All five senses

[dansemajik]

OOC: Enter, Jasmine, a woman of mystery, deep feelings, and of a gentle soul. She is forward thinking and doesn't take much shit. She does what she wants, and as long as she doesn't hurt anybody, whose business is it? She is of small stature, about 5'3" tall, 105 pounds, dark blonde hair, eyes the color of brushed steel, when she looks at you, you know it. Her eyes capture and cast spells...she is always looking for someone to become enraptured with her....

IC: The room is crowded. I am sitting at the bar, drinking my marguerita. I watch the dancers on the floor. The night is young, so they are still being careful with each other. Not enough to drink yet, and they are staying respectfully distant. Only touching by accident. Soon, the dance will become more base, and more sensual. I wait until that happens. Call me a voyeour if you will. When that happens, I will be on the dance floor, casting a spell of my own. I smile thinking of the games that will begin.

Suddenly I turn. I smell...aramis. I close my eyes and breathe deeply. My knees weak. I have to find the wearer of this cologne. Not a sexier cologne exists. Maybe, he will be my pet for the evening. or at least one of them..


OOC: Who wants to play five senses?

 

[sulamaire]

I had been looking for a present for a friend and decided to find something a little different in cologne. I sampled idly as the sales girl waited and made suggestions. She was attractive and very sure of herself, I noted. At last, I had selected one of the heavier ones, Aramis, I think and had it wrapped for later. It had been a long day and as I left the store I noticed a popular bar across the street and picked my way across the busy stree.

Now in the darkened bar, I strolled along the long row at the stand-up bar, backed with a series of rather roccoco Italianate mirrors, giving the whole place a rich heavy appearance. I was feeling slightly conspicuous, knowing that the sampling of colognes hung heavy over me.

In the dim light I nearly ran over a short blonde with her hip prettily jutting out into the aisle as she surveyed the scene.

"Excuse me, do you know where the rest rooms are?" I feigned a casual air as she turned and surveyed me in much the same way she had surveyed the entire room, taking me in from head to toe and back again, before condescending to reply.

[Edited by sulamaire on 09-08-2000 at 06:26 PM]

 

[dansemajik]

I heard the voice behind me. The aroma came from him. I turned when he asked me where the rest room was. I perused him from head to toe, taking in the jeans, the boots, the black leather jacket. My fingers idly sliding over my lips
the tip of my tongue sliding out unbidden to lick the tip of my finger. I finally met his eyes, with my my steely gray gaze. I leaned close to him, pressing my ample breast against his chest and I whispered in my sexy smoky voice, "The rest rooms are right around that corner, would you like me to show you?" Then I tipped my head back and looked directly in his eyes. Awaiting his answer.

 

[sulamaire]

"Christ! I do attract pushy girls" I thought to myself. I left Texas because I got tired of that pushed around feeling of dealing with southern girls from the oil patch coming to Dallas to kick some ass! Now here I am in New York and all day long in the Lingerie design game I get pushy woman. I mean pushy, too! After work I look for a corall with soft and intelligent fillies in it.

That’s what I look for, but am I smart enough to find it? Noooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo! A big-assed Texas NO!

So here I am, first bar of the night and I am looking down into the dark brown eyes and coal black hair of, what? Looks like a pushy woman to me! She has leaned into me with one of a pair of breasts that I quickly size up as needing a 36D, but like most women can’t stand the sound of a D cup so they squeeze into a 34 C and complain about their shoulders aching at the end of the day.

I am smart enough to know better, but, I swear I can’t resist the challenge. So, right away I am putting away all the reasons I left Dallas, changed my name from Jess to Sulamaire to suit the fancy lingerie industry image and beating out a bunch of those less masculine types who tend to populate and even dominate my industry, and lean right back into her. Giving, as I thought, as good as I get!

And, what the hell, in for a penny in for a pound, as my daddy used to tell me.

Smiling down at her, I lapsed back into my West Texas twang and said "Why yes, little lady, I’d be mighty pleased to have you show me around. You New Yorkers 'shore' are frindly!"

 

[dansemajik]

OOC: Jasmine's eyes are steely gray, hair is dark blonde.

IC: I don't stuff myself into anything smaller than what fits. My 36-d's were ensconced in a 36-d bra, and I am not pushy, I know what I want, and by god, I get it. I was thinking to myself as I could see this fine texas dude thinking as he looked at me. I inherited that little gift from my grandmother. I don't enjoy the craft, but sometimes, it comes in handy. Here was a guy who really needed to be "handled"...I took his large hand in my small one, and led him to a small room in the back of the bar. It wasn't officially the public restroom, but if he REALLY had to go, there were facilities attached to the room. I opened the door to the room by pushing a code into the key pad by the door. I stepped back and let him step into the red and black room. deep red carpet, black leather furniture, and black and red velvet flocked wall paper. My desk sat in a corner. I waited for his reation.

 

[sulamaire]

"Holy Shit," I muttered. We were plunged into a room full of red and black brightness, if you want to imagine that. She had led me by the hand, like a damned kid, down the longest, darkest hallway ever I seen, to an office of sorts.
The hall made me feel dusty as two days on the goddammed prairie, I can tell you. And lo and behold, with a little more light on the subject I could see that my fearless leader wasn’t as dark and mysterious as she seemed in the darkness outside.

Now if you are going to call yourself Sulamaire as I do, you got no comebacks if somebody tells you their goddam name is something like Jasmine, no comebacks at all. So I smiled and said "Well, I’m mighty glad to meet ya ma’am! This is quite a place you got here!"

I looked around the red and black furniture and walls, floor, too, when it comes right down to it. With a little trepidation, I looked up and found, sure enough, wall to wall mirrors.

In my best Andy Griffith voice, I boomed, "Golllllllllly, Ma’am, I been to the county fair twicet and I thought I had seen everything! But this beats it all!" Well, it was quite a sight, and it did give me a moment to reflect on my host in the mirror. I realize with a bit more light that she actually had sort of a tawny champagne colored hair, a rich looking sort of ‘dark blonde’ color that looked well, I mean really looked well with her deep tan. Her eyes, on second viewing, were steel gray, with long dark lashes that made them look darker than they were.

There was a desk in the corner and Jasmine sat on the front edge , her taut short skirt tenting across thighs that looked opulent and wonderfully curved. You know what I mean? Ever seen one of those girls like Marilyn Monroe in her tightest gown where her thighs curved out from the soft roundness of her tummy and formed their own delightful soft-looking roundness on the way to her knees. Not like the old Jane Russell type with the hard looking straight line thighs, but I mean the lovely, lovely curvy ones.

"Just out of curiosity, Ma’am, why did you put your desk at an angle? That’s the only tacky thing in the whole lovely room!" I figure she’s trying me on so I’d go with something piquant, and besides, I would sooner bust a bladder than ask for the rest room again. Actually, I really didn’t have to go all that badly anyway, it was just an old pick up line I used to fancy in High School. I was always hoping some girl would answer by grabbing my cock and leading me that way instead of by the hand.

Those childish fantasies die hard, man. You know what I mean?

 

[dansemajik]

I loved his sense of bravado. I leaned against my desk, my eyes running over his body. I walked over to him, walked past, dragging my left hand across is crotch, "the bathroom is this way sweetheart." I opened the door and turned on the light. If he really had to go, here was his chance...

 

[sulamaire]

Jasmine was starting to get my attention. I must say I was astonished to have my long time fantasy very nearly played out. She had taken a handful of me and was led me to a private bathroom off the office. "How much of the fantasy would she play," I wondered. But she seemed to be going no further, as she dropped my crotch in order to open the door and turn on the light. I walked into a mirror and chrome fantasy as different from the office's heavy red and black motif as it could have been. Maybe she hadn't got round to redecorating this room yet.

It was a room nearly as large as the office, tiled with what I guessed were Mediterranean blocks, interspersed with floor to ceiling mirrors, and again the ceiling mirror. The lighting was adequate to make the mirror of the Italian pedestal type of sink. There was a bidet! That would be considered just over the line into the bizarre back in Texas, but I was more sophisticated now and knew it as a useful accommodation, now. Along the near wall was the biggest goddam tub I had ever seen, just a little smaller than a good-sized hot tub, with a three foot shelf at the back that looked inviting. Triple, clear glass sliding doors with etched roman looking nudes gamboling across their expanse in various sexual poses, completed the room -- except for one contraption I could not identify, standing in the corner of the room.

A little disappointed that she had neither followed me into the room nor left the door open, I stood before the old fashioned stool, unzipped and stood aiming the stream from a prick that had been teased into semi-hardness, and smoothed my hair down, looking into the huge mirrors surrounding me. It almost cut off my water when the door swung open and Jasmine strode into the room like she owned the place, but I controlled my emotions and continued.

"I forgot there were no towels in here. Just in case you are the type that washes his hands afterwards." She placed two Red and Black patterned towels on top of a stack already filling a stool in the corner. Jasmine was nonplussed by the apparent contradiction and stood looking directly at me, the first smile I had seen on her face spreading slowly.

 

[dansemajik]

It is interesting to see how a man reacts during his urination when a strange woman invites herself into the room. He was startled when I came in, but I got an unabashed look at his dick. It stood out respectfully, he didn't have to hold it and stretch it to get his urine to reach the hold. I knew he knew that I had told a bold faced lie, regarding the towels. I didn't care.

I met him gaze for gaze, my smile brazen. My eyes taking him in. Inch for Inch. I started to leave the room but thought better of it. I turned and said, "Sulamaire, what is your deepest fanasty?" I saw his eyes go wide for just a moment, and then narrow, so I could only see small slits of color. I raised one eyebrow, my left, I think and waited to see if I had found the one I was searching for, or if this guy just had to pee.

 

[sulamaire]

There are few pleasures in a man’s life that exceed the feeling of urinating freely and uninhibitedly while a beautiful woman watches. I can’t explain it, it’s just one of those moments which combines intimacy and the male thing that girls keep putting down. It is nice, the feeling of having a girl included in one of your masculine moments, something like finding out about girls in the first place with that first one who had the self composure to let you see what a girl looked like openly and freely and away from the sneak-a-peak things that were the only sources of knowledge in your early years. You know what I mean?

Anyway, here I was whizzing away and this beautiful girl posing her question.

"What is my deepest fantasy?" I repeated, staring up at the mirror on the ceiling. I wondered if she was serious or just playing some game with my mind. I decided to play it seriously and let her in on my real fantasy, the one I had held all these years and still to this day regard as the most erotic thing I can think of. I mean, there are a few isolated things that I would find highly erotic on their own. I mean I could make a list as long as my … well, you get the idea. "Are you shittin’ me lady?"

"Get your hand off my mirror, you dork, I have to clean that myself."

Jasmine only continued staring at me, standing there, leaning slightly forward, one hand on the mirrored wall behind the stool and the other on my hip, my prick meanwhile firm enough to direct the stream on it’s own, but not hard enough to shut off the valve. At least, she knew now that I really was looking for the rest room! Goddam, she could really stare you down. She didn’t blink, though occasionally her eyes slipped down to look at my prick. I liked the way she seemed to like this.

"Well, Ma’am, I don’t rightly know if this is what you mean by a fantasy," I began, "but it is something I have thought about ever since I was a youngster, and still gets me hot as hell when I think about .. well, my aunt, .. my beautiful aunt Sarah. She is my mother’s younger sister, you see. Looks a hell of a lot like Mom, too. They are both beautiful in my eyes. I mean, they really are!"

"Jesus, do I have to hear your whole family history, or are you going to get interesting sometime tonight?" Jasmine apparently wasn’t as talky as we Texans tend to be.

"No, no, I"m sorrrrrrrryyyyyyy! Well, Aunt Sarah used to be the rich relative in my childhood, always dressed nice, always smelled good, you know the type. We would visit her house in Dallas, great big goddam place with a big greenhouse full of lots of exotic plants attached to the house. She had windows in her bedroom that could be opened to this big greenhouse. Well, one time, Aunt Sarah agreed to have me stay with her for a few weeks while my folks were going on a tour of Europe. She and her husband were separated so it was just her and me and this black maid named Jewel, rattling around in this big house."

"Jesus, is there a point?" Jasmine was short on patience, I could tell. I thoughtfully tucking my penis into the safety of my Hanes Pouch briefs and then zipped up my pants real slow, with a far-off look of wonder in my eyes.

Well one night I remember, after I had gone to bed, something woke me and there was music seemingly throughout the house, real quiet, and right pretty. I crept down the hall to satisfy my curiosity. At the end of the hall, an open door led to my aunt’s bedroom. I stopped in her bathroom to relieve myself.

"Is that all you ever think about, I’m wondering?"

"Does seem that way, doesn’t it?" I laughed at the first amusing thing my hostess had said so far.

Well, anyway, there on the sink was a pretty pair of my Aunt’s panties. Being curios, I picked them up and felt the soft texture of them against my cheek. It was then I heard the music change to a Mozart piece which I had learned was Aunt Sarah’s favorite. Serenade for Winds, I think it is called. That made me even more curious and I found my way to the room which adjoined her bedroom, a sitting room, with a fireplace, and even a balcony overlooking the greenhouse.

Peering in, I watched a scene lit only by about twenty candles. There was a scent in the air that was delicate but full in the air. The widows opening into the atrium - that’s what she called the green house- were wide open and I could smell these Asiatic evergreens she grew, Jasmine, she called them. Now, I don’t know if you ever smelled that scent, but it is pretty danged good smelling! You know what I mean? Well, anyway, I lay on the floor watching as my Aunt Sarah, dressed only in panties, garter belt, stockings and high heels danced slowly to the music across this long room. She was breathtakingly beautiful in the candlelight. The curve of her bottom was so pretty under the nearly see-through panties, I thought I would never see anything like it again. She turned and moved sinuously back in my direction and I saw her breasts slowly sway from side to side. From across the room, Jewel swayed toward Auntie. She wore something out of Sheherazade, that’s a fancy movie my mom liked to watch. They swayed toward each other then danced around each other in the middle of the room, looking just elegant and casting these huge shadows on the walls. It was just beautiful.

There was a breeze blowing through the atrium and the breeze felt so light on my face and the scent of the Jasmine in my nostrils, …… and then I realized that her panties were still in my hand and that the taste of her was on my lips.

Not wanting to get caught, I slipped back down the hallway and stared into the darkness with the vision of my fantasy replaying time after time until finally I drifted off to sleep.

"Well, anyway, that’s what turns me on in the dark hours of the night, the thought of those two women in their soft clinging underwear, Mozart in the background, Jasmine in the air, a soft breeze on my face, the taste of woman on my lips, and my dream women making love to me in different ways at the same time. You were expecting maybe chains and whips?" I looked at her expectantly, watching for signs of disappointment or disapproval in her eyes. My god, she had lovely breasts, though. Jasmine, that is.

 

[dansemajik]

OOC: Sulamaire, you are quite literally putting words in my mouth.....I promise not to speak for you, if you promise not to speak for me, deal? Thanks, Danse.

I listened to my guest ramble on, his eyes got a far away look as he described that summer night, with the aroma of jasmine floating on the breeze, watching his Aunt danse in her underwear...I wasn't real sure what his fantasy was. Watching a partially nude woman danse, the smell of jasmine, or getting fucked within an inch of his life. I decided to ask a more direct question.

"Do you want me to fuck you?" I asked unbuttoning my shirt, letting my sheer demi bra show, black against my pale, pale skin. I watched him watch my movements, and I waited.