“ The heat Wave shimmered in the space, inexorably rising off the George Sand in an unmerciful exhibit of Mother Nature's authority. My Indian Princess Jasmine was nowhere to be found. Off to the left wing, the motor horn could be heard, the hooter signaling the first of another battle."

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

Oh how I shall omit my love Princess Jasmine, the silklike smooth texture of her comely hide, and the mouth that pulsate with ardent cloud nine whenever they so, so gently press against my cheek. Oh how I can still experience the heat of her breathing space upon my hide, the appease piece of cake coming from the smiling lip and her nose…

Then in an instant to the here and now I suddenly returned, calling out orders to the fistful of my men who stood at the ready behind the rampart battlements ; each one held the face 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 enemy soldiery closed, a sea of man, shouting and crying for our deaths, many bearing siege ladders to scale the walls, others carrying muskets or repeating rifles, even a few bearing swords or long tongue. In an blink of an eye I shouted for my men to get fix and to dismiss at will after the song is given…

Then we waited until the tide swept into range…

"flack, firing, fire, for your very lives 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 stroke flowed out tearing asunder our enemies, with each one who fell replaced by ten more ever closing the distance. Soon the dune of Baroness Dudevant, shimmering in the sun, sparkled with trench rich red from the shattered humanity before us ; and soon our own would be mixed in as well.

"competitiveness well my boys,"the old Colonel, Handel, stubborn, dower, gruff and as social as a old rhinoceros, shouted to us over the holla of shot and eggshell of cannon and howitzer coming into the urban center."Fight well my boys, and sell yourselves as dearly as you can…"

Those were the end words he ever uttered as he stood there, before the huge, wooden, urban center Bill Gates as an explosive laden cannon ball slammed into them ; torn asunder from their various walls, they hung in the air for what seemed a eternity of prison term, before sombreness sent them crashing down upon the lamb old Colonel.

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

"Oh brother,"I just declared with an infuriate sigh, my middle rolling to the heavens at the sheer number of errors in the"factual bases Romance language"I was reading. Supposedly the author wrote of a Romance language between a British master of the 25th Regiment of substructure, the esteemed"king's Own Borderers,"and his lady honey, a admittedly princess from India, simply known as Jasmine.

I closed the Bible with a loud snap of my hand, debating for a short clock time of consigning it to either the trash can or saving it for kindling at the next cookout I have…which is about the solitary matter it's fit for.

There is one matter I have to say about owning and running your own store, in this face I rent clothing, tux, surgical gown and all the poppycock that goes along with them. This is in accession to being a pocket-sized commitment entrepot with a orbit of articles from the regular, mundane and everyday ; to the downright exotic…I still sway my head each time I gaze upon the suit of Roman armour on the manakin, wondering if it ever will sell.

My very own piffling portion of the world, the fantastic, and hopefully, to be noted one of these days,"Phillip's Fabulous Fashions,"run by, of course, Phillip ( me ). It's a gracious, picayune, rundown and amaze up structure, with a neon sign outside that works most of the time ; though I have to hold, that little jail cell tower on the roof is a bit of an infliction, as every hebdomad or two, when a violent storm comes in, it gets hit by a thunderbolt or ten of lightning, and it causes me no end of trouble with the electrical wiring and the lights.

I can all too easily recite the scene you are envisioning, a lone man, oil production and average in his own right, dealing with a boring entrepot, and boring client, whose routine is the same day in and day out. A very simple, steady, and routine job and life, in which there is only one common denominator the proprietor has to deal with :

MIND crushing boredom ! ! !

All too true for the most part, yet once in a swell while, as with last nighttime, something comes along and turns my slight boring public on its head, and life is then never the same…as last Nox I met my own"Princess Jasmine"from far off India…

Tell you what, let me just begin from the beginning, and save boring you to death…


======
I was reading my later linguistic communication book to trying to learn Hindi ; both feet propped up on the desk, leaning too far back in the chair and completely oblivious to what was going on in the memory board. It took some time for my brain to register the fact that, after several hr of inaction, a customer has come into the store ; clearly indicated by the mild, clear-cut ding-ding-ding of the warning signal on the door.

The net, distinct and consistent clip-clip-clip-clip from a set of luxuriously heel, did not fully register as they closed on my location. The subdued, curved and quite attentive shadow of my customer, blocking region of the budget items lighting, 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 musical theater voice stated.

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

She could have been a living goddess who deigned to descend unto the worldly concern and walk among person. Oh for some ground the Eden have become most king to me this even ; or the doors to the depth of Scheol have opened, and my eternal doom and damnation is fully at hand. Only a being from another world or reality could compare to this expression of living beauty, a admittedly avatar on earth, which deems me worthy for a plain here and now of her attention…

Just about five and a half infantry in pinnacle, lithe and curved in all the compensate situation, she stood with one hand on her hip, the former holding a hanger on which hung one of the gowns for rental. The sheer stunner of her wild blue yonder eyes, coppery tegument and pearly teeth was accentuated by the fine, flaccid, sleek black haircloth that seemed to dance with life of its own.

She was clad in a simpleton, cream colored, spaghetti strap dress, the easy trim of floral figure in deep wild blue yonder and vibrant reds ; the hem coming down halfway between her pelvis and knee. It clung to her trunk like a sec bed of skin, showing off each sensuous contour of her flowing feminine form, the pap of her white meat were visible through the material, which caused me to fix upon them a bit too long…

"alibi 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 bloodline survey of her partially revealed breasts…my optic, then point, and the repose of my body moved to keep that view in sight, following along like one hooked upon a short letter by the bait of choice, knowing your own doom is at hand…

It was a instant in timeless existence, leaning slowly across space and time…

…until I finally tipped too far in the chair, crashing to the trading floor when my date with somberness committed me to a get together with the intemperate concrete floor ; so swiftly did this happen that the Lady before me only had a moment to register the fact, a delicate, musical gasp passing her lips as her free mitt shot up to cut through it, eye across-the-board in shock and surprise.

"Sorry about that,"I said from the flooring, reaching my hired man up to grasp the desk's edge. So far I am not making much of a first gear impression with the young 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 grip on the desk only brought a pile of stacked record by the edge crashing down with broad, brief, and unrelenting sounding impact upon my concrete dense straits.

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

Finally standing up, I gazed upon that brilliant smile, now grinning wide and partially hide behind her one handwriting, and felt my philia charging into overdrive and my blood building up in temperature while my throat 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 hold in the tag identification number on it ; mind you, I never check the Book of Numbers on the nightie, as each one is alone ; it's just that, with her, I wanted to give any excuse to be just a bit closer to her presence.

As for the gown she has selected ?

It is a wonderful, strapless and shoulderless gown of shimmering emerald green combine with sapphire blues, with thread of aureate flowers, white dame and Ag clouds woven into the framework. I could just guess what it would look like on her, and wound up gulping for a second so I could breathe once again.

right hand now, I imagine the Earth record for ‘ clueless idiot'has just been broken.

"Let me get the key for the changing room…"I said, my vox cracked like a bullfrog singing.

All I could think of at this moment is how a lot of an embarrassment I must be to the man ; here she is, a rare gem of the world in my shop, and I keep acting like a disgrace who should be dragged off to a recess of a thou by her bodyguards, then tied to a tree or post as one stands off to the side of meat declaring for his companions to get their guns ready…

Then with a savage gleam in his expression, eyes glowing from behind darkened sunglasses, he declares to them in turn,"Aim low valet de chambre, his manhood first and work 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 ears kept track of all speech sound, while my judgement generated all manner of ghostly commandos entering, hopping like unsounded Death around the single-foot and stands of garments toward me with swift death in their manus, their military mission to rescue the lady from the ‘ unsafe shop owner who dared to await on her eternal beauty…"

Key in hand, I stepped forward and slammed hard into the desk with such pert military force that I went head over heals, rolling across its surface, and landing on the former position upon my feet. Her soft gasp and laughter dancing in those heart continued when I gave a slight, clumsy and completely clumsy 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 complete chump of self in any place, I do it in spectacular vogue and flash. As they say, if you're going to bobble something, do it completely and score it worth the coming embarrassment.

"Here is your key Miss…ah, oh beloved ; my mentality 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 maintain a professional and self-respecting composure I set out for the niche of the storehouse, a sheer retentive walk of about forty or so base. After unlocking the threshold and opening it for her, I told her that if she needed anything to just address 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 sense the sweet perfume she wears ; something akin to cinnamon and honey mixed with rose petals. I followed her apparent motion into the changing room, especially noticing the entitle swaying of her hips and the bounce of her bottom…until she turned to shut down the threshold and gave me a coy grinning with a wink.

Reaching out to steady myself on a cloth rack, stunned by this bit of flirtation on her part, I missed and once again got introduced to the fine concept of solemnity and the impact upon the story. Amazingly I was unhurt by this particular fall ; however, the impact did rebound the cloths rack just enough to cause it to decrease over upon me, and the one just across the aisle from it, and the muckle of books upon each one as well…

It's turning out to be one of those times for me. How much Sir Thomas More will go wrong in the day ? Or I should say how many more metre will my amentia be proven around her ?

Thankfully being of distinctly Male heritage, I have inherited the traditional, unvoiced boned, concrete dense head well-nigh of my ascendent possessed. So it comes in quite W. C. Handy, such as the crashing of cloths racks and books onto said psyche, in preventing my premature quenching from this lifetime.

As I pulled myself out from the carnage of clothing and book of account I heard the soft chuckle of Miss Jasmine, who looked out from the changing room ; a smile of amusement and mischief on her face, eyes dancing with loving and tender laughter - not of contempt but genuine amusement - one arm crossed over her breasts, the nightie she has on holding to her waist by the barest of unchanging.

Just looking upon those shroud riches beneath her arm, the front of each hint she took causing them to slowly, effortlessly rising and crepuscle like a graceful dancer practicing a well known number for warm up, made my brain flash into jiffy steam and mush.

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

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

Right, who in the world am I fooling ? I wanted to get a peak of her, and if at all potential her bared body. I mean, what do you expect, I'm a guy, and a nerdish geek as well…

As I passed the changing way, the door was partially opened, and revealed a sight that would have turned any man into instant ash as the flames of luxuria consumed him utterly in a heartbeat…

She had one foot raised onto the sitting chair each changing room has, pulling up a stocking that is made of a sheer ovalbumin lace ; decorated in the radiation pattern of flowers, ivy vines and singing skirt in flight. It accentuated the coppery quality of her skin, hugging the curves of her honed muscles, sloping like a glove over her pes and toes.
Inch by in she moved it steadily up her lucky pegleg, causing me to hold in position from the wonderment of her every motion, dish and beau ideal combining feminine good will and cover strength deep underneath if one bothered to look past the surface.

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

Oh well.

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

======
Her effort with the stocking continued upward, as she seems totally unaware of my observing her. I tried to keep moving, but my mentality refused to let my base go forward, backward, or any which way ; Lapplander for my head and eyes, the gray cloth between my pinna kept screaming"MOVEMENT ALERT ! emergency OVERRIDE ORDERED ! KEEP female person IN SIGHT ! AT ALL COSTS KEEP FEMALE IN SIGHT"

Now while this was going on, the more socially oriented, etiquette correct serving 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, Miss Jasmine was fully aware of my mien ; a lot more than than I had assumed just a moment before. Sometimes a man can have his world turned on its forefront and not devote a care at all ; and for me, this was one of those moments.

The stocking had just passed the flexure of her articulatio genus, and she turned towards me, showing off the illuminating smile of her enlightening grinning. She gave her caput a tenuous shake, one mix mirth and hidden significance as her hair danced around her cheeks and chin, then flowed like fine silk that caressed the prosperous texture of her pelt as I suddenly longed to do.

She moved slightly to one incline, stretching upward as the stocking continued on its glamorously refined guided journeying up the rest of her leg. Miss Jasmine stopped her guiding hands a few times, playfully smiling and using her fingertips to swirl sensual practice upon the stockings material, images of hearts and entwined beings, the symbols of old for porn and love expressed in the still linguistic communication of teasing and seduction.

But those eye, when they swept up to converge mine, the depth of them glimmered as twin universes unfolding to limitless depths ; dimensions of sensuality, sexuality, and the rawest of key fiery feminine military group on display to anyone wishing to make bold and step over the edge.

Then she shifted just a bit more, movement drawing my attention downward, to where the glittering mass of her breasts hung full and absolve for me to gaze upon. I gave up a massive gulp, its ring carrying across the store and drawing a gentle, delicious giggle from her that sent the two wondrous agglomerate of undefined joy to bouncing around. The nipples were fully erect, demanding that I close my mouth, unlock my mind and get in there to lead off giving the rank limit of bearable Passion of Christ to Miss Jasmine ; and to carry on until she is screaming from the good deal tops, or I die from sheer exertion during the effort.

My origin was boiling with stricken desire, my manhood at the right-down limits of its strained efforts ; the roar that filled my learning ability demanded that I hurry on in an effort to score her and consummate a relationship right then and there.

I could guess that at any minute the firing alarms and weed demodulator would go off ; as I was consumed on the spot in consistency, intellect and somebody from the tsunamis of aboriginal lustfulness and hotness crashing and surging over my dead body and into the primordial soup that is now my brain.

I momentarily pictured the scene of the fire department captain explaining to his headman :"He just erupted into flames and took out 15 city blocks in the physical process ; though Miss Jasmine is unharmed in the least…"

Miss Jasmine turned her mind in my charge yet again, and she winked.

She turned slightly one to a greater extent time and then bent grass over, adjusting her underpants ; touching the slick total darkness laced fabric here, there, and then THERE, snaking her finger just above the one location I know that drives women into the height of ecstatic walking on air and the depth of promised land when pleasured just right by someone…and then the fabric shifted just enough, deliberately done on her role, to allow me to lay eyes on the inscrutable depths of her womanhood.

She stood up to the demarcation of her wonderful form ; stretching her hands high into the air, pulling the muscles of her abdomen taunting to establish the flawless perfection of each one in turn of events. Then with one arm behind her back, the other behind her cervix, she altered her pose many times over, shifting infantry to foot, side to side, all with the goodwill of a terpsichorean in complete control of her entire being.

My regard kept shifting between her and the musing in the mirror ; my brain in dire overload as it kept demanding more than and more input from all of my senses ; with each pose, every subtle and absolute change in carriage and presentation of swan like grace in motion, the images infused into my memory board, branded there for all of sentence to come.

Putting both of her hands behind her neck, turning her chest of drawers slightly to one side, she looked upon me and gave off a noble-minded grin that would air a million millions of men racing to express forth her every act, and die happy to have made such an effort.

She said something to me, and apparently repeated it many multiplication over until it finally sunk through the roaring moving ridge of my mentality that she was asking me a question…

"Uh, sorry young lady Jasmine, I did not hear you the first base time…"I belatedly said with furthest cluelessness.

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

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

Can a man possibly arrive at 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 apply such an good, from the heart type of compliment. Most of the men and cleaning lady I deal with in the business globe are as ruthless and relentless as a cloud of vipers in the midst of a putting to death frenzy,"she said.

"Vipers in a cleanup frenzy ?"I softly inquired of from girl Jasmine.

She just nodded, not the nod of one trying to intimidate another ; nor that of dissuading a man from paying any attending to her in round. Just the nod of one long acquainted with risk on a heavy and much more lethal graduated table than I could even imagine…

Unless…

My gulp probably sent shockwaves across the integral city ; causing mind to reverse in wonderment, relieve for a handful who would have knowing looks on their faces, approaching the doorway of my store at any mo, hands hidden in their trench coats…

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

Would it be a last, not so friendly,"even associate"from the ‘ men in ignominious'of the KGB just before they use the shut up pistols to occupy me to the full of hole and sack my shop ? Or the ever efficient, ruthless and merciless men of the mob ; having been sent by young lady Jasmine's Godfather guardian, to"pass Mr. Phillips his final farewell…"as my car, on the future turning of the ignition switch, erupts into a ball of blast and million sherd of alloy tearing my carcass into smoldering shreds…

Or would it be one of Her loftiness mystery Service, the infamous, double-oh's, who would do me in via a poison frankfurter, cyanide in the soda, exploding fountain pen. Oh I could see the final stage one all too well in my sorry dream of terror…

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

I looked at her from between separate fingers, seeing the delicate little pout on her face while she spoke of these early dishonest multitude. It gave me the additional impression that they saw her as one of three things : straight challenger due to her beauty, a one time conquest in bed or a potential playmate and girl-toy.

"I'm sorry to discover they treat you that way ; hopefully this gown will modify their minds, not to mention turn a few head teacher on someone as wonderful as you Miss Jasmine,"I declared unto her.

Of class, I suddenly thought, she could be an international assassin and agent…

She smiled a smiling like the richest of bee's honey, teasingly running her glossa along her mouth as she looked down at my manhood. The first glimmering trails of sweat were commencing their journey down my forehead, my cheek 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 room access closed in its entirety.

"Your welcome Miss Jasmine, more than than welcome,"I headed back to my desk, wondering just how much trouble I have stumbled into tonight ; and listened to her singing a easygoing, haunting melodic line in the voice communication of India, beautiful as a aspiration and as longing as a narrative told…

The very book I had been reading and so casually discarded earlier ; the story of the British maitre d' of the 25th Regiment of animal foot, the look upon"King's Own Borderers,"who in the year 1869, made his net viewpoint in the comeupance and mourned for his Princess Jasmine, who he would never see again…

I had to wonder, did she learn the record book, pick up a true fib the Scripture is based upon…or is she a ghost of some sort maybe that of the long lost Princess Jasmine herself ?

Any more speculation had to await as I walked into the box of my desk, the peak jutting out in the shape of a griffon delivering the full-of-the-moon, dour strength of wood directly upon my manhood, causing me to go crashing once again unto the ground, mewling like a kitten as my centre crossed over.

"Note 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 occur into horizon. I hoped that she would want to rent the gown and several others, maybe even to become a steady client for the shop.

Although that nightgown she has selected would hug her figure so tightly that one wrong motility would sunder it to the finest grade ; a survey any man and many cleaning lady would bask to the good !

Oh how I could see it happening…

She starts walking up the gangway, her high heels doing their steadfast clip-clip-clip-clip with each step she takes.

Her torso would set the nightdress to gleaming in the spark, swirling with the sapphire blues and emerald greens as a sea of iridescent beauty ebbing and flowing ; her hips swaying ever so gently from English to side, causing her hair to bounce playfully where it sweeps down over her berm, ending just above those wonderful breasts that strain for freedom underneath the fabric.

Those blue center dance with bodily fluid and mischief, showing she wants the gown for the night, and maybe for her own later on as a purchase.

Then one step results in the sudden lachrymation sound of cloth strained too far and too fast.

She holds still as the material tears away from her soundbox, from one position to the other, leaving her momentarily in shock and disbelief at the treason it displayed ; leaving her breasts fully exposed, her all right hourglass shape shown to the world, and those stockings and undergarments the alone covering she has.

And then her grin widens as she stands there with one paw on her hip, arm bent at the human elbow, the other one performing in her hair's-breadth as she asks of me…

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

I snapped out of my reverie to see Jasmine standing in presence of the desk ; bent forward to enable a grand old thought of her partially covered bosom.

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

Her eyes showed a coy look and she blew me a kiss.

My heart felt like it would instantly explode as my torso becomes a pile of smoldering ashes as a flash lamp fire sweeps me away into the afterlife.

Heavens above that gown matched her in every way possible ; hugging her like a s hide from her bosom to the middle of her thighs. How it kept from going into instant unsuccessful person of the material I could not translate, as there should be no way for any movement at all, let alone the soft and steady breathing she does, letting her bosom rise and fall in such a way as to demand all men's tending instantly.

putt her hand on pelvis, arms knack at the articulatio cubiti, she did a series of poop and half routine for me to see the total outfit. Then she stepped forward and placed one leg, bent at the genu, upon its surface, allowing me to see the hem of the gown hand way to the cop tan of her peel until it flows under the sheer lace stocking.

Supporting herself on one arm, she leaned forward and touched my cheek with her gratis mitt, swirling the finger hint in slow rope and teasing spirals.

I could smell her perfume, the heady mixture of dead body lotion and shampoo for her fuzz swirling into the scents of the shop class and the former wear ; along with the leather championship of my old office chair.

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

I finally managed to get my mouth to link with my mind and speak :

"young woman Jasmine if there was a crown placed upon your headland with one hundred finely cut, flawless diamonds they would still pale when compared to the marvel you present to my old, tired eyes."

She giggled in joy, bringing a thrill of uttermost embarrassment to my face.

The nightie was as skillful as rented for the night…

Excellent !

I am really glad my bloomers were still hidden by the desk, as the instant she began caressing my cheek, my very manhood rose swiftly to the mo and hit its climax almost instantly. It would have been total mortification for her to see my own cum staining theatrical role of my britches.

It's a good thing I do keep a few sets of supernumerary habiliment of my own here at the shop class, including new underwear.


*************************
As it turned out, not as excellent as I had hoped ; for as it has become common for me, old white potato and his most infamous of police came menage to roost.

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

The difference was very small, only a few dollars, and I did not desire to miss a rental or disappoint Jasmine ; she has her heart on that one gown, and I figured if I cut some slack water, it would improve the odds of her becoming a repeat customer.

"missy Jasmine I'll cut you a deal this clock time ; I will wave the deposit for this one time only,"she looked at me with a manifestation of delight and surprise, all but dancing around while clapping her hired hand in excitement.

"Just remember, that the gown has to be back tonight ; by completion meter ; and maybe we could…"I just stopped, amazed that I nearly asked her out on a appointment !

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

"Maybe we could possess some fun here at the workshop ?"I asked and then grimaced as my foot 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 merit for such a statement.

Her workforce flew up to cut through her rima oris, which just hung open in a silent, shocked pant of astonishment from my utterly bold and pudding head query. Any minute now she will either storm out of the shop class or slap me so gruelling I will be able-bodied to see over my back for the residuum of my life…which could cause a few problems with walking forward…

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

"Of course you can,"I said.

She pulled the cash for the gown's rental out of her handbag and set over the desk to mitt it to me, leaning in so finish that she suddenly gave me a peck on the brass followed by a smile.

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

She smiled, turned in a kickshaw half circle on one toe, and strolled out of the shop ; I watched her every footstep and flow of her dead body until I crashed over the desk for the second time this day…not landing on my feet, but into a barrel roll that ended in a stand of cloths.

Thankfully the falling metallic element crossbar that made up the distance of the rack missed my head and belly ; though as it crashed down upon my chestnuts, I understood once again the Greco-Roman dread of all men : The Nutcracker maneuver.

Needless to say, well-nigh of the few other customers I had that evening wondered why my vocalism was so squeaky.


*************************
The rest of the day was as normal as any before, i.e. boring. Not that I should complain, the news program over the radio has been proclaiming over and over of a ‘ wonderfully strong storm."

The weatherman kept describing it with sapidity :"This storm is to be one so powerful that it will match that of the cataclysm of 1769, 1869, and 1969 ; the integral city will be destroyed. Flooding ten-spot of foundation late will take place in the first few minutes ; while edifice will be burned by searing arcs of destructive lightning ; howling winds that will fill you with the dreadful cry of a banshee on the moors before they pick you up and fling you miles into the air for a off-white smashing landing somewhere else…"

I listen to this for the fourth time tonight as I turned the brightness off, exit the shop and sour around to lock the door, the storm brews eminent overhead with the rumbling replication of thunder echoing across the metropolis man made canyon of steel and concrete. Flashes of luminousness come from the lamp Post as the barest of elucidation they provide spark on and off, the brighter flashes of lightning mixing with the first falling of rain from the welkin to cast off an eerie freshness across the land between clip of darkness.

For some grounds I held my helping hand from turning the key and looked over at the sidewalk near my car, I mean my car is not much to calculate at, just an old, very beat up VW Bug, but its mine…and right following to it is that dingbat weatherman broadcasting live outside the radio station ( also across the street where my car is ).

He goes on and on and on about"…being live in the heart of the cataclysm of the century ; the idle words are so fierce that I can barely hear myself think…'

Of course of action he is calmly sipping away on a cup of umber between his ‘ desperate, danger filled broadcast in the heart of the storm.'I just shake my headland at the sheer hypocrisy and arrogance of such a man ; not to observe the fact he has most of the programme equipment upon the top and tough of MY BUG !

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

My car alarum goes"beep-beep-beep"just as a thundering newsbreak of Inner Light filled the country, the retort shattering many a windowpane up and down the blocking as I stand there taking in the sight before me…

The weatherman standing, smoldering microphone in his hand, charred wearable hanging from his form, while his eyes are alight in pure scourge as they gaze upon me. My VW Bug is now a smoldering mass of twisted metal and spare section, victim of the intense serial publication of lightning bolt that happen to hit at that minute.

"blast, I guess I forgot to grow off the auto destruct switch for my…"I had to smile as the weather forecaster howled in pure brat and ran off down the street. Of course for me, now I face a prospicient base on balls home in the rain, which is growing in intensity and hope I can explain to the insurance company of how another car went up in smoke 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 grand old fool I have been played for…

Key in the door whorl, I prepared to turn it when I heard a feminine representative shouting out for me to hold on and the click-click-click-click of high cad closing as rapidly as their wearer could.

She just stood in straw man of me trying to excuse for being late while gasping for breath, the nightdress twisting to retain entire as her knocker heaved in and out at an alarming rate. It seems the car bringing her back to the shop class had broken down and she literally ran to the computer memory, trying to get back here in clip. Mind you, the night-robe clingstone to her body like a second peel, soaked through and through by the rainwater, allowing her heaving bosom to be seen in good detail, including those pap at stark attention, keeping my middle locked on them for some time.

Holding the doorway surface for her and flicking on the lights I told her I would be inside shortly.

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

A banding of Marines and their police sergeant, out jogging in the rain, completely uncaring for this furious storm passed by and looked briefly at Miss Jasmine with grinning and a immediate succession of nods ; their serjeant declaring to the world"Men, now you know one understanding we serve on the edge of freedom ; to take into account such a lucky couple to experience fun creating the next generation of Marines…'

I shook my head in skepticism and started to tread forward, amused by their display of humor ; only to induce the canopy over the door split open and coldcock gal of utterly ice cold pelting water supply down upon me.

How much more craziness is going to go on tonight ?

======
Once inside I found her by my desk, standing ever so patiently, as I had forgotten to collapse her the key to the changing room. I did carry off to find a body towel for her to dry off with as well ; explaining it's a giving 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 handle with tomorrow morning. I put it in the usual family 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 time to check my email and saw nothing of importance among them : just the common complaint about my VW bugs constantly drawing lightning down into the domain and an inquiry from the radiocommunication station of the location of their weatherman.

"Mr. Phillips…"called out that melodious voice. I have no idea how foresighted Miss Jasmine has been standing there while I went about my business concern. But when I looked up, I almost had a heart attack on the spot. My mastermind melted away, bones became pulp and muscular tissue just sagged in the revealing before me.

She had placed the soaked surgical gown off to one face of my desk, and next to that is her own plain gown she had on earlier this day. Her handbag was on that gown, and atop it laid her senior high school cad and undergarments. Those trend white stockings were the only thing else on as she stood there, smiling, hands on her hip joint and one leg slightly crossed in front of the other.

Oh my stars !

All I could do was stare upon her with wonderment as I fought to pull ahead ascendance over my body.

Her coppery cheeks shined in the light, enhanced by the grin of her lips, those blue eye dancing with a raw mix of humor and awakened desire. Her raven hair hung across those o.k. shoulders, ending just above the pair of breasts so boastfully and fine that any man would be proud to suffocate between them with a grand old smile of delight on his face.

Her former hand lay on her hip, legs set to brook her pose as a model for a photo shoot would assume ; the Saame affectedness that allowed me a full frontal view of her block off fair sex !

My heart went to pounding so fast I had to question if those temblor measuring machines were registering the consequence. I imagined the intact stop must be slowly shaking to bit, so hard and fast was it pounding away.

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

I started croaking like a bullfrog, still unable to consider this was going on right 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 idiot extraordinaire.

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

I just nodded my head yes, and she breathed a sigh of rest ; probably figured I was going to die right on the spot or something similar.

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

My judgement raced at the whodunit of how a good deal she has planned for the two of us tonight…

I can hardly wait to find out…

She came over to the back of my desk, eased down across it on her stomach and looked back over her shoulder at me with the bounteous grin I have ever seen on a lady. Her pegleg shifted slightly, bending into the air at the knee as I got a clear view of her naked womanhood. She scissored her wooden leg once, twice, and then a 3rd time before rolling over onto her cover, grasping her knee joint to bosom with her hands.

Her giggle drew my regard up to her face, to see her glimmering grinning, and a look-alike twinkling to me.

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

With one fingerbreadth she motioned for me to come closer.

I could see her breasts hanging down, moving ever so slightly with each action mechanism she undertook ; even swirling her straits around to institutionalise hair back over her shoulders made them leap and jiggle, holding my interest like a frailty around a pipe.

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

Jasmine moved one hand upward, her fingers gently touching my cheek, moving in a in spiral only to reverse direction and replicate the pattern twice more, drawing a heated bloom to my case ; my breathing time was beginning to fathom like a get out bellows, raspy and heated, as the fires of desire stoked higher and higher in my body.

One part of my brain was screaming for me to take flight, howling in brat, into the violent storm outside.

The other, the portion gradually gaining land ; said to let it happen and enjoy the ride !

Ever so slowly she moved her fingertips over my chin and jaw, then my lips in repeated set 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 nose and across my brow, then covering my ear.

Each minute of motion set my bodies temperature higher and higher ; feeling like my body should go away in a blast of steam that would take in me utterly.


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

Her osculation was one of pure flak and lightning ; surging across each and every fiber of my body. I could feel the sweat beginning to appear on my skin, my manhood rising in full phase of the moon to the mo, as on my lips the salty taste of her own flowed and measured, bringing a graceful taste perception that mixed with the hemangioma simplex flavored lipstick she has put on sometime tonight.

I felt my world collapse in on it, paradise has been achieved ! ! !

Then she planted that fiery, passion filled, electrifying minute candy kiss, followed by a thirdly, and even a fourth ; each one redoubling the volume of the preceding kiss.

She just softly giggled at my dismay.

Her giggling intensified when my paw reached up and encompassed those wondrous breasts, shortly to stroke and massage so gently the nipples and frame wherever I could accomplish. They felt so indulgent, affectionate and wonderful to my touch ; her eyes closed, neck arching slightly as she braced her hands - one on the desk, the other moving from my neck opening to my shoulder.

I heard a small, contented sigh pass her lips.

I started to snog her neck, taking great delight in the taste of her skin ; a admixture of odor arising of her perfume and personal smells ; along with that from her former dinner - exquisitely steak with sauce, grilled vegetable, and the ripe olfactory perception of clover and vinegar from a face dish of salad.

Soon enough she leaned in to lead off kissing my neck with such force I imagined there would be lip marks well into the next month. I could feel the warmheartedness of her quickening intimation, the fires edifice in her body from the attending given to her trunk and breasts.

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 flavour on her face, while her middle danced with abandonment of all ascendence over her combustion passion.

When her foot wound up stroking my manhood I thought I would recrudesce into flame. It was all that I could do to celebrate my humanness from pushing over the boundary and hitting my vent ; I did not want this fun to end any prison term soon.

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

brace on one arm, she brought her other hired hand to her lips, playfully nibbling and licking the summit of the finger ; and then playfully sucking away as her center and smile enticed me into their depths. Then her hand commenced to prompt down her organic structure, teasing roundabout on her bureau ; across each breast, slowly caressing and teasing me in the lowly lot and helix she executes, the tit firmly at attention and then some. She brings each one up to her lips, sucking and licking them gently, centre locked upon me with a message that the fun was about to reach a new spirit level of loudness.

I put my custody on her one leg, gently running them over the firm muscles, caressing and softly massaging each in turn, working my way up to her interior thigh. Where the material of her stocking gave way to flesh, I made sure enough to redouble my efforts, seeking each spot that would cause a chill, quivering or titter deriving bit of sentiency.

I moved my chair in as close as I could to her, lifting both of her legs up upon my shoulders ; then commenced to kiss her boost and far upwards toward her pelvis. She lay back, heart closing once again as I drew closer to her womanhood ; breath becoming mixed with soft cooing and computer mouse like squeaks, lips being gnawed on as desires integrate and flowed, hands covering her back talk as the fingers made soft balls, only to release and stiffen again moments later.

I commenced to gently fellate soft puffs of air onto her thigh, alternating incline to side, generating small wavelet of delectation from her with each one. Finally as I closed within range of her most private of areas, one comfort followed another, causing her to squirm and trip the light fantastic about while a fountain of titter and squeals erupted past her lips ; hands covering up the growing bloom on her glistening skin.

When my tongue slid within those wizard depths, savoring the taste of flesh and mixture of textures, the heat of her dead body and olfactory property mixing one into another with the pace of a coursing river, her hips swayed about, back arching to the heavens and her hired man flying down to grab my read/write head, firmly holding me in place.

I had to force my way up enough to take a breath before she shoved me back down yet again.

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

"He died pleasing a goddess made flesh ; at to the lowest degree there was a smile on his face."

As my ministrations reached the hidden country deep within, that one locating bringing level best pleasure to all fair sex, she thrust one leg straight out against the unit of shelves I use for record entrepot ; it promptly collapsed into a heap of wreckage with a crash both of us ignored.

Sir Thomas More and Thomas More my exploration and ministration flowed into a series of letter of the alphabet styles across the alphabet and varying in speed and force ; I just wanted now and always to draw every ounce of wonder and heat I could of Jasmine before anything else happened…

Such as the chairperson sliding out from under me, leaving gravity briefly in command of my luck until the level rushed up to smack solidly into my body ; the chair rolled with some power backwards, bouncing off the wall and into a nearby material rack, which promptly toppled over into another, and a strand 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 thoroughgoing desolation, then back to her, she giggled and covered her oral cavity with one hand, giving off a easy"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 mood was done for - the demolition of a workshop can have that effect on a night of intimate activeness between two people…

"Well Jasmine I guess that means…"I could not get the adjacent words out of my mouth other than as a concoction of squeals and roll as she moved up right next to me, one hired man pressing the small of my rachis while the other slid down my britches, and commenced to massage my manhood along its full area ( with the smallish size that is of course not saying much ).

I just looked at her with a sheepish grin on my font as her ministration threatened to ship me into instant and complete meltdown.

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

She giggled and looked into my eyes, her own viewing laugh and heat mixture in their depths.

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

Her hands came back to stay their joyous ministrations of my manhood, each movement sending a serial publication of thundering, pounding, pulsating and electrifying sensations into my brainiac. My eyes felt like they would baffle over to the other socket and extend good out of my ears, which had to feature smoke bellowing out in tower for anyone to smell and see.

It took every bit of control I had left to save from hitting my tone ending then and there ; especially when those flaccid backtalk closed about it, the passion of her mouth adding more and more to my own as she teased away upon it. I heard and felt my breathing becoming cryptic and faster, the sounds of a bellows being driven by a windstorm would vocalize tame in comparison !

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

The room felt like it was spinning round of drinks and cycle, the sounds of the rain and return of lightning quivering and quaking the building ; lights flickering on and off with each end strike.

I felt like she was drawing what remained of my brain out of me ; one cell and neuron at a time.

movement by motility, moment by second she kept me right on the boundary, until she sensed I could admit back no more and quickly lay over the desk on her stomach.

With no falter I slid my manhood deep into her trunk, feeling the business firm holds of her sinew, the passion of them flowing into my own ; while I was seeking only to make the mop up last as long as potential for her enjoyment.

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

My roars of rage soon were joined by hers ; as the two of us moved in a rhythm that grew between us ; not hone but fold enough.

She shouted something in her native speech of Hindi, then again in another - I assumed screams of delectation and acute passionate feelings that must be flowing through her at that moment.

Then she shouted out to me, loud and earn :

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

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

okay it was more like a scream of an aeroplane crossed with a broken down washer.

You get the idea…

Once, twice and a tierce time my outlet hit, sending my life seed deep into her body.

My manhood promptly collapsed in and on itself, no longer needed and ineffective to do for some time.

Jasmine hit her tone ending at the same second as my own, her body having shook with such military group and excitement that the desk collapsed out from under her ; only a quick grab by me, arms around her waist and breast kept her from falling onto it.

She turned around and looked at me, a smile of contentment and wonderment on her face. For a moment her regard went downward to her thigh, which I saw had a hint of my spirit seed mixed with her release flowing downward.

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

I saw the earn trouble in her eyes, the anticipation of some outrageous sum, or some kind of tumultuous disturbance on my part.

"I don't know ; my insurance should insure most of it, just going to take a few days to get everything back in one piece before I can afford again. All of that business being lost will be a problem with my bills coming due in the next week or so,"I had to shake my principal as I gathered up my britches, wondering if this was the end of my business.

"Mr. Phillip's, let me make a spry call…"she went to her pocketbook and stood there, debating with somebody on the other end of her cell phone ; judgment you she was still in her birthday lawsuit, so I got a wonderful show of her every move as I got dressed again.

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

"Mr. Phillip's my mother will cover everything that needs fixing and your business release ; her escritoire Miss Shannon will be here in the sunup to piddle an initial estimate with you."

"Where does your female parent get that kind of money from ?"Was she truly the daughter of a Mafia Godfather ? Or yet worse, A Mafia Godmother ; one who knows my address now and will demand due recompense in the most painful and final of sadistic substance for a bit of troupe with her daughter ?

Or will the Godmother simply have it be the usual - cement shoes and chains, then a abbreviated car ride to the wharfage and into the ocean I go…

"Oh I forgot to tell you, she is the diplomatic envoi to the UN down the street for India,"she showed me her own diplomatic go that confirmed the storey. I just kept shaking my point in disbelief ; it's much risky than her being the girl of a Maffia Godmother !

Many, many multiplication forged ! Her mother is a diplomatist at the UN of all matter ! ! !

I looked at the room access, expecting her bodyguards or assassin dispatched by her mother to descend in and sweep her away to safety, while reducing me and my shop class to a mountain of smoldering firing after introducing me to all manner of delicious torturing to pernicious and horrific to contemplate…

Her gentle, bubbling laughter snapped me back to the here and now. Obviously she gets my kind of reaction with a lot of normal mass."Mr. Phillips my mother does not have people ‘ taken care of'like in those wild moving picture you American language love so much ; too messy. I stay out of that stuff when I can, I prefer the American way of having fun - tonight I went to an ‘ old fashion debauch of 1969'and thoroughly enjoyed myself."

"Oh and Mr. Phillip's I want to give thanks you for reading that Koran on your desk ; it's not the expert fiction in the existence I know, but mother wrote it and I told her you liked it."Her grinning was one of literal mischief, which let me know how dreadful the book of account really reads.

"Tell you what Mr. Phillip's, for my component part, I will not only enjoin my friends to follow here for the undecomposed nightdress around ; I will come by each night and bed you, for as long as you want, as many times each dark that you want, and you can cum inside me. How does that sound Mr. Phillip's ?"she asked.

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


( fin. )