Proverbial Woman, Chapter 1, Part 3

I wanted to get out of the heat and away from the craziness of L.A. So I thought I would try here for a while. I’ve visited here once when my firm was preparing to invest in a software company during the Tech boom. Up here people are genuine and I can actually breathe some clean air from all this moisture that you guys have. Besides, this area has a refreshing look about it. Sort of reminds me of what it is like after experiencing a cleansing of the soul. You know, the way things feel and look after it rains, like an extended period of quietness that leads you into deep thoughts. An introspective thing. I would leave it at gloomy, if I’m calling it the way I see it. But if it’s a change of atmosphere you’re looking for, then you are definitely in the right place. You will get use the moisture very fast.”

“There is more than enough of that here…” I added.

“We are talking about the weather. Aren’t we?” He humorously replied, as he firmly rubbed the base of my heel against the palm of his hand.

Mentally propelled into images of whimsical thoughts led on by the undertone of his colorful remark. In a deviant stir most mindful of my youthful days of lashing out without consideration, I soon began sensing the alter ego of my inner-child struggling to show herself.

Refraining from berating quips of reprisal, with the poise and dignity of a woman refined in respectability, I held my tongue in peace. But then all of a sudden, and without warning, he un-expectantly raised the stakes a tad higher, as he reached down and gently removed one foot before replacing it with the other.

Thrust into bliss by his uninhibited spontaneity. In a duplicate, yet slightly subtler tone, I once again found myself dispensing an audible sound of pleasure. Mentally swaying between compelling pleasures of his touch, and explicit thoughts of my overworked imagination. During intermittent lapses of contemplative discourse, repeatedly I found myself wondering what kind of woman would have the esteem pleasure of having a man like him.

I’m trying so hard to keep from letting him know how much I’m attracted to him. And yet, with sadness I can’t remember when there has been anyone who has ever touched me with this kind of tenderness. What I find even more disturbing is that I can’t begin to describe the feelings that are running through me.

Captured by a force unattainable to those of limited imaginations, repeatedly his touch ignited subtle bursts of intensified pleasures that expanded deep inside well-guarded longings of my soul. Though hauntingly mindful of my intimate dreams, in the displacing of overwhelming euphoria, this therapeutic approach is proving to be as disarming as it is effective.

Breathlessly spent beyond a moment of life itself, my emotions wavered effortlessly as they seemed floating in suspended animation. Feeling my eyes watering up, as afterthoughts slowly faded one after the other. In brief moments in between recovery, thoughts of passion came and went while leaving me with pleasures of contentment that goes without uttering.