. Without realizing it, she dozed off.

It was the stroke on her cheek that interrupted her light sleep. With a sharp intake of air, her eyes shot open.

She froze.

Standing in the doorway was what appeared to be the lifelike apparition of a man. A man with a chiseled face, and a long mane of deep black hair. She didn’t want to think she was being ridiculous, but she knew the hazy edges of the man in the doorway was a ghost. Emani blinked, and before she could cry out, he instantly disappeared.

As the sun started to set that night, Vivian had arranged for the guests to go on a haunted hayride on Middle Earth Acres, a fifth generation dairy farm situated on a large estate. On the ride over there, Emani’s mind was trying to sort through the strange figure in her bathroom and his cold hand against her face. Vivian said that past guests have seen spirits, Emani just didn’t think she’d be one of them.

Middle Earth Acres

A huge tractor slowly took off, towing a trailer full of thrill seekers behind on a thirty minute ride down a desolate country road through the woods of a haunted farm. The October air was brisk, and as a part of the attraction, the screams of lost souls could be heard among the trees. The narrator on board weaved a wonderful story about the undead and the secrets that lied beneath the ground. As they traveled into the unknown, live actors dressed as zombies and ghouls emerged from the darkness and frightened the entire tractor. Along the winding trail, twigs snapped, the wind howled, and monsters of all kinds threatened the fundamental structure of the group’s existence.

Just as the narrator mentioned a dog-like creature that lurked deep in the woods, Emani saw something that chilled the bones and ligaments in her spine. A mist swirling within a vaporous cloud, hovered in the air.

Then it transformed. This wasn’t high tech visual effects, it was the ghost of a Native American man sitting on a horse; the same one that touched her cheek that afternoon. Her gasp went unnoticed, she was on a haunted attraction after all. She saw him again when they passed the cornfields, at the bonfire while she and others in the group shared the heart-pounding action of the night’s experience and again near the entrance of a covered bridge on the property. Emani was a rational person, but what she found disturbing, was that no one else seemed to notice this entity.

☼

Back at the hotel, Mr. Collins and his pleasant face waited at the front desk, greeting all of the guests upon their return. When Emani entered her suite, there was a small box on her bed. As if the night wasn’t strange enough, there was an odd name on the gift tag. Something that started with a D that she couldn’t pronounce. Scrunching her face, she lifted the box top and peeked inside: chocolates. It was late, too late for her to make sense of anything, so she pushed the decorative box aside, climbed into bed and turned on the television. She was about halfway into a documentary when she felt her skin beginning to prickle.

Denzhone….

That one word hung in the air and caused her heart to palpitate. “Who’s here?” she asked, trying to be fearless while pushing herself up on the bed. Surveying the room, she saw nothing, but the voice that called out to her was so distinct.

“Don’t be afraid.” There was strength in the voice. The apparition materialized a few feet away from her now. Emani analyzed him; from the long rectangular cloth around his waist, the high moccasin boots, to the cloth headband around his forehead. He was a beautiful man with deep bronze skin and high cheekbones.

“Who are you?” She should have screamed, or called out for help, but having seen this entity several times already, she didn’t feel the need to. “What do you want? Why do you keep following me?” It seemed silly to throw so many questions out there, but she wanted answers; now.

“My name is Navarro. I don’t mean to frighten you, denzhone.”

She looked at the box of chocolates. Then back to him. “Why are you calling me that?” He had the wrong room, the wrong woman, she thought. “I’m not her, you’ve…got the wrong person.” Emani was hoping he’d go away after that, but he approached the bed and pointed at the small box.

“Denzhone. It means beautiful in my language.”

She appreciated the flattery, even if it was from a spirit. “Are you a demon?” The desire to know more had taken over.

“I am an Apache warrior.”

“Okay. And what…why have you been following me?” she repeated, drawing her knees up to her chest.

“All I know is that ever since you came here this morning, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you.” It wasn’t the in-depth answer Emani was looking for, but it was an answer.

Sighing heavily, Emani fell back on her bed. Oddly enough, she didn’t feel threatened. He would have harmed her by now if those were his intentions, and besides….he brought her a gift. Crooking her head, she looked at the box. “Well you brought me chocolates, you must be harmless.” She looked at him, not knowing what to make of all of this.

“Do you…know that you’re dead, Navarro?” Emani asked, wondering if he might be one of those lost souls that didn’t know they were no longer alive like she’d seen on those paranormal shows. He nodded his reply.

“You’re welcome to stay if you want.” It probably wasn’t a rational thing to say, but she said it boldly. Emani watched the apparition sit on the edge of the bed. She wanted to know more about him, and he was only happy to oblige.

The Apache (pronounced Uh-PAH-chee) Nation was once a powerful tribe.They had a history of trading goods with the Pueblo Indians and remained generally peaceful with them.

There came a time when the Spanish, who became more involved with exercising their authority, prohibited the Pueblo from trading with the Apache tribes and forced the Pueblo to work their land. Because the Pueblo tribes were hesitant to trade, the Apache repeatedly took their supplies. Problems with Spanish settlers and other Indian tribes resulted in the Apache tribe raiding those villages as well. As a result of this and other activities, including cruel Spanish governing power, the Pueblo Indians revolted, driving the Spanish out of of New Mexico. The Spanish reconquered New Mexico, but by then the Apaches were beginning to lose their powerful reputation because their hostile behavior made them the enemy of other villages.

When the Comanche tribe moved in, they proved to be an even more powerful tribe than the Apache. During the hunting and planting season, when the Apache Indians tended their land, the Comanche raided the Apache settlements. The Comanche Indians, ready with an abundance of firearms obtained through the strong trading relationship with the French, raided the Apache tribe, making them weaker and the Comanche tribe more powerful. As a result, they became enemies of the Apache as well.

Eventually, the Apache Nation was forced to settle on government issued reservations.

Navarro was a warrior, one of the ones responsible for taking supplies and valuables from the Pueblo, though he said he did so to survive when wild animals were in short supply. He was one of seventy-seven other Apaches killed at the Battle of Tres Castillos when they were surrounded and attacked by Mexican soldiers.

He and his family were buried on the grounds the Hillside Bed and Breakfast rested on.

His father was a medicine elder who used the spirit world to heal others in the community and perform religious ceremonies.

As the evening went on, Emani felt like she was talking to an old friend, not a ghost. She told Navarro about her childhood: That she was of Italian and Bahamian descent, that her family moved around a lot because of her father being in the military, that she’s the youngest of three older brothers, and harmless practical jokes make her laugh. She even showed him the scar on her right knee that she got when she tried to teach herself how to roller skate when she was six. He reached out and traced the heart-shaped outline on her knee. His touch was cool and sent goosebumps up and down Emani’s arms.

Navarro told her that the long cloth he wore was actually called a breechcloth, or loincloth and that in some tribes, leggings were worn with it. He taught her Apache words. “Nose. Bichih. Leg. Bijad. Apple. Masaana.” He also taught her how to count to three. “Dalaa, naki, taagi.”

Emani fell asleep just before the golden light of the sun peeked over the horizon. Navarro sat next to her, watching her. He stroked her cheek with the back of his hand. “Sleep well, denzhone.” And with that, he was gone.

Day Two

Over french toast and home fries, Emani joined some of the other guests for breakfast in the private courtyard. The hayride was still a hot topic, then a woman mentioned the strange things that happened in her suite last night. Everyone listened intently as she talked about lights flickering in her bathroom and possibly hearing the whispers of a little girl. One man said that he thought he heard his name being called and it nearly made him jump out of his skin. Whether they’d experienced these things or not, Navarro would remain Emani’s secret.

All that day, her thoughts were of him. Looking for signs of the seductive spirit among the beautiful landscaping and gnarled vines at the wine tasting tour and at the art gallery later that afternoon. She had hoped to catch sight of the presence on the nature walk, but never saw him.

☼

“Are you enjoying yourself, dear?” Kim asked after graciously accepting the peach flavored sparkling wine Emani brought back from the winery.

“Yes ma’am. Everyone’s been very nice and accommodating. I’m really enjoying the tours.”

“Will you be joining the others at the haunted corn maize tonight?”

“Oh, that sounds a little too spooky for me. I might just grab a bite from the cafe around the corner, then spend the night in my room with a book.” Emani declined.

“Well you just let me know if you need anything.” Kim thanked her for the gift and went into the kitchen.

Later, after a dinner of fried clams and french fries, Emani headed back to the hotel. On her leisurely walk, she couldn’t stop herself from looking around, hoping a certain spirit would reveal itself to her again.

☼

Emani stepped into the shower, steam rose and filled the bathroom quickly as the water fell over her body. She soaped herself with a loofah. After wetting her hair, she poured shampoo in her hand and returned the bottle to a recessed shelf. She had just lathered her hair, when something cold brushed against the back of her neck. “Navarro?” She stood still, wanting it to be him. “Navarro, are you here?” her question came with a whisper.

“I’m here, denzhone,” he said at last.

Emani felt the chill of his fingers lightly brush her upper back, she was happy to hear the sound of his voice behind her. “I didn’t think I’d see you today.”

“I was not going to let you be alone tonight.” The next thing Emani felt was his fingers move through her soapy hair. “Close your eyes,” he said. There was no time to think about a reply, she simply closed her eyes and tilted her head back. Emani felt his gentle hands at the crown of her head, rubbing the sweet-smelling shampoo throughout her hair. Using small circles, Navarro used his fingertips to lovingly massage her scalp. Emani enjoyed the feeling of being pampered. She enjoyed the closeness of his cool, ghostly body near her physical one. His fingers got a little more firm, working the lather into her curly tresses for a few moments and even washed her back before he gathered her hair and asked her to turn around. Carefully, her head was guided under the hot spray: all traces of shampoo being rinsed down the drain. Emani’s body was turned back around and she felt a tug at her hips; she was being pulled closer to him.

Feeling his arms encircle her shoulders, they stood still under the invigorating spray of water until she broke the silence. “Will I see you tomorrow?”

“You will.” If Emani had her way, they’d stay in that shower forever; her back nestled against his front; his cool breath against the hollow of her neck. But the change in temperature would soon force her out. When she no longer felt his breath or his embrace, she knew that he’d left: that didn’t stop her from turning around though. To her disappointment, there was nothing there but her and the visible mist of steam.

It was just after one in the morning when Emani got tired enough to turn the television off. In her dark and silent room, she burrowed under the covers and fell asleep almost the instant her head hit the pillow. Moments later, there was a shift on the mattress. The cool embrace and breath on the nape of her neck caused her to smile and move in her sleep, like the deep corners of her mind had alerted her to his presence. Near her shoulder was a depression in her skin where his mouth kissed her. Opening, then closing her eyes, Emani slept in the comfort of Navarro’s arms.

Day Three : Halloween

After a breakfast of berries topped with vanilla yogurt and granola, Emani joined the other guests from the hayride to enjoy more of the outdoors before the candlelight tour that night. The men decided they’d rather go fishing or play a leisurely 9 hole round of golf than to walk around a farmers market, but everyone agreed to meet together for a late lunch that afternoon.

“It was so cold in my room last night,” said Donna. She and her husband shared a suite on the second floor. “I swear something was in there…watching us.” She smelled like impostor perfume and talked with her hands for emphasis.

“I’m still tryin’ ta get ova that maze and that dreadful hayride.” Dark-haired Laila and her southern drawl were on vacation for her upcoming birthday, celebrating the fact that she was ’50 and fabulous’.

“That hayride was scary,” Emani chimed in as they passed a small group of fruit vendors. Mostly, she did it to deflect the conversation away from all the ghost talk. “I can’t wait until the candlelight walk, that sounds fun.” Deflecting even more. And it worked, the ladies all agreed and just like that, the topic was changed.

Candlelight Walk

“This mansion was built in the mid-1840′s. It was occupied for generations by the prominent Westfield family.” A storyteller in period dress stopped the group in front of the historic house. “Legend says that Mary Westfield, the last heir of the family died here at the age of 96, and some believe that her spirit never left.”

There was oohing and aahing. Laila gasped, and Emani didn’t mind when she linked arms with her.

The storyteller continued. “There have been reports from the staff and tour guests of furniture moving across the room, an apparition appearing in the attic window, smells of cigar smoke and footsteps in the hallway.” The tour continued inside of the restored Victorian home, where everyone was led through all fifteen rooms and the attic. Overall, the candlelight walk was nice, but it was an hour that passed too slowly for Emani.

On the way back to the hotel, fairies, vampires and comic book characters were already haunting the streets of the quaint suburb, going from one dimly lit home to the next to fill their bags with candy. Hearing their eager voices made Emani smile with nostalgia.

“And that concludes our candlelight tour. Thank you all very much and have a safe Halloween!” After a round of applause, some people stayed to chat up the storyteller, others watched the trick-or-treaters. Emani made small talk with her group for a while then politely excused herself for the evening.

Back in her suite, she noticed a small gift box at the foot of her bed. Knowing the contents inside of it, she grinned, almost not believing that this ethereal man caused such a fire to radiate through her veins.

After a long shower, she perfumed her body with a sandalwood, neroli and jasmine oil blend, and selected a skimpy tank top and panties to wear for that evening.

The alarm clock displayed the time with bright neon green numbers. It was 10:37 p.m. Finding a sitcom, she turned off all the lights, abandoned the remote and climbed into bed. She’d eaten two chocolates from the box when his rich voice called to her from a dark corner of the room. “Denzhone.”

Her eyes swept around the room, then she saw the soft glow of Navarro standing there. He was shirtless and the loincloth he wore was much shorter than the one Emani was used to seeing him in. His long, black hair casually draped over his broad shoulders.

Scooting to the edge of the bed, Emani held his gaze. Before her eyes, Navarro’s semi-transparent figure seemed to take a more solid shape. In an instant, he was standing right in front of her. When he reached out for her cheek, Emani leaned into his caress with her eyes closed. Expecting his touch to be cool against her skin, she was pleasantly surprised. The warmth of his firm, roughened hand filled her with longing. “You feel so real. How?”

“My father and his years of spiritual practice helped me develop the energy to appear physically. But it’s only temporary, denzhone.”

She nodded and flattened her hand against his chest, her fingers slowly exploring its contours like she was trying to commit the feel of his muscles to memory. Her hand lingered over a long scar that looked like it was created with a knife. She glanced up at him. “Is this how…?” Navarro confirmed her suspicion with a nod.

Without a word, she tucked her finger inside his breechcloth and pulled him closer. Navarro’s deep sighs rolled through the silence when her lips touched his mid-section. Lifting her chin, he leaned down: his mouth descended on hers and in seconds their tongues became twisted. Time seemed to stand still as they shared their first kiss. Their lips, soft and earnest, moved tenderly against one another; Cradling each other’s face, they kissed passionately. Navarro moved his mouth, pressing kisses on her cheeks, her nose, forehead and temples. Air escaped Emani’s lungs in a rush of heated gasps.

He pulled away with a smile and they stared at each other in silence. It only took a moment for them to undress, their clothes landing quietly on the floor. Emani turned the television off when Navarro climbed into bed. Just as he did, a fire roared to life in the antique fireplace; flames danced pleasantly among the snap and crackle of the wood. He eased Emani onto her back. Slowly working his way down her neck and chest, his breath deepened as he decorated the soft flesh of her upper body with kisses. Quivering a little, Emani sighed with pleasure.

Navarro’s nose and mouth skirted over the dark circle of her areola before his lips locked around her breast. Emani’s body jerked slightly with excitement as she watched his lips pull her taut nipple away from her body. He suckled for a long time, moved to her other breast and then to her belly, dipping his tongue in her navel and kissing her tenderly. The pressure of his mouth on her skin warmed her from the inside out.

Barely able to contain her moans, Emani stopped her voice from carrying too loudly throughout the room, afraid the other guests would hear her impassioned cries from the corner suite.

Before she could even pose the question, Navarro answered. “They won’t hear us.” With her mind at ease, Emani relaxed while Navarro focused on her lower body.

Her shapely legs parted and she felt him nip at her pelvis. Making his way down her leg, Navarro stopped to kiss the heart-shaped scar on her knee. “You smell good, denzhone.” When his mouth grazed up her inner thigh and lingered on her mons, a loud, greedy sigh escaped Emani’s mouth. His tongue flipped at her clitoral hood until her pearl peeked from it. She whimpered helplessly and grabbed fistfuls of his hair when he closed his mouth around her.

Desperate to taste more, Navarro gave in to desire and pushed her legs further apart. His lips pulled and sucked at her labia. Parting her swollen folds with his tongue, he inhaled her musky scent and began lapping at her as if it was the best thing he’d ever had in his mouth.

Every two seconds, Emani’s hips rose to meet his mouth. He grunted against her sticky sex, doing his best to hold her quivering body in place as his mouth moved to her rhythm. She mewled constantly as he devoured her: pushing his tongue so far inside of her that his nose was pressed against her clitoris.

Bursts of immense pleasure consumed Emani’s body; she lost herself in the rapture and gasped his name repeatedly. Feeling she was about to fall over the edge of satisfaction, she tightened her grip on Navarro’s hair. He didn’t seem to mind, in fact, her grasp urged him to increase his labial attention. He tried to speak, but the muffled noise got lost in her wetness. He licked her deeply, with low growls as the swelling in his loins became evident. Mentally, she begged for mercy. “Oh god, Navarro,” was all she could say.

Just before she would lose control, Navarro pulled his mouth away from her pussy. He swept his nose back and forth against her sensitive clit then changed positions. Holding his erection, he ran the head up and down the length of her opening. The sensation of feeling his firm flesh against hers spread through their bodies.

With short, harsh gasps, Emani’s back arched when she felt the fullness of him penetrate her. Navarro took a few deep breaths and leaned over, his body settling gingerly on top of hers as her sheath closed around him. With long, slow strokes, he moved in and out of her tight depths. She locked her legs around his waist. Curling her hands underneath his arms, Emani pressed her nails into the muscles of his back and rocked beaneath him – with him. Ragged sighs spread through the air with each thrust.

Navarro pushed further and harder, groaning with Emani when his manhood nudged the base of her womb. “Denzhone…..so good.”

His mouth found hers. When she tasted the tangy essence of her own sex, Emani raked her nails across his back. Deep, shuddering cries and sloshy noises filled the room as he stroked her most sensitive places slowly and intentionally. She needed that, and he knew it.

Tearing his lips from her mouth, a wave of enormous power overcame him and he started thrusting relentlessly. Meeting him stroke for stroke, Emani lashed at the bed sheets with her fists. Dizzy with sensual indulgence, a knot coiled in her stomach. Her womanly muscles clamped around him and her body betrayed her. In those final moments of passion, they groaned in blissful agony. Her juices washing over him seconds before his otherworldly fluids spilled into her. Their mutual sighs and desperate gasps were incredibly passionate as they climaxed.

Navarro’s body gradually subsided on top of Emani’s; her arms and legs still locked around him. He tucked his head in the hollow of her neck, kissing her tenderly before their sweat covered bodies surrendered to sleep.

Day Four : Check-out

Navarro woke before the sunrise the next morning to find Emani sleeping. He reached out with his spectral hand and caressed her peaceful face. The coolness woke her with a contented sigh: she managed a smile at the ghost-like figure.

“I have to go.” It pained him to say these words.

“Will I see you again?” It pained her to hear these words, but she knew the answer. Navarro smiled when she reached out to cup his jaw. Slowly, he faded into a snowy cloud wisp. Emani’s fingers fluttered in the haze as the Apache warrior disappeared little by little.

☼

After breakfast in the courtyard, Emani said her goodbyes to the other guests. Back in her suite, she checked the room twice to make sure she wasn’t leaving anything behind. Her heart was a little heavy knowing she’d never see Navarro again. With a sigh, she gathered her things and headed to the front desk to check out. Her eyes caught something on the bedside table just before she left the room. A cloth headband; Navarro’s headband. She picked it up and sniffed it. It smelled earthy, like him. Folding it over, she carefully placed it in her bag and said goodbye into the air.

☼

“Did you enjoy your stay, dear?” Mr. Collins asked.

“Yes, sir. I had a wonderful time,” Emani smiled.

“And did you get to experience any strange happenings?” Mrs. Collins asked as she joined her husband behind the front desk.

Emani shook her head. “No, ma’am. No scratching sounds coming from the walls, no slamming doors. No strange activity at all.”

© enchanted.ladybug 10.31.2012

Bibliography: “Apache Indians.” native-net.org. Native Net, n.d. Web. 30 Oct. 2012

History Detectives. “Apache Warriors.” pbs.org. Public Broadcasting Station, n.d. Web. 30 Oct. 2012

Carlisle, Jeffrey D. “Apache Indians.” tshaonline.org. Texas State Historical Association, n.d. Web. 14 Oct 2012

 

france

welcome, everyone.  i have another read for you. it’s a story that i originally wrote in april of 2010. i’ve revised it and hopefully made it interesting for you. i am working on a new piece for next month’s post and am (so) glad that i had this story in my documents folder to share with you.

i want to thank you all for taking the time out of your day to read the stories on my humble blog. i do hope that you enjoy, france.

france

“Excuse me, could you…” Spirit’s arms fell to her side in defeat, a map and bus schedule tucked between her thumb and index fingers. She was prepared to make the walk back to her hotel room, her feet on the other hand, wanted to ride the bus.  ”Never mind.”

Her eyes rolled at the cluster of people that pushed past her, surely everyone in France wasn’t this rude. “Ideal place of love my ass,” she snapped, watching their backs grow smaller.

This was not how she envisioned the residents of this city to be.

Today, Spirit found herself in the park listening to music and poetry by local artists. She grabbed a modest lunch, nearly filled a memory card with pictures, and marveled at the ornamental structures that make up the Place de la Bourse; but now…now she just wanted to be back in her room; if only she knew for sure when the bus would be coming.

Bordeaux, France is a thriving city rich with contemporary and historical buildings, museums and festivals. It’s bursting with classical architecture, shops and over a quarter of a million vineyards where some of the world’s most expensive wines are made. Just as she pulled at a stray thread on her sundress, a voice called from behind her. “Are you lost?”

Startled, she jumped and turned quickly toward the mans’ accent. Spirit’s eyes fell on his and she produced a smile. “I only wanted to know when the bus would be arriving, but no one will help me,” she stated.

The gentleman before her possessed the most mesmerizing eyes. Striking, cold, and blue-gray; like gunmetal. He looked at his watch. “Should be here in about ehh, ten minutes.” His seductive accent interrupted her fixed look. Relieved, she thanked the man; her feet would have to tolerate another ten minutes. “My pleasure, Mademoiselle.” He nodded at her and pressed forward, she stole a glance at him as he walked away.

After claiming an empty spot on a bench she stuffed the map and schedule in her shoulder bag. “Mademoiselle, pardon me. Are you familiar with the warehouse district of Bordeaux yet?”
Those gunmetal blue eyes had returned to her.

“Oh, no.” Spirit lifted her gaze and placed her hand just above her brow line to act as a shield for her eyes. “Why, is there something I should see there?”

“The La Dame de Shanghai. It’s a popular nightclub here. Your hotel will tell you how to get there.”

“Hotel. Wait, how did you know I was a visitor?”

“The map and schedule in your hand a moment ago,” he smiled, “anyone who lives in Bordeaux knows what time the bus arrives. You will come?”

It beats another night of reading French For Dummies and staring out at the city from her hotel window. “Sure, why not.”

“Parfaite. My name is Trey,” he smiled, extending his hand to her.

“I’m Spirit, nice to meet you,” she replied, shaking his hand.

“The pleasure is all mine, Spirit.” Trey gathered her fingers and kissed the back of her hand. He winked then walked away, this time she watched him until he disappeared in the crowd.

According to the hotel manager, after dark, the bars, music scenes and clubs are alive with people who seek to satisfy their taste for France’s buzzing nightlife. The La Dame de Shanghai is a floating nightclub and restaurant located on a former submarine dock. One of the clerks was even kind enough to suggest an affordable clothing shop where Spirit could find something suitable for the La Dame de Shanghai’s dress code.

After shopping, she had a light dinner of tea, and crepes filled with meat and vegetables before heading back to her hotel room. While relaxing in the tub, she thought of Trey and regarded his striking blue eyes. Smiling to herself, she thought of the overused idea of a steamy affair with someone from another country. Images of his lips caressing her thighs flashed through her mind, awakening her inner desires. She wondered what his kiss would taste like. Would it taste warm, sweet and cool like mint? Tangy and tropical like fresh pineapple, or bitter like over-extracted coffee? “He probably won’t even be there,” she said, flicking water about. Her body sank a little deeper into the hot, sudsy water. “He does have a sexy accent.”

Spirit stood in the mirror for a long time, examining her attire. Her short peach colored dress had a large side slit, open middle exposing her midriff and ties at the neck and back. It complimented her light brown skin perfectly. She even talked herself into buying a some body jewelry and exchanged her plain navel ring for a butterfly ring studded with gemstones and a faceted droplet crystal. After tousling her short pixie hairstyle, and giving her eyes the smoldering look, she rubbed lotus flower oil on her body and left for a night out in beautiful Bordeaux.

☼

The La Dame de Shanghai

When day transitioned to night in Bordeaux, the city became even more alive. Music of all kinds pulsated from the ships and warehouses along the waterfront. Spirit was drawn to the warm ambiance of La Dame de Shanghai. The Asian decor, intimate lighting, house music and the abundance of champagne were all so elegant and inviting.

She nodded and smiled her way through a crowd, trying her best to blend in with the locals. The bar was straight ahead; maybe a drink would help her relax. She managed to wedge herself between two tall men who didn’t seem to mind her presence and waited on the bartender, whose back was facing her. When he finally turned around, her eyes lit up with enthusiasm.

“You made it,” Trey grinned.

“I did. This is a very nice club.” She felt his eyes on her.

“You are breathtaking.”

“Thank you.” Spirit did her best to keep from blushing at his compliment.

“A drink. What would you like? Anything you want.” He placed both hands on the bar and leaned in just a bit. Earlier today, his medium ash brown hair was pulled into a ponytail, now it hung past his shoulders and was parted on the side so that a section of hair covered his left eye.

“I bet you have no idea what a Delta Sunset is.” He simply pushed away from the bar and turned his back to her. “How come you didn’t tell me you were the bartender?” she called after him.

“Because you did not ask,” he teased. By now a woman joined one of the men next to her. It was hard not to stare at them, but no one seemed to notice how they pawed at each other. When the frisky gentleman pushed up his date’s skirt, she moaned loudly causing Spirit to shift in her seat uncomfortably.

Trey turned and beckoned Spirit with his index finger. “That is not unusual here, you get used to it.” She leaned forward. His lips were a shallow breath away from her earlobe and she swallowed back the urge to kiss him deeply. “You are not very good at making bets,” he whispered, pulling away and sliding the requested drink before her.

“I’m pretty bad at it. How much?”

“It’s on me, don’t worry,” he winked.

The energy in La Dame de Shanghai seemed to intensify as the night went on. Playing the wallflower long enough, she entertained a few men’s request to dance; losing count of how many times her ample bottom was groped, or how many erections she felt against her back.

Whenever he was afforded a free moment, Trey’s dangerous blue eyes bore right into her. Not out of jealousy, but he was entranced by her; the way her hips rolled against the music, as if each movement called out to him. His gaze searched her body; It was difficult to tear his eyes away from admiring her curves.

When she was all danced out, Spirit was lucky enough to find a small table in the restaurant section. She took a moment to look over the menu, and decided on an appetizer and another Delta Sunset from the bar. Every couple of minutes she’d survey the bar catching a glimpse of Trey. When her food arrived, she looked once again, only he wasn’t there. Her shoulders dropped then shrugged. It’s probably just as well, she thought as she folded the corners of her napkin. What was I thinking? That I was going to have some torrid one-night stand with a French bartender?

“You do not like the food?” The soft sound of his voice excited her. She almost came undone.

“The food is great,” Spirit beamed. “Care to join me?” she motioned to the empty seat across from her.

Trey sat down, tucking that patch of hair over his left eye behind his ear. “So, what brings you to Bordeaux?”

“Well….” Spirit told Trey that she’d seen an ad online and got the idea to take a vacation. The problem was deciding where to go. She narrowed it down to three destinations: Italy, New Zealand, and France. She went with the draw a name from a hat method, only she used a cereal bowl. Paris was the obvious choice, but the more she read about Bordeaux, the more she was drawn to the city. As the evening went on, Trey learned that Spirit was a surgical tech, that her eyes were olive green and could change color depending on the light, and that she got her name from her late, great grandmother.

She learned that Trey was originally born in Lyon, France, a city divided into nine boroughs that was located between France and Marseille. He’s an only child with a passion for photography, and a love of jazz greats like Nat King Cole, and Nina Simone.

After Spirit paid her check, she glanced at the time and stood up. “I should get going, Trey. The bus will be making its last route soon.”

“I will take you to your hotel. I mean…I don’t mind giving you a ride,” he began eagerly, “I promise to take you straight to there, and I will keep my hands to myself.” Spirit laughed softly at his charm and accepted his generosity.

☼

“I want to see you again.” Trey’s request came softly and modestly after parking his car.

“Trey, I really appreciate you giving me a ride.” Spirit opened her pocketbook and fished for money. “You’ve been so kind, really. But I don’t think that’s a good idea. I mean, I’m just here on vacation.”

Trey listened and nodded, his eyes fixed on a lamppost. “When do you leave?”

“In a week,” she sighed dispiritedly.

“Then do not deprive me of being with you during the rest of your stay, Mademoiselle.” His words massaged her soul.

Spirit left her room information and tried three more times to pay Trey for giving her a ride; three times he refused and promised her a tour of the wine museum and a picnic in the park the next day.

She said good night. He said bonne nuit.

In her room, Spirit stood in the bathroom mirror, mouthing the word mademoiselle over and over. She lowered her voice and mimicked Trey’s words to her, purposefully exaggerating the last word. “Do not deprive me of being with you during the rest of your stay, Mademoiselle.”

Biting her bottom lip, she tapped the bathroom light with one, quick jerking movement and crawled into bed.

☼

Spirit was eager to see more of Bordeaux with Trey. They walked the streets of Rue-St. Catherine’s, sampled local wines and toured the wine museum where Trey proved to be an excellent tour guide. She learned that Bordeaux was home to 9,000 chateau’s that made wine, and that 12,000 different red wines were made there. The French are passionate about wine, so even an inexpensive bottle would be delicious. They bought lunch at a cafe and headed over to the Jardins Public for their picnic.

The Jardins Public

Serenely impressive, the Jardins Public is an English-style garden with an elegant landscape. It contains a library, botanical garden, lakes with ducks and swans, and an isolated area for picnics. Trey spread out a blanket underneath a large shade tree while Spirit went to admire the swans feeding in the lake.

“Did you know that swans can bond for years, sometimes for life?” he asked, walking up behind her.

“And did you know that it’s believed that in Hindu mythology, the swan represents grace, beauty and wisdom, and that the Goddess Saraswati was depicted sitting on a swan?” Spirit replied.

“Did you know that I find you incredible?” he confessed.

As the afternoon continued on, Spirit and Trey found themselves lounging on the blanket getting acquainted  They discussed French and American cuisine, childhood hobbies, and jazz music. After a while, Spirit commented on the pleasant scent of the flowers and fell into a light sleep. Trey watched her for a few moments before caressing her cheek with the back of his fingers.

For the next couple of days, Trey exposed Spirit to more of Bordeaux’s vibrant city. Their tour took them to striking museums and historical monuments. They strolled along the riverfront, admired mansions that were built in the 18th century and visited the Pont de Pierre; a beautiful seventeen arch bridge, spanning 530 yards that was built in 1822. Trey told Spirit that because of the unobstructed view, this was the perfect place to take photographs.

That evening, after dinner at a bistro, Spirit offered to buy caneles from the bakery. Popular in Bordeaux, they were the perfect way to conclude a meal. She’d just bitten into the crisp, burnt sugar shell of her second fluted cake when six words caught her off guard.

“Spirit, spend the night with me.” It wasn’t a question really, more of a polite wish.
It was as if instinct pushed her to respond so impulsively. “I’ll need to stop by the hotel and grab a few things.”

☼

Trey’s building was located on a quiet street, about ten minutes from the Garonne river. His cozy apartment boasted charming decor, right down to the long drapes that accommodated the floor to ceiling windows. One large room served as the kitchen and dining area with a separate bathroom and bedroom. The dark, hardwood flooring gave prominence to the white stone walls. Spirit admired the black and white photographs on the walls, and figured they were probably taken by Trey.

“Make yourself at home, the bathroom is there on the right.” Trey tossed his keys on the dining room table.

“Your apartment is lovely,” she marveled, dropping her shoulder bag on the floor next to the sofa.

“Merci. Please, have a look around.”

While Spirit made her way around his intimate apartment, Trey listened to his incoming messages. The male voice on the machine spoke in French, but it caused Trey to chuckle. “My friend is going hiking and wants to borrow my camera. Would you like to come with me or do you want to stay here?”

“There are places to hike in France?” she asked, emerging from the bedroom.

“Oh yes. The Cantal Mountains are amazing. The landscape is so rich and green, it takes about a week to get through a guided walking holiday. The farms and villages are beautifully maintained, the flowers and wildlife are well protected. It’s very stunning. I uh, I wish your stay was longer, I would love to take you there.”

Spirit smiled, then crossed the living room to gazed out of the tall window. “And you trust me in your apartment alone?”

“Why not? You won’t get far if you take anything, you can’t figure out the bus schedule,” he joked, clutching his arm dramatically when Spirit playfully punched him. “I won’t be long, I promise.” He stood next to her at the window.

She turned, crossed her arms and looked up at his towering stature. “Well, since you promised.”

Trey smiled at her and planted the most gentle kiss on her forehead before collecting his camera. He showed her where the towels were, and how to use the remote for the television and DVD player.

After a shower, Spirit found herself going through Trey’s jazz collection. Tonight just seemed like a Betty Carter night. She loaded five CD’s into the player, programming it to play randomly and continuously. Just as Betty’s husky voice filled the room, Trey entered to find Spirit lying on the couch reading a magazine. “Isn’t her voice enchanting?” he asked, locking the door behind him.

“I’ve always loved her voice; so powerful and one of a kind. She wasn’t afraid to be wild and push the limits.”

“And what about you?” Trey was sitting on the floor in front of her.

“What do you mean?”

“Are you afraid to be wild and push the limits?”

“I think the fact that I’m here with you should answer that.”

“That is fair,” he laughed.

“Are you afraid to be wild and push the limits?” she asked in return, propping her arm and resting her head in her hand. Trey slowly lowered his head, his lips gently touching hers. The kiss was lengthy, soft and completely natural. When their tongues met, she got the answer to her question: Sweet and creamy with a nuance of vanilla; like caramel.

He drew back, breaking the kiss. Spirit saw his lips move and she heard his voice say, I’m going to take a shower, but she was too caught up in the way his lips felt against hers. Tucking her hands behind her head, she closed her eyes while the music acted as her personal sedative.

Trey returned a short while later and knelt in front of her. He watched her resting for just a moment before stroking her cheek. Spirit shifted slightly and opened her eyes. She grinned after having felt his nose brushing her jawline. He stood up, pulling her along with a gentle tug.

Drawing her close, he tilted her head and their lips came together in a firm, passionate kiss. He backed her into a wall and lifted her legs around his waist. She planted her forearms on his shoulders as his lips moved from her mouth to her neck. Trey inhaled the sweet floral scent of lotus near her collarbone. “Mmm, you smell so good,” he said against the front of her shoulder.

Spirit purred her gratitude. “Let’s go sit down on the floor,” she softly suggested. He whimpered, nuzzling the camber of her neck. Reluctantly, he released her legs and led her to living the area. They sat comfortably facing one another, gazing quietly into each others eyes. After their hands were placed on one another’s knees, she whispered, “I want you to do something for me; breathe very softly. Focus…and you will breathe with me.”

Trey closed his eyes. It took some effort, but when his eyes opened, they were breathing in sync; slowly and jointly. Spirit was gentle in her instruction, telling Trey that this technique was being done to open their minds, invite the powerful energy into their bodies and deepen their connection.

The exchange was such a pleasant experience. Trey felt a current flow throughout his body, right down to his fingertips. This process went on for some time; the warmth, the connection, the build up was erotically overwhelming.

When she felt that each of their minds had opened up, Spirit had Trey undress and lie on his back. “Keep focusing. Settle into your body and breathe.” Kneeling between his legs, she worked her way down his body, massaging his arms and chest. Taking her time, she moved her hands over his stomach and pelvis. When Trey sucked in a quick breath, he gave her a look, as if to say he was sorry for breaking his concentration. Smiling, Spirit placed her hand on his abdomen and gently reminded him to inhale and exhale deeply. “It’s okay. Slow down and your body will relax.”

As Trey’s shallow breaths calmed, her hands worked his inner and outer thighs, caressing where his legs and pelvis join. She then moved toward his testicles. Carefully, she spread her fingers and massaged them against her palm, then pushed them against the underside of his manhood.

His arousal began growing.

The fire inside of him intensified, causing him to writhe with need, but he was determined to concentrate.
With a feather light touch she swept the tops of her fingers over the head of his sex and along the sides. “So beautiful,” was all she said. Without breaking the connection, she closed her hand around the base of his dick. Alternating with her left and right hand, she slowly stroked him until he was fully erect.

Leaning over, Spirit’s mouth descended on the firm length of him. He fought back the urge to explode in the moist vessel that pleased him. “Your mouth is so warm. It feels so good,” he moaned, watching as her lips passed up and down his rigid flesh. She stopped briefly, burrowed her face between his legs and licked between his testicles. Next she gently sucked each clean-shaven scrotal sac into her mouth which were firm because they had become engorged from the excitement. While rolling his testes around in her mouth, Spirit opened his legs a little wider and allowed the musky scent of his sex to intoxicate her. After bathing his balls with her tongue, she flattened it against his shaft, licked her way towards the tip, and flicked her tongue across his frenulum.

Trey released a long sigh and called out for her. His hard on lurched toward her and she pulled away, gently blowing on the glans as if to tell it to behave. Noticing his natural fluids pool in the narrow opening on the head, she rubbed her nose and lips in the wetness. Her tongue dipped right into that opening, then she closed her mouth around his manhood and watched his varied expressions. She moaned, raising and lowering her head, and working her tongue in numerous ways until he burst out of her mouth like a cork from a bottle.
Kissing her way up his body, she asked, “Can you feel our energies connecting?”

“I’ve never felt anything like this, it’s so enticing,” he nodded, gently stroking her back as she pressed herself closer to him. The sensual impulse grew more and more powerful. His body wanted more of this; he wanted more of this. And she knew it.

Spirit sat upright and removed her camisole. She reminded Trey to keep breathing and guided his hands toward her chest. Her nipples puckered as soon as his palms made contact, she arched her back, breathing steadily as his tender fingers splayed over her exposed breasts. “Suck them,” she whispered hoarsely.
Trey was only happy to comply.

He pulled her forward, lapping at her areola one after the other before pinching her nipples between his teeth. He sucked avidly, enjoying the weight of her bosom in his mouth. Several minutes passed before she pulled away, breaking the suction.

“You have a butterfly in your stomach,” he said, playfully pointing out her jewelry  His fingers teased her boy shorts aside and he massaged her clit. “You don’t mind, do you?” he smiled. Shaking her head no, Spirit lifted her breast and closed her mouth around her nipple. His thumb slowly circled her bud, causing it to swell. Her thighs trembled at the heat of his hand.

Each approaching the edge of climax, they both continued to breathe in unison; slowly and and deeply like a well-rehearsed duet. Spirit committed each nerve in her body to making this night full of ecstasy. She learned long ago to tame her orgasm, but Trey was new to the experience and she knew that he was aching to succumb to passion soon. Lifting his hand, she sucked his thumb into her mouth, followed by his each of his fingers. Immediately, she shed her boy shorts and straddled him.

She took his erection and rubbed it between her labia. “Look at it. Look at the way the head is nestled between my lips.” Trey glanced between her legs, and when she pulled it away from her fleshy folds, a milky strand hung between them. Gasping in pleasure, he relished the tease.

No longer wanting to fight the desire, Spirit leaned in, placed her hands on Trey’s chest and lifted her hips. “Are you ready to accept all that I have to give you?”

He barely pushed out a yes, before Spirit guided herself onto him. A symphony of energy spread between the two of them like a fierce fire. She bounced up and down on his throbbing phallus, listening to and becoming aroused by the wet sounds. Moments later she planted herself firmly on top of him and wound her hips against his pelvis. The serpentine movements she made caused another surge of energy to pass between them.

Forcefully, Trey pushed himself deep inside of her silky depths, grunting something in French over and over. Spirit sighed her own sensuous throaty sounds as he moved in and out of her. She rocked against him, cupping her beautifully formed breasts and squeezing her vaginal muscles possessively around his dick.

Just as the pale cool light of the moon streamed through the windows, a tremendous feeling manifested deep inside of them. Their minds and bodies were alive and free. Trey’s body shook. “My head is spinning, Spirit. I can’t…I don’t…”

Spirit knew what was happening. She mewled softly, her hips bucked vehemently; encouraging his sweet release. “Don’t be afraid of the power. Let the pleasure wash over you. Let it rule you. Come with me.” she cried at last, her body tensing throughout.

Trey pressed his fingers into her thighs and gyrated fast and frantically. Spirit pressed down against him to meet his upward thrusts. He released a loud agonized gasp that caused them both to surrender to the aching need cascading through them. Bodies shuddering as they climaxed together. Energies uniting as they responded to the cry for deliverance. Breaths breaking out in heated moans and gasps. His hot release and her essence melding into one sensuous substance. Even after Spirit collapsed on his chest, he continued to spurt inside her sumptuous walls.

“What did you do to me?” he panted, wrapping his arms around her, holding her damp body close to his.

“Introduced you to what happens when you bring harmony and intimacy together,” she whispered, combing her fingers through his hair.

As their spasms of ecstasy subsided, Spirit relaxed in his embrace. They both closed their eyes while Betty Carter lulled them to sleep with, Moonlight in Vermont.

☼

Just before the golden light of the sun rose above the horizon, Spirit and Trey woke to the subtle scent of sex lingering in the air; a delicious reminder of the previous night. His finger floated down the bridge of her nose. Her face wrinkled and the corners of his mouth teased up into a smile. “Stay with me,” he stated in a throaty tone.

“For the rest of day?”

“No.”

A quizzical look washed over her face. “For the rest of my vacation?”

“For as long as you like; or forever.”

She was speechless. As she searched for an answer, Trey massaged her backside. “I…I uh, I don’t know what to say, Trey.”

“Say yes.”

“In French, or in English?” she teased. Trey smacked her bottom and she giggled.

Spirit tilted her head, softly kissed his jawline then answered, “Oui.”

© enchanted.ladybug 09.29.2012

shop talk

welcome, everyone. here’s a new story for you to read, and hopefully enjoy. i want to take a moment and say thank you to all of my visitors, especially the new ones – the wonderful praises and comments are so encouraging and good for my soul. i appreciate all of you very much. i do hope that you enjoy, shop talk.

shop talk

 At 8:07am, handsome gray-haired Ethan backed his car out of the garage. He was on his way to the golf course when he noticed that his car was running a little sluggish. Instead of taking his usual route east, he headed south to a repair shop nearby. Ethan was a man of regular habits, so the unexpected detour was aggravating. He was also a man that would be taking a road trip soon for a tournament, so this problem needed to be addressed immediately. After calling his golf mates, he pulled into the auto shop’s parking lot just as the door at bay number four was being lifted. A man carrying a clipboard smiled and greeted him. The badge on his shirt had the name Joe on it. “Good morning, sir!”

“Good morning. My car’s running sluggish. Could you take a look at it? Ethan stepped out of the car, and leaned against the door.

“Sure. You can give your keys to Frankie, then come inside and I’ll get your paperwork started. Frankie!”

Ethan’s mouth nearly dropped when he saw who walked up. First he missed his tee time, and now this. A woman mechanic. He gave her a hard look and before he could say anything, Joe smiled and lowered his tone, “I know what you’re thinking, and she’s the best mechanic in the shop. She’ll take good care of you.”

“What’s up?” Frankie asked.

“Got one I need you to take a look at,” Joe said.

“No problem, what’s it doing Mr….?” She held her hand out for his keys.

“McIntyre.” Ethan rolled his eyes and explained the problem as he reluctantly gave up his keys.

Frankie listened patiently. She was used to this kind of treatment. Initially, people, especially men, thought she was a joke. This was a line of work dominated by males and she was intruding on their ground. Why would anyone take her seriously? But with her demon eye for finding and eliminating problems, and her petite build being able to fit in compact places where parts were not constructed for larger hands, she soon earned some much needed respect and became one of the guys. “Well, I’ve got a few customers ahead of you, Mr. McIntyre. I’ll have to stay late to work on your car. Can you come back later this evening?”

Trying not to sound irritated, “What time do you want me back here? I need my car for work tomorrow.”

“I plan to have you up and running tonight, sir. Is 7 o’clock okay?”

“Sure. Fine.” He sighed heavily and followed Joe to the front of the shop. Shaking her head, Frankie smiled, pocketed his keys and went back to work.

☼

Later that evening

At 6:48pm, a taxi pulled into the parking lot of the shop. Ethan paid his fare and walked to bay number three where he saw Frankie under the hood of his car. I hope she didn’t fuck anything up, he thought. He cleared his throat instead of saying hello.

She looked up.”Oh, hey Mr. McIntyre. I was just about to replace your ignition coil. It was going bad, which explains the sluggish ride you were having. I should be done in a little bit.” She could sense his agitation; everything about his posture said that he was annoyed. Had she been a male, they’d be discussing the scores of last night’s basketball game or which NFL team had the best offensive line. “You got a problem with me being a female, don’t you?” she asked, disconnecting the battery.

“A little.”

“At least you’re honest. You know, I meet guys like you all the time. I wish I could get a picture of the look on your faces when you find out that Frankie is a woman.”

He wanted to say something sarcastic. “How long have you been doing this?” he asked instead, expecting her to say not very long.

“Since I was little. While other girls were playing with dolls and having tea parties, I was in the garage with my dad. He’d be under the hood and I’d be right there with him asking what he was doing and why he was doing it.” She unplugged the connectors that attach to the coil. “When I was 16, I got a part time job selling auto parts after school and on the weekends. By the time I graduated, I was doing repairs for my friends on the side.”

Ethan watched her working, the way she labeled and disconnected the spark plug wires, how she effortlessly loosened the retainer bolts and removed the coil from the valve cover. She wasn’t just playing around under the hood; this woman knew what she was doing. At that moment, his attitude about her changed. “Why did you label that wire?” he asked, taking a seat on a stool nearby.

“So that I’ll know which wire attaches to which coil.”

“Sounds delicate. The whole repair, I mean.”

“Well the important thing is that you don’t damage the coil when you replace it in the valve cover.”

He nodded his understanding. “Frankie; is that your real name?”

“My middle name is Francesca. My dad started calling me Frankie when I was younger. It just caught on,” she said, appying tune-up compound to the bottom of the new coil before inserting it in the valve cover.

“And your first name is….Helen?”

She laughed, replacing the valve in the retainer and bolting it securely into place. A rag was pulled from her pocket and she wiped her hands. “Meshelle. Do you want something to drink?”

“Sure. Coke if you have it.”

“You got it.” Frankie tossed the rag on the workbench and ran to the vending machine. “So what’s your story?”

“My story?” Ethan heard the thump of bottles being deposited from the machine.

“Yeah. Are you from here? You got a family?”

“Oh! I’m divorced; been here all my life. You?”

“I was born in Colombia, my family moved here when I was about eight.” Frankie returned with drinks and chips in hand. “Thought you might want a snack, too. I’m just about done, I just wanted to change your oil while I’ve got you here.”

“Thanks. I’ve been so busy playing golf in my spare time, I forgot about bringing my car in for an oil change.”

Twisting the cap off the bottle, she smiled, “So you play golf…nice.” After taking a sip of Coke, she went back to work, reconnecting the spark plug wires, eletrical connector and the negative terminal cable to the battery.

“I do. I love this time of year. Not too hot; not too cold. That’s where I was headed this morning, before….” Ethan took notice of the way Frankie bit down on her lower lip as she worked. “Do you play?”

“Me? No. No offense but take away the clubs and the balls…it’s walking.”

Ethan laughed. Really laughed. Something he’d not done since his recent divorce. “Do you have any hobbies?”

“My friends turned me on to rock climbing about a year ago. I just do the traditional climbing, I haven’t worked up the nerve to free climb. And…I just so happen to be a pretty decent baker,” she smiled, grabbing a socket wrench and an oil pan.

“Really?”

“It’s true. I make the best oatmeal raisin cookies in town. That’s the only reason they keep me around,” she winked and caught his face turn a rosy color. Frankie opened the oil filler cap and removed the drain plug gasket. After removing the filter assembly by hand, she finished changing the oil. Just as she replaced the fill cap, Ethan asked about her social life. “I go out. Mostly blind date stuff. Apparently people think I need a man in my life. The last guy I went out with…he was getting a little too serious too fast for me.” She closed the hood on the car “We were about two weeks in and he started talking about moving in together. I mean don’t get me wrong, he was a great guy. But I wasn’t ready to play mommy and daddy.”

He was impressed. There was depth to this woman. He felt like an ass, assuming that just because she was a female, that she couldn’t hold her own in this garage.

Frankie walked to driver’s side. “You know, there’s just something about hearing that engine purr like a kitten after turning the key.” When she started the car, a smiled crossed her face and his.

“Wow. Thank you. So much,” he said.

“You’re welcome. It was my pleasure.” The socket wrench was tossed on the workbench and Frankie safely lowered the car. “Listen, I’m gonna run and take a shower. I love the work, I just hate being all grimey.”

“Occupational hazard,” Ethan chuckled softly.

“Exactly. I’ll be right back, then I’ll get you checked out.”

☼

While she was in the shower, he walked around the shop, looking at but not touching the high tech equipment. He noticed that Frankie’s station was more organized than the others. All of the tools on the storage board were neatly arranged, clear shoe box bins contained various tools and other supplies, and her floorspace was free of clutter.

“Be honest, do I look like a pumpkin?” Frankie returned wearing an orange, loose-waisted dress with batwing sleeves. Her long sooty black hair, partly hidden beaneath a bandana earlier, was now pulled into a Dominatrix ponytail.

“No. You look amazing,” he said admiring the way the skirt hugged her hips. He figured she wouldn’t be wearing her coveralls when she came back, but he wasn’t expecting to be pleasantly taken aback. “Hot date tonight?”

“I’m meeting some friends for dinner, they went on and on about some new tapas place downtown.”

“Oh, the uh…Mosaic Tapas and Wine Bar. The empanadas with chimichurri are excellent.”

“I’ll have to try that. Thanks.” Frankie bit her lip and fiddled with her car keys. “Are you sure I look alright?”

“I’m positive. I can’t take my eyes off of you.” Sure he’d seen plenty of pretty women from day to day, but he had not held gazes with another woman like this in almost eight months.

“You know if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were hitting on me, Mr. McIntyre,” she said. A smile, full of playful mischief emerged on her face as she crossed the room, closing the space between them.

“Ethan. And I am.” He took that final step and leaned down to kiss her with firm gentle pressure. It was a risk; she could pull away, she could slap him. Instead, Frankie leaned in to him, cradled the side of his face and moved her mouth against his. The closeness of him caused each of the nerve fibers in her body to prickle. When their tongues became intertwined, she moaned in his mouth. It was amazing how the warmth of his his kiss generated such intense emotion inside of her.

Ethan pryed his mouth from hers with a moan and lifted her onto the workbench. He claimed the stool, kissing and caressing his way up her thighs. Twisting his fingers in the the waistband of her panties, he pulled them off and opened her legs. Tilting her hips slightly, he pulled the sexy mechanic forward and softly pecked the inside of her legs, pausing every few seconds to pinch the supple flesh of her thighs between his teeth. Frankie licked her lips and pulled her labia open with her fingers. As she rubbed herself in a circular motion, Ethan’s mouth gravitated toward the heat of her sex. He pushed her legs further apart, admiring her lovely cleft. His mouth grazed her lips, and like an artist creating a picture, he decorated the succulent canvas of her femininity with his tongue before locking his lips around her clit, sucking every sweet inch of her into his mouth.

Frankie rested on her hands for support, breathing in fits and starts and rocking against his mouth. Her head dropped backward, but she could still hear the sucking sounds coming from between her legs; the pleasure from his mouth was intense. Over her insistent moans, she heard him gurgle the words, sweet pussy against her mound. Sinking his head lower pushed Ethan’s tongue deeper, where he was able to undulate it within her tunnel; he didn’t know this muscle could be so aggressive. While giving her sensitive spot the attention it craved, his face became sticky with her juices. Before long, the muscles in his jaw were starting to twinge and get fatigued, but he continued; drawing just as much satisfaction out of the experience as she was.

Her mind told her to tell him to stop, that she couldn’t possibly take anymore; but her body had other plans. Whimpering tenderly, she embraced the back of his head and arched into his mouth with wild response. Her voice was warm and erratic when she called out, “Yes…suck that pretty pussy.”

Frankie’s body was raging with lust when he pulled away to twist and wind his tongue around her sensitive pearl. Ethan looked up, her glare connected with his and it was so amazing; her face was sensuous, yet full of ferocity. Their gazes held each other’s for what seemed like minutes before he closed his mouth around her hard, aching flesh; sucking, flicking and pulling at it. When he stood up and kissed her, the sweet smell of her sex awakened something inside of her and she relished taking the taste from his glistening lips. “Fuck me,” she panted.

He didn’t need to hear anything more. Lifting her off the workbench, he turned her by the waist and leaned her over its flat surface without pause. Immediately, his hand burrowed its way between her legs, gently exploring the wet center of her. His sturdy fingers dipped into her wetness. Frankie closed her eyes, feeling his digits rotate gently inside of her. Massaging her like this, applying just the right pressure, caused her body to tremble constantly.

The firm request of his arousal would not be ignored any longer. Ethan unfastened his pants and freed his erection. Taking the solid flesh in his hand, he used the crown of his member to shift it up and down the length of her entrance.

When he entered her, the thickness of him caused her to reach with a flinch, but it didn’t take long for her muscles to accommodate him. While watching the sinewy length of his manhood move in and out of her; he took great joy in leaving his corona buried within her depths each time he withdrew. Rough moans escaped Frankie’s mouth each time she felt her g-spot being stimulated from Ethan’s rhythmic push. The garage soon became filled with the lusty sighs of satisfaction: his punctuated gasps and her sharp heated cries. Wanting even more of him, Frankie tortured herself with pleasure and pushed back against him, contracting her velvety muscles around his arousal. Watching her body buck beneath his and hearing her uneven breathing motivated Ethan to stroke her insides even harder. Faster. Deeper; as if he were trying to become one with her. His release was stirring, but it felt too good for him to stop.

“Mmmm, invade my pussy with that fat dick,” she intoned, her fingers curling into fists.

Grabbing her tightly by the waist, Ethan rose up into her, growling and moaning with fiery dedication. “Such a nice, wet pussy,” he exhaled through clenched teeth, watching her shapely ass jiggle as he pistoned in and out of her. It was rapture that urged him to increase his momentum and he didn’t hold back; subtle, tender thrusts became frenzied and violent. His pelvis slammed against her ass; pushing and thrusting like mad, knowing the only way to end this was to reward her body the one thing it craved…his hot pearly release.

Overpowered by the sensuous buildup, Frankie came, screaming and trembling uncontrollably. Inspired by her unrestrained cries of contentment, Ethan’s head fell back and the muscles in his neck and stomach tightened. After one last meaningful penetrating thrust, he groaned out his climax. The orgasm was so powerful, that he got completely absorbed in the warmth of her sensuous flesh.

While the intensity of their orgasm diminished, his body relaxed gently on top of hers. They rested in a motionless, euphoric state until he kissed the back of her neck; her body warm and damp against his lips. Moisture, thin and slow, seeped from Frankie’s tender entrance and coiled delicately down her leg. She purred her approval and smiled.

☼

In the front of the shop, Frankie and Ethan engaged in small talk while she printed out an invoice. As he handed over his credit card, he noticed something on the breakdown of his services. “Uh-oh, you didn’t charge me for the oil change.”

“What oil change?” she winked.

© enchanted.ladybug 08.29.2012

masquerade

welcome, everyone. i have for you my newest story. i want to thank you for taking the time out of your day to read my contribution. i do hope that you enjoy, masquerade.

masquerade

☼

behind the mask, the reluctance to be free is abandoned – enchanted.ladybug.

Christian and Malak have been married for eight years. He worked as an editor for a national magazine, she worked as a general manager at a hotel and resort. Demanding schedules took a toll on the couple and sometimes made it difficult to spend quality time with one another. They were very much in love…always excited to see one another after a long day. But busy schedules also meant that time in the bedroom was being neglected. Over the years, sexual intimacy had become painfully dull and predictable. The sensitive subject was on each of their minds, but neither of them wanted to be the one to bring it up; it was the pink elephant in the room that they danced gracefully around in an effort to spare the others feelings.

So on those nights they didn’t have to work late, they found themselves at home together, talking over a romantic dinner, enjoying dessert, and watching a movie together on the couch. Tonight was one of those nights. Lemon pomegranate panna cotta was firming in the fridge, Chicken Vesuvio warming in the oven.

Tonight was also the night they addressed the fact that their lovemaking had dwindled.

It was raining; the wind was blowing so hard that drops were lashing at the windows. In the bedroom, the couple found themselves in the missionary position. Christian wasn’t very imaginative in bed and most times it seemed like he was just going through the motions, like his mind had completely shut down. She wanted more and tried to introduce romantic baths and pillow talk into their routine, but talking dirty in bed was not something he was particularly good at, and there were nights they were just too tired to be intimate.

After several near noiseless moments, his body stiffened. “Did you come yet?” he panted.

If you have to ask…no. Malak forced a smile and nodded. After a quick kiss on the cheek, he rolled onto his side of the bed.

“Are you having an affair?” The thought that was a source of irritation and worry had manifested on her tongue.

“What?”

“You heard me, Christian.” It was quiet. Too quiet. But she braced herself for his answer.

“No. Look, I know I haven’t been very attentive lately.”

“It’s not just you. Our schedules conflict and get in the way of quality time.” She stopped briefly, “We’re drifting apart intimately; I mean it’s only a matter of time before…” Malak almost choked on her own words, and couldn’t bring herself to say anymore.

He turned, embraced her tightly from behind and nuzzled the back of her neck. “No. Don’t say that. That’s not going to happen to us. I won’t let it.”

“We have to do something,” her tone dripped with her desire to fill the emptiness that filled their alone time.

“I know, and we will figure it out. Together.” He struggled to contain his own tears. The thought that their marriage was in jeopardy was not a bridge he wanted to cross.

The following morning after breakfast, they both agreed that they would take some time out to find ways to enhance things in the bedroom, then discuss their ideas over dinner.

☼

That evening after the dishes were done, the couple curled up on the couch. Christian had purchased a few books on sexual positions, videos, and naughty games from an adult store.

Malak had something a little more adventuruous in mind. She’d read an article and two blogs online about sex clubs. Her research on the internet revealed that sex clubs, or lifestyle clubs are establishments where members engage in organized sexual activities with other members. The thought of her husband having intercourse with another woman, when things were already shakey between them turned her off from the idea- until she’d stumbled upon a genre that piqued her interest: masturbation clubs. Members masturbate privately or publicly and sex was not allowed. Taboo, a sex club located about twenty minutes away from their home acommodated themed co-ed masturbation parties.

The Eros Club is an exclusive organization that met two Saturdays a month at Taboo and next month, they would be hosting a masquerade party. They had a website, which she had read frontwards and backwards before regestering and applying for the party.

When Malak explained that these events were very organized, that there were rules, her husband replied with, “What? No.”

“Chris it’s not a free for all, there’s no sex. Kissing on the mouth and breasts are allowed but that’s it.”

“Oh so you are perfectly content watching some random woman kiss me while she gives me a hand job in front of you? Because I’ll be damned if I’ll watch some strange man put his hands you!”

“No, it’s not like that at all. It’s so well structured. You don’t even have to do anything at these events if you don’t want to.”

“Then why go? And then you send in an application for us with out discussing it with me first? How could you?”

“I don’t even know if our application has been approved. I thought we were trying-” she was interrupted.

“Look, I know. And I love you enough to want to fix this. But not…not like this, Malak.”

“Will you at least think about it?”

“I said no!” Christian yelled. The sting of his words caused her to shiver. He stormed out of the living room. Moments later, she heard water running in the bathroom. He never returned to the living room after his shower; she fell asleep on the couch watching television. The next day, he apologized with flowers.

☼

One Week Later

Thank you for registering with The Eros Club online. Your application for our Masquerade Party has been approved. The cover charge is $55.00 per person, to be paid at the door. Please bring the invitations that will be mailed to you at the address you provided.

The Eros Club maintains a safe and welcoming atmosphere for like minded members. Personal information regarding our members is strictly confidential and will never be shared with anyone.

Please dress appropriately for our events; street clothes are not allowed but sexy lingerie and nudity are encouraged.

Members are not obligated to play at all – in fact some members just enjoy watching other members play.

It is admissible for men to orgasm on their partners or on the floor. Intercourse, anal and oral sex are strictly prohibited.

Prepare for a wonderful experience – and remember, what happens at Eros, stays at Eros!

Malak read the email three times before she printed it out.

“Hey, do you want some coffee? The guy is coming around with the breakfast cart.” Ava asked, poking her head inside of Malak’s office.

“Black; two sugars. Thanks, Ava.”

“You okay?”

“Yeah. Why’d you ask?”

“You didn’t ask for a danish.” Ava smiled, letting herself in and taking a seat. “What’s wrong?”

Ava wasn’t just a co-worker, she was a good friend. Being nine years Malak’s senior didn’t stop them from playing tennis together, and taking a Just Us Girls cruise each spring; this year they were going to the Bahamas. So talking about something so personal wasn’t an issue, besides Malak needed some advice. “Ava, do things ever get stale between you and Jon?”

Furrowing her brow, Ava asked, “Stale?”

“In the bedroom.”

“Ohhh. Well, sweetie, we’ve been married for twelve years now; we’re not going at it like rabbits, but it’s not stale.”

“Things have just been kinda….blah at home. At first it was all fireworks. Now….now it’s an effort. It’s not very satisfying at all.”

“I think all couples go through that. Jon and I hit a dry spell about two years ago. We started trying new things to spice it up in the bedroom. We role play, I took a few pole dancing classes, and we’re even entertaining the idea of a threesome.”

“Really? And he’s into it?”

“Sweetie, it was his idea. I call him my dirty little secret.” Ava smiled widely, tucking her short wavy hair behind her ear.

Malak envied her bold friend and her husband for being open enough to try new things. It’s probably why they’d never find themselves in divorce court. “I….suggested something about a week ago.”

“And? What happened?” Ava scooted to the edge of her seat, like she was about to hear a juicy secret.

“We were talking, trying to figure out how to make things more exciting. I told him about these sex clubs that host adult themed parties. This particular one is for masturbation only. No sex whatsoever. Christian didn’t take it well.” Malak sighed, and passed her friend the approval letter she received by email. “We got in, but he doesn’t know yet.”

After reading it, Ava asked, “Wow, so what are you gonna do?”

Malak shrugged and shook her head. “I don’t know. You and Jon should go to Taboo, especially if you’re considering a threesome. I think you two would enjoy it.”

“Are you kidding? I’m going on their website right now to register and fill out a questionnaire. This is way better than pole dancing.”

☼

Telling her husband wasn’t going to be easy. She debated with herself on the way home: tell him. don’t tell him. Before the song on the radio ended, she took the next exit off the highway. The mall would be open for another hour, and that gave her just enough time to do a little shopping.

“Hey, you. I ordered a pizza, it should be here soon.” Christian crossed the room and greeted his wife with a kiss. “What’s in the bags?”

Taking her shoes off at the door, she answered, “I went to the mall. Earlier today, I got an email. An approval letter actually…from the Eros Club. They’ve invited us to their party next Saturday.” She watched for her husband’s reaction.

“I thought we talked about this, Malak.”

“I know. But you didn’t even consider the possibility.”

“I’m not comfortable with the concept. How come you can’t respect that?”

“And I’m trying to make our marriage work; not argue.” Her tone dripped with frustration.

Chrisitan turned his back to her. “I just need some time to warm up to the idea.”

“I’m going, Chris. I’m extending the invitation to you, and I’d love for you to escort me, but I am going,” she stated boldly.

Moments later, the sound of the doorbell interrupted their heated conversation, almost the way a bell rings during a boxing match when it’s time for the fighting to stop. Another verbal exchanged pushed to the backs of their minds.

☼

Saturday

Christian called home from work; the buddy of a co-worker backed out of a poker game at the last minute and he was asked to fill in. Malak told him to have fun and not to bet the house; an exchange of I love you’s ended the call. She emptied the contents of her shopping mall bags onto the bed: a nightgown, a masquerade mask and a pair of silk panties. Not just any panties. These, according to the store associate, were vibrating panties, and the remote control could be operated from 19 feet away.

After a shower, she dressed for her night out. Normally one to to wear her naturally curly hair down, tonight it was pulled into a high ponytail. Turning in the mirrior, she hiked up the nightgown, looking at the way the edge of the panties hugged her plump cheeks. She loved the idea of the discreet pleasure they would bring and thought about the hands free stimulation she’d enjoy later in the evening.

After pulling on a trench coat, she grabbed her keys, the mask, the invitation and headed out.

On the way to Eros, the smooth timbre of the radio announcer came through the speakers to introduce the next artist. While listening to Amp Fiddler, her mind became curious about the party; what she should do and say…what she should expect. What would be expected of her. It would have been nice if her husband could have been there to share this experience with her.

☼

The Eros Club

“Is this your first time?” asked a woman with bright pink hair and a friendly face behind the reception desk.

“Yes. Yes it is.” Malak handed over her invitation and the entrance fee.

“Well welcome to Eros. Do you need a mask?”

Before she could answer, the back of her hand was stamped. “Oh, I have one, thanks.” She stared in the place where ink should have been, expecting to see a colored smiley face or solar image.

“It’s invisible ink.” Just then, the friendly woman held out a small pocket lamp. “See? It’s totatlly non-toxic.” Her smiling eyes assured her that it was safe. “Enjoy the party!”

“Thanks, I will. Oh…is there a place to check coats?”

The pink haired hostess smiled and pointed her in the direction of the coat room area.

Malak had stepped into another world. One that was wanton, yet fanciful and filled with people of all shapes and sizes, their identities hidden behind a mask. Some were plastic and plain; others were elaborate, like the kind you would find at a Venetian carnival. Hers fell somewhere in between: it was turquoise blue, bordered with a sequin braid and finished with matching jewels and glittery swirls. After checking her coat, she donned her mask and looked around, silently cursing herself for not buying lingerie that was more alluring. All around her women and men were beautifully dressed in attire such as cocktail and mini dresses, barely there g-string teddies, dinner jackets and evening suits. It was an elaborate look compared to her ensemble: a satin, short black nightgown.

Just then, someone bumped into her and said excuse me. It was a woman wearing a gothic punk styled corset and skirt, and a red mask with lots of feathers. Malak entered the scene, tugging at her gown as she slowly walked around. She knew from the website that the early evening hours were devoted to enjoying the place; connecting with other guests while listening to a diverse mix of music. At the stroke of midnight, a new vibe would develop. For now, she wanted to explore the tasteful ambiance.

☼

The main floor made up the social area, complete with a large round platform in the middle of the dance floor, seating areas and restrooms. Suspended from the high ceilings were two large birdcages with dancers inside of them. A stairwell led to the second floor of the club. Located here were the DJ booth and loft area with private beds for guests who wanted a little seclusion. Just behind the social area was an entrance that led to the Red Room; a theater for those that wanted to watch adult movies. It was a lot to take in, but Malak had no place else to be.

She took a seat to watch the caged dancers. “Is this your first time?” A woman wearing a half mask and green cocktail dress sat down next to her.

“Is it that obvious?”

“A little. Newbies always have that kid in a candy store look in their eyes.”

Extending her hand, she smiled, “I’m Malak.”

“I’m Janice, nice to meet you. And that man over there dressed like the Phantom of the Opera is my husband, Derrick,” Janice said, shaking Malak’s hand.

She nodded and looked in his direction. “So Janice, what exactly happens after midnight?”

An expansive smile decorated Janice’s face. “Oh, honey. That’s when the fun begins. The Lord of the house comes out to annouce the playing hour. You’ll see people undress and scatter off to different areas of the club.” Her eyes followed the direction of Janice’s fingers. “Some will stay in the main area, others go upstairs or to the Red Room.”

“And the approval letter said you didn’t have to….”

“Oh no. That’s what’s so great about this place. You can just watch all night if you want to. Listen,” Janice began, “if you want, I can ditch my old man later and show you around. We’ve been coming to the Eros parties for three years, I know how it is to be the new girl.”

“I just might do that. Thank you.”

Janice placed a hand on her shoulder. “Just let go and have fun, honey. You come find me if you want.” Standing to leave, she winked. “Cute mask, by the way.” While watching her walk away, Malak felt a little less nervous.

As the evening carried on, and thanks to her new friend Janice, she found herself having polite conversation with several other guests. Some singles, some couples. All very open minded, sexual and ready to explore without limits. While she was chatting, she felt a sensation: a vibration between her legs beating right against her clitoris that caught her by surprise and caused her to flinch. She’d forgotten about the massager tucked away inside her panties. She drew in a sharp breath. “Are you okay?” the couple asked in unison. Even if the remote had been activated by accident, she was too far away from it to feel it buzzing. Then she remembered: she didn’t even bring the remote to the party.

“I’m fine, just a little nervous.” she lied. It happened again, only the pulsation lasted longer. She wondered for just a moment if the panties were defective, and even, for just a moment, entertained a thought.

As the couple consoled her, the lights suddenly went out. When they came on, the club was dim with sensual lighting. A clock chimed; indicating the midnight hour.

Everyone grew silent.

A chariot being pulled by several women entered the social area. They escorted a cloaked figure onto the platform. The hood completely covered the face underneath. Gloved hands were lifted shoulder high. The Lord’s voice was deep and robust as he welcomed his guests:

Greetings, hedonists! The night is filled with mystery! Prepare to flirt, tease and explore with abandon. Here, the voyage is a way of life. Indulge your senses, stimulate your mind…and welcome…to Eros!

Following a thunderous round of applause, people began to undress and disperse, just as Janice indicated. Malak decided to visit the Red Room first. As she made her way to the back, she staggered, feeling the rapid tremor again. Turning, she searched among the piles of clothes, bodies and low lighting. There he was, sitting on a couch wearing a suit and tie and a mask he probably picked up at the reception desk. Her heart raced as she hurried to her husband.

“You came!” she beamed.

Christian stood and kissed her softly. “I came. You look gorgeous,” he said, admiring the African American and German vision before him. “Where were you headed?” He wound his finger around a small ringlet in her ponytail.

“To the theater, but I’ve got an idea,” she bit her lip and beckoned him with her index finger.

At the staircase leading to the second level, Malak glanced over her shoulder and made a slight gesture with her head.

☼

There was an empty room at the end of the hall that she quickly stepped into. Christian was about to join her. “Stay,” she said, insisting that he remain on the other side of the sheer curtain as she removed her nightgown. After sitting on the bed with her back against the wall, she explored the soft contours of her breasts. The dark areola around her nipples wrinkled as her fingers skimmed over them. She sighed deeply, rolling the puckered flesh between her thumb and forefinger. He activated the remote again. The vibrator became powerful against her clit. She forced her pelvis downward against the bed, circling her hips against the insert.

While one hand kneaded her breast, the other drifted past her belly and into her panties. She whimpered softly as her fingers parted her swollen lips. Christian watched with fascination as his wife’s hand moved up and down between her thighs. The halls echoed with the punctuated moans of members who occupied the other rooms in the loft, but the lazy look displayed on Malak’s face suggested that she was in ecstasy.

She winked at him then shifted a little to remove the panties and spread her legs. From where he stood, he could see her clitoris peeking from its hood and couldn’t help but cup his manhood, as if doing so would prevent the bulge in his pants from growing.

Her hand slid past her mons and stopped at her bud. She stroked it, moved it in circles, from side to side, held it between the narrow space of her index and middle finger and then pressed her fingertips inside of her pussy. Watching the push and pull of her hand caused Christian to abandon the remote control and unzip his pants. When she removed her fingers and sucked them, he used the clear liquid that pooled on the head of his dick as lubricant and stroked himself.

It wasn’t long before she reached for a pillow, straddled it, squeezed it between her legs and began working her vulva against the pillowcase. Christian watched his wife’s slightly hunched body writhing in slow, sensual circles. Her steady sighs and the way her ass clenched with each thrust was such a beautiful sight.

“So good,” she chanted, grinding faster; finding just the right spot to create the friction she needed against her tender spot. He invited himself in the small room, his own orgasm begging to be released. Working his hand frantically up and down the length of his growing arousal, Christian stood over his wife watching her hips squirming wildly. His uncountable shallow panting joined her sharp cries. When he was fully erect, his hand twisted around his shaft with long, firm strokes. Once he established a steady rhythm, his breathing became accelerated and he began thrusting his pelvis; recreating intercourse with his hand. The newness of this vigorous pattern was a pleasant experience. His eyes, the color of blue curacao and filled with intense emotion, met hers.

“Oh shit!” Malak gripped the sheets, twisting her hips like a mechanical device as her pleasure crested. Lust overwhelmed her bucking, moaning body. In that final moment of frenzy, her body jerked against the pillow a few times before her climax shot through her body. Her screams broke free from her mouth and traveled past the sheer curtains, becoming united with the erotic chorus that filled the hallway.

Every nerve in Christian’s body caught his attention as short, impassioned gasps poured from his mouth. His face twisted in pleasure…then he surrendered himself to pleasure and emptied himself; milky white ropes arced into the air and landed on Malak’s backside.

After shuddering, her sweaty body collapsed quietly on the bed. While she caught her breath, he knelt beside her, leaning over to meet her kiss with a fiery enthusiasm that excited them both.

☼

About a week later, Malak recieved an email from The Eros Club. An invitation for two to their next party: A Night in Egypt. She smiled, printing the approval letter. “Sweetie….”

© enchanted.ladybug 07.29.2012

burlesque

welcome, everyone. this is my newest story and i want to say that it contains content that some may consider to be inappropriate and or disrespectful. if you think that you may be offended, then i ask that you not continue reading this piece. otherwise, i do hope that you enjoy burlesque.

thank you for taking the time out of your day to read my contribution.

burlesque

“Nadira, make sure the hem tape is removed from this dress and have it laundered before returning it to the rental store.” K.C. rushed toward his assistant, holding a garment high in the air. The way he buzzed around backstage, you’d never guess he was approaching his mid 50′s. He’s been the general manager for the venue for the last decade, and for the past year, has been grooming Nadira to be the wardrobe supervisor. At least twice a month, K.C. would threaten to quit but what he really needed was a vactaion; he wanted to travel, to swim waters and eat foods in parts of the world that most people never knew existed. “Oh, and I’ll need you to come in early tomorrow to run the washer and dryer.”

Before Nadira could blink she had taken the dress, “Yes, K.C.” Being a wardrobe assistant certainly kept her busy. It didn’t pay much, but it was steady money that kept a roof over her head. After a few quick changes and an emergency repair, she watched the performances offstage.

Named for the highly alcoholic spirit it served, The Absinthe Dinner Theater hosted exotic and sultry performances – acrobats, trapeze artists, jazz musicians, and more all backed by an orchestra. The theater provided a setting spacious enough for 300 and the tables were arranged so that everyone got a wonderful view of the stage. Guests also enjoyed dining from a modern menu including: Smoked Gouda mac n’ cheese, Kobe sliders, and Parmesean truffle fries. Tonight, it was burlesque night. Once a week, females in glamorous costumes entertained the theater audience with dancing and teasing. It was that night in particular Nadira looked forward to. While all of the acts were great, it was the main attraction that mezmerized her; a house favorite named Topaz. She always performed last. This evening, Harlem Nocturne played in the background as her graceful, slender figure moved across the stage, flirting with the audience and making them think they were going to see something sexy.

For five minutes, she was effortless, exciting and desirable – right down to her peacock feather headdress and matching pasties. Nadira folded the rental dress over her shoulder and clapped uncontrollably with the audience as Topaz sauntered off the stage, blowing kisses and waving. ”You were great, Topaz.” she beamed, adjusting her glasses as the dancer walked past her.

“Thanks.Would someone get this damn thing off my head? My fucking neck hurts!” Nadira, along with two dancers rushed toward her to help remove the large headpiece. Then Topaz requested a drink and to be left alone in her dressing room.

After the show, Nadira cleaned the green room. The sound of power tools could be heard among the laughter and chatter between the stagehands as they dismantled set pieces and put the sound and lighting equipment away. K.C. reminded her about the hem on the dress he gave her earlier before disappearing into his office. Just as she was emptying the trash, Daniel poked his head in. “A bunch of us are going to the diner for a bite to eat; wanna come?” He’s been the sound operator at the theater for the last five years, and was responsible for bringing her into the company.

Just when she was going to answer, Topaz appeard next to him, “Let’s go. I’m hungry.” He was also attracted to the sassy headliner and on occasion, would sleep with her.

“No thanks, I’ve got a lot to do and K.C. wants me here early.”

“You sure? You’ve gotta ea-”

“She said no,” Topaz sighed, rolling her eyes. While Nadira admired her stage presence, she thought her manners could use a little work. “Let’s go,” she demanded. “Now.”

After an exchange of glances and half smiles, Daniel waved goodbye and she finished cleaning up.

One bus ride and a city block later, Nadira found herself at her apartment building on the corner. Her place was small, but cozy. Most nights were spent with the window open, listening to the hum of traffic while dining on leftovers with her older brother; tonight it was chinese. “The show was great tonight, busy backstage like always. And Topaz was amazing, she really shines onstage. Behind the scenes…not very personable.” She paused to eat a spring roll. “I don’t know what Daniel sees in her…well I do know…” After a heartfelt talk, she cleaned her tiny kitchen. Before bed, she replaced the pewter urn on her bookshelf, kissed her fingers and placed them upon the ornamental vessel that held a portion of her brother’s ashes. “I’m getting there, Jace. Slowly; but I’m getting there.”

☼

The next day

“K.C.?” Nadira called from the other side of the office door.

“That’s my name….”

She stepped inside of his office. “There’s a small problem. Our jazz vocalist for next Friday has cancelled, and two of the contacts I reached out to aren’t available.”

“So have Topaz go on; she can do that nurse act.” K.C. leaned back in his chair, folding his arms behind his head.

“Topaz and the girls are in Houston that weekend, remember?” Nadira asked.

“Shit, that’s right. Let me see what I can do, if I can’t come up with anything, have the orchestra play a selection to fill the time.”

An idea emerged; one that she’d given thought to many times. This was her one and only chance; he could say no, but he could also say yes. She swallowed hard. “Um, I have a possible suggestion.”

“I’m listening.”

“I was wondering… I mean… I could fill the time slot.”

Hysterical laughter filled the room. When it subsided, K.C. responded, “Are you serious? You want to go on stage? And do what?”

“I can do a three minute dance number. I can’t sing, but I can lip-sync it.” Nadira felt herself being defeated, she was just about to give in and tell him never mind.

K.C. was quiet for a long time. He was chewing on his lower lip, something he always did when he was deep in thought. Nadira could only imagine all of the judgement that passed through his mind: You can’t sing. You’re not sensual. You probably can’t dance as well as you think you can. No. Just no. “Alright, I’m desperate. Or crazy.”

Her face lit up with joy. “Thank you K.C.! Thank you!”

“Go, before I realize that I’ve made a mistake.”

☼

When Daniel didn’t find Nadira in her apartment or the laundry room that evening, he checked the only other place she could possibly be. “I thought I’d find you here.” He called out, stepping onto the rooftop terrace.

“Oh, hey. I was just getting some air.” That wasn’t the complete truth. She was up there practicing and doing more stumbling and falling than she cared to acknowledge. She didn’t want to admit it to anyone, but she was starting to wonder if asking K.C. for this opportunity was a wise decision. Leaning against the railing, she lost herself in the night view of the city skyline.

“K.C. says you’re going to be in the show next Friday.” With her eyes on the street lights and minature cars below, Nadira nodded. Daniel pressed his back against the railing. “And why are you doing this?” he asked. His question was filled with notion that her performance was not going to be successful.

“I see the way people look at Topaz when she dances; absorbing everyone’s attention when she’s on that stage.” After a short silence, she declared, “I want someone to look at me like that. Just once; even if it is for three minutes.”

“Then you should probably think about changing your hairstyle and getting some contacts. You look like a school marm, Nadira.” he laughed.

“Says the guy who’s screwing her.” She flipped him off and playfully punched him in the arm. But he was right – hair always pulled back in a bun, knee length skirts and cardigans; all she needed was a chain to clip to her square framed glasses.

Gazing back at the city, her eyes landed on the belltower of an abandoned church. Each time she found herself on the terrace, Nadira looked at that tower as if she were overly proud that it was no longer in operation. It was her way of telling God: Serves you right. You took something from me so it’s only right that something be taken from you. “Do you miss him, Daniel?”

It had been almost two years since her brother’s death and memories commanded her attention, forcing her to reminence: Officers told her that a car heading north crossed the median, striking Jace’s southbound car head on. He died at the scene. Recollection pulled her further; a camping trip when he asked her to have his ashes spread in the Pacific Ocean should anything ever happen to him —Promise me, Jelly Bean.

Never in a million years did she think she’d have to honor that promise.

“Everyday. He was my best friend.” Jace was on his way home from Daniel’s house; he blamed himself for months after the accident. —I should have let him crash at my place for the night. It was late, and I should have let him crash on my couch. Daniel was on that same camping trip, and he also made a promise —Danny, if anything ever happens to me, promise me you’ll take care of Jelly Bean. “Hey, how much have you saved up so far?”

“I’m about halfway th—” Before she could finish, he held out a small wad. “Daniel, I can’t take this.”

“Yes you can; I want you to have it.” he insisted. Tearfully, Nadira took the money and thanked him. “Come on, let’s get you back inside, it’s getting late and I need to head home.”

☼

Friday : the night of the show

Nadira was sitting in front of a mirror in the dressing room, putting in her contact lenses; it took three tries before the first one was in place. She blinked a few times before moving on to the next one. Several people, including K.C. and his sleek colorful suit with matching bowtie, stopped in to wish her good luck. While removing some clips from her hair, Daniel knocked on the door. “Hey, you okay?”

“Yes.” Nadira nodded, but she was lying. Thoughts of failure and nervous energy overcame her. “Hey….you don’t think I’ve made a mistake, do you?” she asked, brushing out wide sections of her hair to create S-shaped waves.

“Oh, definitely,” he joked. “I gotta go check on the audio monitors. You’re gonna do fine, Jelly Bean.” Daniel reassured her with a smile and left.

Nadira pinned her hair to one side, allowing the long, dramatic curls to hang over her shoulder, then put on her makeup. She stared for a moment at the attractive Filipino and African American woman in the mirror. It’s been years since he called her Jelly Bean; it made her smile.

Daniel had an excellent view of the stage from the control booth on the second level of the theater. The master of ceremonies announced her and then the lights went dim. He was excited to see Nadira perform, but nothing prepared him for the exotic seductress onstage.

The curtains opened. She was wearing a red and black corset that hugged her curves, long tulle bustle skirt with satin rose accents, mary janes, fishnets and lace gloves. Her back was to the audience; one hand on her hip, the other lightly touching the rim of a giant teacup prop. With a playful glance over her shoulder, her performance began—

I want a little sugar
In my bowl
I want a little sweetness
Down in my soul
I could stand some lovin’
Oh so bad
I feel so funny and I feel so sad….

She took a sultry walk around the teacup, alternately moving her shoulders back and forth. A series of exagerrated hand movments transitioned into a flirty glove peel once she faced the audience. Sashays led to tantalizing dips and hip rolls before she detached her bustle skirt and languidly tossed it aside. Eyes from the crowd paid close attention to her.

….I want some steam
On my clothes
Maybe I can fix things up so they’ll go
Whatsa matter Daddy
Come on, save my soul
I want some sugar in my bowl
I ain’t foolin’
I want some sugar hmmm
In my bowl.

The enchantress struck and came out of various poses, and blew kisses to the audience before turning her back to them and softly bumping her hips. For her finish, she climbed into the teacup and adopted an enticing pose just as Nina announced for a final time that she wanted some sugar in her bowl.

The applause was loud. A few people stood up and there were shouts of approval and whistles as she winked and sauntered off. Backstage, she was surrounded by many people who showered her with praises; even K.C. pulled her into his arms, called her a fox and playfully slapped her bottom. She looked for Daniel, hoping that he would share in some of her excitement. Probably busy, she thought.

Because she was part of the show, she was paid for her performance. Nadira wasn’t expecting the envelope with three one hundred dollar bills, but she knew just what to do with her earnings.

☼

The walk home was nice and calm. She was still in a state of blissful contentment from her ten seconds of fame, and imagined that this was what Topaz must have felt like each time she took the stage. It was an experience that made her appreciate what she did backstage. Nadira certainly didn’t mind the attention for the one night though; she had fun. Just before rounding the corner, she ran into Daniel. “There you are. I just left your place.”

“I had to do a couple of repairs and a load of laundry before I left. I looked for you, but I couldn’t find you.”

“It was hard to get to you, there was a big crowd around you after that performance,” he said. Not out of jealousy, just making an observation. “You uh—that was—wow. Do you wanna get something to eat?”

She nodded and smiled at his attempt to compliment her.

After grabbing a bite at the diner, out of nowhere, Daniel says, “Come on. I wanna show you something.” He’d already stepped into the street and was crossing to the other side.

“What? Where are you going?”

“Just come on.” She followed for two blocks and found him at the entrance of the deteriorated church she’s always looking at from the rooftop.

“I’m not going in there.” Standing before it was a different experience than looking at it from a distance. The neglected church was shrouded in vines; everything around her just felt gloomy and depressing.

“I won’t let anything happen to you,” he promised. After a little apprehension, she followed Daniel around the side of the church and up the distressed, wooden staircase of the belltower. The church probably hasn’t been used for ten years or more. Nadira watched her step, hoping the stairs wouldn’t collapse and trying not to focus on the smell of bird droppings mixed with a stale, damp odor, or the mice that have possibly taken over this building.

She could only imagine the stories floating around about this crumbling structure: that it was haunted by ghosts; that the bell rings on its own a few times a month, even though the church hasn’t been in operation for years; that black hooded evil forces guarded this place and took the souls of anyone who dared approached.

The frightening trip up was worth it, though. The musty smell wasn’t as aggresive, but the dust was thick. A soft wind blew through the decorative tracery of the Gothic shaped windows. Daniel finally broke the silence. “I figured it was time to for you to actually be in the tower instead of looking at it from a distance.”

Touched by his gesture, Nadira smiled and peeked at the city from the tracery. “Everything looks so different from here.” She turned to find Daniel staring at her. “What?” she asked, almost laughing.

“Nothing. You look really nice.”

“It’s almost pitch black in here. Everyone looks good in the dark.”

He moved a little closer to her. “No, I mean tonight; you were great.”

“Aww, thanks. K.C. even paid me since I was a part of the show. I’m gonna put that with the money I’m sa….” She didn’t get all of the words out. Daniel had moved behind her and began kissing her neck and shoulder. He swept his nose over her skin, inhaling the slight jasmine and patchouli scent of her perfume. His name left her mouth in a whisper just as she felt her face being gently turned toward his. When his lips landed on hers, Nadira encircled his neck and melted into the feeling of his kiss. It was the kind of kiss that would stay with her for days, maybe months and force her to remember the way his tongue explored the soft tissues of her mouth. “What about Topaz?” she asked, drawing her mouth away from his.

“What about her?” Their lips met again. Soft, lengthy moans passed from her mouth to his. Daniel’s hands blindly wandered over her clothed body lovingly and erotically. Nadira’s fingers roamed all over his back, stroking his spine and pulling at his shirt.

Acting on impulse, her hands then worked quickly to free his manhood from its denim confinement. She fell to her knees, pulling his jeans and boxers down to his ankles. Cupping his scrotum, she gently massaged them in her warm hands before swirling the tip of her tongue around them. Licking his sac with long, sweeping strokes caused Daniel to moan with gratification. One by one, Nadira gently sucked his balls into her mouth; humming softly while her hand vigorously moved up and down his arousal. It felt hot and stiff as it grew against her palm.

Pulling away, his testicles burst from her mouth. She flicked her tongue across his raphe— the verticle line in the center of his sac, while running her nails along his dick. His moans were low and steady. Licking her lips, she closed her forefinger and thumb around the base of his hardness, lowered her head and flattened her tongue against the side of him, leisurley moving up one side and down the other before capturing the skin between her teeth and tugging gently. She pushed his member toward his stomach, dotting the underside with kisses. Daniel’s body jerked sharply; she smiled and kissed him again. Nadira traced the soft texture of his head around her lips. Then her tongue took over: lapping at the head before teasing its way into the narrow opening, slipping it past the coronal ridge. Finally the underside of her tongue passed over the sensitive V of his frenulum several times causing his erection to bob up and down.

She shifted a little, placed her hands on either side of his hips, then used her lips to suck that soft, swollen head into her mouth. The pressure of his glans against the back of her mouth made it more sensitive—and Daniel relished the feeling.

With slow, deep strokes her head eased up and down the length of him; alternating between gentle and firm pressure. She made a soft, steady, mmmm sound as her mouth worked his meaty flesh. Ignoring the urgent need twitching between her thighs, Nadira sucked his dick like it was a ritual. Even with the sparse light coming through the tower, she glanced up and held his gaze. Daniel had a look on his face as if he were in pain, but nothing could be further from the truth.

There, in the belltower of an abandoned church, he lifted his hands and head to the sky, as if he was offering his surrender to the temptress’ actions. Nadira saw this and smiled; something about knowing that her methods caused his arms to be cast toward the heavens in this deserted sanctuary had an internal effect on her; it made her confident and ravenous. Her head bobbed faster and harder on the sinewy length of his shaft, it popped out of her mouth a couple of times like it was trying to escape, but Daniel guided himself back in and wailed like a wounded beast. “Nadira…fuck! Oh god…oh god!”

He can’t save you….

She flicked her eyes at him, and continued sucking loudly. When her throat relaxed to take all of him in her mouth, Nadira extended her tongue and licked his balls. Her fingers curled around his hips where she sank her fingers into his ass and pulled him closer. The muscles in Daniel’s abdomen contracted; she felt his dick pulse three times before he erupted in her mouth. His moans carried beyond the horizon and when he came, thick, hard streams of pearly fluid filled her mouth.

Nadira swallowed most of it, but some dribbled from the corners of her mouth and down her chin. The warmth of his release was magnificent, she thought. A little sweet, a little salty; it was a taste she knew she would remember each time the memory of this night invaded her mind.

Afterwards, they walked the streets like a couple; forefingers locked, sharing laughter and endearing words. Daniel kissed her goodnight and made sure she got inside of her building okay. Nadira was so full of excitement, she couldn’t sleep.

☼

With Topaz returning from Houston, the exhiliration Nadira experienced in the belltower dwindled gradually over the following days. Daniel barely spoke to her and when he did his answers were abrupt. She pushed aside the fact that he was becoming distant— that is, until she could no longer stand it. Other than speaking to him when it was absolutely necessary, she avoided being in the same space as him. His indifference toward her hurt, but she got over it. What she didn’t get over was seeing him in the dressing room a couple of nights ago….

Nadira had stayed late to make sure all of the costumes were accounted for and to do the laundry. After pressing a few smocks, she wanted to tidy up the dressing rooms before heading home. Walking down the corridor, she heard shallow panting that grew louder the closer she got to the room. And she would have turned around and let the couple continue their escapade, if she hadn’t heard Daniel’s name being called out. With her eyes narrowed in resentment, she watched through a partially open door as Topaz shivered and groaned in ecstasy beneath his thrusts. Oooh, right there Daniel. Fuck that juicy pussy, sugar. Hearing these words made Nadira sick to her stomach and so angry that she couldn’t think straight. She turned away without a word. Her jaws were tight the whole way home.

☼

Daniel stopped her in the hallway on his way to the control booth. “Nadira, Hey. Everyone’s going out for drinks later, do yo—”

It was painful to look at directly at him. She cut him off, “No. I’m not really in the mood for drinks.”

“You okay?”

“I’m fine,” she lied.

“You don’t seem fine.”

Trying to push past him, “Daniel, I’ve got a lot of work to do so…”

“You seem pissed. At me.”

Nadira sighed and shifted her weight. “Do you realize this is the most you’ve talked to me in days?”

“I’ve had a lot of things on my mind, and I’ve been busy. You know how crazy things get around here.”

Now she was insulted. “Right, you’ve been real busy. Busy bending Topaz over the counter of the makeup station.”

He closed his eyes and pushed out a sigh, “Nadira, you don’t….it’s complicated.”

“Tell me something, Daniel; is it as complicated as me sucking your dick in a church?” She didn’t wait for him to answer. “Just leave me alone. I have work to do.”

“Nadira!” he called after her, following up with a Damn! between his clenched teeth.

Nadira kept herself busy by organzining and labelling the wardrobe, helping with quick changes, doing the laundry, and keeping records of all of the jewlery and headpieces – she had a nice little routine going and it kept her from running into Daniel.

It went on like this for weeks. . .

☼

“So tell me about this ceremony again?” K.C. stood on the other side of the room, watching his wardrobe assistant order some new fabric online.

“It’s an ash spreading ceremony in Maui. The services will be held on the beach. They’ll say a prayer and a blessing, then we’ll paddle out on a surfboard and spread his ashes and fresh flowers in the ocean.”

“Wow, what a respectful way to honor your brother, Nadira.”

She smiled, “It’s what he wanted. I made a promise.”

“You’re a good sister, kiddo. Just hurry up and get your cute ass back here,” K.C. said, leaving his office. “Oh, hey Daniel!”

“Hey, K.C.” He was standing in the doorway, listening the whole time. “When do you leave?” he asked softly. Nadira’s eyes never left the monitor. She made two phone calls and checked her email. “Nadira, would you please talk to me?”

“We don’t have anything to talk about.” There was no concern in her tone as she wrote down an address.

He stepped inside K.C.’s office, closing the door behind him. “I’m sorry you saw what you saw.” He continued, even though she wouldn’t look at him. “I broke it off with Topaz. I told her that we probably shouldn’t sleep together anymore. She didn’t take it well at first…then she asked if we could—just one last time.”

Hearing this made an indignant look surface in her face. Grabbing her bag, she snapped, “You know what, Daniel? That was the wrong thing to say.” And with that Daniel found himself standing in K.C.’s office alone.

☼

“Good morning passengers. This is the pre-boarding announcement for flight 298 to Hawaii. We are now inviting those travelers with small children, and any travelers requiring special assistance, to begin boarding at this time. Please have your boarding pass and identification ready. Regular boarding will begin in approximately fifteen minutes. Thank you.”

Nadira was reading a magazine when the airline representative called for the regular boarding passengers. She stood in line and handed her pass to the agent once she got to the front.

As she was boarding the plane from the jetway, she heard someone shouting her name. “Nadira!” She stood off to the side, allowing the others to board. Again, her name was called loudly. “Nadira!” Just then she saw Daniel walking hurriedly along the jetway.

“Daniel, what are you…who told you?”

“K.C. told me. I’m going with you, Nadira.”

“Why?” The line on the jetway was growing shorter, and she knew they didn’t have long to talk. “Look, Daniel…you don’t have to do this.”

“I want to. I want to be with you, Nadira. That’s why I broke it off with Topaz.”

“This isn’t about me, or Topaz or you…” Daniel’s kiss pulled her from her thoughts. A familiar weakness overcame her; it was the belltower all over again. He broke it and held her tightly; pressing his forehead against hers. Nadira closed her eyes and slipped her fingers around the back of his neck. She didn’t forget how it felt to be in his arms, but she did miss it. “You did that for me?” she asked softly.

“I’ll do anything for you, Jelly Bean,” he nodded, taking her hand. “Now let’s get on this plane before it leaves us.”

© enchanted.ladybug 6.29.2012

airline announcement : adapted from englishclub.com 

ducky

welcome, everyone. in January 2012, i posted my first erotic fairy tale and mentioned at the time that i had written two. this is the story i was referring to. it’s my retelling of  The Ugly Duckling and was originally completed in October of 2010. however, i revised it a little…took some things out, added some things, and dressed the sex scene up a little because as i read and re-read it, the intimate part seemed a bit blah to me; like it was missing something.

as with my other erotic retellings, i hope that i did not depart too much from the original.

i hope that you enjoy “ducky” – thank you for taking the time out of your day to read my contribution.

ducky

Prologue

1992

High school is supposed to be a fun journey in a teenager’s life, right? Perhaps. But this was not the case for Theodora.

It’s amazing what three months of summer vacation would do to someone’s appearance. Everyone changed. Braces came off, contacts went in. Hair became longer, bodies filled out in places that were void just months ago. While other kids her age went to parties and hung out with friends, Theodora locked herself in her room, enjoying Shakespeare’s The Tempest or Sophocles’ Oedipus the King. She went to the orthodontist and endured somewhat painful adjustments to her braces, volunteered twice a week at the library re-shelving books, and delivered meals to the elderly every Saturday.

Killing the ignition after pulling into a parking spot, Theodora slumped in her seat. “Last year,” she sighed. “Just nine more months and you’re out of here.”

When she was checking the driver side door to make sure it was locked, she heard the voice of Nicholas call from behind her. “Nice car, geek.” Nicholas Hamilton was the captain of the swim and basketball teams, and he’d been teasing Theodora since the fifth grade. Her hair, glasses, clothes, teeth. You name it, he taunted her about it. She remembered having the same gym class as him in the seventh grade. He hurled a dodge ball at her head and knocked her glasses off of her face. Even after she saw the nurse for an ice pack, her face stung for the rest of the day.

“Actually,” Theodora began, “the word geek is most likely a variation of the English dialect geck, which means fool. The original definition of the word refers to a carnival performer who did morbid, albeit outrageous acts; like biting the heads off of live animals.” There was a blank expression that fell on Nicholas’s face.
“So Nicholas, if you must resort to name calling, I prefer to be referred to someone who is excessively interested in a hobby, or put simply; a nerd.”

Nicholas’s girlfriend, Stacey whispered the word freak and they joined each other in laughter. Theodora pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose. “Have a great year!” she smiled, her braces on display. It’s been this way since the fifth grade, she didn’t expect the last leg of her high school years to be any different.
After entering the building, Theodora glanced at her schedule. Clutching her bag, she then headed to her class before the first bell rang.

Just nine more months….

2010

If there was one thing Arika couldn’t stand when interviewing an applicant, it was short, vague answers. This was not appropriate and told her that the potential client was not very serious. For weeks, she read through responses from those who were over eager to please, or who couldn’t tell her what their preferences were. It was frustrating, but it was what had to be done to find the right one to play with. There was one promising prospect, simply_humble; he seemed to be progressing well. Completely answering basic questions, discussing likes and dislikes. He expressed a genuine interest in getting to know her, so she decided it was time for a little more interaction.

Her email was brief and to the point:

Dear simply_humble,

I would like a phone interview with you on Wednesday at 9 o’clock in the evening. Your prompt reply with a name and contact number is appreciated –Arika.

With one push of her finger, the email was sent.

The next day, Arika logged online to check her messages. Rolling her eyes, she began deleting messages with, ‘LET ME SERVE U’, or ‘I WANNA B UR SLAVE’ in the subject. Any potential applicant who didn’t care enough to use correct grammar was an irritant, and she didn’t waste her time. The email she was expecting was there for her, she wrote down his information and a set of character questions to ask him.

Wednesday evening after dinner, the computer was shut down, the television was turned off and replaced by soft music playing in the background. Arika carried herself, a notebook and a pen to her plush, Raja love seat. She glanced at the clock, then made her call. After the third ring, a male’s voice answered. “Hello. This is Arika calling for a phone interview with Nick.”

“This is Nick. Thank you for calling.”

She smiled to herself. Potential applicants always had a tremble in their voice. “You’re welcome. Listen, there is no need to be nervous. I just want to ask you a few questions as a part of the process. If things go well tonight, I will contact you to arrange a face to face meeting.”

“Yes Ma’am. I mean Mistress.”

“I’m not your Mistress, Nick. Please call me Arika. You don’t have to be so formal; this is just the interview phase.” Her voice was calm, and confident.

“Right, I’m sorry.”

“You’re doing fine.” Arika wasted no time in asking some character questions. She listened intently, and was impressed with his replies. After about ten minutes of conversation, she brought their call to a close. “I must say, I am very pleased with the way you handled yourself this evening. I’ll certainly take this into consideration when making my decision to meet with you face to face. Oh just one more thing, I’ll need your last name please.”

“It’s Hamilton. Nicholas Hamilton is my full name.” At that moment, Arika’s pen dropped to the floor and her chest tightened. Did she really just hear that name? An unpleasant part of her past had come back to haunt her. She wanted to hang up, but this was business.

“Thank you, Nicholas. I’ll be in contact, okay?”

“I understand. Thank you for your time and interest, Arika. I really appreciate it.”

“You’re welcome. Goodnight.” With that, she ended the call and threw her head back, swearing under her breath. Then, as a thought entered her mind, she started smiling. “I’m in control here. Ultimately, I have the power and he has to obey me.” She turned off the music and the lights and went to bed anticipating what could only be a very interesting encounter

☼

Arika arranged for the two to meet in the park the following Friday. As she claimed a park bench, her mind floated back to high school, senior year.

She remembered that during study hall, while she used her time to study for an upcoming test, Nicholas and his friends would toss wads of paper at her, whisper about how ugly she was, and when an aide wasn’t within an earshot, bark at her.

He even recruited his girlfriend Stacey, who along with two of her friends, would socialize during ceramics class and make fun of her thrift store clothes, or her braces, or whatever else they thought would humor them. Stacey Ackerson was on the school dance team, The Swans; an ensemble made up of all pretty girls. They wore white uniforms trimmed in black, and while they were graceful during performances, their attitudes left a little to be desired. Arika wouldn’t be one bit surprised if Nicholas and Stacey were married now.

She glanced at her watch, and lifted an eyebrow. Then, crossing the walkway, a guy wearing a light brown t-shirt and blue jeans approached. Even after all this time, his shoulders were still broad and his arms were still muscular. Not a bad physique after eighteen years. “Hi, are you Arika?” he asked, his iridescent blue-green eyes smiling when he was face to face with her. With her wearing wedge platform t-strap sandals, he was still taller than her by about three inches.

“I am. Nice to finally meet you.” She waited to see if he would apologize for his tardiness or if she would have to remind him.

“I’m late, I know. I’m sorry.” Nicholas extended his arm, a bouquet of flowers waiting in his hand. A nice gesture, but she wasn’t impressed with his lack of punctuality. “These are for you.” He admired the cerulean blue halter top that covered her dark brown skin, her high cheek bones, the elegant high brow that suggested she was not to be tested and her sensuous, full lips. “I hope you don’t mind me saying, but you’re really beautiful.” His eyes followed the length of her, falling on the capri jeans that hugged her hips.

“Thank you, and these are lovely,” she replied, graciously accepting the bouquet. “Please, have a seat.” Arika moved her sunglasses to the top of her head, to see if he would recognize her at all. “So, this is what I call the final interview. I’ll be asking some questions for clarity and to see not only how well you respond, but how well you know yourself. I remember during our phone conversation you mentioned an experience you had with spanking, tell me more about that.” She not only listened to his response, she evaluated him. Watching to see if he struggled with a reply, listening to see how comfortable he was with discussing this experience.

It turns out, he was not a fan of spanking. It was something he tried out years ago and he quickly decided that was not a kink he took a liking to. Arika smiled to herself and filed this away. She went on to ask if he had any health issues she should be aware of, how long he’s been submissive, and why he felt he was one. She also asked what he did for a living and wasn’t really surprised when he said he was a Personal Trainer and Nutrition Coach.

When asked why he desired her services, Nicholas told her that he appreciated her sensual approach to the art of BDSM. Not that he had anything against anyone who went with a more intense method, he just preferred a more vanilla type of D/s relationship. He finally told her that he sought her out because he wanted to be with a Mistress that was in control; not controlling. Though she’d heard variations of this answer many times, she was still flattered. Being a vanilla dominant suited her just fine.

“I’ve brought a contract for you to read over and sign. Make sure that you make a copy for yourself if you agree to the terms.” In her experience, Arika had come across potential clients who were offended by the interview and contract process, but they eventually saw things her way and abided by her rules. “It basically outlines what’s expected of you, what you should expect from me, and what kinks I will not indulge in. I do not tolerate unwanted behavior and I will issue punishments if necessary.”

“I understand.” he said, nodding and glancing over the contract.

“I am not a yelling Domina. I have never had to raise my voice to get what I want. I am kind, but I am not to be tested. Lastly, I will not put up with deception, dishonesty or tardiness. Are we understood?” she stated matter of factly, stressing tardiness intentionally. Even in high school, Nicholas wasn’t the most prompt person; he was always late to third period computer class.

“Yes. I understand,” he quickly replied. Arika stood to close the meeting. “Thank you for meeting me, I’m afraid I have to run so this concludes the interview, but I’ll contact you soon with information on your first session.” She smiled politely as he rose to shake her hand.

He didn’t recognize her.

☼

Smooth jazz music floated throughout Arika’s condo. One would never imagine the sophisticated space with  leather walls upholstered by hand, a large wall hanging that used to be part of a Catholic church ceiling, and suede furniture was used for her alternative activities.

The doorbell rang at ten minutes to eight. “Thank you for being on time, come in,” she welcomed.

“Wow.” Nicholas turned in a circle, taking in the dark, seductive setting. “This place is amazing. Oh, I have my contract. Signed and everything.” He placed an envelope containing the contract and her fee on the table and stood there patiently. “You look great, Arika.” She was wearing a plum colored kimono knit tunic, black leggings and high heel boots.

“Thank you, please have a seat,” she began. They discussed trust and communication, then went over safe words. After that it was time to begin. “As of right now, your sessions begin. You will address me as Domina. When you enter my home, you will greet me with, “Good evening, Domina” and immediately go to the guest bathroom and change into the black boots and leather pants I have chosen for you. After which you will return to the living room and posture on your knees with your hands locked behind your back. You will always posture this way unless directed to do otherwise. When you leave, you will say Goodnight, Domina”

He nodded eagerly.

“As outlined in my contract, I expect you to give your best. You can expect me to give my all and guide you to your full potential while exposing you an amazing sensual experience. Now get undressed. I want to take a look at you.” Arika seated herself in a high wing back chair and crossed her legs, lightly bouncing her foot. She knew that this sudden request would make him feel uncomfortable, but part of her wanted him to feel as uncomfortable as she did back in high school after he teased her.

Nicholas  felt apprehensive about exposing himself for a stranger, but he remembered her rules about obedience and like a devoted puppy, quickly removed his clothes. His stomach was flat and sexy. Arika gazed at the muscular V of his external obliques that was directed toward his impressive manhood. “Good, now turn around.” She nodded her approval. “Your clothes are in the guest bathroom. You have five minutes to change and return here.” With those words, she stood up and left him.

He gathered his clothes. “Yes, Domina.” He returned moments later, dressed appropriately and found Arika sitting in a wing back chair, only now she was wearing a royal blue silk corset with black panties, sheer stockings and Mary Jane pumps. “Two minutes to spare, very good.” She watched as he fell to his knees, hands locked behind his back.

“The first thing you need to learn is how to control your orgasms and erections. Stand up.”

He stood, hands still locked. Arika positioned herself behind him, slipped her hand around his waist and unzipped his pants. “Your role is to serve me in whatever manner I wish. You are here for my pleasure; for my contentment. And this – is mine,” she stated, freeing then massaging his flaccid manhood. It didn’t take long, but he began to swell against her fingers.

She used her thumb to spread a small pearl of pre-cum over his head. With a slow, steady rhythm she stroked him, every few seconds pressing on that sensitive vein on the underside of his erection. “In time, you will learn to swell, diminish and orgasm only when I have given you permission to do so,” she whispered behind his ear.

He nodded. Her fingers continued to tease his shaft and Nicholas panted harshly at her gesture. He loved a good hand job and wanted so badly to explode in her hand. The thought of his milky release spilling over her fingers aroused him even more and he pushed out a loud moan. He felt his body shake with slight, uncontrollable movements. Her hand pumped faster and his rigid hardness pulsated forcefully. Arika licked the back of his neck. “I have not given you permission to come.”

Her hand continued to work his stiff manhood. ”Denial is a cruel method of delaying pleasure, but it works.”

He was about to release at any moment and fail his first exercise. His moans grew louder as his body worked to betray him.

“Your trust is my gift and suppressing your orgasm will deepen our bond, my pet. It means that you’ve placed enough faith in me to have authority over your release. That is what you want, isn’t it?” she asked seductively, stroking him faster.

“Y-Y-Yes,” he stuttered.

“How do you feel about knowing that from here on out, I will control your orgasm?”

His reply came through clenched teeth, “Domina, it is my duty to make you happy; I would love for you to control my orgasms. Thank you,” Though this was business, Arika silently enjoyed the fact that she had the upper hand. The captain of the swim and basketball team, Mr. Popular himself was at her mercy. His stomach tightened as he tried to hold it in, he wouldn’t be able to stand this pleasurable pain much longer. Nicholas felt his legs would give in at any moment with so many things working against him: her body pressed against his, the hot whispers in his ear, the exotic scent of her perfume…her energetic hand.

It came as no surprise that he exploded seconds later. He stood there, huffing as if he was about to cry. “You did good, my pet. You held out longer than I expected.” Arika said.

“I was not successful. I’m sorry, Domina.” he chided weakly.

“I can’t expect you to withhold your orgasm on the first try. You will learn to do so in time, but as for now, you did well. She held up her messy hand. “Please go get a towel from the bathroom.”

He zipped his pants. “Yes, Domina.” When he returned, he cleaned her hand, the mess on the floor and finally himself. Afterwards, Nicholas fell to his knees awaiting further instruction.

“We’ll take a small break. Are you thirsty?” she asked, seating herself in the wing back chair.

He nodded.

“Glasses are in the cabinet on the far right, I’d like something to drink as well.”

“Thank you, Domina.” Nicholas quickly went to the kitchen, washed his hands, found some apple juice in the refrigerator and prepared two glasses, making certain that Arika got her glass first.

The rest of the evening was spent working on orgasm denial. It was one of the hardest things he ever had to do, but by the end of their session, Nicholas was able to suppress his release. His stomach was in knots and he loved it. He was surprised at himself, proud of his accomplishment. None of this mattered of course, what mattered is if his Domina was pleased. When he emerged from the bathroom fully dressed, Arika was standing near the entrance, pulling on a robe. They confirmed sessions for the rest of the week and said goodnight.

Over the next several days, his training included controlling his erection. Arika secured a vibrating cock ring around the base of his penis and stroked him to attention. She set a timer and pressed a button on the remote control to activate the toy. “Remedy that. You have five minutes.” The constant pulsations against his erection was a feeling he’d never experienced. This was going to be just as difficult as holding his orgasm.

“Yes.” He struggled, never having been told to get rid of an erection before. “Yes, Domina.” Arika propped her leg on the chair and pulled her panties aside, exposing her glistening treasure. How was Nicholas going to accomplish this? The only thoughts on his mind at that moment was how much he would love thrust himself deep inside of her and how the wet suction noises of their bodies pushing and pulling against one another would drive him over the edge. He’d done so well with his first task, it would be a shame to disappoint his Domina now. With his eyes tightly closed, he tried to concentrate on anything but sex.

“Open your eyes. Three minutes,” she warned, caressing her labia and watching him fight through this assignment. Nicholas was trying his best, his jaws were tight and his dick contracted involuntarily twice. “How does that cock ring feel?” she asked, increasing the sensation a bit.

“It feels so good, Domina.” His body began to tremble. He drew deep breaths over and over. Arika gave him a one minute and ten second warning. Part of him wondered if he would be able to carry out this task with the time allotted, the other part of him was dangerously aroused. “Ohhh! It feels so fucking good.” Another warning followed; twenty seconds. He grunted loudly, but the timer went off and the vibrating toy proved to be the victor in this erotic battle. Arika approached him to remove the ring and told him that they would try again later. She instructed him to clean up his mess and he enthusiastically agreed to join her for dinner.

That night, they ate osso buco with gremolata served over garlic mashed potatoes all prepared by Arika, and discussed how the sessions were going. Nicholas was touched by his Domina’s attention to detail: the soft jazz music, wearing a corset in his favorite color, the apple juice, serving his favorite dinner. Arika reminded him that as long as he continued to accept her authority, he would be rewarded.
.
If only the next night had went as well….

☼

It was 8:47, and Nicholas was supposed to be there at 8 o’clock. He hadn’t called or sent a text. Arika watched the wine swirl around her glass and wondered if an emergency came up, but the sound of the doorbell put that idea to rest. He immediately confessed that he didn’t manage his time well that day, knowing that his admission would fall on deaf ears. Her eyes bore a hole through him as she let him inside without a word. While he was in the guest bathroom, Arika went to her bedroom and returned moments later in a different mood.

“It’s been a week, you should know this by now. I’m disappointed.”

“Yes Domina.” Nicholas replied shamefully.

With her eyebrow raised, she nodded at him once then crossed the room. It may have only been a week, but he knew what that gesture meant. He thought about how disappointed in himself he was for letting her down. She walked toward him slowly, tapping a riding crop against the fleshy part of her palm. “You know that I do not tolerate tardiness. Obviously you’ve forgotten your place and can’t follow my instructions so I believe behavior modifications are in order. Pull your pants down and posture on all fours.” After those words, he bared his bottom and went down on his hands and knees. “Repeat after me: Behavior modification purifies the pet.”

The crop came down on Nicholas’s ass. Hard. “Ssss, Ah! Behavior modification purifies the pet!”

“Again.” Another hard swat.

“Behavior modification purifies the pet!” he cried sharply.

“I’m not convinced, Nicholas. I can do this all night,” she deliciously enunciated. Another swat followed.

His voice trembled but he repeated his mantra loudly, “Behavior modification purifies the pet!” He was practically sobbing. Usually all it took was three hard strikes from the riding crop to get the reply she wanted.

There was a small part of her that wanted to admonish him as a means of revenge for making her life hell, but issuing punishments as a form of retaliation was not in her character. He broke the rules and rightly so, was being reprimanded.

Arika towered over him, hands on her hips. “Get up. I trust this will not be an issue again, Nicholas. Next time I won’t be so forgiving.” Her tone was sharp.

“I will manage my time and be punctual from now on. Thank you for your compassion.” He was in so much pain, but he did as he was told and assumed his position, his gaze directed toward the floor as trained. “Thank you, Domina.”

“Do you wish to continue or should we call it a night?” She planned on introducing some sensation play with  into their session tonight.

“I want to continue please.” He was sure She’d dismiss him for the night, but was determined to please her. Nicholas didn’t like the way his unsatisfactory behavior made Her feel and wanted desperately to be back in her good graces. His bottom was on fire, but it was nothing compared to the emotional pain he was feeling. “Domina, I beg your forgiveness and apologize for my behavior tonight. I would like to make it up to you, if only you will allow me to do so.”

“Make it up to me how?” she asked, sitting in her chair.

“By pleasing you orally. Only if you allow me to,” he said.

Arika rarely let her clients touch her but she could see that he was trying to right his wrongdoing. “I will permit you to do this, but you are not to give me any eye contact, nor are you to touch my clit until I give you permission. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Domina,” he nodded, appreciative of this moment.

“Come here.” Arika stood up and instructed him to crawl towards her and remove her panties. After taking a seat, she lifted her leg over the arm of the chair.

Nicholas positioned himself between her legs and lowered his head. “Your pussy is so beautiful, Domina.” He swept his nose across her smooth brown skin, inhaling her sweet aromatic scent. The very tip of his tongue made random patterns while licking her inner thigh. He teased the tender flesh on her legs, allowing his tongue to approach then move away from her lips. He moaned softly and moments later, separated her labia. One side at a time, he sucked her lips into his mouth, focusing on this technique until he could hear his Domina’s shallow whispers.

Then his mouth drifted. Careful to avoid the forbidden area, he carefully followed the outer edges of her core, licking the crease where her leg and pussy join before repeatedly kissing her directly on her opening. Flattening his tongue against her moist, neatly trimmed pussy, he licked her slowly and delicately. The sensation caused Arika to release a low, rapturous cry. He paused long enough to tell her how amazing she tasted.

Nicholas extended his tongue, easing the muscle inside of her. He withdrew, then slowly pushed his face back into her. He enjoyed her. He savored the way she smelled and the way she tasted before sinking deep inside of her again. He continued with this method for a while, but he wanted to use his fingers. “Domina, may I please use my hands?” he asked, after retracting his tongue.

Wet with his saliva and her juices, Arika granted her pet permission. Nicholas sucked a finger into his mouth then carefully crooked it inside of her body, rubbing it against her g-spot. At the same time, his head moved downward to kiss her moist cleft. His Domina’s head fell back, then rolled forward to watch him. The intensity was increasing and moved her to hips to jump forward a little and force out short heated breaths. Every once in awhile he’d gently tap her sweet spot, position his mouth differently, change his lingual tempo and listen for her moans.

Arika’s body was consumed by a flush of sexual passion. Her fingers moved through his hair and caressed the back of his head. Her hips rose, twisting and rotating against his mouth. Erratic sighs were emphasized by the sound of her pet lapping at her wetness. Her thighs quivered when his tongue undulated inside of her. Nicholas stopped when he heard the catch in her breath. There were a few thin, milky strands that hung from his chin as he pulled away.

“Domina, please?” His head was bowed. He desperately wanted his mouth on her clit. “May I?”

After freeing her fingers from his hair, she removed her leg from the arm of the chair and placed it on his shoulder. She knew what he desired, she just wanted him to ask for it properly. “May you what?”

“May I please worship your clit, Domina?”

“Yes, you may.”

He took his time, licking around the base of her clit, stimulating it from all sides and with varied techniques. “Good boy,” she praised softly. “Mmmm, such a good boy.”

Once it swelled, Nicholas gave her pearl his undivided attention. Slowly, he enclosed it in his mouth, flicking then sucking it as if he were giving his Domina a blowjob. Arika clutched the arms on her chair and moaned loudly as she watched his head bobbing up and down. That talented tongue swirled freely around her succulent spot; then the sucking became insistent. “Oh yes, suck it. Just like that,” she commaded raggedly.

His tongue rolled securely around her tip, sucking harder…sucking longer. With both hands, she cupped the back of his head and jerked her hips against him, fighting to find her breath. Her body shuddered just as her orgasm crested, and she arched her back to meet his mouth when that delicious wave of release overcame her, spilling into his mouth. Once the tremors of pleasure subsided, Arika expressed her approval of his oral talent. She smiled and gave the top of his head a pat.

Afterwards, Nicholas cleaned up everything… except for his mouth. He wanted her sweet, pungent scent on his lips for as long as it would last. He was on his knees when Arika instructed him to stand. She pulled his penis through the vibrating cock ring and leaned close, her lips barely touching his earlobe. “I want you hard. Now.” That brisk tone he’d come to enjoy made his erection instant. A smile found her lips as she sat in her chair and pressed the “On” button. “You know what to do.”

He nodded and tried to ignore the pulsations as the ring moved rapidly back and forth.

“Did I tell you that this vibrator has seven different functions? And with one little push… I can have it cycle through all seven functions?” Arika perked an eyebrow and increased the intensity, taking delight in the fact that she was making him quiver from a distance.

“No, Domina. I– I was…I was not aware of the functions.”  he stuttered.

“Three minutes. Try hard. It may help if you think about an unattractive woman. Can you do that?”

“I will do anything to please you Domina, but no one comes to mind at the moment”

“Surely you can think of someone, Nicholas. Maybe someone at the bank? The deli? Your job?”

“I’m trying so hard, Domina.”

“Well,” she began, rising from her chair and standing behind him, “perhaps I can provide a visual. Maybe when you were younger, there was a homely girl you went to high school or college with?”

“There was a girl,” Nicholas nodded, the vibrator elevating his arousal. “In high…high school.”

“Of course there was. Did you tease her? This ugly girl?” she asked.

“Ahhhh!!! Yes, Domina. Every chance I got,” he panted.

“I’m guessing she wore glasses, maybe braces… bit of a geek, perhaps?” She used the word geek intentionally and pressed the remote. “It’s on the fourth function, by the way,” she said softly in his ear.

The ring vibrated forcefully against his erection, but tonight he would reign supreme. “Oh fuck! Yes, Domina… she.. I…” with these words, his hard-on diminished, his body crying exhaustion.

“Good boy. You did well,” Arika praised.

Nicholas’s chest heaved rhythmically. “Thank you so much, Domina.”

☼

When the session had ended, Arika walked Nicholas to the door. “Goodnight, Domina. And if I may, thank you for the method you used to guide me through tonight’s training. I really did go to high school with a girl like that. I forget her name, started with an ‘T’ I think.” He chuckled and shook his head. “I wasn’t very nice to her. In fact I was pretty nasty. I always made fun of her and called her a geek.”

Arika detected the regret in his tone, as if he was just now realizing how hurtful he was to her. “Actually,” she began, “the word geek is most likely a variation of the English dialect geck, which means fool. The original definition of the word refers to a carnival performer who did morbid, albeit outrageous acts; like biting the heads off of live animals.” She wished she could have captured the look on his face when she said this. “So Nicholas, if you must resort to name calling, I prefer to be referred to as someone who is excessively interested in a hobby, or put simply, a nerd.” Arika flashed a smile at him just as she did on that first day of senior year, her teeth now straight and unviolated by braces.

“You? I mean, you’re–?”

“I’ve changed my name permanently to Arika, but yes I’m Theodora.”

“No way!” He was shaking his head and looking her up and down as if to ask: Where’s the glasses? The braces? And the thrift store clothes?

“Yes way.”

“My god you’ve changed. You’re gorgeous. I know it’s been eighteen years, but I’m really sorry for the way I treated you. I was a jerk. No. I was an asshole, and I’m sorry. You didn’t deserve to be treated like that.”

“Thank you, Nicholas.” She nodded and smiled at his sincerity. “We’ll work on sensation play with cold metal objects tomorrow. Be on time,” she gently demanded.

“Yes, Domina.”

The end.

© enchanted.ladybug 10.17.2010; revised 5.29.2012