SexyVita
A Wanton of Words
- Joined
- Sep 28, 2007
- Posts
- 1,446
Scarlett sashayed down the sidewalk like it was it was a New York fashion week catwalk or a Hollywood red carpet. Even dressed as she was, in a faded, slightly frayed, blue denim miniskirt and an emerald green, casual spaghetti strap tank top, she would have looked at home either place. Her head was held high, with her gaze forward, her shoulders were slightly back and relaxed and her spine gracefully curved in near perfect posture. Her generous hips swayed as she walked in her four inch heels, each step going precisely in front of the previous one like she was walking on an imaginary balance beam. Her pace was measured and unhurried, giving the illusion that she had all the time in the world to get wherever she was going, but her long legs ate up pavement anyway.
Men stopped to stare at the red-haired bombshell as she walked by, captivated by her long, modestly tanned legs, nicely rounded butt, and large breasts, expanses of which were tantalizingly visible above the scoop neckline of the tank top and which jiggled enticingly with each step. One fellow even had the bad luck to be caught staring, mouth open, by his girlfriend. She rewarded him with a punch in the shoulder and a look that said he wasn’t getting sex for a week at least. Scarlett smiled in pleasure, not at the poor man’s misfortune, but that she could cause men to forget themselves that much. Not that she felt any sympathy for the fellow. She did feel a bit for his girlfriend though, who would be realizing, possibly for the first time, how easily her boyfriend’s head could be turned by another woman.
Scarlett reached her destination, a tidy brownstone that had once been a townhouse but now had a small sign out front that read:
Scarlett thought Serenity Group was a bit of a misnomer, since it was little more than a collection of independent psychologists and therapists working out of a common space and sharing the same receptionist. Walking up the steps to the front door, a tiny frown briefly marred her beautiful face. She liked Dr. Lewis, her therapist, but she wasn’t sure he was actually helping her. She knew he was trying, but honestly, she was afraid of changing. On the days when she found herself walking out of yet another bad relationship, alone, miserable, and with nowhere to go and nothing to show for the time invested, she knew her life was out of control. It was on one of those days, about a year ago, that she had made her first appointment with Dr. Lewis. But much of the rest of the time, Scarlett felt that there was nothing wrong with her that a good fuck with the right man couldn’t fix. Dr. Lewis had been encouraging her to reduce her reliance on sex to cope and manage her moods, but Scarlett was reluctant. Sex was just about the only way Scarlett knew to feel better. If she didn’t have that, she was afraid she’d be even more miserable.
She wiped the frown off her face and pulled the door open, stepping from the warm, bright sunlight into the cool dimness of Serenity Group’s reception area. The space was a combination of lightly painted walls on top, with darkly stained wainscoting on the lower part. The floors were hardwood, softened with area rugs and runners. The receptionist, Carol, was sitting behind her desk and peering up at Scarlett over the top of her glasses with a frown, as usual. Scarlett was not especially tall, but standing, in the four inch heels, she towered over the seated woman. Carol was a rather frumpy-looking woman in Scarlett’s opinion, with a face that looked like a day-old soup dumpling and a body that looked like she’d eaten way too many of them.
“How can I help you?” Carol said in a pinched nasally voice that always set Scarlett’s teeth on edge.
Scarlett sighed. “I’m here to see Dr. Lewis.” She knew that Carol knew exactly why she was there but that she nevertheless insisted on playing this particular game every time Scarlett showed up for a session.
“Your first and last name?” Carol asked in as flat a tone as her nasally voice allowed her to attain.
“Scarlett Mae Bell” Scarlett replied.
Carol squinted and peered at her computer screen. “I don’t have a Mabel down for today.”
Scarlett sighed. Her mother, who had never seen fit to do anything the ‘normal’ way had saddled her with a double given name and no middle name. “Last name Bell, B E L L, first name Scarlett with two Ts followed by a space followed by Mae M A E.”
Carol peered at her screen again. “Oh, there you are.” she said in a disgusted tone like she might have to a dead rat. “Well, go have a seat, I’ll let Dr. Lewis know you are here.” Carol said with a sigh that Scarlett took to mean that she was disappointed that her little fun was over for the day. Scarlett wasn’t entirely sure why Carol always treated her the way she did, but if she had to guess, she’d bet on envy. It was hardly Scarlett’s fault that she was a beautiful young woman, she’d come by all her assets naturally. I was just about the only good thing Scarlett’s mother had ever done for her. But some women just couldn’t get past believing that life was supposed to be fair, and they had gotten the short end of the stick.
Just to rub salt in the wound, Scarlett minced her way to the seating area with exaggeratedly slow steps that made the sway of her hips slow and extra sexy. If Carol was determined to give her a hard time, then Scarlett was prepared to make her pay for it, if only in internal suffering. She lowered herself gracefully into one of the waiting area chairs, a large overstuffed leather armchair. She bent her knees, keeping them together, while somehow managing to keep her upper body perfectly vertical. She touched down on the cushion so gently at first that it didn’t even deform until she bent her knees a bit farther. Scarlett knew that being sexy had as much to do with grace, poise, and posture as it did with natural beauty and raw sensuality. She also knew there were times to say to hell with some or all of the former and exult in the latter, so from her perch at the edge of the chair, she oozed backward until she was sensually reclined, propped in a corner of the chair. She let some of her long, red hair fall artfully over part of her face, casting her face in shadows and obscuring her expression. When she peeked through her hair at the reception desk, Carol was scowling even more fiercely than usual and Scarlett let a smile tug at the corners of her lips. Mission accomplished.
Men stopped to stare at the red-haired bombshell as she walked by, captivated by her long, modestly tanned legs, nicely rounded butt, and large breasts, expanses of which were tantalizingly visible above the scoop neckline of the tank top and which jiggled enticingly with each step. One fellow even had the bad luck to be caught staring, mouth open, by his girlfriend. She rewarded him with a punch in the shoulder and a look that said he wasn’t getting sex for a week at least. Scarlett smiled in pleasure, not at the poor man’s misfortune, but that she could cause men to forget themselves that much. Not that she felt any sympathy for the fellow. She did feel a bit for his girlfriend though, who would be realizing, possibly for the first time, how easily her boyfriend’s head could be turned by another woman.
Scarlett reached her destination, a tidy brownstone that had once been a townhouse but now had a small sign out front that read:
Serenity Therapy Group
Scarlett thought Serenity Group was a bit of a misnomer, since it was little more than a collection of independent psychologists and therapists working out of a common space and sharing the same receptionist. Walking up the steps to the front door, a tiny frown briefly marred her beautiful face. She liked Dr. Lewis, her therapist, but she wasn’t sure he was actually helping her. She knew he was trying, but honestly, she was afraid of changing. On the days when she found herself walking out of yet another bad relationship, alone, miserable, and with nowhere to go and nothing to show for the time invested, she knew her life was out of control. It was on one of those days, about a year ago, that she had made her first appointment with Dr. Lewis. But much of the rest of the time, Scarlett felt that there was nothing wrong with her that a good fuck with the right man couldn’t fix. Dr. Lewis had been encouraging her to reduce her reliance on sex to cope and manage her moods, but Scarlett was reluctant. Sex was just about the only way Scarlett knew to feel better. If she didn’t have that, she was afraid she’d be even more miserable.
She wiped the frown off her face and pulled the door open, stepping from the warm, bright sunlight into the cool dimness of Serenity Group’s reception area. The space was a combination of lightly painted walls on top, with darkly stained wainscoting on the lower part. The floors were hardwood, softened with area rugs and runners. The receptionist, Carol, was sitting behind her desk and peering up at Scarlett over the top of her glasses with a frown, as usual. Scarlett was not especially tall, but standing, in the four inch heels, she towered over the seated woman. Carol was a rather frumpy-looking woman in Scarlett’s opinion, with a face that looked like a day-old soup dumpling and a body that looked like she’d eaten way too many of them.
“How can I help you?” Carol said in a pinched nasally voice that always set Scarlett’s teeth on edge.
Scarlett sighed. “I’m here to see Dr. Lewis.” She knew that Carol knew exactly why she was there but that she nevertheless insisted on playing this particular game every time Scarlett showed up for a session.
“Your first and last name?” Carol asked in as flat a tone as her nasally voice allowed her to attain.
“Scarlett Mae Bell” Scarlett replied.
Carol squinted and peered at her computer screen. “I don’t have a Mabel down for today.”
Scarlett sighed. Her mother, who had never seen fit to do anything the ‘normal’ way had saddled her with a double given name and no middle name. “Last name Bell, B E L L, first name Scarlett with two Ts followed by a space followed by Mae M A E.”
Carol peered at her screen again. “Oh, there you are.” she said in a disgusted tone like she might have to a dead rat. “Well, go have a seat, I’ll let Dr. Lewis know you are here.” Carol said with a sigh that Scarlett took to mean that she was disappointed that her little fun was over for the day. Scarlett wasn’t entirely sure why Carol always treated her the way she did, but if she had to guess, she’d bet on envy. It was hardly Scarlett’s fault that she was a beautiful young woman, she’d come by all her assets naturally. I was just about the only good thing Scarlett’s mother had ever done for her. But some women just couldn’t get past believing that life was supposed to be fair, and they had gotten the short end of the stick.
Just to rub salt in the wound, Scarlett minced her way to the seating area with exaggeratedly slow steps that made the sway of her hips slow and extra sexy. If Carol was determined to give her a hard time, then Scarlett was prepared to make her pay for it, if only in internal suffering. She lowered herself gracefully into one of the waiting area chairs, a large overstuffed leather armchair. She bent her knees, keeping them together, while somehow managing to keep her upper body perfectly vertical. She touched down on the cushion so gently at first that it didn’t even deform until she bent her knees a bit farther. Scarlett knew that being sexy had as much to do with grace, poise, and posture as it did with natural beauty and raw sensuality. She also knew there were times to say to hell with some or all of the former and exult in the latter, so from her perch at the edge of the chair, she oozed backward until she was sensually reclined, propped in a corner of the chair. She let some of her long, red hair fall artfully over part of her face, casting her face in shadows and obscuring her expression. When she peeked through her hair at the reception desk, Carol was scowling even more fiercely than usual and Scarlett let a smile tug at the corners of her lips. Mission accomplished.
