December 29, 2011

Building Heat

“Sit up, nice and straight, back against the booth.”

She smiled, shifting.

“Put your feet flat on the floor, fingers interlaced, on the table.”

I glanced down and saw her toes, even with each other, about 12 inches apart.

“Sit very still.”

After a few minutes I said, “Reposition yourself and cross one leg over the other, nice and snug.”

She shifted around, complying.

“Now, start rocking your upper foot.”

I could feel the tip of her toe brushing against my trousers as it moved to and fro. I looked at her face; her eyes were beginning to glaze over.

December 28, 2011








December 22, 2011

The Fire

"The game is called Submission, perhaps you are familiar with it?"

She shook her head, "No."

"I will take this list and make a plan, to guide you through the accomplishment of these goals. Your side of this bargain is to follow my suggestions; sometimes they will be obvious and easy, other times you will not want to do as I instruct, and you will rebel.

"You’ll tell me your objection and we'll discuss it, then you’ll do as I instruct."

"And if I still don't want to do what you tell me to?"

"Then the game can be over."

December 15, 2011

Frying Pan to Fire

We sat staring at each other. Finally I reached down, spun the list around and read it.

“So, you wrote this list, sent it to me, came here, all of your own volition? I guess this means something to you?”

She nodded her head.

“You are a very young girl to have such an extensive list; you must have had very liberal parenting?”

Again she nodded her head.

“Being allowed to do what ever you want lacked the discipline necessary to learn to make good, informed choices?”

She continued nodding her head.

“So, do you want to play a game?”

December 12, 2011

Work, Love, Dance

So, stop waiting until you finish school,
until you go back to school,
until you lose ten pounds,
until you gain ten pounds,
until you have kids,
until your kids leave the house,
until you start work,
until you retire,
until you get married,
until you get divorced,
until Friday night,
until Sunday morning,
until you get a new car or home,
until your car or home is paid off,
until spring, until summer,
until fall, until winter,
until you are off welfare,
until the first or fifteenth,
until your song comes on,
until you've had a drink,
until you've sobered up,
until you die, until you are born again
to decide that there is no better time
than right now to be happy...
Happiness is a journey, not a destination.

So, Work like you don't need money.
Love like you've never been hurt and
Dance like no one's watching.

~Author Unknown~

excerpted from

December 11, 2011

I Hope You Dance

Lee Ann Womack

I hope you never lose your sense of wonder
You get your fill to eat but always keep that hunger
May you never take one single breath for granted
God forbid love ever leave you empty-handed

I hope you still feel small when you stand beside the ocean
Whenever one door closes I hope one more opens
Promise me that you'll give faith a fighting chance
And when you get the choice to sit it out or dance

I hope you dance
I hope you dance

I hope you never fear those mountains in the distance
Never settle for the path of least resistance
Living might mean taking chances but they're worth taking
Lovin' might be a mistake but it's worth making

Don't let some hell-bent heart leave you bitter
When you come close to selling out reconsider
Give the heavens above more than just a passing glance
And when you get the choice to sit it out or dance

I hope you dance
(Time is a wheel in constant motion always)
I hope you dance
(Rolling us along)
I hope you dance
(Tell me who wants to look back on their years and wonder)
I hope you dance
(Where those years have gone)

I hope you still feel small when you stand beside the ocean
Whenever one door closes I hope one more opens
Promise me that you'll give faith a fighting chance
And when you get the choice to sit it out or dance

I hope you dance
I hope you dance
(Time is a wheel in constant motion always)
I hope you dance
(Rolling us along)
I hope you dance
(Tell me who wants to look back on their years and wonder)
I hope you dance
(Where those years have gone)

Tell me who wants to look back on their years and wonder
Where those years have gone

December 10, 2011


December 8, 2011

Applying the Heat


She looked down, avoiding my gaze, not looking at the pack of cigarettes.

Softly, looking down into her lap, “Yes, but I don’t want to stop smoking. Who are you to make me?”

I sat the pack aside, reached across the table and lifted her chin until our eyes met.

“Who am I? You think I’m trying to make you stop smoking? I’m asking you, ‘Why are you smoking?’ ”

She looked confused. I continued, shaking her chin slightly and tapping the list, “Who are you to make this little girl do these things she doesn’t want to do?”

December 6, 2011

Four Years - Fore!!

Thanks Sweet girl
Four years, wow! Who'da thunk it?
When I started this blog it was with the intent of gathering and collecting a list of interesting blogs to follow, "For now this will be a repository for links rediscovered, and read and appreciated." I still have a fairly extensive collection at my Blog Roll a ways down in the side bar, but this space has come to mean so much more to me over these past four years. Some know me as a carguy and I have always been very fond of Datsun/Nissan, whose motto for many years was, "Life is a journey, enjoy the ride." Thank you all for coming along with me on this journey, I have enjoyed the ride and see that many others have also. When I last looked at my hit meter I was hovering just below 120,000 visits.

I was reading back through previous Blogaversary posts and was reminded of this comment:
Anonymous said...I have been meaning to write to thank you. I found your blog about 1 year ago. In you, I recognized a man I had known 25 years ago, and had run from because I didn't understand who I was. I found him recently and am now happily owned. I would not have had the courage to look without your writings.
I am so happy to present an image, that would evoke such a reaction. It humbles me.

I have really enjoyed participating in the Flash Fiction Friday series of writing challenges and making new friends there. Because of the generally limited word count available and a picture to evoke ideas, it is an excellent exercise in imagination and expression. I really do encourage everyone to look it over and give it a try. It is all in fun, there is no right or wrong way to do it. I often further challenge myself to pick a specific number of words and write to that count. That has led me to start a little writing project called 100 Words. Small enough to knock out in an hour or two, and long enough to depict a full scene or interaction, or explore a thought or frame of reference. We will see how that goes.

Of special note this year, I am very excited to have been selected by Rori for inclusion in her list of the Top 100 Sex Blogs of 2011. I started this blog to express D/s thoughts and ideas and quickly recognized that there were multiple, overlapping realms. Just over a year ago I made a conscious decision to focus on writing stories rather than essays/articles and express ideas and views through examples. I am honored to be included in Rori's list this year, thanks to those who nominated and selected me.

And what is ahead? I am not sure. Likely more of the same, some more Frederick and Agnes assuredly. More, shorter pieces in the 100 Words style. I have tried some different presentation styles this past year and the one before; things like I Like Your Dream, an audio, and an attempt at a visual impact with The Path. I will continue to look for others.

Again, thank you all for coming along, this blog has been my pleasure and will continue to be. So, let's lock arms and stride forward toward the future, whatever it may bring.

December 5, 2011


He caressed my shoulder while we watched a movie, (nice). His hand moved down to my breast, but I pushed it away. Soon his hand was at my neck, teasing, slipping down again onto my breast, “Stop it.”

I moved away; escaped across the room. He followed, pinned me against the wall, arm across my chest, hand up under my dress. I jerked his arm down, “No!”

He slapped me, (stunned), then grabbed my throat, clutching hard. His mouth sought mine; I deflected, trying to squirm away.

I pressed my elbow into his chest, speaking loudly, sternly, “I mean it!”

December 3, 2011

Heating Up, Again

There she was, sitting in the specified booth looking very much self-absorbed. I walked in and stood at the end of the table until she looked up, and said, “Hello.”

I slid into the opposite seat and recognized the printed list. I also recognized that same tank top, affording me that same delicious view.

“I see you’ve brought the list.”

She smiled nervously, “Yes.”

Reflexively she reached into her purse for a pack of cigarettes. I caught her hand, and took the pack from her, holding it in the air, twisting and turning, slowly, in the space between us.


December 1, 2011

Tempering the Heat

I checked my email Saturday night; there was nothing from the mystery girl. I wasn’t surprised or particularly concerned, I suspected she’d default on the timing of the assignment, either out of reticence or because of the complexity.

I busied myself with weekend chores, had dinner with friends and got to bed early Sunday night in anticipation of a long hard week ahead. I checked my mail again on Sunday morning, still nothing - mid-day nothing, even Sunday night, nothing. It tickled me, imagining her mental gymnastics.

I checked again Monday morning, there it was, “Possible Improvements”, with an apology.

November 27, 2011

Turning Up the Heat

When I got to my car, I saw her sitting in hers, opening a pack of cigarettes. I pulled up beside her, driver-door to driver-door.

“Hello, I noticed you in the store a few minutes ago.”

She smiled, “Yes, I noticed you too, bold statement, ‘Not yet’.”

“Give me the pack of cigarettes.”

She offered them and I tossed them onto my dash.

“By 9 o’clock send me your list of other bad habits, and two things you want to improve,” and I gave her my business card.

She looked off-guard, confused, but nodded her agreement, and I pulled away.

November 26, 2011

The Heat of Summer

I was looking for Gatorade and trail mix. Rounding the corner heading to the checkout station what I found was a lovely raven-haired girl. She was wearing skimpy volleyball shorts, barely covering her well rounded buttocks, and a deeply slit cotton tank top.

We got to the line at the same time. Nodding, I stepped aside. She smiled softly, and silently stepped forward. I placed my items on the conveyor belt and looked her over. My eyes were drawn to the complex compound curves of her cleavage.

The cashier glanced at her, then addressed me, “Are you together?”

“Not yet.”

November 19, 2011

Violence and Sex

Littlegirlyone (LG) wrote a blog post recently on the subject of sexual violence and violent sex, about her feelings and reactions to watching the video of a Judge beating his daughter with a belt. She spoke both about the beating the girl received and her reaction to it, and with wonder, her visceral reaction to watching the video. Her self analysis and the subsequent comments indicate that her reaction was not uncommon. I think there was a fair amount of self doubt expressed, how could they have such an erotic reaction to such a horrific event?

This reminds me of a number of other situations, where there is a “good reaction” to a “bad event”, such as:

- Arousal when viewing the judge beating his daughter

- Arousal or bodily response when being forced or raped

- Being in a NO situation but finding yourself being aroused

- A behavior or desire that is learned from a negative experience

There are many other examples.

I think it can bring clarity to consider that there are two separate and distinct things going on at the same time. One of them a horrible violent thing that everyone agrees is despicable and wrong, and justly so. On the other hand, there is stimulation of erotic triggers.

Just as LG says, there is disgust at finding eroticism in these events, that can produce a sense of self loathing.

I think if we can learn to separate the two events, we can have the appropriate responses to each of the events. But when the two are viewed as related or that one causes the other, there is condemnation of self.
Irrespective of whether the judge beating his daughter with a belt is wrong or not, and in the example we are talking about it is clear that he has gone over the edge. It is far far beyond any kind of discipline. In spite of that, the thought of it or viewing of it triggers an erotic response from some/many people. The fact that these violent acts trigger an arousal mechanism does not mean that the viewer approves and condones what he is doing, or even that what is going on is the root cause of the reaction.
When a woman suddenly finds herself in the unrelenting pursuit of a man who has decided that he ought to, or is entitled to, have has way with her. It seems inappropriate for her to feel aroused by the attention or thoughts of what is/might/could happen. The fact is that it triggers a non-consensual fantasy in her mind, but that does not mean she wants the sexual or sensual assault to continue, or that the man is justified in his actions.
So many women who have been raped or assaulted carry around a tremendous feeling of guilt at their body's response. They think there is something wrong with them that even while they are being taken against their will and being forced to do things they would never consent to, they are experiencing some kind of sexual stimulation. In many cases even have intense sexual stimulation and intense orgasms.
A woman who, along with her husband, is confronted by a burglar in her home and is bound and gagged, along side her husband. After they are both secured and disabled, the burglar scours the house looking for valuables to steal. Eventually he returns and begins a sexual assault on the wife, cutting her clothes off of her and eventually taking her sexual, ultimately resulting in an orgasm. In addition, the woman develops an arousal affiliation between being bound and gagged, and the husband has developed a strong interest in his wife when he has bound her in ways that are similar to what the burglar did.
In all of these examples consider the fact that there are two distinct and separate things happening.

In the LG's example, it is very likely that the arousal would be the same if she were viewing a staged video, although it might not have been so visceral, because it was staged. But I am sure that the popularity and success of dungeon scenes as portrayed on and other kinky porn sites speak to this point.

In the instance of a friend who was raped, the only way I could get her to eventually accept that it was not her fault, that she did not “want it”, was to work with her and drill into her the fact that her response was purely a physical reaction. It did not mean she was bad or that she wanted it to happen or that she permitted it. There were two things happening, she was being taken sexually against her will, and she was having a perfectly normal sexual stimulation.

Clearly, violence or the threat of violence will trigger a fight or flight response. With that response comes an adrenalin rush. I understand that there is a physiological component to women becoming stimulated during a sexual assault that has nothing to do with any psychological component. There is belief in the scientific community that physiological changes occur as a kind of self protection mechanism, lubricating the woman and keeping her from suffering bad physical damage as the result. It is not all in the head, it is automatic, and occurs in other mammals as well. This is part of the guilt fallacy that women often describe as “my body betrayed me.” In no way does the woman's physiological reaction transfer any responsibility for the rape to her.

I know it can be difficult to separate these events, particularly when they are happening in essentially the same time and space, but I think there is value in dissecting the violence of an event and separating it from any physical reaction that occurs. The stimulation that occurs is not caused by the violent event, it is caused by internal triggers that are set off, triggers which may look very similar to the violent event that is occurring but are really very separate and distinct.

November 17, 2011

Do or do not . . .

. . . there is no try

November 11, 2011

I can't hear you

She’d been all for this game when my hand was clamped onto the back of her neck. And also when I had harshly squeezed her breast, although she'd grimaced and squirmed. And when I’d teased her navel and combed through her pubic hair, she was fine, giggly even.

Now she was balking. She held my wrist, pulling down. But I continued to push up forcefully, fingers pressing in against her throbbing veins.

“Let go of my wrist.”  Her body shuddered in response but her grip slackened.

I put my lips to her ear and whispered, “Are you ready to continue?”

November 10, 2011

with or without

I was settled in my favorite Adirondack chair, reading a book. It was late afternoon and there was a breeze rustling through the trees, sending leaves skittering across the patio, against the house.

She was on a chaise-lounge, legs tucked up to one side, working on a needlepoint project. She was absent-mindedly humming an indistinguishable tune.

Suddenly I rapped my knuckles on the arm of the chair and she looked up.

Indicating a spot directly in front of my chair, I spoke softly, “Come here.”

She got up and came over.

I leaned back into the chair, “Lift your skirt.”

October 28, 2011

Batgurl - Flash Fiction Friday

(Source image: "Battire" by Gernot)
Nickie arrived at the party and quickly moved through the crowd, accepting the obligatory greetings. There was no recognition, just kissed cheeks and hugs given anonymously with a sweet smile and soft giggle.  A quickly grabbed drink and it was off to the tenebrous balcony.

On the balcony Nickie relaxed, fussing at the stockings, removing the cloak, adjusting the arm-wing stockings. After the costume adjusting and tucking Nickie looked inside and saw that Mark had arrived and was working through the crowd toward the balcony. Nickie leaned back against the pillar, stretched out, seductively lithe, sharply pointed toes, fingers outstretched.

Mark had seen Nick in stockings before but the recently acquired implants would make this dark spooky encounter freakishly erotic.

The Happy Halloween challenge is to use the picture above to write a spooky flash fiction of 80-120 words. I would also like you to please use this H.P. Lovecraft word in your submission: "...tenebrous..."

October 21, 2011

Red - Flash Fiction Friday

(Source image: unknown title by
Beau Monde; website link broken)

Like so many times before, she sat intent on his voice, "Ten." All tangled up in herself, legs clenched, “Nine.” Breasts squeezed tightly, wrapped in the deepness of his voice, "Eight." Her stomach in a knot, cramping, “Seven.”
Growling, tossing the headphones aside, still hearing his commands, “Six.” His voice taunting her, hyper-attuned, each breath twisting her arousal tighter, “Five.” Fire burning, hot, damp, nipples throbbing, aching, “Four.” 
Yanking the headphone jack out, still hearing, “Three.” Her fingers plugging her ears, shaking her head, ”Two.” Her legs twisted, burning thighs, suddenly in pained delight, ready, “One.” Then, “Now!!”

Your challenge is to use the picture to write a flash fiction of 38-98 words. I would also like you to please use this phrase in your submission: "...pained delight..."

Click here for FFF Details

October 14, 2011

Pranayam - Flash Fiction Friday

(Source image: "Framed"
by Marcus J Ranum)
She slowly pushed her chair back from the desk where she had been quietly reading her email. As she clicked the program closed she muttered, “Crap.”

 She got up from the desk, moved her yoga mat to the middle of the room and began undressing. She got down on the mat and assumed the kneeling position. She started doing her breathing exercises to clear her mind, humming softly, uttering a barely audible recitation of her mantra.

 This was typically her pre-sex relaxation routine, to center herself and release tension. I was perplexed and confused, and asked, “What?”

 Looking back over her shoulder, stretching, eyes down, she said solemnly, "I Lost The Game".

Click here for FFF Details
Your challenge is to use the supplied picture and write a flash fiction of 80-112 words. Rather than use a word prompt this week, I would like you to include the emotion of "calm" somewhere in your piece.

October 10, 2011

e[lust] edition #30

Welcome to e[lust] - Your source for sexual intelligence and inspirations of lust from the smartest & sexiest bloggers! Whether you’re looking for hot steamy smut, thought-provoking opinions or expert information, you’re going to find it here. Want to be included in e[lust] #31? Start with the rules, check out the schedule and subscribe to the RSS feed for updates!

Read more . . .

October 7, 2011

Wallpaper - Flash Fiction Friday

(Source image by Vlad Gansovsky, title unknown)

“Good, you’re back, I've been thinking about paint colors. What did you get at the hardware store? ”

 "Brushes, roller pads, drop cloths and stir sticks, stuff we'll need for painting."

 And to himself, "and a stiff stick for 
hot young brunette I talked to there." 

 "I've been thinking the fireplace wall will look better with wallpaper. Something that will offset the light fixtures, the mantle and the mirror."

 He looked in the mirror imagining the brunette 
 standing in front of him removing her sundress. 
 Pulling the straps down off her shoulder, it slides 
 off her hips, crumpling into a puddle at her feet. 

 “We took the wallpaper off that wall last year. Now we want to put wallpaper up again? What about this garish wallpaper behind us?"

 “Yes, I think we need to take down this old wallpaper and paint the wall. We need something around the fireplace to wake up that wall.”

 The only thing waking up for him was 
 a fantasy of that brunette straddling his 
thighs, slipping herself down onto him. 

 ”Maybe you're right.”

“I’m glad you agree.”

 He settled back, imagining her hand at 
 his throat, leaned in against his chest, 
 enthusiastically rolling her hips. 

 "Oh, yes, it's good."

Click here for FFF Details
Your challenge is to use the picture above to write a flash fiction of 78-208 words. 
I would also like you to please use this phrase in your submission: "...enthusiastically..."

September 24, 2011


I am a tall man, maybe what some would call a big man, and through a practiced demeanor, very immune to the likelihood of being bullied by others. However, growing up I was lanky, and awkward, lacking in social skills, even shy and reserved. Because of that I was subject to negative attention from others who found in me an opportunity to exert their power over someone else. I hesitate to call it bullying because I do not want to co-opt the sense of helplessness so many young people must feel when they are singled out by others and treated badly.

Over the past couple years I have followed this issue of bullying in the various media and come to recognize it for what it is. I have my notions about what it’s origins likely are and see that those origins are not an excuse, and are not permission, to treat others badly.

A friend recently posted the following remarks on her Facebook page and I wanted to give her thoughts an additional venue and add my voice to it.

That girl you just called fat? She's overdosing on diet pills.

The boy you just tripped? He is abused enough at home.

That girl you just called ugly? She spends hours putting makeup on hoping people will like her.

That man with the ugly scars? He fought for his country.

That guy you just made fun of for crying? His mother is dying.

As a dominant man (not that dominance has anything to do with it really), I am ashamed of the way so many people treat others but feel a sense of powerlessness to do anything about it, I really have no solution. I can be an example and I can step in if I witness that kind of behavior and I can speak up when I have the opportunity. I am taking this opportunity.

I suspect I am preaching to the choir here, but perhaps something here will affect someone somewhere and it will have made a difference. I hope so.

September 16, 2011

Gypsy Girl - Flash Fiction Friday

She was a hot blooded gypsy girl in a full skirt and peasant blouse, with an ample load of breasts and dark perky nipples.

Kissing her roughly, I walked her back against the counter. Working my knee in I spread her thighs open, kissing down her neck and shoulder. I could feel her damp heat on my leg as I laid her back onto the counter, wide open and panting in the heat of the moment.

Lifting her knees, her skirt slid up even further. I slipping down to my knees, hooking her legs over my shoulders. Pressing my mouth against her innermost thigh, I heard the mixed cries of ecstasy and anguish as I bit into her femoral artery and began to feed.

Click for details on FFF

The challenge for this Friday is to write a flash fiction of exactly 124 words, incorporating the required word, "load".

September 14, 2011

Blithely Sauntering

The Consensual Stalker

He had known it was her habit to spend Friday mornings on a number of errands, generally wrapping a half days worth of activities into one outing. There was the early morning or noon-time yoga class, or a nice quiet coffee shoppe with excellent java and free wifi, or occasionally, just wandering the streets shopping, mostly for clothing, retail therapy she called it. Today was early yoga, and then coffee and a muffin, and now, she was slowly sauntered down the street, peeking in store windows, almost dreamy looking. She had a bounce to her step, occasionally moving to the beat of the music from her ever-present clip-on iPod Shuffle, he imagined.

She half concentrated on the stores but was periodically preoccupied with her phone, either texting or tweeting, but not talking. At times she’d stop and lean against a store front, rapt attention on the small screen, and suddenly burst out laughing, and then look around, self conscious. She wondered if people were looking at her, hoping they might be, and that they might be wondering what she found so laughable.

The day had started when he followed her from her home, across town, and out to the yoga parlor. After she parked and went inside, he went to the cafe across the street, found a window table and had a light breakfast and coffee. Then he leaned back, listened to his book, and waited. As she left the yoga class, he noticed she had changed into the lovely shape hugging, lightweight pink sheath dress, perfect for pulling off and on while shopping. He hoped so, he was looking forward to the idea of a day of watching her pop in and out of stores, knowing how dearly she loved her shopping excursions. He smiled in anticipation of a joyful day of observation, perhaps some embarrassment, a little humiliation and pleasure, certainly a bit of sexuality and excitement.

He watched her come across the street, walk into the cafe, and order coffee and a giant chocolate muffin. She went and sat at a table in the back seating area, waiting for the server to deliver her heated muffin.

He was positioned where he could see her reflection in the window while he appeared to be looking out onto the street. She pulled out her little laptop computer and busied herself with the Internet. The muffin arrived and she divided her time between eating and something on the computer. She busied herself with typing and he wondered if she was writing another story for her blog, she seemed more engaged than simple email or messaging.

After eating her muffin, and drinking a second cup of coffee, she packed her things, got up and headed out to the parking area beside the yoga parlor and got into her car. He got up, walked out after her, climbing into his large black sedan parked at the curb. He started the engine and waited to follow her when she pulled out. As she pulled out, he made a wide U-turn and settled in behind her, heading back toward the downtown shopping area. She looked in her rear view mirror periodically but of course wouldn’t recognize his car, having only seen it the once before, long ago. And that was only a slight image in her rear view mirror at the building supply store.

He followed her back into the downtown area where she pulled into a parking garage. He drove past the parking structure entrance to the end of the block and made another U-turn. He found a parking space beside the parking garage she had pulled into. He remained in the car as she walked out of the garage and headed toward the boulevard shops. After she passed by he got out of the car, crossed the street and took position in the doorway to an office building. From there he watched her as she slowly sauntered down the street, glancing in store windows. When she was half way down the block he opened his Blackberry and sent a text message, “How are you today? Out shopping?”

She replied, “Yes, just started. Went to yoga, then breakfast. Now I’m shopping, you?”

“Yes, I am out today too, enjoying the scenery.”

Reflexively she looked around but in the dark shadows of the doorway, looking through two panes of storefront glass it was unlikely she’d see him.

He sent back a text, “Enjoy your shopping. Buy yourself something nice. Hugs.”

He received her response, “Thanks. Hugs back.”

She put her phone back into her purse and resumed looking at shop windows. He stepped out of the shadows and walked down the sidewalk to the next corner. He leaned against the light pole and watched her as she went from store to store. From time to time she would do a little shuffle dance step or two, clearly enjoying her music. She had always preferred the little Shuffle in lieu of the MP3 player built into her phone, ‘it is so small and cute and easy, the phone is so bulky.’

He decided to give this some more time. He walked further down the street and went into the fountain shop. He got an iced tea, selecting a seat at one of the small window side tables. Sometimes she would pause and look over all the items on display, at other stores she would just slow slightly and glance at the window as she passed by. However, at every clothing store she would thoroughly examine the windows offerings and usually head inside.

After nearly an hour had passed, he pulled out his Blackberry again and composed a text. “Still out shopping? Did you buy anything interesting?”

“Yes still shopping but haven’t found anything I want yet.”

“What did you decide to wear today?”

“Sweat suit earlier, for yoga. Warmer now, changed to a dress, simple sheath, easy to pull off or up in a dressing room.”

“What else?”

“Simple strap sandals.”

“Yes? What else?”

There was a long pause and then, no response. He smiled to himself, imagining, wondering if she was busy with something and not able to reply immediately, or if, more likely, she was reluctant to respond any further. As he sat there looking at the screen, waiting for a response, his attention was captured by movement across the street. He looked up and saw her coming out of the dress shop, phone in her hand, looking around.

Grinning, he typed again, “What else!”

She stared at the phone, looked left and then right, and then back at the phone, and tapped a reply, “panties”.

Even from a distance across the street he could see that she had not worn a bra, but asked anyway, “Panties and a bra?”

Again, she was reluctant to respond, but eventually said, “no, just panties, no bra.”

“Which panties?”

“The white gauzy boy shorts.”

He felt a tingle in his palms from the tactile memory of those white gauze boy shorts, his fingers flexed involuntarily.

“Mmm, my favorite, very nice.”

Again, she looked around. Clearly it seemed that she sensed from his text messages that he might be around, nearby. He was sure that she would not be able to see him through the tinted window of the fountain. As she stood there looking up and down the street he texted back, “Enjoy your shopping, I am sure you are drawing some very appreciative attention.”

Her curt response came back, “No. I’m not.”

“Well, I need to be on my way. Have a good afternoon sweetheart.”

Again, a short, matter of fact reply, “Okay, good bye. I am nearly done and will be heading home.”

“Bye bye.”

She dropped the phone down into her bag and headed down the street and disappeared into another shop.

He got up, refilled his glass and returned to his seat. It was a bright sunny day with a slight breeze and temperatures probably in the low 80’s, a perfect day to sit with a rich sweet tea and watch the world passing by. There was a lot of activity, a lot of shoppers and window shoppers out this morning. Everyone as dressed for a warm fall day, surely glad that the oppressive heat of summer was passing and autumn was on the way.

He looked at the time and was beginning to wonder if he had lost track of her. Perhaps she had left or moved on while he was refilling his tea, or when he’d gone to the restroom. He was considering sending another text message when suddenly she emerged from the original store with a heavily loaded shopping bag. She was headed back toward the parking garage. It seemed that her shopping adventure had borne fruit and was over. He dropped a tip on the table and stepped out onto the street. He followed her along on a parallel route from the opposite side of the street.

When she turned into the parking garage, he dodged between traffic and ran across the street. He did not want to lose track of her in the dark maze of stairs, parking levels and myriad cars. When he entered the structure she was just turning around the corner of the staircase to the second level. He entered the stairwell and followed.

As he got to the second floor landing he heard her above him opening the door to the third level. He paused a moment and then ran up the final flight of stairs. He twisted the door knob slowly, silently and opened it just slightly but could not see her, or anyone. He stuck his head out through the door and looked to the left, deeper into the structure and saw her walking down the aisle toward a bank of cars on the right side of the drive. He stepped out, crossed the driveway and proceeded along the bank of cars and saw her turn in beside her own. He was about a dozen cars away and needed to catch up before she got in.

From one car away, across a vacant parking stall, he saw that she was fumbling with her hand bag, the shopping bag and her keys unlocking the backseat door. As she put her bags into the back seat and slide the door closed he stepped up behind her.

He took hold of her upper left arm and grabbed the back of her neck, pushing her hard up against the side of the car. Leaning in close he spoke into her ear, “Be still” but she continued to struggle against his grip. Looking closer, he let go her left arm, pressed her against the car with his body and reached up and pulled the ear-bud out if her ear and repeated, “Be still.” She seemed to recognize his voice and calmed down, relaxing the fight-or-flight tension in her arms and legs and torso.

Continuing to hold tightly onto the back of her neck he reached around and pulled the ear-bud from her right ear as well. He ran his free hand along the side of her hip and upper thigh and felt the memory. He moved his hand down further and grabbed the material of the dress and struggled to pull it up.

After he got the hem of her dress up around her waist, he let go the material and moved his hand up to her breast. He cupped his hand up under her left breast and felt her warm softness contrasted by the stiff hardening of her nipple. Rolling it back and forth with his thumb and the side of his finger brought a soft murmur and groan, and even greater stiffness. He pinched down harder and twisted, and felt her body tense, and wilt slightly. He loved the warm feel of her body squirming against his.

He let go her nipple and took hold of her left wrist. He guided her hand down across her front, across her stomach and pushed it inside the elastic of her panties, then deeper down. He leaned in close to her ear and whispered, “Touch.”

He felt her hand moving, “Just touch, no rubbing. Curl your middle finger down and under.”

Still holding her wrist, he felt her fingers move. He deepened his voice even further, “Press with your finger, wiggle slightly, up and down. No friction. A very subtle movement.”

He could feel the tension in her stomach as she worked her finger slowly up and down. She was groaning and shifting and rocking in a thrusting motion.

Deep into her ear he said, “Restrain yourself, slow and easy.”

But she continued working her fingers, pushing her skin back and stroking lightly back and forth. She began spasmed repeatedly, like she was receiving little electrical shocks. Suddenly she was grunting and folding over at the waist, jerking and quivering.

He let go her neck and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her back against his body tightly and they both shook with her spasms. Eventually her breathing slowed and her tension relaxed.

He opened the door and nearly poured her into the drivers seat. She collapsed into the seat and leaned her head back against the head rest, eyes closed, seemingly ready to drop off to sleep.

He rolled the window down and closed the door, then leaned in through the opening. A slight smile spread across her face. He reached in and wrapped his hand around the back of her neck, pulled her head forward and gave her a long, deep kiss. Their tongues touched, teased each other and then he withdrew.

He ran his fingers through her hair and whispered, “Have a good afternoon sweet girl,” and turned and walked toward the stairwell.

September 11, 2011

08:46:30 - Ten Years Ago

Only Time - Enya
Footnote - May 1, 2011
I put this post together earlier in the year when I had rediscovered this recording. I remember thinking, this will be the ten year anniversary of 9/11 and so little has been resolved or done, and it saddened me.
Today, tonight, it was announced that Osama Bin Laden was found, and killed, evidently by a U.S. strike force.
A friend tweeted, "No cheers for murder. Of anyone. Ever." I agree with that wholeheartedly and am disheartened by the aggrandizing of so many over this; however:
The professed and confessed assassin of thousands of innocent people is gone, and I don't feel sad about that.

August 27, 2011

Meditative Head Space

While reading some discussions on FetLife I came across a description of a state of mind that transported me back over 30+ years in time. A woman was discussing a condition where she was present in the moment but “separate” from the activities going on around her. It does not seem like an out of the body experience, or even that thing that many refer to as “sub space” (more on that later). Here is a link to the FetLife discussion - Mental relating to Physical... where you can read her full posting and all of the various comments by others.

I am sub-setting the conversation for those who do not FetLife, and in the likely case that the discussion might disappear or be archived at some point in the future.
Mental relating to Physical...
by MasterCharles_pet - August 17, 2011
"Just recently, I met my Master and sister slave for the first time. They came to determine if We Together, which, I am proud to say, We did."

"Something happened that I wanted to share, and see if anyone else has had a similar experience... "
"After a very physical session...well, as physical as One can get in a motel room...I felt myself seem to go into a state very very similar to subspace... I got totally quiet...eyes closed and deep within myself... I could hear Master and donna talking, but it was as if I was removed from the situation... though physically, I could not have been closer to Master, my entire body touching His. I could not answer questions .... until I was "Brought around" by Master asking if I were alright. I wanted to explain to Him that I was much, much better than simply alright...that I felt almost euphoric. That was not the worst beating I have ever been through...far from it... but it seemed so amazingly intimate, as if I gave myself over to Him..."
- - snip - -
"What I feel is that I have learned an introspective skill...where I can actually disappear inside myself, and there keep the joy and hope I have found in being a slave to a Master... and it is hypnotic, calming, possessed... I wish I could share this ability with my sister slaves, friends etc., so they could let themselves go and retreat inside themselves this way."
There follows comments and discussion, and then she adds:
"Understand what everyone is saying....and yes, perhaps it is...simple enough to be defined as subspace.... but I have been there too...and it was brought on during a mind intentional act....this was more like a dream, less physical...less a loss of control, and more a deliberate...escape. If it were subspace, I would have recognized it as such, and hardly needed to expound upon it. This was more of a meditative, introspective state...not brought on by pain, or confusion....but brought on by a need to remain...intact."

As I said, I was particularly impressed with the "altered" state of mind she discusses. I understand her distinction between this meditative state of mind,and what she knows as sub space.

Many years ago, I was in the Galleria, in Houston, Texas, where I was living. I was standing at the railing on the top level, looking down into the open spaces below. It was a weekday afternoon, not particularly busy or crowded, but there was a steady flow of people around and the attendant background noise you would expect from such a shopping crowd. I was leaning my arms on the top of the railing and had a foot resting on the lower bar of the railing.

As I stood there I “de-focused” my eyes and let my mind break concentration from specifics. I felt myself shift into a state of mind where it was if everything going on around me was a cloud. Not a series of distinct and individual occurrences but a greater mass. Hearing everything going on, I remember the thought coming into my mind, “This is the noise that humans makes.”

This feeling lasted for a short period of time, probably less than 5 minutes, although I was not sure how much time had really passed. It was very much like she talked about above, “ it was as if I was removed from the situation”.

From my own perspective, this state of mind was not unexpected. I had been reading “The Teachings of Don Juan” by Carlos Castaneda, and other books in the series. In his writings he talks about the concept of “stopping the world”. Which I see as stopping your participation in the world, disconnecting from active or passive involvement from the goings on around you and being apart and separate from everything while being thoroughly in the midst of it all. (For more depth you might want to read the Introduction at Carlos Castaneda's Don Juan's Teachings).

So, it was something that I had been thinking about and in the de-focusing and clearing of my mind, I had actually hoped for such a state to be induced. After a few minutes the feeling cleared and I was back in the present moment, in the midst of a mid afternoon crowd of shoppers.

The similarities of these two events and the various notions of sub space have caused me to wonder about methods for reaching meditative states.

Have any readers had a “sub space” experience similar to the one reported above, something that went beyond what we collectively think of as sub space? What was it like and how was it different? Have others found that sub space functions as a state of mind that leads to a deeper or different meditative state? How, if at all, has it affected your submission?

I am also curious if anyone was a reader/follower of Castaneda and his books about his adventures with the Yaqui Indians, or might have practiced/attempted any of the mental states he discusses in his books?

July 5, 2011

Agnes's Birthday

Continued from here

Frederick picked up the phone and called to make reservations for the evening. The phone rang several times and continued to ring, not even rolling over to an answering machine. He double checked the time on his watch, surprised there was no answer. Finally he hung up and turned to the keyboard to set a reminder to call again in a half hour and put his attention on applying the first coat of wax on his boots. As he was working the soft warm wax into the leather he thought about his plans for the evening and wondered how Agnes would fair. He recalled how startled she had been the first time they went to Patrick’s establishment. Her apprehension over the attention she drew from the other men in the bar, her obvious jealousy over the affection displayed by Gretchen and her strict familial influences when it came to things like the water pipe and hashish. She had certainly relaxed over the past months but just as she had bristled at previous exposures to more base proclivities, she was going to be challenged again tonight.

After applying wax to both boots he again sat them in front of the window so that the heat of the sun would soften and open the leather and help it to absorb the wax. It was still too early to call about reservations so he went to the bedroom and pulled the footlocker out from under the bed and set it on the bed bench. He carefully inventoried the various implements to be sure he had all he would be needing. He took out two riding crops, a quirt and a very old tawse, all to be cleaned and treated.

As he was coming out of the bedroom the computer chimed it’s reminder and he called again to make arrangements for the night. They answered this time and he set a reservation for a party of three in the back dining room for 8:15. He inquired to be sure they had a particular Riesling d'Alsace and was assured that it be cooled and waiting. He asked the hostess if she would be sure to pass along the reservation time to Patrick and she assured him that she would.

Frederick realized he had only given Agnes the sketchiest background on the plans for the evening. But that was just as well as he wanted her a bit off balance through the night. Well, not off balance but he did not want her distracted from the matters of the moment by anticipation of later planned events or concerns about things to come. Agnes could be such a worrier, her responses were more relaxed when she had no idea what was about to happen. He resolved to divert any questions about plans for the evening but he did need to call her and provide a few basic instructions.

When Agnes answered the phone, she sounded as if she had just woken up.

“Are you awake?” Frederick asked.

“Oh, yes. I had just dozed off here on the couch for a little bit. I was up very early this morning. I’m excited and looking forward to our date tonight. I wasn’t able to sleep for thinking about this evening. I also wanted to get a head start on my hair. It will take a lot of work to get it the way you want it.”

“I'm glad you are excited about the evening. But it is just dinner out, and then some music, perhaps some dancing.”

“Oh Frederick, you are always minimizing things. It is my birthday and I’m so excited. I remember your comments when we were shopping, about finding special events to show off my lovely new clothes. I’m sure tonight will be wonderful, it certainly will be for me. Maybe you don’t know how much I enjoy our time together?”

“I very much enjoy our time together as well, Agnes, more than you may know. Speaking of dresses, I wanted to be sure you were planning to wear the little black dress tonight?”

“I had not decided yet which of the three outfits to wear, that was part of my morning confusion.”

“Agnes, I want you to wear the little black dress, along with the matching stockings and lingerie we bought to go with it. Also, I want you to wear the black heels and the sliver necklace and earrings that match the outfit so well. You remember, the items I pointed out the other day when you were showing me the jewelry your mother had given you?”

“Okay, thank you, I think it will be a nice looking outfit. Although I do like the bright colored floral dress. And I’m not sure I have all the necessary matching underthings to go with the little black dress.”

“The black dress will be perfect for the occasion. You don’t have all of the things we bought to go with it?”

“Yes, I do Frederick. But, well, it is, the problem is, that not all of my usual underthings were included in the purchases.”

“Ahh, yes, I understand. Simply wear the black dress and the matching items we got to go with it. You don’t need to wear anything else.”

“Okay Frederick. You know I will be uncomfortable dressed that way?”

“Yes, I understand you will Agnes.”

Alright Frederick, I will trust your judgement. The little black dress it is.”

“Good girl.”

Frederick was grinning to himself, knowing that she would find the dress code a little challenging, and recognizing her penchant for worry and over analysis of events. But in the past couple months, she had improved quite a bit and now took most things in stride, particularly when he set out specifics. He noticed she had come to trust in his judgement, knowing that while he offered challenges, he always had the situation well in hand and thought through.

“Is there anything else on your mind that we need to talk about Agnes?”

“I don’t think so, unless you want to tell me your plans for the evening?”

Frederick smiled to himself and with a chuckle in his voice said, “I will come around to pick you up at 7:30. I’m looking forward to this evening.”

With just a little disappointment sounding in her voice she said,“Me too Frederick, very much so. I am sure I will have a good time.”

“I am sure you will Agnes. Good bye for now, I will see you at 7:30.”

“Okay Frederick, thank you.”

Frederick hung up the phone and turned his attention to the cleaning and polishing of the leather goods he had brought out. After he finished with the leather cleaner he put a hefty coat of creme onto the leather of each piece and placed them in the window with his boots, to let them warm and absorb the moisture.

After putting everything away Frederick realized it was lunch time. He made himself a hefty pocket bread sandwich and a bowl of fruit and yogurt. He was excited about the upcoming evening, Agnes’s birthday, and the potentials he had in mind for the night.

As he was cleaning up from lunch the phone rang. It was Patrick, calling to check on the plans for the evening. Frederick confirmed the reservation time and agreed to Patrick’s plans. He said he would see him at dinner and was looking forward to introducing him to Agnes.

Phone call completed and dishes put away, Frederick turned his attention to his desk and several business matters that were begging his attention. He made several calls to business associates, planned some meetings for the upcoming week or two, and settled down to write a business plan for his most recent venture. His mind was swept away into capitalistic schemes, and organizational structure, planning tactics and counter moves. The afternoon slipped away and before he knew it the day light was fading and he realized it was time to put the work aside and get ready for the evening.

Frederick dialed Agnes’s number but it rang through and the call was picked up by the answering machine. Just as he was leaving her a message to call him back she picked up the phone. “Hello?”

“It’s Frederick, I was just calling to be sure everything is okay for this evening?”

“Oh, yes sir, everything is just fine. I was just getting out of the shower and could not get to the phone quickly enough.”

“Okay, very good. I’ll see you at 7:30.”

“Okay Frederick, goodbye.”

Frederick picked up the leather implements and placed them on the coffee table between the couches. He spent a little time arranging and re-arranging them until he had them just as he wished, looking like they were just casually there even though he had meticulously arranged them. He picked up his boots, took them into the bedroom and placed them at the foot of the bed and undressed to take his shower and get ready.

After his shower he shaved and put on a sparing amount of aftershave. The alcohol in the lotion stung. He combed his hair, brushed his teeth, hung up the damp towel and headed to the closet to pick out his clothes for the evening. He pulled out and pulled on a pair of dark charcoal hard wool slacks. He wound a wide black leather belt through the loops and put on a starched light yellow collar-less shirt, tucked it in, zipped up and buttoned his slacks and buckled the belt.

He went over and sat down on the bed bench and slipped one foot, and then the next into his boots and worked the laces through the eyelets and around the hooks. He cinching them up snugly, buried the tag ends of the laces into the folds of the boot top and pulled his pant cuffs down over the boots. He stood and went to the wall mirror to straighten his clothes. He loosened his belt buckle and adjusted his gig line until it was perfectly aligned, and then buckled the belt again. He went and pulled a blazer out of the closet, slipped it on and stood in front of the mirror again to assess the combination. Satisfied, he went to the dresser and collected his money and wallet and keys, and loaded his pockets. He took off the jacket and draped it over the back of the dressing chair and went to the living room to sit down and relax for a while.

He sat looking out the window as the night sky darken and the horizon lost all light. He was startled when the buzzer rang. He looked down to the street and saw that the car had arrived. He went and got his jacket, laid it over his arm and headed down to meet the driver.

He greeted the driver and let himself be ushered into the backseat of the car. He reminded him that he needed to stop at the small flower shop around the corner, and the car pulled away. They drove down the street and around the corner and pulled up in front of the florist. Frederick stepped out and went and collected the rose buds he had ordered. He got back into the car and they drove off toward Agnes’s apartment. He sorted through the roses and found the best bud of the bunch and sat it on the seat.

When the car pulled up in front of Agnes’s building Frederick picked up the rose bud, climbed out of the car and left the back door open. He walked up the stairs, rang the bell and Agnes opened the door. Frederick was startled by how lovely she looked. Her hair hung down exactly as he had hoped it would, partly down over her shoulders and partly down the front of her dress. He stepped around her into the apartment and then turned to look at her more completely.

She was wearing the little black dress and it fit her perfectly. It came just a third of the way down her thighs, short by some standards but that was precisely as he wanted it. The dress just covered the tops of the dark thigh high stockings and the black high heels finished off the outfit perfectly.

“You look absolutely gorgeous young lady!”

Agnes acted coy and shy but said, “Well thank you, very much. I feel very dressed up in all of this. It’s not something I would normally wear on my own but I love how it feels and I love that you chose it for me.”

Frederick stepped forward and reached for the slit at the front of the dress, slipping his hand inside and lightly brushing her skin of her breast with the backs of his knuckles. He pulling the dress out slightly and worked at pinning the rose on above her left breast. He could see her shiver and shake just slightly at his touch. She involuntarily pulled away just a bit at first, but settled herself and let him proceed with pinning the rose on. He loved how her skin felt against the back of his hand and her shivered reaction. That, and the combination of the scent of the rose and her perfume were working their magic on him and he felt a little more than slightly aroused.

He stepped back and looked at her again, rose bud in place and smiled a broad smile. “You look absolutely lovely! Are you ready to go?”

“Yes, I think so, although I couldn’t decide which handbag to use with this outfit.”

Frederick smiled and said, “You won’t need a handbag this evening Agnes. Give me your keys and what ever else you need to bring along and I’ll put them in my coat pockets.”

Agnes went to a little side table and picked up keys, and a lipstick and a compact and handed them to Frederick. He put them into various pockets of his jacket.

“There. Is there anything else?”

“No, that is it. I’m ready to go.”

Frederick took hold of Agnes’s wrist and walked her out the door, down the stairs and ushered her into the back seat of the car. He noticed the look of surprise on her face when she saw the a car, with a driver, sitting in front of her building, waiting for her. He closed the door and walked around to the other side of the car, opened the door and slide in. He picked up the bundle of roses from seat and set them on the back package tray, “These are for the table at dinner.”

Agnes was very quiet, but then managed a soft, “This is really something Frederick, I was fully expecting to be walking to dinner. It’s such a lovely night out, I thought you might enjoy the outing. But I’m grateful, I was worried about too much walking in these heels.”

They both laughed and Frederick said, “It’s your birthday and a special night, so special arrangements are appropriate.”

Agnes turned and looked out the car window as it snaked it’s way through the streets and very shortly pulled up in front of the restaurant. Seeing that they arrived, she reached for the door handle and started to open the door to get out. Frederick put his hand on her arm and shook his head. She stopped and waited for him to get out of the car and come around and open her door. He reached down and offered his hand as she swung her legs out and onto the ground. He looked down and saw just how far up the dress rode when she was sitting and how lovely her legs looked. She took his hand and pulled herself up out of the car, also noticing how Frederick was staring at her. As she stood up, she consciously pulled down on the hem of the dress.

Frederick leaned in and picked up the roses. He told the driver that he would call when they were ready to be move on to their next destination, estimating it would be at least two hours from now. He pushed the door closed and the car pulled away. Frederick took hold of Agnes’s arm and guided her across the sidewalk, through the door and into the restaurant. As they walked into the foyer, Frederick greeted the people in front of him.

“Good evening, Frederick party, we have a reservation for dinner.” The maitre d' looked down at his list and then back at Frederick and said, “Party of three?” Frederick said, “Yes, but only two of us are here now. We can be seated, we don’t need to wait.”

And then . . .

June 9, 2011

May 22, 2011

The Path

We walked along the path, winding, meandering between very mature trees and overgrown bushes, heading nowhere in particular, just forward. We held hands, fingers interlaced, curled between each others. Further along, the undergrowth became more dense and I let go of your hand and placed my arm around your waist, and yours slipped up around mine as well. We walked on deeper and deeper into the dark overgrown underbrush and the overshadowing canopy of the old trees, now nearly blocking the sunlight, there were barely shadows. I slid my hand up your back, between your shoulder blades and up onto your shoulder, hooking my fingers around the point of your shoulder and pulling you closer to me and your hand moved further around the outside of my waist, your thumb hooked into my belt band. The path slanted downward, a slight but constant downhill grade and the umbrella of the trees was even thicker and the underbrush intruded onto the path, brushing against our legs and our sides, making the path narrower, pushing us closer to each other. As we were encouraged closer by the narrowing trail I moved my hand from your shoulder to the back of your neck, thumb on one side, fingers wrapped around to the other side, and my grip tightened. I could feel your muscles tense against the pressure and I squeezed your neck even tighter, moving my hand and fingers up under your hair, tangling and twisting strands between my fingers. Deeper and deeper into the darkness of the overshadowing trees and the infringing closeness of the bushes, the path inclined even more and now less winding, led down off in the distance, into the darker, denser undergrowth. When we rounded a slight bend the path widened and was braced by long stone benches on either side and the surface tilted off to either side and we moved instinctively toward a bench. Your leg bumped against the side of the bench, you knelt one knee onto the seat and the weight of my body pushed you down, leaning forward so that you had to brace yourself with your hand. I pushed down on you even harder, bending you down further until your forehead was also on the surface of the bench. With your arms on the bench you tried to push back up, out from under my weight but I leaned down more heavily, my body pressing against your back. Attempting to avoid me, you slid partially off of the bench but the edge pressed across your thigh at the hip. The sun was fading from the sky and the heavy overgrowth of the trees nearly blocked all of the daylight, the darkness of evening flowing in between the branches and through the bushes. Squirming, you tried sliding off the bench, trying to escape by curling into a fetal position to protect yourself but instead the hard edge cut deeper into your thigh, trapped between the edge of the bench and the full weight of my body pressing down onto your back. Then as the sun dropped behind the horizon, the darkness settled down completely. I moved my mouth from the back of your neck, over your ear, my full weight down on you. Unable to see in the growing darkness, my hand moved to the back of your neck, I felt my way to you, fully engaged, in the total darkness.

May 2, 2011

Frederick - Shopping

Continued from here

It was still just early morning but Frederick pulled his boots out of the closet to polish them for the evening. He also checked his pants and shirts to be sure everything was back from the cleaners and fresh. Tonight he would dress up and take Agnes out on the town for dinner and then some entertainment. He collected the boot black and cloths and water. He gathered some old newspapers to spread out to minimize the mess and protect his documents. He set up his work space and his mind began ruminating over his involvement with Agnes over the past couple of months.

While working on the boots he glanced over his journal notes for several of their “dates”. And he did consider them dates. It was an interesting courtship if that is what it was. Most of his relationships had been intense from the very start for an extended period of time, but he felt very much like he was courting Agnes, slow and deliberate, methodical and filled with feints within feints. She was so much younger and unfamiliar with his more mature and formal style. So he always felt he was presenting himself and she needed to be reminded on a regular basis of the structure of their relationship. He knew she was playing coy with him at times and teasing along, two steps forward, one step back, or to the side. He did not think they were deliberate ploys but maybe deflections borne from uncertainty.

He loved the sensuality of rubbing and working boot cream into the deep black leather, making swirls, building up depth and thickness. He worked meticulously, being sure to get the cream up under the various buckles. Once he finished working the cream into the leather he would let it sit so the leather would absorb the moisturizing cream. Later he would buff off the patina and add layers of warm soft wax.

He recalled a couple weeks ago, while walking down the street Agnes had been captivated by the dress and women’s wear shops, stopping and looking in all the windows. She stared in ecstatic wonder at the treasures in the shop windows. ‘Window shopping’ she called it but Frederick felt differently about it. In his mind, if you were going shopping you decided what you were looking for and went to a shop that would offer what you wanted and bought it. He recognized that his more direct approach was considerably different than hers. He was not sure whether it was really their different ages and life experiences, or if it was just a fundamental difference. The results of their shopping trip that afternoon helped to resolve the contradiction in his mind.

Frederick began making note of the particular clothing styles that seemed to catch her interest. When they came to the street corner he grabbed Agnes’s elbow and turned her to the right to cross the street, even though she had just then been turning the corner to go left. She followed along passively looking back over her shoulder, perhaps thinking about what she might have missed rather than really watching where they were going. A few doors down Frederick turned her into the entrance to a particular shop. Agnes turned to him and smiled, “Oh, look at the lovely dresses in these windows. I really do like the looks of these.”

Frederick smiled to himself, happy that he had interpreted her window shopping correctly. “Shall we go in and have a look around?”

“Oh, yes, I would like that. Yes, please.”

They walked past the foyer windows and on into the shop. They were greeted by two young sales girls and one of them addressed Frederick. “Good afternoon Sir. It is very nice to see you again. It has been a long while since you have been in.” They were both beaming, and Frederick could feel the slightest tug on his arm as Agnes recoiled back just a bit.

“Good afternoon ladies, I am happy to see you again. We are on a mission today to find the perfect dress. A dress to be worn to a very special dinner and night on the town; a dress that will show this lovely girl in all of her splendor. This is Agnes and I would appreciate you showing her your best offerings. Make no assumptions and show her a number of choices. Stir her imagination and find something to accentuate her beauty.”

The two girls smiled enthusiastically, came forward and each took hold of one of Agnes’s elbows and led her toward the racks. Agnes cast a questioning glance back at Frederick and he smiled, nodding his head in approval, encouraging her with a gesture to go ahead with the girls and see what they produced. Frederick followed along to the open space near the changing rooms and said, “I will sit here and enjoy the show. When you find a few appropriate dresses, Agnes can go and try them on and let me see how they look on her.”

Frederick found a leather wing backed chair and settled himself down. The three girls had gone off into the racks of clothing and he could just barely hear their titters now and then, punctuated by the occasional giggle or burst of laughter. After a few minutes they emerged from the racks and each of the girls were carrying several dresses and skirt/jacket outfits. Agnes followed along behind and as the girls stood in front of Frederick she stepped up and said, “Which of these do you like?”

“On the hangers they are just colorful pieces of cloth and I can’t decide anything other than perhaps I might favor a color or general cut. I need you to give them shape and life, show me how they take form when you put them on. Take them into the dressing room and try them on. If you like how they feel on you and look in the changing mirror, then come out and show me.”

“Which ones should I take?”

“Take all of them.”

And with that, the girls headed off toward the changing rooms with their collections. Agnes held back and looked at Frederick. Frederick smiled at her and gestured for her to “go, go, go on go” and she reluctantly followed along and disappeared into the dressing room maze. Once again there was the occasional giggle and laughter. Shortly, Agnes came out wearing a very nice floral patterned summer dress and stood in front of Frederick, hands crossed in front of herself, very tentative. Frederick noticed she had no shoes on and said, “Stand on the balls of your feet, as if you had on a pair of heels. Turn around and show off the dress.”

Agnes got up on her toes and took several steps and turned in a small circle, making the skirt of the dress billow and flow out. Quickly she seemed to lighten up and brighten up and fell into the playfulness of a little girl in a pretty new dress. After two circles and a slight spin, she stopped again in front of Frederick and said, “What do you think?”

“It is a very pretty dress but I am sure there are many more to try on and model. Set this one aside on a ‘possible’ hook and pick another for me to see. Later we will trim down the possibles.” Agnes grinned and disappeared back into the dressing room.

In a couple of minutes she came back out wearing another dress, similar to the first but in a bright solid color, not a floral pattern. One of the sales girls came out with her and walked over and stood beside Frederick’s chair. Frederick gestured up with the palm of his hand (up on your toes) and then spun his finger around (spin around and show me), and Agnes moved as instructed. Once again she finished, standing in front of Frederick with the obvious question on her face. He shrugged his shoulders and shook his head. She nodded her agreement and headed back to the dressing room.

The sales girl knelt down beside Frederick, put her hand on his forearm on the arm of the chair. Leaning in, she whispered, “She is a very pretty girl Sir, with a lovely figure. It is easy to see why you fancy her.”

“Thank you Camille. I agree completely. She is new to Paris and in need of a friend. I am happy to befriend her and help her in any way that I can.”

Camille chuckled as she stood up to head back to the dressing room, “Yes, of course Sir. Your friendship is very generous and appreciated, I am sure.”

She gave him a wry smile and disappeared behind the curtain.

Again there was much laughter and giggling from the changing room area and Frederick began to wonder if they had become derailed from the dressing process. Then finally there was quiet and a couple minutes later Agnes emerged again.

This time she was wearing a blazer and skirt combination. It seemed particularly provocative because she had no blouse on under the buttoned up jacket. The outfit was even more appealing because of the way her calves were accentuated by the tip-toeing and the skirt was mid thigh, with broad pleats. It was a medium charcoal gray that went nicely with the dark blue of the blazer; very classic looking. Agnes did her tip toe, spin around, flare and twirl showoff routine and landed fore-square in front of Frederick again smiling broadly.

He looked the outfit up and down and with a broad smile, nodded his approval. Agnes smiled back and turned and ran back into the changing room and there was the familiar giggling again.

Over the next half hour Agnes came and went several times with a variety of different styles and shapes and colors. Frederick made a mental note of a couple of his favorites and was keeping track of the ones that Agnes said she liked as well.

Finally, Agnes came out in a little black dress that immediately caught Frederick’s attention. It was shaped in a way that highlighted all of the strong features of Agnes’s figure. It had a nice trim waist, slightly flared at the hips, three quarter sleeves and high neck line but with a slit that exposed a good deal of cleavage in a provocative and immodest way. The length was shorter than many of the others, showing not only her lovely calves but the musculature of the backs of her thighs. Frederick was particularly fond of Agnes’s legs, not too thin, muscular and strong without being bulky, ‘swimmers legs’ was the description he had heard that seemed perfect to him. The dress was immediately slotted at the top of his favorites list.

After Agnes modeled the little black dress she stood before him with a sad face and said, “I have run out of selections to show you.”

“Have you found something that appeals to you?”

“Oh, yes, I have, yes.”

“Why don’t you go back and change into your own dress and send Darlene out here. Camille can help you change and gather your things.”

Agnes disappeared and Darlene emerged. “Darlene, please hang everything we have tried on today on a small rack and bring it back out here. Also, discreetly gather her measurements and sizes for lingerie.Thank you.”

Darlene walked over close to Frederick and squatted down in front of him and spoke softly.

“Certainly, Mr. Frederick. It is wonderful to see you again. It has been a long time. I have missed you.”

He reached out and took hold of her hand and pulled her up, “It is good to see you too, Darlene.”

They smiled warmly at each other, she rose and turned and went back to the changing room.

When Agnes came back out she was in her old summer dress and sandals. She was accompanied by Camille. Darlene came out behind them with the rack and placed it in the middle of the floor. Frederick stood up and walked over to Agnes, took her hand and led her over to the rack. “Do you have a favorite among all of these?”

Agnes looked them over, reached out and touched one and said, “Yes, I do, this one.”

“That is a very nice dress, I like that one too.” He pulled the skirt and blazer out a bit and asked, “How about this?”

“Yes, I like that too, but think I prefer this other dress.”

Frederick reached into the rack again and pulled out the little black dress, “And this one?”

Agnes looked confused by his questioning, her smile was gone and she seemed to tense up, “That is nice too, but I really do like this one.” Again, indicating her first choice.

Frederick stepped closer and put his hand on her shoulder and pulled her to his side, “It is okay, I am not trying to change your mind or make you pick something you don’t want.”

He could see her visibly relax again. He pulled her even closer so she was standing side by side against him with his hand on the back of her neck. Frederick turned to the two girls and said, “We will take these three, the two dresses and the blazer outfit.”

Agnes pulled away a bit and said, “I can’t afford these dresses, Frederick. The one dress is within my range, but there is no way I can get all three of these outfits.”

“It is a treat from me Agnes. I brought you into this store and it is what I wanted to do. I also know your birthday is coming up very soon and so this is an early gift for you.”

Agnes threw her arms around his waist and hugged him. “Oh Frederick, thank you so much, but this is too much. These dresses are expensive. I can’t let you do this.”

Frederick smiled down at her and said, “You are very welcome and it is not a matter of you letting me do this or not. It is what I am doing. These will be nice additions to your wardrobe and will inspire me to find opportunities to show you off. I will be challenged to find outings which will befit you and these lovely outfits.”

Agnes hugged him tightly again and said softly, “Thank you so much Frederick. You are so good to me. I am a lucky girl, thank you.”

Frederick gestured to Camille to pull out and package up the three selections. He untangled himself from Agnes and said, “Agnes, go with Darlene, I think there are a couple more things that you will need to compliment these dresses. She knows what is needed and will help you.”

Frederick smiled at the recollection. it had been a fun afternoon; a great outing. He picked up one of his boots and pushed the shoe stretcher down into the toe, locked it in place and did the same with the other boot. With the leather stretched and formed he started vigorously brushing off the patina of the cream in preparation for applying the wax.

When he finished buffing the boots he picked up the bottles and cans and papers and tidied his desk. He set the boots in the sun to warm them in preparation for applying the wax. Looking at the time, he walked over and picked up the phone and called to make reservations for the evening.

Agnes reflects on the shopping trip

April 15, 2011

White Drape - Friday Flash Fiction

("White Drape" by Ricardo "r/ace" Acevedo)
"Sit down! No, not there. The chair against the wall."

Slowly, reluctantly, she stood up off the sofa and slid smoothly into the chair. Her nakedness was silhouetted in the gathering dark that shot odd shadows over the contours of her pale skin.

She just sat there staring up at him. He couldn’t tell if it was disdain or shame on her face. She just leered silently.

He walked over, snatched a corner of the chair’s covering and threw it. It landed half way across her body. Still she didn’t move or speak. He stood there, staring down, stoic. She continued her silent stare, but the corner of her mouth started to quiver just slightly.

He walked back across the room, picked up the control, pressed the Play button and said, “Just exactly who is this man?”

She adjusted her position but remained silent. She did not look at the scene, but tears began filling the corners of her eyes.

The challenge, use the picture above to write a flash fiction of 60-160 words, using the phrase "...the gathering dark..."

Click to learn about FFF
You can find links to all of the Friday Flash Fiction participants by scrolling down to the
bottom of the story at Insatiabear: A Panserbjørne's Musings or Erotic Flash Fiction.