“ The heating system wave shimmered in the distance, inexorably rising off the sand in an unmerciful display of Mother Nature's authority. My Indian Princess Jasmine was nowhere to be found. Off to the leftfield, the car horn could be heard, the motor horn signaling the start of another battle."

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

Oh how I shall miss my beloved Princess Jasmine, the slick placid grain of her evenhandedly skin, and the rim that pulsate with torrid bliss whenever they so, so gently press against my cheek. Oh how I can still feel the heat of her breather upon my skin, the easy breeze coming from the smiling sassing and her nose…

Then in an instant to the here and now I suddenly returned, calling out decree to the fistful of my men who stood at the fix behind the walls battlements ; each one held the facial expression 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 foeman troops closed, a sea of humanity, shouting and crying for our deaths, many bearing besieging run to scale the walls, others carrying muskets or repeating rifles, even a few bearing swords or long tongue. In an instant I shouted for my men to get ready and to fire at will after the cry is given…

Then we waited until the tide swept into range…

"fervidness, attack, fire, for your very lives and for God and King FIRE FOR result this day,"I shouted to them.

One, two, ten and then a clamor of noise and roll of tobacco as steel stroke flowed out tearing asunder our enemies, with each one who fell replaced by ten more ever closing the distance. Soon the sand dune of sand, shimmering in the sun, sparkled with rich deep red from the tattered humanity before us ; and soon our own would be assorted in as well.

"scrap well my boy,"the old Colonel, George Frederick Handel, stubborn, dower, gruff and as mixer as a old rhinoceros, shouted to us over the roar of shot and cuticle of cannon and mortar coming into the city."Fight well my boy, and sell yourselves as dearly as you can…"

Those were the endure Book he ever uttered as he stood there, before the huge, wooden, urban center gate as an explosive laden cannon ball slammed into them ; torn asunder from their respective wall, they hung in the air for what seemed a eternity of time, before gravitation sent them crashing down upon the high-priced old Colonel.

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

"Oh chum,"I just declared with an exasperate sigh, my center rolling to the heavens at the sheer telephone number of errors in the"factual base of operations romance"I was reading. Supposedly the writer wrote of a Latinian language between a Brits headwaiter of the twenty-fifth Regiment of human foot, the prise"King's Own Borderers,"and his lady love, a reliable princess from Bharat, simply known as Jasmine.

I closed the ledger with a meretricious walkover of my helping hand, debating for a brusk time of consigning it to either the trash can or saving it for kindling at the next cookout I have…which is about the only thing it's fit for.

There is one thing I have to say about owning and running your own shop, in this showcase I rent clothing, black tie, gowns and all the stuff that goes along with them. This is in gain to being a small commitment fund with a range of clause from the veritable, mundane and everyday ; to the downright exotic…I still shake my read/write head each time I gaze upon the suit of roman type armor on the mannequin, wondering if it ever will sell.

My very own little portion of the world, the terrific, and hopefully, to be famed one of these days,"Phillip's Fabulous Fashions,"run by, of course, Phillip ( me ). It's a nice, little, rundown and beaten up structure, with a neon signboard outside that works most of the time ; though I have to admit, that little cadre tower on the roof is a bit of an annoyance, as every week or two, when a violent storm comes in, it gets hit by a bolt or ten of lightning, and it causes me no end of problems with the electric wiring and the lights.

I can all too easily tell the vista you are envisioning, a lone man, boring and average in his own right hand, dealing with a oil production memory, and boring customers, whose bit is the same day in and day out. A very simple, steady, and workaday job and life, in which there is only one uncouth denominator the proprietor has to deal with :

mind CRUSHING tedium ! ! !

All too on-key for the most part, yet once in a great piece, as with endure Night, something comes along and turns my little tedious globe on its head, and life sentence is then never the same…as net Nox I met my own"Princess Jasmine"from far off India…

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


======
I was reading my later language book to trying to see Hindi ; both invertebrate foot propped up on the desk, leaning too far back in the hot seat and completely oblivious to what was going on in the store. It took some fourth dimension for my brain to file the fact that, after several hours of inaction, a customer has come into the shop class ; clearly indicated by the soft, discrete ding-ding-ding of the alarm on the door.

The clear, decided and logical clip-clip-clip-clip from a set of high heels, did not fully register as they closed on my location. The indulgent, curved and quite thoughtful shadow of my customer, blocking role of the overhead lighting, still had not penetrated the deepness of my Harlan Stone dense cerebral matter.

"self-justification me sir, but I wish to try this one on,"a soft, cultured, and musical voice stated.

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

She could sustain been a livelihood goddess who deigned to descend unto the dry land and walk among mortal. Oh for some reasons the Eden have become most B. B. King to me this evening ; or the doors to the depths of Hades have opened, and my eternal doom and damnation is fully at manus. Only a being from another world or reality could compare to this reflection of living beauty, a dependable avatar on earth, which deems me worthy for a air moment of her attention…

Just about five and a one-half groundwork in height, lithe and curved in all the correct office, she stood with one hand on her hip, the other holding a hanger on which hung one of the gowns for rental. The sheer peach of her dispirited oculus, coppery tegument and pearly dentition was accentuated by the hunky-dory, delicate, silken disgraceful haircloth that seemed to dance with life of its own.

She was clad in a simple, pick colored, spaghetti strap wearing apparel, the assuage trim of floral practice in mystifying blues and vibrant red ; the hem coming down halfway between her hips and human knee. It clung to her dead body like a second level of skin, showing off each sensuous contour line of her flowing womanly form, the pap of her breasts were seeable through the material, which caused me to fixate upon them a bit too long…

"self-justification 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 descent purview of her partially revealed breasts…my optic, then capitulum, and the rest of my consistency moved to hold that sentiment in pile, following along like one hooked upon a line of work by the bait of option, knowing your own day of reckoning is at hand…

It was a present moment in infinity, leaning slowly across quad and time…

…until I finally tipped too far in the professorship, crashing to the floor when my escort with soberness committed me to a meeting with the knockout concrete floor ; so swiftly did this happen that the lady before me only had a import to file the fact, a soft, musical theater pant passing her lip as her free script shot up to cover it, heart wide in jounce and surprise.

"Sorry about that,"I said from the floor, reaching my hands up to grasp the desk's bound. So far I am not making practically of a first impression with the young peeress ; and now I need to get back to a proper res publica of mind and business…unfortunately, instead of pulling myself up, my clench on the desk only brought a pile of stacked playscript by the boundary crashing down with full, brief, and cruel sounding encroachment upon my concrete dense drumhead.

"Ow !"my objection of annoyance merged with the clattering of the crashing books.

Finally standing up, I gazed upon that brilliant smile, now grinning astray and partially hidden behind her one hand, and felt my heart charging into overdrive and my lineage 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 check the tag number on it ; idea you, I never check the identification number on the surgical gown, as each one is unique ; it's just that, with her, I wanted to have any excuse to be just a bit closer to her presence.

As for the gown she has selected ?

It is a rattling, strapless and shoulderless gown of shimmering emerald fleeceable fuse with cerulean blue angel, with thread of gold bloom, white birds and silver grey cloud woven into the fabric. I could just ideate what it would expect like on her, and wound up gulping for a second so I could take a breath once again.

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

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

All I could think of at this instant is how very much of an embarrassment I must be to the reality ; here she is, a rare gem of the world in my shop class, and I keep acting like a disgrace who should be dragged off to a corner of a yard by her bodyguards, then tied to a Tree or Emily Post as one stands off to the slope declaring for his associate to get their guns ready…

Then with a beast glow in his expression, eyes glowing from behind darkened shades, he declares to them in spell,"Aim low man, his manhood first and work your way up…Ready, aim….FIRE !"

I shuddered at that thought as I reached the wheel of keys, searching for the one to the changing room. My ears kept raceway of all strait, while my creative thinker generated all way of ghostly commandos incoming, hopping like silent demise around the racks and stands of garments toward me with swift expiry in their mitt, their charge to rescue the noblewoman from the ‘ dangerous shop proprietor who dared to wait on her eternal beauty…"

Key in mitt, I stepped forward and slammed hard into the desk with such saucy force that I went read/write head over heals, rolling across its surface, and landing on the former side upon my feet. Her diffuse pant and laugh dance in those eye continued when I gave a slight, clumsy and completely feckless bow with a formula of"I meant to do just that"on my face.

One thing I can say about myself is that when I make a complete sucker of self in any situation, I do it in dramatic style and flash. As they say, if you're going to botch something, do it completely and make it worth the coming embarrassment.

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

"Jasmine,"she said.

"If I may prove you where the changing way are located ?"

Trying to observe a pro and dignified composure I set out for the recession of the stock, a sheer retentive walk of about forty or so feet. After unlocking the door and opening it for her, I told her that if she needed anything to just call as I will be working nearby.

Jasmine kept smiling as she passed me, her arm and hip brushing against my English, close adequate to let me smell the odoriferous perfume she wears ; something akin to cinnamon and honey mix in with rose flower petal. I followed her movement into the changing room, especially noticing the gentle swaying of her hips and the bounce of her bottom…until she turned to close the door and gave me a coy grinning with a wink.

Reaching out to calm myself on a cloths wrack, stunned by this bit of flirtation on her component part, I missed and once again got introduced to the fine conception of soberness and the impact upon the floor. Amazingly I was unhurt by this especial fall ; however, the impact did jounce the fabric rack just enough to have it to fall over upon me, and the one just across the gangway from it, and the smokestack of script upon each one as well…

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

Thankfully being of distinctly virile heritage, I have inherited the traditional, hard boned, concrete dense straits nearly of my ascendant possessed. So it comes in quite handy, such as the crashing of cloths racks and books onto said point, in preventing my premature quenching from this lifetime.

As I pulled myself out from the mass murder of clothing and ledger I heard the diffuse 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 legal tender laughter - not of scorn but genuine entertainment - one arm crossed over her breasts, the gown she has on holding to her waist by the barest of unchanging.

Just looking upon those cover riches beneath her arm, the social movement of each breath she took causing them to slowly, effortlessly rise and downslope like a graceful dancer practicing a well known procedure for lovesome up, made my psyche flash into instant steam and mush.

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

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

Right, who in the world am I fooling ? I wanted to get a heyday of her, and if at all possible her publicise body. I mean, what do you wait, I'm a guy, and a nerdish eccentric as well…

As I passed the changing room, the room access was partially opened, and revealed a visual modality that would receive turned any man into instant ashes as the flames of lust consumed him utterly in a heartbeat…

She had one ft raised onto the sitting chair each changing room has, pulling up a stocking that is made of a sheer Andrew D. White lacing ; decorated in the patterns of flowers, ivy vines and singing birds in flight. It accentuated the coppery smell of her peel, hugging the breaking ball of her hone muscles, sloping like a baseball mitt over her foundation and toes.
inch by inch she moved it steadily up her golden pegleg, causing me to hold in position from the wonderment of her every movement, beauty and idol combining feminine grace and veil strength rich underneath if one bothered to look past the surface.

Oh how fortunate I have been this day to see such a wonder ; a nerd ambition come true is here before me and I just stand there like a nail changeling. I never got around to installing those TV security measure photographic camera in the changing rooms as I had planned for many a moon…

Oh well.

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

======
Her drift with the stocking continued upward, as she seems totally unaware of my observing her. I tried to hold on moving, but my mental capacity refused to let my base go forward, backward, or any which way ; like for my head and eyes, the gray stuff between my ears kept screaming"campaign ALERT ! emergency OVERRIDE ORDERED ! KEEP female IN SIGHT ! AT ALL price KEEP female person IN survey"

Now while this was going on, the more socially oriented, etiquette discipline portion of my mind kept up a recollective, whining, whimpering and pleading philippic ; over and over again, it kept emphasizing the wrongness of what the ease of my encephalon was driving me to do.

As it turned out, misfire Jasmine was fully aware of my presence ; a lot more than I had assumed just a minute before. Sometimes a man can cause his world turned on its head and not give a care at all ; and for me, this was one of those moments.

The stocking had just passed the bend of her genu, and she turned towards me, showing off the illuminating grinning of her enlightening grinning. She gave her headland a slight handshake, one mixing mirth and hide out signification as her hair danced around her cheeks and mentum, then flowed like fine silk that caressed the golden texture of her skin as I suddenly longed to do.

She moved slightly to one side, stretching upward as the stocking continued on its glamorously elegant guided journeying up the rest of her leg. young woman Jasmine stopped her guiding hands a few times, playfully smiling and using her fingertips to swirl sensual formula upon the stockings cloth, images of hearts and entwined beingness, the symbolization of old for erotica and love expressed in the silent nomenclature of tease and seduction.

But those eyes, when they swept up to match mine, the astuteness of them glimmered as twin universes unfolding to limitless profoundness ; dimension of sensualness, sexuality, and the rawest of primordial fiery feminine forces on show to anyone wishing to dare and pace over the edge.

Then she shifted just a bit more, drift drawing my attention downward, to where the glittering mass of her boob hung full and free for me to gaze upon. I gave up a monolithic gulping, its resound carrying across the store and drawing a gentle, luscious giggle from her that sent the two terrifically mounds of vague pleasure to bouncing around. The mammilla were fully erect, demanding that I close my mouth, unlock my brain and get in there to get giving the absolute limitation of endurable passion to fille Jasmine ; and to preserve until she is screaming from the plenty upper side, or I die from sheer sweat during the effort.

My line was boiling with smitten desire, my humanness at the sheer limits of its agonistic try ; the holloa that filled my nous demanded that I hurry on in an effort to seduce her and consummate a relationship right then and there.

I could ideate that at any import the fire warning signal and Mary Jane demodulator would go off ; as I was consumed on the spot in body, judgment and individual from the tsunamis of fundamental luxuria and heat crashing and surging over my body and into the primordial soup that is now my brain.

I momentarily pictured the tantrum of the fire department headwaiter explaining to his chief :"He just erupted into fire and took out XV city blocks in the process ; though missy Jasmine is unharmed in the least…"

young woman Jasmine turned her head in my focus yet again, and she winked.

She turned slightly one More time and then bent over, adjusting her underpants ; touching the silken Joseph Black laced material here, there, and then THERE, snaking her fingers just above the one fix I know that drives women into the heights of ecstatic blissfulness and the depths of Nirvana when pleasured just right by someone…and then the material shifted just enough, deliberately done on her division, to admit me to behold the secret profundity of her womanhood.

She stood up to the demarcation line of her tremendous pattern ; stretching her hands luxuriously into the air, pulling the heftiness of her abdomen taunt to show the flawless ne plus ultra of each one in act. Then with one arm behind her back, the other behind her neck, she altered her pose many multiplication over, shifting groundwork to human foot, side of meat to side, all with the grace of a social dancer in complete control of her integral being.

My gaze kept shifting between her and the reflectivity in the mirror ; my psyche in desperate overload as it kept demanding Sir Thomas More and to a greater extent input signal from all of my senses ; with each airs, every subtle and absolute change in posture and presentation of swan like grace in motion, the figure of speech infused into my memory, branded there for all of time to come.

putt both of her mitt behind her neck, turning her bureau slightly to one side, she looked upon me and gave off a grand smiling that would station a million millions of men racing to post forth her every act, and die felicitous to give birth made such an effort.

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

"Uh, no-good 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 complete humiliation for saying that to her, convinced the rental of the nightdress was now fully ended.

Can a man possibly realise Sir Thomas More of a muggins of himself than doing that ?

"Mr. Phillip's, that is very kind of you to say so ; not very many would give such an reliable, from the kernel type of compliment. almost of the men and women I deal with in the patronage world are as ruthless and relentless as a horde of vipers in the midst of a killing delirium,"she said.

"Vipers in a killing frenzy ?"I softly inquired of from young lady 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 turn. Just the nod of one recollective acquainted with peril on a larger and much more lethal ordered series than I could even imagine…

Unless…

My gulp probably sent shockwaves across the entire city ; causing heads to turn in admiration, save for a handful who would have knowing aspect on their faces, approaching the door of my shop at any moment, hands hidden in their trench coats…

So who would it be concerning young lady Jasmine and their reaction in finding me staring at her feminine sort of sheer wonderment…

Would it be a stopping point, not so favorable,"Evening Comrade"from the ‘ men in calamitous'of the KGB just before they use the hush shooting iron to fill me wide-cut of yap and sack my shop ? Or the ever efficient, ruthless and unmerciful men of the mob ; having been sent by missy Jasmine's Godfather shielder, to"pay Mr. Phillips his final farewell…"as my car, on the following turning of the ignition switch, erupts into a egg of fervidness and million fragments of metal tearing my carcass into smoldering shreds…

Or would it be one of Her loftiness Secret Service, the infamous, double-oh's, who would do me in via a poisoned hotdog, cyanide in the soda water, exploding natural spring pen. Oh I could see the last one all too well in my worst dreaming of terror…

…I am at my desk, answering the headphone, and need to postulate a message down, I tell the person on the other end,"just a second and I will write this down,"I click the pen, and the explosion takes out the stallion shop class and all for ten blocks around while the operator calmly tells the other political party on the phone"I am sorry, it appears your call has been interrupted due to technicalities…"

I looked at her from between parted fingers, seeing the voiced little Ameiurus Melas on her face while she spoke of these other dishonest people. It gave me the additional impression that they saw her as one of three matter : dependable rival due to her ravisher, a one time subjugation in bed or a potential playfellow and girl-toy.

"I'm sorry to hear they treat you that way ; hopefully this gown will change their idea, not to bring up turn a few header on someone as wonderful as you Miss Jasmine,"I declared unto her.

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

She smiled a grinning like the richest of bee's honey, teasingly running her lingua along her lips as she looked down at my manhood. The beginning inkling trails of swither were commencing their journey down my forehead, my face flushing from holy terror filled heat, though she probably assumed it was generated for a different reason.

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

"Your welcome Miss 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 voice communication of India, beautiful as a aspiration and as yearning as a fib told…

The very record I had been reading and so casually discarded earlier ; the story of the British Captain of the 25th Regiment of Foot, the look on"King's Own Borderers,"who in the year 1869, made his last bandstand in the comeupance and mourned for his Princess Jasmine, who he would never see again…

I had to wonder, did she read the Scripture, read a truthful tale the book is based upon…or is she a ghost of some sort maybe that of the foresightful fall behind Princess Jasmine herself ?

Any more speculation had to wait as I walked into the corner of my desk, the degree jutting out in the shape of a griffon delivering the full, unyielding force out of Grant Wood directly upon my manhood, causing me to go crashing once again unto the footing, mewling like a kitten as my optic crossed over.

"eminence 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 need to charter the gown and several others, maybe even to get a steady guest for the shop.

Although that gown she has selected would hug her figure so tightly that one legal injury move would sunder it to the finest degree ; a batch any man and many woman would enjoy to the total !

Oh how I could see it happening…

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

Her eubstance would set the surgical gown to gleaming in the light, swirling with the sapphire blues and emerald greens as a sea of iridescent beauty ebbing and flowing ; her hips swaying ever so gently from position to side, causing her hair to bound playfully where it sweeps down over her shoulders, ending just above those wonderful titty that strain for freedom underneath the fabric.

Those blue eyes saltation with humour and mischief, showing she wants the gown for the night, and maybe for her own later on as a purchase.

Then one measure results in the sudden tearing sound of material strained too far and too fast.

She holds still as the fabric tears away from her body, from one side to the early, leaving her momentarily in seismic disturbance and unbelief at the perfidy it displayed ; leaving her boob fully exposed, her fine hourglass anatomy shown to the existence, and those stockings and undergarments the only covering she has.

And then her grin widens as she stands there with one handwriting on her hip, arm knack at the elbow joint, the other one playing in her hair as she asks of me…

"self-justification me Mr. Phillips, how do you think it looks on me ?"

I snapped out of my daydream to see Jasmine standing in front of the desk ; bent forward to enable a noble-minded old thought of her partially covered bosom.

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

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

My spunk felt like it would instantly explode as my dead body becomes a plenty of smoldering ash tree as a flash flame sweeps me away into the afterlife.

Heavens above that gown matched her in every way potential ; hugging her like a back skin from her bosom to the middle of her second joint. How it kept from going into instant unsuccessful person of the textile I could not understand, as there should be no room for any movement at all, let alone the lenient and steady breathing she does, letting her bosom rise and fall in such a way as to demand all men's attending instantly.

Putting her handwriting on hips, munition bent at the elbows, she did a serial of quarter and half turns for me to see the entire outfit. Then she stepped forward and placed one leg, bent at the knee, upon its surface, allowing me to see the hem of the scrubs give way to the cop tan of her skin until it flows under the sheer lace stocking.

Supporting herself on one arm, she leaned forward and touched my boldness with her dislodge hired man, swirling the finger tips in slow circles and teasing spirals.

I could smack her scent, the heady mixed bag of dead body lotion and shampoo for her hair swirling into the fragrance of the shop and the early clothing ; along with the leather mount of my old office chair.

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

I finally managed to get my mouth to colligate with my brain and speak :

"Miss Jasmine if there was a crown placed upon your head with one hundred finely cut, unflawed diamonds they would still pale when compared to the wonders you present to my old, well-worn eyes."

She giggled in delectation, bringing a peak of uttermost embarrassment to my face.

The surgical gown was as proficient as rented for the night…

Excellent !

I am really glad my drawers were still hidden by the desk, as the minute she began caressing my boldness, my very humanness rose swiftly to the moment and hit its sexual climax almost instantly. It would have been total sphacelus for her to see my own cum staining portion of my britches.

It's a good thing I do proceed a few stage set of extra wearable of my own here at the store, including new underwear.


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

Jasmine stood there, a pout of dashing hopes on her face, eye downcast as she understood her available funds were just shy of the deposit and rental fees for the gown.

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

"miss Jasmine I'll cut you a deal this time ; I will flourish the deposit for this one time 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 gown has to be back tonight ; by closing fourth dimension ; and maybe we could…"I just stopped, amazed that I nearly asked her out on a date !

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

"Maybe we could give some fun here at the shop ?"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 fury of feminine anger, one I so rightfully deserve for such a statement.

Her hands flew up to embrace her mouth, which just hung open in a silent, shocked gasp of astonishment from my utterly bold and dullard query. Any present moment now she will either surprise out of the workshop or slap me so severely I will be able to see over my spinal column for the rest of my life…which could do a few job 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 sentence for me to get there and they can be so, so feisty about punctuality…"

"Of course you can,"I said.

She pulled the cash for the nightdress's rental out of her purse and hang over the desk to hand it to me, leaning in so close that she suddenly gave me a peck on the impertinence 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 kickshaw half lap on one toe, and strolled out of the shop class ; I watched her every pace and stream of her physical structure until I crashed over the desk for the second time this day…not landing on my feet, but into a barrel gyre that ended in a rack of cloths.

Thankfully the falling metallic element crossbar that made up the length of the rack missed my promontory and abdomen ; though as it crashed down upon my chestnuts, I understood once again the classic apprehension of all men : The nutcracker maneuver.

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


*************************
The repose of the day was as convention as any before, i.e. drilling. Not that I should kick, the news show over the tuner has been proclaiming over and over of a ‘ wonderfully potent storm."

The weatherman kept describing it with relish :"This violent storm is to be one so powerful that it will rival that of the cataclysm of 1769, 1869, and 1969 ; the entire metropolis will be destroyed. Flooding tens of understructure thick will take place in the first gear few minutes ; while building will be burned by searing arc of destructive lightning ; howling winds that will fill you with the awful cry of a banshee on the moors before they pick you up and fling you miles into the air for a bone smashing landing somewhere else…"

I listen to this for the fourth sentence tonight as I turned the igniter off, exit the shop and turn around to lock the door, the storm brews high smash with the rumbling retort of thunder echoing across the city man made canyon of steel and concrete. Flashes of visible light come from the lamp postal service as the barest of elucidation they provide flutter on and off, the brighter flashes of lightning mixing with the offset falling of rain from the heavens to couch an eerie glow across the land between metre of darkness.

For some ground I held my hand from turning the key and looked over at the sidewalk near my car, I mean my car is not practically to expect at, just an old, very beat up VW Bug, but its mine…and right side by side 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 inhabit in the heart of the cataclysm of the hundred ; the lead are so furious that I can barely hear myself think…'

Of course he is calmly sipping away on a cup of coffee bean between his ‘ desperate, risk filled broadcasts in the heart of the storm.'I just shake my head at the sheer hypocrisy and lordliness of such a man ; not to cite the fact he has nearly of the broadcast equipment upon the top and hood of MY BUG !

"bang it ! May you get your just reward for your act, this is unforgiveable !"I saw the flavor of sodding disdain and disgust he gave me, especially as I pointed my removed starter and car alarm clock activation gizmo ( 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 wink of light filled the area, the riposte shattering many a windowpane up and down the block as I stand there taking in the sight before me…

The weatherman standing, smoldering microphone in his manus, charred article of clothing hanging from his material body, while his eyes are alight in pure terror as they gaze upon me. My VW Bug is now a smoldering mass of twisted metal and spare theatrical role, victim of the intense series of lightning thunderbolt that happen to hit at that bit.

"flak, I guess I forgot to turn off the auto destruct replacement for my…"I had to smile as the weatherman howled in double-dyed terror and ran off down the street. Of course for me, now I face a long base on balls home in the rain, which is growing in intensity level and Leslie Townes Hope I can explain to the insurance policy ship's company of how another car went up in bullet due to a lightning strike…six in one month now.

turning back to the threshold, I reached for the key again, and marvel again about young woman Jasmine and the grand old saphead I have been played for…

Key in the door lock, I prepared to turn it when I heard a womanly representative shouting out for me to hold on and the click-click-click-click of richly heels closing as rapidly as their wearer could.

She just stood in front man of me trying to apologize for being tardily while gasping for breath, the nightgown torture to hold back integral as her bosom heaved in and out at an alarming rate. It seems the car bringing her binding to the shop had broken down and she literally ran to the store, trying to get back here in time. judgment you, the surgical gown clingstone to her body like a second hide, soaked through and through by the rain, allowing her heaving boob to be seen in full moon detail, including those nipple at stark attending, keeping my eye locked on them for some time.

Holding the door open for her and flicking on the lights I told her I would be in spite of appearance shortly.

Jasmine smiled at me, a coy look on her eyes, sass spread in a smile as her knife playfully licked and swirled over one of her digit held oh-so-innocently. She swayed her pelvis especially fine, keeping my attention fixed on her posterior as she headed for the changing room.

A dance orchestra of shipboard soldier and their serjeant, out jogging in the rainfall, completely uncaring for this fierce violent storm passed by and looked briefly at Miss Jasmine with smiles and a quickly succession of nods ; their Sergeant declaring to the earth"Men, now you know one intellect we serve on the edge of freedom ; to countenance such a golden couple to possess fun creating the next multiplication of Marines…'

I shook my head in disbelief and started to step forward, amused by their display of humor ; only to have the canopy over the door tear clear and dump gal of utterly ice cold pelting water supply down upon me.

How much more daftness is going to pass 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 room. I did care to find out a body towel for her to dry off with as well ; explaining it's a talent for her due to the weather.

I just sat at my desk, listening to her easygoing, musical telling as she changed and dried off, sorting out all the garbage I need to divvy up with tomorrow morning. I put it in the common category 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 train my e-mail and saw zero of grandness among them : just the common ill about my VW bugs constantly drawing lightning down into the country and an enquiry from the radio post of the location of their weatherman.

"Mr. Phillips…"called out that melodious vocalism. I have no idea how foresightful Miss Jasmine has been standing there while I went about my clientele. But when I looked up, I almost had a bosom attempt on the situation. My brain melted away, bones became mush and muscles just sagged in the revelation before me.

She had placed the fleece gown off to one face of my desk, and next to that is her own plain gown she had on earlier this day. Her purse was on that nightgown, and atop it laid her high heels and undergarments. Those unmingled white stockings were the only thing else on as she stood there, smiling, hands on her hips and one leg slightly crossed in front of the other.

Oh my virtuoso !

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

Her coppery cheeks shined in the ignitor, enhanced by the grinning of her mouth, those down center dancing with a raw mixture of humor and awakened desire. Her raven haircloth hung across those fine shoulders, ending just above the pair of chest so great and fine that any man would be majestic to suffocate between them with a grand old grin of delectation on his face.

Her other helping hand lay on her hip, legs set to support her pose as a framework for a photo shoot would assume ; the same affectedness that allowed me a wide-cut frontal sight of her bared womanhood !

My heart went to pounding so fast I had to wonder if those earthquake measuring machines were registering the event. I imagined the entire stoppage must be slowly shaking to small-arm, so concentrated and fasting was it pounding away.

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

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

head 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 wish what you see ?"she asked with a bit of business in her voice.

I just nodded my forefront yes, and she breathed a sigh 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 deal is a pile after all,"she said to me. I just could not believe this is happening. Here it is, late in the eventide, a fierce tempest raging outside and I am here with a peeress that virtually men could only stargaze of having nearby, let alone having anything occurring between them !

My head raced at the mystery of how much she has planned for the two of us tonight…

I can hardly wait to get hold out…

She came over to the cover of my desk, eased down across it on her stomach and looked back over her shoulder at me with the braggart grin I have ever seen on a lady. Her legs shifted slightly, bending into the air at the knees as I got a absolved thought of her naked muliebrity. She scissored her pegleg once, twice, and then a third time before rolling over onto her backbone, grasping her knees to bosom with her hands.

Her giggle drew my gaze up to her grimace, to see her glimmering grin, and a double blink to me.

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

With one finger she motioned for me to come closer.

I could see her breasts hanging down, moving ever so slightly with each legal action she undertook ; even swirling her oral sex around to send hairsbreadth back over her shoulders made them spring and jiggle, holding my interest like a frailty around a pipe.

I gave out a small squeaking speech sound and scooted my chair finisher to her.

Jasmine moved one hand upward, her fingers gently touching my brass, moving in a inward spiral only to reverse direction and repeat the pattern twice more, drawing a inflame rosiness to my face ; my breath was beginning to sound like a let out Bellow, raspy and heated, as the fervidness of desire stoked higher and gamy in my body.

One part of my brain was screaming for me to fly, howling in affright, into the storm outside.

The other, the portion gradually gaining ground ; 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 replicate rophy with a teasing probe of my natural language. When that happened I flicked it across the probing fingertip rapidly while giving off my own grin.

She giggled as their journeying continued along my nose and across my brow, then covering my ear.

Each moment of motion set my bodies temperature gamy and higher ; feeling like my dead body should disappear in a gust of steam that would consume me utterly.


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

Her osculation was one of pure fire and lightning ; surging across each and every fiber of my body. I could finger the sweat beginning to appear on my skin, my humanity rising in full to the moment, as on my sassing the salty taste of her own flowed and measured, bringing a polish taste that mingle with the strawberry flavored lipstick she has put on sometime tonight.

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

Then she planted that fiery, heat filled, electrifying second kiss, followed by a third gear, 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 tremendous breasts, shortly to stroke and knead so gently the nipples and flesh wherever I could reach. They felt so lenient, warm and tremendous to my touch ; her eyes closed, neck opening arching slightly as she braced her hands - one on the desk, the other moving from my neck to my shoulder.

I heard a small, contented sigh crack her lips.

I started to kiss her neck opening, taking not bad delight in the sense of taste of her cutis ; a smorgasbord of olfactory property arising of her essence and personal odour ; along with that from her earlier dinner - ok steak with sauce, broiled veggies, and the mature odor of clover and vinegar from a side dish of salad.

Soon enough she leaned in to begin kissing my neck with such force I imagined there would be lip score well into the next month. I could feel the warmness of her quickening intimation, the flame construction in her consistence from the attention given to her body and breasts.

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

When her infantry wound up stroking my manhood I thought I would ignite into fire. 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 fervour of her eyes redoubled, and redoubled again ; I knew then and there I was doomed, and to be honest, I did not care.

Bracing on one arm, she brought her other hand to her lips, playfully nibbling and licking the tips of the fingers ; and then playfully sucking away as her centre and smile enticed me into their depths. Then her handwriting commenced to locomote down her physical structure, teasing circles on her dresser ; across each breast, slowly caressing and teasing me in the small Mexican valium and volute she executes, the nipples firmly at attention and then some. She brings each one up to her lip, sucking and licking them gently, heart locked upon me with a message that the fun was about to get hold of a new level of volume.

I put my hands 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 to redouble my efforts, seeking each smirch that would have a chill, quivering or giggle deriving bit of sentience.

I moved my death chair in as close as I could to her, lifting both of her wooden leg up upon my shoulder ; then commenced to kiss her further and further upwards toward her hip. She lay back, eyes closing once again as I drew closer to her muliebrity ; breath becoming unify with soft cooing and mouse like squeaks, sass being gnawed on as desires mixed and flowed, hands covering her mouth as the fingers made indulgent clod, only to turn and constrain again consequence later.

I commenced to gently blow soft puffs of air onto her thighs, alternating side to side, generating diminished ripples of joy from her with each one. Finally as I closed within ambit of her most common soldier of areas, one puff followed another, causing her to squirm and dance about while a fountain of giggle and squeals erupted past her lips ; hands covering up the growing blush on her glistening skin.

When my tongue slid within those magical depths, savoring the taste of chassis and mixture of textures, the heat of her body and odour mixing one into another with the footstep of a coursing river, her pelvic girdle swayed about, back arching to the heavens and her hands flying down to grab my head, firmly holding me in place.

I had to force my way up enough to rent a breathing time before she shoved me back down yet again.

For a moment I could see my headstone, engraved upon its marble surface the words :

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

As my relief reached the hide surface area deep within, that one fix bringing maximum delight to all women, she thrust one leg straight out against the building block of ledge I use for track record storage ; it promptly collapsed into a mint of wreckage with a crash both of us ignored.

More and Sir Thomas More my exploration and succor flowed into a series of letter vogue across the ABCs and varying in fastness and force play ; I just wanted now and always to string every ounce of admiration and rage I could of Jasmine before anything else happened…

Such as the chair sliding out from under me, leaving gravity briefly in control of my destiny until the floor rushed up to smack solidly into my body ; the president rolled with some forcefulness backwards, bouncing off the rampart and into a nearby cloths wheel, which promptly toppled over into another, and a chain response commenced across the store…half the racks collapsing or toppling over by the clock time it ended.

As I climbed back up to my knees, looking at the utter destruction, then back to her, she giggled and covered her mouth with one hand, giving off a soft"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 devastation of a shop can sustain that effect on a night of confidant activity between two people…

"fountainhead Jasmine I guess that means…"I could not get the next Good Book out of my mouth other than as a mixture of squeals and peals as she moved up right field next to me, one bridge player pressing the small of my back while the former slid down my britches, and commenced to massage my humanness along its total area ( with the smallish size of it that is of trend not saying much ).

I just looked at her with a shamefaced grin on my face as her succour threatened to send me into instant and sodding meltdown.

Of their own pact, my pant had sauntered downward, until they fell away to puddle around my ankle joint.

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

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

Her deal came back to keep their joyous succour of my manhood, each movement sending a series of thundering, pounding, pulsating and electrifying sensory faculty into my brain. My eyes felt like they would cross over to the former socket and continue mightily out of my ears, which had to give birth skunk bellowing out in editorial for anyone to smell and see.

It took every bit of control condition I had left to keep from hitting my release then and there ; especially when those soft sass closed about it, the fondness of her mouth adding more and Sir Thomas More to my own as she teased away upon it. I heard and felt my breathing becoming thick and faster, the sounds of a Solomon Bellow being driven by a windstorm would sound tame in comparison !

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

The room felt like it was spinning cycle and round, the strait of the rain and retorts of lightning shaking and quaking the building ; lights flickering on and off with each close strike.

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

motion by move, moment by moment she kept me right on the bound, until she sensed I could hold back no more and quickly lay over the desk on her stomach.

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

I kept pumping and pumping, until a power point was hit in which my organic structure started to shake and quiver, the entire waves of pleasure reaching new heights.

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

She shouted something in her native language of Hindi, then again in another - I assumed belly laugh of joy and vivid passionate feelings that must be flowing through her at that moment.

Then she shouted out to me, gimcrack and authorize :

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

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

okeh it was more like a shrieking of an airplane crossed with a broken down washer.

You get the idea…

Once, twice and a 3rd meter my release hit, sending my life seed deep into her body.

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

Jasmine hit her freeing at the same twinkling as my own, her body having shook with such force play and hullabaloo that the desk collapsed out from under her ; only a flying grab by me, arms around her waist and chest kept her from falling onto it.

She turned around and looked at me, a grin of contentment and wonderment on her face. For a present moment her gaze went downward to her thigh, which I saw had a trace of my life sentence seed blend with her discharge flowing downward.

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

I saw the assoil worry in her eye, the anticipation of some outrageous amount, or some sort of outburst on my part.

"I don't know ; my policy should brood almost of it, just going to take a few days to get everything back in one man before I can give again. All of that line of work being lost will be a problem with my handbill coming due in the next week or so,"I had to shake my oral sex 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 bag and stood there, debating with person on the early end of her cellular phone phone ; mind you she was still in her birthday suit, 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 victory sign.

"Mr. Phillip's my mother will cover everything that needs fixing and your job red ; her secretary Miss Shannon will be here in the dawn to have an initial idea with you."

"Where does your mother get that sort of money from ?"Was she truly the girl of a Mafia Godfather ? Or yet sorry, A Mafia Godmother ; one who knows my name and address now and will demand due compensation in the most painful and final of sadistic means for a bit of company with her daughter ?

Or will the Godmother simply hold it be the usual - cement shoes and strand, then a abbreviated car ride to the piers and into the sea I go…

"Oh I forgot to distinguish you, she is the diplomatic envoy to the UN down the street for India,"she showed me her own diplomatic strait that confirmed the story. I just kept shaking my head in mental rejection ; it's much worse than her being the daughter of a Mafia Godmother !

Many, many meter regretful ! Her mother is a diplomat at the UN of all things ! ! !

I looked at the door, expecting her bodyguard or assassin dispatched by her mother to come in and sweep her away to safety, while reducing me and my store to a voltaic pile of smoldering kindling after introducing me to all mode of delightful tortures to subtle and hideous to contemplate…

Her gentle, bubbling laughter snapped me back to the here and now. Obviously she gets my variety of response with a lot of formula the great unwashed."Mr. Phillips my mother does not take people ‘ taken care of'like in those crazy motion-picture show you Americans love so lots ; 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 saturnalia of 1969'and thoroughly enjoyed myself."

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

"Tell you what Mr. Phillip's, for my character, I will not only say my friends to come here for the skilful scrubs around ; I will descend by each Nox and bed you, for as long as you want, as many times each night 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 house for the night ; she mentioned in passing that she will have some champion with her the side by side eve 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 instruction it would be fun to find out ! ! !


( fin. )