Indian Woman Presenting Herself

I was still trying to get my clothes in order. “So, Mrs. Ruxton, where to? Do you still want to go to Rye Beach?”“No, forget that. Let’s go to that Italian neighborhood, Arthur Avenue, I can pick up something for dinner.”It was only a short drive over there. Olive stayed pressed up against me, her arm around my shoulders. She mostly talked about her ex, Clarence Ruxton.“He was such a dip. As I said, he’d complain about cunnilingus, as he referred to it. ‘A barbaric practice,’ that’s what he said.”“I think I would have divorced this guy myself.”“I offered him whatever he wished sexually to keep him happy but it was a waste. He didn’t seem that interested in anything. I couldn’t even get him to spank me when I was naughty.”“That’s really unfortunate.”She looked at me, “I bet you think I’m a very naughty lady.”“I don’t think it, I know it!”--------I found a parking space on Crescent Avenue around the corner from where she wanted to shop. As I waited in our getaway car I could feel more. You reach up, feeling the curves my body. Instinctually my right hand caresses the soft skin of your smooth face, the other grabs your hips tightly. I am dizzy, unstable, I use your trunk, your masculine frame lest I faint. The walls of brick and mortar, once strong, seemingly unconquerable, come crumbling down. All the fears, the hesitations are gone and all that is left is you and I being whisked away to a magical land of lust. We are in Oz now. You lift me up and carry me to the master bedroom. A grand spectacle of big bright windows, armoires, a long glossy dresser of oak. Behind the dresser is a massive dressing mirror, in front a red velvet covered chair of deep oak. The bed. The centerpiece of the flower filled room, the scent of lilac and lavender filling the air. A bed fit for a king. A bed fit for a king to ravage his queen. You lay me down on the white downy softness. Stepping back you stand in front of me. Like a master pursuing the blossoming flowers of his regal garden.
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