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She. She. She... She was laid down on an antique fainting co..
🕑 Added 2020-11-05 19:03:30 +0000 UTC She. She. She... She was laid down on an antique fainting couch. Nude in her deep velvet haven. She was not a woman of one lover, but many, her heart with too much love and passion for merely one person. She asked of every lover that safety be taken, and then she enjoyed and took in the moments of passion she chose carefully, selectively... I met her in a strange little misty pub on the East End, she was sipping sparkling water with one cherry. She didn't drink, she just came there because she liked the place. It was a relatively quiet little spot, except for the sound of the deep and thoughtful cello being played by a rather focused deep eyed gentleman in his early thirties who wore a tweed suit and his hair matted and messy with more important things than hair to focus on, the music, the music was more important to him that something so trivial as hair. She was sitting in a quiet dark booth, watching me. She motioned her long fingers to come nearer. She was one of those Hollywood beauties, the type of woman who looked like she'd stepped right off the silver screen. Deep set eyes, long auburn tresses, dark green skirt and blazer, and amber necklace. Beautiful. "I saw you sitting there," she began, "looking like a lost pup. Thought I'd call you over and find you so to speak." "Me? I'm a nothing, why call me over here, you're way out of my league." "Sweetie there are no leagues, not really, just people. Something in your eyes tells me you've seen more loneliness than companionship, want to change that tomorrow afternoon?" She handed me a card with her number and the address to a club, "The Whisper." "It's clothing optional," she said after my long silence. "I don't have any money at the moment," I said. "I'm not selling on this one sweet cheeks, I simply want an afternoon with you, "she replied, "but bring the rubbers, just in case things get hot between us, or anyone else. Safety first I always say." I'd been on my own so long, didn't quite know what to say. "Think about it sweetie," she cut the silence, "give me a call before 4:30 because that's when I call it a day and head back home, and no, no one gets my home address." And with that she left the pub, waving to the bar keep on her way out. I laid in bed all night, wide awake, thinking about her and those dark romantic eyes. I hadn't taken a chance with any romantic encounters in five years, this had to be mulled over until the afternoon deadline. I took the day off. I had vacation time saved up. I just wanted a coffee and time to think. As I sat sipping the dark brew, I thought about her. I knew she was just talking about one afternoon. No commitment. Just one afternoon to see where passion took us. I'd never done anything like this before...one afternoon... I never regretted making that call. I never saw her again after our time together on her soft couch, never pursued her, never tried to make it more than what it was, just a fleeting moment of passion between two people. Free birds fly free, and that free bird, merely She, soars my memories...
