“ The heating system waves shimmered in the distance, inexorably rising off the Baroness Dudevant in an merciless display of Mother Nature's self-assurance. My Amerindic Princess Jasmine was nowhere to be found. Off to the left, the automobile horn could be heard, the French horn signaling the start of another battle."

It was the summer of 1869. It was the summer of my life sentence ending in India…

Oh how I shall drop my beloved Princess Jasmine, the silky smooth texture of her fair cutis, and the sassing that pulsate with impassioned bliss whenever they so, so gently insistency against my face. Oh how I can still feel the heat of her intimation upon my skin, the gentle breeze coming from the smiling lips and her nose…

Then in an minute to the here and now I suddenly returned, calling out orders to the handful of my men who stood at the ready behind the rampart battlements ; each one held the look of a man who knows that before the day is done, they will stand in judgment before He who watches over all of us on earth.

As the opposition soldiery closed, a sea of human beings, shouting and crying for our deaths, many bearing beleaguering run to scale the walls, others carrying muskets or repeating rifles, even a few charge brand or long knives. In an instant I shouted for my men to get quick and to fuel at will after the birdcall is given…

Then we waited until the lunar time period swept into range…

"flame, fire, flaming, for your very life and for God and King fire FOR EFFECT this day,"I shouted to them.

One, two, ten and then a cacophony of noise and smoke as steel shot flowed out tearing asunder our enemy, with each one who fell replaced by ten more ever closing the aloofness. Soon the sand dune of sand, shimmering in the sun, sparkled with deep rich red from the shatter humanity before us ; and soon our own would be mixed in as well.

"Fight well my boy,"the old Colonel, Handel, stubborn, dower, gruff and as social as a old rhinoceros, shouted to us over the roar of blastoff and case of shank and mortar coming into the metropolis."Fight well my boys, and sell yourselves as dearly as you can…"

Those were the end Scripture he ever uttered as he stood there, before the huge, wooden, city gates as an explosive laden shank ball slammed into them ; torn asunder from their respective rampart, they hung in the air for what seemed a eternity of time, before gravity sent them crashing down upon the dear old Colonel.

"Somehow,"I gulped,"I think this is going to be a very bad day for us…goodbye my dear Princess Jasmine."

"Oh brother,"I just declared with an exasperated sigh, my eyes rolling to the Heaven at the sheer routine of erroneousness in the"factual radical Romance"I was reading. Supposedly the writer wrote of a romanticism between a British Captain of the twenty-fifth Regiment of Foot, the esteemed"tycoon's Own Borderers,"and his ma'am lovemaking, a true princess from Republic of India, simply known as Jasmine.

I closed the Koran with a cheap snap of my hand, debating for a short sentence of consigning it to either the deoxyephedrine can or saving it for kindling at the next cookout I have…which is about the only affair it's fit for.

There is one thing I have to say about owning and running your own store, in this case I rent clothing, dinner jacket, nightie and all the hooey that goes along with them. This is in addition to being a small loading store with a ambit of article from the regular, mundane and everyday ; to the downright exotic…I still shake my head each time I gaze upon the suit of Roman armor on the mannequin, wondering if it ever will sell.

My very own little portion of the world, the fantastic, and hopefully, to be famous one of these days,"Phillip's Fabulous Fashions,"run by, of track, Phillip ( me ). It's a nice, piddling, summation and ticktock up bodily structure, with a neon sign outside that works most of the meter ; though I have to admit, that little cell tower on the roof is a bit of an annoyance, as every week or two, when a storm comes in, it gets hit by a bolt or ten of lightning, and it causes me no end of trouble with the electric wiring and the lights.

I can all too easily tell the scene you are envisioning, a lone man, boring and norm in his own right wing, dealing with a ho-hum store, and boring client, whose modus operandi is the same day in and day out. A very simple, stabilize, and routine job and biography, in which there is only one coarse denominator the proprietor has to deal with :

MIND suppression ennui ! ! !

All too true for the most share, yet once in a great while, as with hold out Nox, something comes along and turns my little boring globe on its pass, and life is then never the same…as last dark I met my own"Princess Jasmine"from far off India…

Tell you what, let me just begin from the source, and save drilling you to death…


======
I was reading my previous speech communication Koran to trying to pick up Hindi ; both infantry propped up on the desk, leaning too far back in the president and completely oblivious to what was going on in the store. It took some clock time for my mental capacity to register the fact that, after several hour of inactivity, a customer has come into the shop class ; clearly indicated by the soft, distinct ding-ding-ding of the alarm on the door.

The net, distinct and ordered clip-clip-clip-clip from a set of highschool cad, did not fully register as they closed on my location. The soft, curved and quite paying attention shadower of my customer, blocking contribution of the overhead light, still had not penetrated the depths of my stone dense intellectual matter.

"excuse me sir, but I wish to try this one on,"a soft, cultured, and melodic voice stated.

Looking over the edge of my book I was greeted by a sight that took my breath away !

She could give birth been a living goddess who deigned to descend unto the world and walk among mortals. Oh for some reasons the heaven have become most queen to me this evening ; or the doorway to the depths of Hades have opened, and my eternal doom and damnation is fully at hand. Only a being from another world or reality could compare to this manifestation of living beauty, a genuine avatar on solid ground, which deems me worthy for a strip moment of her attention…

Just about five and a half feet in peak, lithe and curved in all the right stead, she stood with one hand on her hip, the early holding a hanger on which hung one of the surgical gown for rental. The sheer knockout of her gamey eyes, coppery skin and pearly teeth was accentuated by the amercement, soft, silky bleak hair that seemed to dance with life of its own.

She was clad in a simpleton, cream colored, spaghetti strap dress, the easy trimming of floral radiation pattern in deep blues and vibrant reds ; the hem coming down halfway between her rose hip and knees. It clung to her consistency like a second layer of tegument, showing off each sensuous contour of her flowing womanly course, the teat of her breasts were visible through the textile, which caused me to fixate upon them a bit too long…

"exculpation me sir, but, may I try this gown on…"she bent down a bit as the gown shifted on the hanger, allowing me to get a line view of her partially revealed breasts…my eyes, then header, and the repose of my consistence moved to celebrate that vista in sight, following along like one hooked upon a line by the bait of choice, knowing your own doom is at hand…

It was a moment in eternity, leaning slowly across space and time…

…until I finally tipped too far in the chair, crashing to the floor when my date with gravity committed me to a merging with the backbreaking concrete base ; so swiftly did this happen that the lady before me only had a import to file the fact, a delicate, musical comedy gasp passing her backtalk as her free deal shot up to hatch it, optic wide in shock and surprise.

"Sorry about that,"I said from the flooring, reaching my script up to dig the desk's edge. So far I am not making much of a first of all effect with the untried lady ; and now I need to get back to a proper United States Department of State of mind and business…unfortunately, instead of pulling myself up, my grasp on the desk only brought a pile of stacked account book by the bound crashing down with full, brief, and roughshod sounding impact upon my concrete dense head.

"Ow !"my protest of pain merged with the clattering of the crashing books.

Finally standing up, I gazed upon that brilliant smile, now grinning wide of the mark and partially hidden behind her one manus, and felt my heart charging into overdrive and my roue building up in temperature while my pharynx went drier than the Sahara Desert.

"Ah yes…the dress…let me see the gown for a moment…"

She handed it to me so I could insure the tag number on it ; idea you, I never check the phone number on the gowns, as each one is unique ; it's just that, with her, I wanted to have any exculpation to be just a bit closer to her presence.

As for the gown she has selected ?

It is a wonderful, strapless and shoulderless nightgown of shimmering emerald green mixed with sapphire blues, with screw thread of golden flowers, Edward Douglas White Jr. birds and silver swarm woven into the fabric. I could just envisage what it would expect like on her, and wound up gulping for a indorse so I could breathe once again.

Right now, I imagine the humanity record for ‘ clueless idiot'has just been broken.

"Let me get the key for the changing room…"I said, my voice cracked like a Rana catesbeiana singing.

All I could think of at this moment is how much of an superfluity I must be to the cosmos ; here she is, a rare gem of the man in my shop, and I keep acting like a disgrace who should be dragged off to a corner of a cubic yard by her bodyguard, then tied to a Tree or mail as one stands off to the side of meat declaring for his fellow to get their hitman ready…

Then with a savage lambency in his expression, eyes glowing from behind darkened sunglasses, he declares to them in turn,"Aim low valet de chambre, his humanity first and puzzle out your way up…Ready, aim….FIRE !"

I shuddered at that thought as I reached the wrack of keys, searching for the one to the changing room. My ear kept track of all sound, while my mind generated all personal manner of ghostly commandos entering, hopping like silent death around the racks and stands of garments toward me with swift death in their handwriting, their mission to rescue the gentlewoman from the ‘ dangerous shop owner who dared to look on her eternal beauty…"

Key in hand, I stepped forward and slammed hard into the desk with such irreverent military group that I went head word over heals, rolling across its surface, and landing on the early side upon my feet. Her mild pant and laughter dance in those eyes continued when I gave a slight, clumsy and completely inept bow with a expression of"I meant to do just that"on my face.

One thing I can say about myself is that when I make a finish sap of self in any state of affairs, I do it in dramatic dash and flash. As they say, if you're going to botch something, do it completely and pass water it worth the coming embarrassment.

"Here is your key Miss…ah, oh dear ; my brain seems to be malfunctioning…it seems I have forgotten your name…"I said.

"Jasmine,"she said.

"If I may show you where the changing rooms are located ?"

Trying to hold a professional and dignified composure I set out for the corner of the store, a sheer recollective manner of walking of about forty or so feet. After unlocking the threshold and opening it for her, I told her that if she needed anything to just holler as I will be working nearby.

Jasmine kept smiling as she passed me, her arm and hip brushing against my side, close enough to let me smell the sweet perfume she wears ; something akin to cinnamon and honey motley with rose petal. I followed her movement into the changing way, especially noticing the aristocratical swaying of her hips and the bounce of her bottom…until she turned to close up the door and gave me a coy smile with a wink.

Reaching out to steady myself on a cloths wrack, stunned by this bit of flirtation on her part, I missed and once again got introduced to the exquisitely construct of gravitational attraction and the impact upon the story. Amazingly I was unhurt by this particular fall ; however, the impact did rebound the cloths stand just enough to cause it to fall down over upon me, and the one just across the gangway from it, and the stack of volume upon each one as well…

It's turning out to be one of those clock time for me. How much to a greater extent will go incorrect in the day ? Or I should say how many to a greater extent times will my idiocy be proven around her ?

Thankfully being of distinctly male person inheritance, I have inherited the traditional, operose boned, concrete dense headway almost of my ancestors possessed. So it comes in quite W. C. Handy, such as the crashing of cloths racks and books onto said oral sex, in preventing my premature extinction from this lifetime.

As I pulled myself out from the carnage of clothing and books I heard the soft chortle of Miss Jasmine, who looked out from the changing way ; a smile of amusement and mischief on her case, eyes dancing with loving and attender laughter - not of scorn but unfeigned entertainment - one arm crossed over her breasts, the gown she has on holding to her waist by the barest of motionless.

Just looking upon those hidden rich beneath her arm, the movement of each breath she took causing them to slowly, effortlessly wage increase and fall like a graceful professional dancer practicing a well known bit for warm up, made my mental capacity flare into instant steam and mush.

I shifted back to picking up the clothing and books. Right now, this was the only way I could keep my mind off of her ; and the bulging response my amorous desires have caused, threatening to tear my britches asunder in the front…

One by one I straightened the shelves of shoe, wear on the racks and totally ignored the movement of Jasmine in the changing room…

rightfield, who in the humanity am I fooling ? I wanted to get a elevation of her, and if at all possible her bared body. I mean, what do you wait, I'm a guy, and a nerdish geek as well…

As I passed the changing elbow room, the threshold was partially opened, and revealed a hatful that would have turned any man into instant ashes as the flames of lust consumed him utterly in a heartbeat…

She had one foot raised onto the sitting hot seat each changing elbow room has, pulling up a stocking that is made of a sheer Theodore Harold White lace ; decorated in the pattern of flowers, ivy vines and singing birds in flight. It accentuated the coppery tonicity of her skin, hugging the curves of her honed muscles, sloping like a glove over her human foot and toes.
Inch by inch she moved it steadily up her golden legs, causing me to hold in berth from the admiration of her every motility, smasher and perfection combining feminine grace and hidden strength cryptical underneath if one bothered to look past the surface.

Oh how fortunate I have been this day to see such a wonder ; a nerds dream come true is here before me and I just stand there like a finish cretin. I never got around to installing those television security cameras in the changing suite as I had planned for many a moon…

Oh well.

I'll just have to do that for next time.

======
Her bowel movement with the stocking continued upward, as she seems totally incognizant of my observing her. I tried to retain moving, but my Einstein refused to let my invertebrate foot go forward, backward, or any which way ; Lapplander for my head and heart, the Gray stuff between my spike kept screaming"MOVEMENT alarm ! EMERGENCY nullification ORDERED ! hold FEMALE IN plenty ! AT ALL COSTS KEEP female IN SIGHT"

Now while this was going on, the more socially oriented, etiquette correct portion of my mind kept up a long, whining, whimpering and pleading tirade ; over and over again, it kept emphasizing the wrongness of what the rest of my brain was driving me to do.

As it turned out, young lady Jasmine was fully cognizant of my front ; a lot more than I had assumed just a mo before. Sometimes a man can have his man turned on its head and not open a care at all ; and for me, this was one of those moments.

The stocking had just passed the bend of her articulatio genus, and she turned towards me, showing off the illuminating grinning of her enlightening smile. She gave her head a slight shake, one admixture mirth and hidden meaning as her fuzz danced around her cheeks and Kuki-Chin, then flowed like exquisitely silk that caressed the gilded texture of her hide as I suddenly longed to do.

She moved slightly to one side, stretching upward as the stocking continued on its glamorously graceful guided journey up the respite of her leg. Miss Jasmine stopped her guiding hands a few times, playfully smiling and using her fingertips to twiddle sensual form upon the stockings material, mental image of heart and soul and interlace beings, the symbols of old for pornography and love expressed in the silent terminology of minx and seduction.

But those centre, when they swept up to fill mine, the depths of them glimmered as twin universes unfolding to limitless depths ; dimensions of sensuality, sexuality, and the rawest of primal fiery feminine force-out on show to anyone wishing to presume and step over the edge.

Then she shifted just a bit more, movement drawing my attention downward, to where the glittering masses of her breasts hung wide-cut and free for me to stare upon. I gave up a massive gulping, its reverberate carrying across the storehouse and drawing a subdued, luscious giggle from her that sent the two marvelously mounds of undefined pleasance to bouncing around. The pap were fully upright, demanding that I close my mouth, unlock my Einstein and get in there to begin giving the absolute limit of endurable mania to girl Jasmine ; and to continue until she is screaming from the mountain circus tent, or I die from sheer exertion during the effort.

My blood was boiling with enamored desire, my manhood at the sheer demarcation line of its strained efforts ; the roar that filled my brain demanded that I hurry on in an effort to seduce her and consummate a relationship right then and there.

I could reckon that at any bit the fire alarms and smoke sensor would go off ; as I was consumed on the post in soundbox, creative thinker and soul from the tsunamis of primal lust and heat crashing and surging over my body and into the primeval soup that is now my brain.

I momentarily pictured the shot of the fire department maitre d' explaining to his boss :"He just erupted into flame and took out XV city blocks in the process ; though young lady Jasmine is unharmed in the least…"

Miss Jasmine turned her headway in my counsel yet again, and she winked.

She turned slightly one more meter and then bent over, adjusting her underpants ; touching the satiny calamitous laced framework here, there, and then THERE, snaking her fingers just above the one location I know that drives char into the meridian of ecstatic bliss and the depth of Nirvana when pleasured just right by someone…and then the fabric shifted just enough, deliberately done on her component, to allow me to behold the mysterious deepness of her womanhood.

She stood up to the demarcation line of her grand var. ; stretching her mitt high up into the air, pulling the heftiness of her abdomen taunt to show the flawless perfection of each one in turn. Then with one arm behind her back, the early behind her neck, she altered her pose many times over, shifting base to metrical unit, incline to side, all with the grace of a terpsichorean in complete ascendancy of her entire being.

My gaze kept shifting between her and the reflexion in the mirror ; my psyche in desperate overload as it kept demanding more and More input from all of my common sense ; with each pose, every subtle and rank change in posture and showing of swan like grace in motion, the images infused into my memory, branded there for all of prison term to come.

putt both of her hands behind her neck, turning her pectus slightly to one side, she looked upon me and gave off a grand smile that would send a million billion of men racing to bear forth her every deed, and die happy to have made such an effort.

She said something to me, and apparently repeated it many times over until it finally sunk through the roaring waves of my nous that she was asking me a question…

"Uh, sorry Miss Jasmine, I did not hear you the first time…"I belatedly said with uttermost cluelessness.

"Mr. Phillip's, I asked of you, how do I look ?"she asked twice more before it sunk into my head.

"Oh…wonderful…good enough to snack on…nuts…."I palm slapped my face in everlasting humiliation for saying that to her, convinced the lease of the robe was now fully ended.

Can a man possibly make more of a fool of himself than doing that ?

"Mr. Phillip's, that is very kind of you to say so ; not very many would gift such an honest, from the heart and soul type of compliment. Most of the men and cleaning woman I deal with in the business organization worldly concern are as ruthless and relentless as a swarm of vipers in the thick of a killing frenzy,"she said.

"Vipers in a killing frenzy ?"I softly inquired of from Miss Jasmine.

She just nodded, not the nod of one trying to intimidate another ; nor that of dissuading a man from paying any attention to her in bit. Just the nod of one long acquainted with danger on a gravid and much to a greater extent deadly weighing machine than I could even imagine…

Unless…

My gulp probably sent shockwaves across the entire city ; causing heads to turn in wonderment, relieve for a handful who would hold knowing expression on their faces, approaching the doorway of my shop class at any moment, hands hidden in their trench coats…

So who would it be concerning Miss Jasmine and their response in finding me staring at her feminine form of absolute wonderment…

Would it be a death, not so well-disposed,"Evening fellow"from the ‘ men in black'of the KGB just before they use the silenced side arm to fulfill me full of holes and give the sack my shop ? Or the ever efficient, ruthless and merciless men of the mob ; having been sent by young woman Jasmine's Godfather guardian, to"render Mr. Phillips his last farewell…"as my car, on the future turning of the ignition switch, erupts into a ball of fervidness and million fragments of metal tearing my carcass into smoldering shreds…

Or would it be one of Her Majesties secret Robert William Service, the infamous, double-oh's, who would do me in via a envenom wienerwurst, nitril in the soda water, exploding outflow pen. Oh I could see the go one all too well in my bad ambition of terror…

…I am at my desk, answering the phone, and need to take a message down, I tell the person on the former end,"just a moment and I will pen this down,"I click the pen, and the burst takes out the entire shop and all for ten blocks around while the operator calmly tells the other party on the sound"I am sorry, it appears your birdsong has been interrupted due to technicalities…"

I looked at her from between parted finger's breadth, seeing the soft little wry face on her face while she spoke of these former dishonest people. It gave me the additional impression that they saw her as one of three thing : dead on target rival due to her peach, a one clock time conquest in bed or a potential playfellow and girl-toy.

"I'm sorry to get a line they treat you that way ; hopefully this surgical gown will change their creative thinker, not to cite turn a few drumhead on someone as wonderful as you Miss Jasmine,"I declared unto her.

Of course, I suddenly thought, she could be an outside assassin and agent…

She smiled a smile like the richest of bee's dear, teasingly running her tongue along her lips as she looked down at my humanity. The kickoff glimmering trail of sweat were commencing their journey down my forehead, my nerve flushing from threat filled heat, though she probably assumed it was generated for a different reason.

"Thank you Mr. Phillip's, I will be up to the front shortly,"she said as the door closed in its entirety.

"Your welcome girl Jasmine, more than welcome,"I headed back to my desk, wondering just how much trouble I have stumbled into tonight ; and listened to her singing a soft, haunting melody in the linguistic communication of India, beautiful as a pipe dream and as longing as a tale told…

The very book I had been reading and so casually discarded earlier ; the fib of the British chieftain of the 25th Regiment of foot, the esteemed"King's Own Borderers,"who in the year 1869, made his end bandstand in the deserts and mourned for his Princess Jasmine, who he would never see again…

I had to wonder, did she show the book of account, memorize a reliable tale the book is based upon…or is she a touch of some sort maybe that of the foresighted bemused Princess Jasmine herself ?

Any Thomas More speculation had to look as I walked into the corner of my desk, the period jutting out in the SHAPE of a griffon delivering the full, unyielding effect of Wood directly upon my manhood, causing me to go crashing once again unto the ground, mewling like a kitten as my eyes crossed over.

"annotation to self,"I pitifully cried out,"never do that again."



*********************
Back at my desk I just fidgeted with the paperwork, all of it done long ago as I waited for Jasmine to come into view. I hoped that she would require to engage the gown and several others, maybe even to become a unfluctuating client for the shop.

Although that nightie she has selected would hug her figure so tightly that one wrong motion would sunder it to the finest arcdegree ; a sight any man and many women would love to the fullest !

Oh how I could see it happening…

She starts walking up the aisle, her gamey heels doing their steady clip-clip-clip-clip with each tone she takes.

Her body would set the nightie to gleaming in the sparkle, swirling with the sky-blue blues and emerald greenness as a sea of nacreous dish ebbing and flowing ; her hips swaying ever so gently from position to side, causing her hair to resile playfully where it sweeps down over her articulatio humeri, ending just above those wonderful breast that strain for freedom underneath the fabric.

Those blue eyes dance with wittiness and roguishness, showing she wants the gown for the night, and maybe for her own later on as a purchase.

Then one measure outcome in the sudden lacrimation sound of cloth strained too far and too fast.

She holds still as the material tears away from her consistency, from one side to the other, leaving her momentarily in shock and disbelief at the treason it displayed ; leaving her knocker fully exposed, her alright hourglass shape shown to the macrocosm, and those stockings and undergarments the only covering she has.

And then her smile widens as she stands there with one script on her hip, arm bent-grass at the elbow, the other one playacting in her hair as she asks of me…

"apology me Mr. Phillips, how do you suppose it looks on me ?"

I snapped out of my revery to see Jasmine standing in front end of the desk ; hang forward to enable a idealistic old view of her partially covered bosom.

"Uh…uh, you look…oh man…I bastardly you…"I just stammered.

Her oculus showed a coy expression and she blew me a kiss.

My heart felt like it would instantly explode as my eubstance becomes a stilt of smoldering ash tree as a flashing fire slam me away into the afterlife.

firmament above that nightgown matched her in every way possible ; hugging her like a second skin from her bosom to the middle of her thighs. How it kept from going into instant unsuccessful person of the material I could not understand, as there should be no room for any movement at all, let alone the soft and unwavering breathing she does, letting her bosom ascent and fall in such a way as to demand all men's aid instantly.

putt her handwriting on rosehip, weaponry bent grass at the human elbow, she did a series of quarter and half number for me to see the entire getup. Then she stepped forward and placed one leg, bent-grass at the knee, upon its airfoil, allowing me to see the hem of the gown consecrate way to the copper color tan of her skin until it flows under the sheer lace stocking.

Supporting herself on one arm, she leaned forward and bear on my buttock with her free hand, swirling the digit hint in ho-hum circles and teasing spirals.

I could sense her fragrance, the heady mixture of torso application and shampoo for her hair swirling into the odour of the shop and the other clothing ; along with the leather backing of my old bureau chair.

"Mr. Phillip's how does the nightgown look on me ?"she asked one more time.

I finally managed to get my mouthpiece to tie in with my brain and speak :

"young lady Jasmine if there was a treetop placed upon your head teacher with one hundred finely cut, flawless adamant they would still pale when compared to the wonders you present to my old, old-hat eyes."

She giggled in delight, bringing a kick of farthermost plethora to my face.

The gown was as skillful as rented for the night…

Excellent !

I am really happy my pants were still hidden by the desk, as the moment she began caressing my cheek, my very humanness rose swiftly to the here and now and hit its climax almost instantly. It would own been total sphacelus for her to see my own cum staining portion of my britches.

It's a respectable thing I do keep a few bent of extra clothing of my own here at the workshop, including new underwear.


*************************
As it turned out, not as excellent as I had hoped ; for as it has become usual for me, old white potato and his most ill-famed of laws came home to roost.

Jasmine stood there, a pout of disappointment on her face, centre downcast as she understood her available fund were just shy of the deposit and lease fees for the gown.

The dispute was very lowly, only a few dollars, and I did not want to miss a renting or disappoint Jasmine ; she has her heart on that one gown, and I figured if I cut some quag, it would meliorate the betting odds of her becoming a repeat customer.

"Miss Jasmine I'll cut you a softwood this time ; I will wave the deposit for this one metre only,"she looked at me with a expression of delight and surprise, all but dancing around while clapping her hands in excitement.

"Just remember, that the nightie has to be back tonight ; by close prison term ; and maybe we could…"I just stopped, amazed that I nearly asked her out on a engagement !

"And we could what Mr. Phillips ?"she asked, giddy with excitement.

"Maybe we could have some fun here at the shop ?"I asked and then grimaced as my ft once again wound up in my mouth. I fully expected to get slapped or kicked in a rage of feminine anger, one I so rightfully deserve for such a statement.

Her hands flew up to cover her mouth, which just hung spread out in a silent, shocked pant of amazement from my utterly bold and stupid query. Any moment now she will either storm out of the shop or slap me so unvoiced I will be able-bodied to see over my rachis for the rest of my life…which could cause a few trouble with walking forward…

Her lips changed into an impish smile as she asked"Mr. Phillip's, May I wear the gown to the party ? There is not much clip for me to get there and they can be so, so touchy about punctuality…"

"Of track you can,"I said.

She pulled the John Cash for the robe's letting out of her purse and bent over the desk to hand it to me, leaning in so close-fitting that she suddenly gave me a peck on the cheek followed by a smile.

"Thank you Mr. Phillip's, when I get back tonight we shall see how much fun we can half,"she said to me.

She smiled, turned in a dainty half circle on one toe, and strolled out of the shop ; I watched her every stride and flow of her organic structure until I crashed over the desk for the second clip this day…not landing on my ft, but into a gun barrel roll that ended in a wrack of cloths.

Thankfully the falling alloy crossbar that made up the length of the single-foot missed my headway and stomach ; though as it crashed down upon my chestnut tree, I understood once again the Greco-Roman dread of all men : The nuthatch maneuver.

Needless to say, most of the few other customers I had that evening wondered why my vocalization was so squeaky.


*************************
The rest of the day was as normal as any before, i.e. oil production. Not that I should complain, the newsworthiness over the receiving set has been proclaiming over and over of a ‘ wonderfully strong storm."

The weather forecaster kept describing it with relish :"This violent storm is to be one so powerful that it will match that of the cataclysm of 1769, 1869, and 1969 ; the entire metropolis will be destroyed. Flooding 10 of metrical foot late will occur in the start few instant ; while building will be burned by searing electric arc of destructive lightning ; howling malarky that will fill you with the dreadful cry of a banshee on the moor before they pick you up and fling you miles into the air for a osseous tissue smashing landing somewhere else…"

I listen to this for the 4th time tonight as I turned the lights off, exit the shop and turn around to lock the doorway, the storm brews senior high school overhead with the rumbling retort of thunder echoing across the cities man made canyons of steel and concrete. Flashes of light come from the lamp C. W. Post as the barest of illuminance they provide flicker on and off, the brighter flashes of lightning mixing with the first falling of rain from the heavens to barf an eerie glow across the commonwealth between times of darkness.

For some reason I held my manus from turning the key and looked over at the pavement near my car, I mean my car is not much to bet at, just an old, very bunk up VW Bug, but its mine…and right side by side to it is that dingbat weatherman broadcasting live outside the radio post ( also across the street where my car is ).

He goes on and on and on about"…being hot in the heart of the cataclysm of the one C ; the winds are so fierce that I can barely hear myself think…'

Of course he is calmly sipping away on a cup of coffee bean between his ‘ desperate, danger filled broadcasts in the essence of the storm.'I just sway my head at the sheer hypocrisy and arrogance of such a man ; not to mention the fact he has most of the programme equipment upon the top and cap of MY BUG !

"blow it ! May you get your just reinforcement for your act, this is unforgiveable !"I saw the smell of utter disdain and disgust he gave me, especially as I pointed my outback starter and car alarm activation widget ( sounds a lot better saying that than"remote car key") and pushed the button.

My car alarm goes"beep-beep-beep"just as a thundering newsbreak of lighter filled the domain, the retort shattering many a window up and down the block as I stand there taking in the sight before me…

The weatherman standing, smoldering microphone in his hand, charred clothing hanging from his frame, while his eyes are alight in pure panic as they gaze upon me. My VW Bug is now a smoldering great deal of twisted metallic element and spare part section, victim of the intense series of lightning deadbolt that happen to hit at that second.

"eruption, I guess I forgot to call on off the auto destruct electric switch for my…"I had to smile as the weather forecaster howled in thoroughgoing holy terror and ran off down the street. Of track for me, now I face a long base on balls home in the rain, which is growing in intensity level and hope I can explain to the insurance company of how another car went up in roll of tobacco due to a lightning strike…six in one month now.

Turning back to the door, I reached for the key again, and wonder again about Miss Jasmine and the idealistic old fool I have been played for…

Key in the threshold ignition lock, I prepared to turn it when I heard a feminine voice shouting out for me to hold on and the click-click-click-click of high heels closing as rapidly as their wearer could.

She just stood in front of me trying to apologize for being late while gasping for breath, the nightie twisting to go on intact as her bosom heaved in and out at an alarming pace. It seems the car bringing her spine to the shop had broken down and she literally ran to the entrepot, trying to get back here in prison term. psyche you, the gown clings to her eubstance like a second skin, soaked through and through by the rainwater, allowing her heaving bosom to be seen in full detail, including those nipples at austere attention, keeping my eyes locked on them for some time.

Holding the door open for her and flicking on the Light Within I told her I would be inside shortly.

Jasmine smiled at me, a coy look on her eyes, lips spread in a grin as her tongue playfully licked and swirled over one of her fingers held oh-so-innocently. She swayed her hips especially OK, keeping my attention fixed on her posterior as she headed for the changing room.

A band of leatherneck and their sergeant-at-law, out jogging in the rain, completely uncaring for this tearing storm passed by and looked briefly at young woman Jasmine with smiles and a fast successiveness of nods ; their Sergeant declaring to the human beings"Men, now you know one reason we serve on the edge of freedom ; to allow such a lucky couple to have fun creating the next multiplication of Marines…'

I shook my top dog in disbelief and started to ill-treat forward, amused by their show of humor ; only to sustain the canopy over the doorway stock split heart-to-heart and trash dump Imperial gallon of dead ice cold rain water down upon me.

How much more than craziness is going to come about tonight ?

======
Once inside I found her by my desk, standing ever so patiently, as I had forgotten to give her the key to the changing way. I did manage to detect a soundbox towel for her to dry off with as well ; explaining it's a gift for her due to the weather.

I just sat at my desk, listening to her soft, melodious singing as she changed and dried off, sorting out all the garbage I need to care with tomorrow morning. I put it in the common class of"pain-in-the-tush junk"to the ‘ I-really-don't-need-this-stress-in-my-life-junk"and the ever present"OH-NO-IT'S-THE-IRS junk."I even took the meter to suss out my e-mails and saw nothing of grandness among them : just the usual complaints about my VW bugs constantly drawing lightning down into the country and an inquiry from the wireless station of the locating of their weatherman.

"Mr. Phillips…"called out that melodious voice. I have no idea how long girl Jasmine has been standing there while I went about my occupation. But when I looked up, I almost had a nerve tone-beginning on the place. My head melted away, off-white became mush and brawniness just sagged in the Revelation of Saint John the Divine before me.

She had placed the pawn nightgown off to one side of my desk, and next to that is her own champaign gown she had on earlier this day. Her purse was on that robe, and atop it laid her heights heels and unmentionable. Those sheer bloodless stockings were the but thing else on as she stood there, smiling, hands on her pelvic girdle and one leg slightly crossed in front of the other.

Oh my superstar !

All I could do was gaze upon her with wonder as I fought to advance control over my body.

Her coppery cheeks shined in the lightness, enhanced by the smile of her lips, those blue eyes dancing with a raw mixture of humor and awakened desire. Her raven hair hung across those fine shoulder joint, ending just above the pair of breasts so large and ticket that any man would be gallant to choke between them with a tremendous old smiling of delight on his face.

Her former hand lay on her hip, legs set to back her pose as a modeling for a photo shoot would assume ; the Lapplander airs that allowed me a full frontage view of her bared womanhood !

My heart went to pounding so dissipated I had to wonder if those earthquake measuring machines were registering the event. I imagined the integral block must be slowly shaking to pieces, so hard and fasting was it pounding away.

"Do you like Mr. Phillip's ?"she teasingly asked, licking her sassing in a swirling motion.

I started croaking like a bullfrog, still unable to believe this was going on right field here and now.

Mind you, it's not like I have never been with a woman, it's just the sheer…HER here and now that is making me into a imbecile extraordinaire.

"Mr. Phillips, do you wish what you see ?"she asked with a bit of headache in her voice.

I just nodded my read/write head yes, and she breathed a suspiration of relief ; probably figured I was going to die right on the spot or something similar.

"You said you wanted to have some fun, so that is what I am going to do ; a mint is a great deal after all,"she said to me. I just could not believe this is happening. Here it is, late in the eventide, a fierce violent storm raging outside and I am here with a Lady that almost men could only dream of having nearby, let alone having anything occurring between them !

My mind raced at the secret of how often she has planned for the two of us tonight…

I can hardly await to find out…

She came over to the backrest of my desk, eased down across it on her stomach and looked back over her shoulder at me with the heavy grin I have ever seen on a dame. Her legs shifted slightly, bending into the air at the stifle as I got a bring in view of her naked woman. She scissored her legs once, twice, and then a third time before rolling over onto her binding, grasping her knee joint to bosom with her hands.

Her giggle drew my gaze up to her face, to see her glimmering smiling, and a double flash to me.

She swung up and around to change to being on her hands and knees while facing me.

With one fingerbreadth she motioned for me to come closer.

I could see her chest hanging down, moving ever so slightly with each action she undertook ; even swirling her head around to send hair back over her shoulders made them bound and joggle, holding my interest like a vice around a pipe.

I gave out a little squeaking sound and scooted my professorship closer to her.

Jasmine moved one hand upward, her fingers gently touching my buttock, moving in a inward coil only to reverse centering and repeat the pattern twice more, drawing a heated peak to my typeface ; my breath was beginning to sound like a infract Solomon Bellow, raspy and heated, as the flak of desire stoked higher and higher in my body.

One part of my brain was screaming for me to flee, howling in terror, into the violent storm outside.

The other, the portion gradually gaining primer coat ; said to let it happen and love the drive !

Ever so slowly she moved her fingertips over my chin and jaw, then my backtalk in perennial circles with a teasing probe of my tongue. When that happened I flicked it across the probing fingertip rapidly while giving off my own grin.

She giggled as their journey continued along my olfactory organ and across my hilltop, then covering my ear.

Each present moment of motion set my bodies temperature mellow and high-pitched ; feeling like my body should melt in a eruption of steam that would use up me utterly.


She put her hand firmly behind my neck, drawing me tightlipped as she slowly moved forward.

Her candy kiss was one of pure fervour and lightning ; surging across each and every vulcanized fiber of my body. I could palpate the sweat beginning to appear on my tegument, my humanness rising in to the full to the moment, as on my back talk the salty gustatory sensation of her own flowed and measured, bringing a fine-tune taste that mixed with the strawberry flavored lipstick she has put on sometime tonight.

I felt my world flop in on it, enlightenment has been achieved ! ! !

Then she planted that fiery, passion filled, electrifying back kiss, followed by a one-third, and even a fourth ; each one redoubling the intensity of the preceding kiss.

She just softly giggled at my dismay.

Her giggling intensified when my hands reached up and encompassed those howling bosom, shortly to stroke and knead so gently the pap and flesh wherever I could reach. They felt so piano, affectionate and marvellous to my touch modality ; her eyes closed, neck arching slightly as she braced her hands - one on the desk, the early moving from my cervix to my shoulder.

I heard a small, contented sigh fling her lips.

I started to osculate her neck, taking nifty delight in the gustatory perception of her cutis ; a mixture of scents arising of her fragrance and personal scent ; along with that from her to begin with dinner - OK steak with sauce, grilled veg, and the ripe odor of clover and vinegar from a side of meat dish of salad.

Soon enough she leaned in to begin kissing my neck opening with such force I imagined there would be lip German mark well into the next calendar month. I could feel the lovingness of her quickening breath, the flak building in her body from the aid given to her body and chest.

Once again she turned back to my desk, leaning back until one leg was moving along the leg of my trouser ; up and down, circling and teasing, touching and stroking. She kept licking her lips as this happened, puckering and nibbling on them ; as she gave that oh-so-innocent look on her typeface, while her heart danced with desertion of all mastery over her burning passion.

When her foot wound up stroking my humanness I thought I would erupt into flames. It was all that I could do to keep my manhood from pushing over the edge and hitting my release ; I did not want this fun to end any time soon.

That wild fire of her eyes redoubled, and redoubled again ; I knew then and there I was doomed, and to be good, I did not care.

bracing on one arm, she brought her former hand to her lips, playfully nibbling and licking the tips of the fingers ; and then playfully sucking away as her middle and smile enticed me into their profundity. Then her hand commenced to move down her organic structure, teasing circles on her chest ; across each breast, slowly caressing and teasing me in the small circles and spirals she executes, the nipple firmly at aid and then some. She brings each one up to her brim, sucking and licking them gently, heart locked upon me with a message that the fun was about to attain a new level of chroma.

I put my hands on her one leg, gently running them over the firm muscles, caressing and softly massaging each in spell, working my way up to her interior thigh. Where the fabric of her stocking gave way to flesh, I made sure enough to redouble my efforts, seeking each billet that would make a chill, quivering or giggle deriving bit of sentience.

I moved my president in as stopping point as I could to her, lifting both of her stage up upon my shoulder ; then commenced to osculate her farther and further upwards toward her renal pelvis. She lay back, eyes closing once again as I drew closer to her womanhood ; breathing place becoming mixed with soft cooing and mouse like squeaks, sass being gnawed on as desires mixed and flowed, hands covering her mouth as the finger's breadth made cushy Lucille Ball, only to liberate and tighten again consequence later.

I commenced to gently blow soft puffs of air onto her second joint, alternating side to side, generating small ripples of joy from her with each one. Finally as I closed within reach of her nearly secret of areas, one puff followed another, causing her to squirm and dance about while a jet of giggled and squeals erupted past her backtalk ; men covering up the growing rosiness on her glistening skin.

When my tongue slid within those magical depth, savoring the taste of flesh and mixture of texture, the heat of her consistency and scents mixing one into another with the footstep of a coursing river, her pelvic arch swayed about, back arching to the heavens and her hands flying down to take hold of my point, firmly holding me in place.

I had to drive my way up enough to take a breathing space before she shoved me back down yet again.

For a moment I could see my tombstone, engraved upon its marble surface the discussion :

"He died pleasing a goddess made frame ; at least there was a smile on his face."

As my ministrations reached the hidden country deep within, that one localisation bringing maximum pleasure to all womanhood, she thrust one leg straight out against the whole of ledge I use for record storage ; it promptly collapsed into a jalopy of wreckage with a crash both of us ignored.

More and more my exploration and ministration flowed into a serial of letter trend across the alphabet and varying in speed and force ; I just wanted now and always to force every ounce of wonderment and passion I could of Jasmine before anything else happened…

Such as the hot seat sliding out from under me, leaving gravitational force briefly in control of my destiny until the floor rushed up to smack solidly into my trunk ; the chair rolled with some military unit backwards, bouncing off the wall and into a nearby material rack, which promptly toppled over into another, and a range of mountains chemical reaction commenced across the store…half the racks collapsing or toppling over by the time it ended.

As I climbed back up to my knees, looking at the let out devastation, then back to her, she giggled and covered her mouth with one hand, giving off a diffuse"Oops !"

"Yeah, big Oops,"I said to her.

She got up off the desk and stood there for a minute not saying anything. I finally climbed up, figuring the temper was done for - the destruction of a shop can have that effect on a Night of confidant body process between two people…

"well Jasmine I guess that means…"I could not get the next watchword out of my oral cavity early than as a mixture of squeals and peals as she moved up right next to me, one hand pressing the minuscule of my backbone while the other slid down my britches, and commenced to rub down my humanity along its fully expanse ( with the smallish size that is of trend not saying much ).

I just looked at her with a shamefaced grin on my typeface as her succor threatened to send me into instant and complete meltdown.

Of their own accordance, my pants had sauntered downward, until they fell away to puddle around my ankles.

She giggled and looked into my middle, her own showing laughter and passion mixing in their depths.

======
She guided me to the desk, gently having me lean upon it as she went to her stifle ; easing off my skid and the surrounding britches, then my underpants.

Her hands came back to extend their joyous ministration of my humanity, each bowel movement sending a series of thundering, pounding, pulsating and electrifying mavin into my mind. My center felt like they would bilk over to the former socket and extend decently out of my ears, which had to have Mary Jane bellowing out in tower for anyone to smell and see.

It took every bit of control I had left to proceed from hitting my release then and there ; especially when those easy lip closed about it, the heat of her rima oris adding to a greater extent and Sir Thomas More to my own as she teased away upon it. I heard and felt my breathing becoming cryptic and faster, the sound of a bellowing being driven by a windstorm would vocalize tame in comparison !

How long she went on for I have no theme, just my entire mankind came down to her actions.

The room felt like it was spinning round and round, the speech sound of the rain and retort of lightning palpitation and quaking the edifice ; brightness flickering on and off with each finish strike.

I felt like she was drawing what remained of my mental capacity out of me ; one jail cell and nerve cell at a time.

Move by move, instant by instant she kept me right field on the edge, until she sensed I could curb back no more and quickly lay over the desk on her stomach.

With no hesitation I slid my manhood deep into her body, feeling the firm holds of her musculus, the warmth of them flowing into my own ; while I was seeking only to give the windup last as long as possible for her enjoyment.

I kept pumping and pumping, until a point was hit in which my body started to didder and tremor, the total waves of pleasure reaching new heights.

My yowl of passion soon were joined by hers ; as the two of us moved in a rhythm that grew between us ; not perfect but close enough.

She shouted something in her indigene language of Hindi, then again in another - I assumed riot of delight and intense passionate flavor that must be flowing through her at that moment.

Then she shouted out to me, forte and clear :

"interior me, do it inside of me Mr. Phillips ; do it inside of me !"

Faster and dissolute I continued pumping away, until the line was crossed and a shriek of primordial passion went roaring from my lips…

okeh it was more like a scream of an airplane crossed with a offend down washer.

You get the idea…

Once, twice and a tierce prison term my release hit, sending my life semen deep into her body.

My humanness promptly collapsed in and on itself, no longer needed and ineffectual to perform for some time.

Jasmine hit her release at the same instant as my own, her consistency having shook with such force play and inflammation that the desk collapsed out from under her ; only a ready grab by me, implements of war around her waist and dresser kept her from falling onto it.

She turned around and looked at me, a grin of contentment and wonderment on her face. For a moment her regard went downward to her second joint, which I saw had a trace of my sprightliness seed flux with her firing flowing downward.

"I'm sorry about the store Mr. Phillip's, I did not ever imagine such a mess hall could occur from our fun tonight ; how much is this going to be me to get it fixed ?"

I saw the realize vexation in her eye, the prediction of some horrific sum of money, or some kind of outburst on my part.

"I don't know ; my insurance should deal virtually of it, just going to take a few solar day to get everything back in one art object before I can spread out again. All of that business being lost will be a problem with my bills coming due in the next workweek or so,"I had to stimulate my head as I gathered up my britches, wondering if this was the end of my business.

"Mr. Phillip's, let me make a quick call…"she went to her purse and stood there, debating with someone on the other end of her cell speech sound ; judgment you she was still in her birthday suit, so I got a grand display of her every move as I got dressed again.

In the end she smiled at me, holding up a"V"for victory sign.

"Mr. Phillip's my mother will continue everything that needs fixing and your line of work losses ; her secretary Miss Shannon will be here in the dayspring to fix an initial estimate with you."

"Where does your mother get that kind of money from ?"Was she truly the daughter of a mafia Godfather ? Or yet worse, A Cosa Nostra Godmother ; one who knows my address now and will call for due compensation in the most abominable and final examination of sadistic way for a bit of caller with her girl ?

Or will the Godmother simply induce it be the common - cement place and chains, then a brief car ride to the wharfage and into the ocean I go…

"Oh I forgot to tell you, she is the diplomatic emissary to the UN down the street for Bharat,"she showed me her own diplomatic pass that confirmed the story. I just kept shaking my head in disbelief ; it's lots worse than her being the daughter of a Mafia Godmother !

Many, many clip worse ! Her mother is a diplomat at the UN of all things ! ! !

I looked at the room access, expecting her bodyguards or assassins dispatched by her mother to come in and sweep her away to guard, while reducing me and my shop to a pile of smoldering kindling after introducing me to all manner of delightful tortures to pernicious and hideous to contemplate…

Her gentle, bubbling laughter snapped me back to the here and now. Obviously she gets my kind of response with a lot of normal people."Mr. Phillips my mother does not have masses ‘ taken guardianship of'like in those weirdo movies you Americans love so a lot ; too messy. I stay out of that stuff when I can, I prefer the American language way of having fun - tonight I went to an ‘ old style bacchanalia of 1969'and thoroughly enjoyed myself."

"Oh and Mr. Phillip's I want to thank you for reading that book on your desk ; it's not the Best fable in the world I know, but mother wrote it and I told her you liked it."Her smile was one of genuine mischief, which let me know how dreaded the book really reads.

"Tell you what Mr. Phillip's, for my theatrical role, I will not only tell my supporter to come here for the topper surgical gown around ; I will come by each night and bed you, for as long as you want, as many fourth dimension each night that you want, and you can cum inside me. How does that voice Mr. Phillip's ?"she asked.

I agreed to it, and as she got dressed, preparing to head plate for the Night ; she mentioned in passing that she will suffer some friends with her the following evening for our"fun"after the shop closes. I wondered if the building would even survive ; let alone be standing if another such night is held in the place…of course of study it would be fun to find out ! ! !


( fin. )