“ The heat undulation shimmered in the distance, inexorably rising off the moxie in an merciless display of Mother Nature's authority. My Amerindian language Princess Jasmine was nowhere to be found. Off to the left, the trumpet could be heard, the horns signaling the get-go of another battle."

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

Oh how I shall miss my beloved Princess Jasmine, the slick smooth texture of her carnival tegument, and the lips that pulsate with fiery bliss whenever they so, so gently public press against my boldness. Oh how I can still experience the oestrus of her breath upon my skin, the gentle duck soup coming from the smiling lips and her nose…

Then in an instant to the here and now I suddenly returned, calling out social club to the fistful of my men who stood at the ready behind the walls battlements ; each one held the feel 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 troops closed, a sea of humanity, shouting and crying for our demise, many bearing beleaguering ladders to surmount the walls, others carrying muskets or repeating rifles, even a few aim steel or long knives. In an wink I shouted for my men to get set up and to give the sack at will after the call is given…

Then we waited until the tide swept into range…

"Fire, fervor, flame, for your very lives and for God and King ardor FOR EFFECT this day,"I shouted to them.

One, two, ten and then a cacophony of interference and dope as steel crack flowed out tearing asunder our enemy, with each one who fell replaced by ten more ever closing the distance. Soon the dunes of gumption, shimmering in the sun, sparkled with deep fertile red from the shatter humanness before us ; and soon our own would be mixed in as well.

"Fight well my son,"the old Colonel, Handel, stubborn, dower, gruff and as mixer as a old rhino, shouted to us over the roar of shot and shell of cannon and howitzer coming into the metropolis."conflict well my boys, and sell yourselves as dearly as you can…"

Those were the final stage words he ever uttered as he stood there, before the huge, wooden, metropolis gates as an explosive laden cannon orchis slammed into them ; torn asunder from their various rampart, they hung in the air for what seemed a timeless existence of metre, before gravity sent them crashing down upon the dear old Colonel.

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

"Oh brother,"I just declared with an exasperated suspiration, my heart rolling to the heavens at the sheer routine of wrongdoing in the"factual bases romance"I was reading. Supposedly the generator wrote of a romanticism between a British Captain of the 25th Regiment of Foot, the esteemed"big businessman's Own Borderers,"and his lady love, a true princess from Republic of India, simply known as Jasmine.

I closed the book with a jazzy snatch of my deal, debating for a scant clip of consigning it to either the crank can or saving it for kindling at the future 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 store, in this case I rent clothing, tuxedos, gowns and all the hooey that goes along with them. This is in improver to being a small payload stock with a range of clause from the regular, mundane and everyday ; to the downright exotic…I still stimulate my principal each time I gaze upon the courting of roman armor on the mannequin, wondering if it ever will sell.

My very own little fortune of the world, the marvellous, and hopefully, to be illustrious one of these days,"Phillip's Fabulous Fashions,"run by, of course of instruction, Phillip ( me ). It's a nice, niggling, rundown and beaten up social organisation, with a atomic number 10 sign outside that works most of the prison term ; though I have to admit, that footling cellular phone tower on the cap is a bit of an aggravator, as every calendar 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 problem with the electrical wiring and the lights.

I can all too easily tell the scenery you are envisioning, a lone man, boring and average in his own right hand, dealing with a deadening store, and boring customers, whose turn is the same day in and day out. A very childlike, regular, and routine job and lifespan, in which there is only one common denominator the proprietor has to deal with :

thinker CRUSHING BOREDOM ! ! !

All too true for the most part, yet once in a great piece, as with end night, something comes along and turns my little tedious humankind on its caput, and life is then never the same…as last-place night 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 latest oral communication book to trying to pick up Hindi ; both feet 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 sentence for my brain to register the fact that, after respective hours of inactivity, a client has come into the shop ; clearly indicated by the soft, discrete ding-ding-ding of the alarm on the door.

The clear, distinguishable and consistent clip-clip-clip-clip from a set of mellow cad, did not fully register as they closed on my fix. The easy, curved and quite attentive shadower of my customer, blocking part of the overhead lighting, still had not penetrated the deepness of my Edward Durell Stone dim cerebral matter.

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

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

She could have been a keep goddess who deigned to go down unto the earth and manner of walking among mortals. Oh for some reasons the heavens have become most king to me this evening ; or the threshold to the depths of Hades have opened, and my ageless doom and damnation is fully at hand. Only a being from another mankind or reality could compare to this expression of living mantrap, a true avatar on earth, which deems me desirable for a bare minute of her attention…

Just about five and a half foot in height, lithe and curved in all the right places, she stood with one hand on her hip, the other holding a hanger on which hung one of the nightgown for rental. The sheer beauty of her blue devil eyes, coppery skin and pearly tooth was accentuated by the ok, indulgent, satiny black hair that seemed to dance with life of its own.

She was clad in a simple, emollient colored, spaghetti strap garb, the gentle trim of floral patterns in deep blues and vibrant red ink ; the hem coming down halfway between her coxa and knees. It clung to her body like a back layer of pelt, showing off each sensuous conformation of her flowing feminine form, the nipples of her knocker were visible through the cloth, which caused me to fix upon them a bit too long…

"self-justification me sir, but, may I try this gown on…"she bent down a bit as the nightie shifted on the hanger, allowing me to get a descent view of her partially revealed breasts…my centre, then school principal, and the eternal sleep of my body moved to keep on that aspect in heap, following along like one hooked upon a line by the bait of selection, knowing your own doom is at hand…

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

…until I finally tipped too far in the chairman, crashing to the base when my date with soberness committed me to a confluence with the severe concrete floor ; so swiftly did this happen that the lady before me only had a moment to register the fact, a soft, musical theater gasp passing her backtalk as her free hand shot up to breed it, eyes wide in shock and surprise.

"Sorry about that,"I said from the story, reaching my hands up to dig the desk's edge. So far I am not making much of a number one impression with the young lady ; and now I need to get back to a proper state of intellect and business…unfortunately, instead of pulling myself up, my grip on the desk only brought a mint of stacked books by the edge crashing down with full, brief, and brutal sounding impact upon my concrete dense head.

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

Finally standing up, I gazed upon that brilliant smile, now grinning broad and partially hidden behind her one hand, and felt my philia charging into overdrive and my bloodline 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 ; mind you, I never check the turn on the nightie, as each one is singular ; it's just that, with her, I wanted to birth 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 jet mixed with lazuline amobarbital sodium, with screw thread of golden flowers, white birds and silver cloud woven into the fabric. I could just imagine what it would look like on her, and wound up gulping for a arcsecond so I could breathe once again.

rightfulness now, I imagine the world phonograph recording for ‘ clueless changeling'has just been broken.

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

All I could believe of at this moment is how practically of an embarrassment I must be to the domain ; here she is, a rare gem of the world in my shop, and I keep acting like a ignominy who should be dragged off to a niche of a K by her bodyguards, then tied to a Sir Herbert Beerbohm Tree or stake as one stands off to the side declaring for his companions to get their guns ready…

Then with a savage gleam in his expression, oculus glowing from behind darkened shades, he declares to them in turn,"Aim low gentlemen, his manhood first and crop your way up…Ready, aim….FIRE !"

I shuddered at that thought as I reached the rack of samara, searching for the one to the changing room. My spike kept track of all audio, while my creative thinker generated all manner of ghostly commando entering, hopping like silent death around the wrack and stands of garments toward me with swift decease in their handwriting, their deputation to rescue the lady from the ‘ grievous shop proprietor who dared to search on her eternal beauty…"

Key in hand, I stepped forward and slammed hard into the desk with such irreverent strength that I went head over heals, rolling across its surface, and landing on the early side upon my fundament. Her flaccid gasp and laughter saltation in those eyes continued when I gave a rebuff, clumsy and completely ill-chosen bow with a manifestation of"I meant to do just that"on my face.

One matter I can say about myself is that when I make a nail sucker of ego in any situation, I do it in dramatic expressive style and newsflash. As they say, if you're going to mess up something, do it completely and make it worth the coming embarrassment.

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

"Jasmine,"she said.

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

Trying to defend a professional and ennoble calm I set out for the turning point of the shop, a sheer farsighted 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 side, close decent to let me smell the sweet perfume she wears ; something consanguineal to cinnamon and honey desegregate with rose petal. I followed her effort into the changing room, especially noticing the gentle swaying of her pelvic arch and the leaping of her bottom…until she turned to close the threshold and gave me a coy smile with a wink.

Reaching out to calm myself on a cloths wheel, stunned by this bit of flirtation on her parting, I missed and once again got introduced to the fine conception of somberness and the impact upon the level. Amazingly I was unhurt by this finical free fall ; however, the impact did reverberate the material stand just enough to cause it to fall over upon me, and the one just across the aisle from it, and the stack of books upon each one as well…

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

Thankfully being of distinctly male heritage, I have inherited the traditional, hard boned, concrete dense heading virtually of my ascendant possessed. So it comes in quite handy, such as the crashing of textile wheel and Quran onto said chief, in preventing my premature extinction from this lifetime.

As I pulled myself out from the butchery of wear and books I heard the mild chortle of miss Jasmine, who looked out from the changing room ; a smile of entertainment and mischief on her face, eyes dancing with loving and tender laughter - not of scorn but genuine amusement - one arm crossed over her titty, the surgical gown she has on holding to her waist by the barest of static.

Just looking upon those shroud riches beneath her arm, the movement of each breathing spell she took causing them to slowly, effortlessly advance and fall like a graceful terpsichorean practicing a well known routine for warmly up, made my brain flashing into instant steam and mush.

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

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

right field, who in the earth am I fooling ? I wanted to get a extremum of her, and if at all possible her bared consistency. I mean, what do you expect, I'm a guy, and a nerdish geek as well…

As I passed the changing room, the threshold was partially opened, and revealed a stack that would have got turned any man into trice ash as the flaming of lust consumed him utterly in a heartbeat…

She had one foot raised onto the sitting electric chair each changing room has, pulling up a stocking that is made of a sheer white lace ; decorated in the pattern of efflorescence, ivy vines and singing hoot in flight. It accentuated the coppery tone of her skin, hugging the curved shape of her honed muscularity, sloping like a glove over her fundament and toes.
column inch by column inch she moved it steadily up her favorable legs, causing me to hold in place from the wonder of her every motility, beauty and perfection combining feminine grace and hidden strength deep underneath if one bothered to look past the surface.

Oh how fortunate I have been this day to see such a wonder ; a nerds dream come confessedly is here before me and I just stand there like a accomplished half-wit. I never got around to installing those video security cameras in the changing room as I had planned for many a moon…

Oh well.

I'll just ingest to do that for following time.

======
Her drive with the stocking continued upward, as she seems totally unaware of my observing her. I tried to keep on moving, but my psyche refused to let my infantry go forward, backward, or any which way ; Saame for my header and middle, the hoar material between my ears kept screaming"MOVEMENT ALERT ! EMERGENCY OVERRIDE ORDERED ! KEEP FEMALE IN muckle ! AT ALL COSTS livelihood FEMALE IN SIGHT"

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

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

The stocking had just passed the bend of her knee, and she turned towards me, showing off the illuminating smile of her enlightening smile. She gave her head a slight shake, one mix mirthfulness and out of sight meaning as her hair danced around her impertinence and chin, then flowed like okay silk that caressed the golden grain of her peel as I suddenly longed to do.

She moved slightly to one side, stretching upward as the stocking continued on its glamorously refined guided journey up the rest of her leg. girl Jasmine stopped her guiding hands a few times, playfully smiling and using her fingertips to purl sensual normal upon the stockings fabric, images of hearts and entwined organism, the symbolic representation of old for porno and love expressed in the tacit language of annoyer and seduction.

But those center, when they swept up to gather mine, the depths of them glimmered as Twin Falls universes unfolding to limitless depths ; proportion of sensualism, sexuality, and the rawest of primordial fiery feminine force-out on exhibit to anyone wishing to dare and step over the edge.

Then she shifted just a bit more, front drawing my attention downward, to where the glittering muckle of her bosom hung total and justify for me to gaze upon. I gave up a monolithic gulp, its reverberation carrying across the computer memory and drawing a soft, luscious giggle from her that sent the two wondrous heap of undefined pleasure to bouncing around. The nipples were fully upright, demanding that I close my mouth, unlock my brain and get in there to commence giving the absolute limits of sufferable warmth to girl Jasmine ; and to continue until she is screaming from the heap elevation, or I die from sheer travail during the effort.

My rip was boiling with smitten desire, my manhood at the rank limits of its strive endeavour ; the boom that filled my brainpower demanded that I hurry on in an try to seduce her and consummate a relationship right wing then and there.

I could imagine that at any moment the fervour alarms and heater sensor would go off ; as I was consumed on the spot in body, intellect and soul from the tsunamis of primal lust and heat crashing and surging over my soundbox and into the primal soup that is now my brain.

I momentarily pictured the scene of the flak department maitre d' explaining to his chief :"He just erupted into flames and took out fifteen city closure in the process ; though misfire Jasmine is unharmed in the least…"

miss Jasmine turned her head in my focussing yet again, and she winked.

She turned slightly one more sentence and then bent over, adjusting her underpants ; touching the silken inkiness laced fabric here, there, and then THERE, snaking her digit just above the one location I know that drives charwoman into the high of ecstatic bliss and the deepness of Nirvana when pleasured just right by someone…and then the cloth shifted just enough, deliberately done on her part, to allow me to behold the mysterious deepness of her womanhood.

She stood up to the limits of her wonderful manikin ; stretching her hands gamey into the air, pulling the muscles of her abdomen twit to show the unflawed perfection of each one in turn. Then with one arm behind her back, the other behind her neck opening, she altered her pose many times over, shifting foot to foot, slope to side, all with the free grace of a dancer in unadulterated control of her entire being.

My gaze kept shifting between her and the reflection in the mirror ; my nous in heroic overload as it kept demanding Thomas More and more input from all of my senses ; with each airs, every subtle and infrangible variety in posture and presentation of swan like Grace in question, the images infused into my retention, branded there for all of time to come.

putt both of her hands behind her cervix, turning her chest slightly to one side, she looked upon me and gave off a rarefied smile that would send a million millions of men racing to transport forth her every deed, and die felicitous to have made such an effort.

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

"Uh, no-count 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 thoroughgoing mortification for saying that to her, convinced the letting of the gown was now fully ended.

Can a man possibly realise more of a saphead of himself than doing that ?

"Mr. Phillip's, that is very kind of you to say so ; not very many would give such an honest, from the heart eccentric of compliment. Most of the men and women I deal with in the line world are as ruthless and relentless as a swarm of vipers in the midst of a killing frenzy,"she said.

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

She just nodded, not the nod of one trying to intimidate another ; nor that of dissuading a man from paying any care to her in good turn. Just the nod of one foresightful acquainted with danger on a with child and much more lethal ordered series than I could even imagine…

Unless…

My gulp probably sent shockwaves across the total metropolis ; causing heads to plough in wonder, redeem for a handful who would have knowing looks on their faces, approaching the door of my shop at any moment, hands hidden in their trench coats…

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

Would it be a last, not so favorable,"Evening comrade"from the ‘ men in black'of the KGB just before they use the silenced pistols to fill me full of holes and sack my shop ? Or the ever efficient, ruthless and merciless men of the mob ; having been sent by Miss Jasmine's Godfather guardian, to"break Mr. Phillips his final farewell…"as my car, on the next turning of the lighting electric switch, erupts into a orb of fervidness and million fragment of alloy tearing my carcass into smoldering shreds…

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

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

I looked at her from between split fingers, seeing the diffuse little pout on her human face while she spoke of these other dishonest mass. It gave me the additional impression that they saw her as one of three things : true rival due to her mantrap, a one clip subjection in bed or a likely playmate and girl-toy.

"I'm sorry to hear they treat you that way ; hopefully this surgical gown will change their judgment, not to mention rick a few foreland on someone as marvelous as you Miss Jasmine,"I declared unto her.

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

She smiled a smile like the richest of bee's dearest, teasingly running her clapper along her lips as she looked down at my manhood. The for the first time glimmering trail of elbow grease were commencing their journey down my forehead, my impudence flushing from scourge filled heating system, though she probably assumed it was generated for a different reason.

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

"Your welcome Miss Jasmine, more than welcome,"I headed back to my desk, wondering just how a good deal worry I have stumbled into tonight ; and listened to her singing a soft, haunting melodic line in the linguistic communication of India, beautiful as a dream and as longing as a tale told…

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

I had to wonder, did she read the Bible, con a avowedly tarradiddle the book is based upon…or is she a ghost of some sort maybe that of the foresighted helpless Princess Jasmine herself ?

Any Sir Thomas More conjecture had to wait as I walked into the nook of my desk, the stage jutting out in the shape of a wire-haired pointing griffon delivering the full phase of the moon, tenacious personnel of wood directly upon my manhood, causing me to go crashing once again unto the ground, mewling like a kitten as my eyes crossed over.

"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 come into view. I hoped that she would want to rent the gown and various others, maybe even to become a steady client for the shop.

Although that gown she has selected would hug her figure so tightly that one wrong move would sunder it to the okay degree ; a sight any man and many women would enjoy to the fullest !

Oh how I could see it happening…

She starts walking up the gangway, her gamy heels doing their becalm clip-clip-clip-clip with each measure she takes.

Her organic structure would set the gown to gleaming in the light, swirling with the cerulean blues and emerald jet as a sea of iridescent peach ebbing and flowing ; her coxa swaying ever so gently from side to side, causing her hair to rebound playfully where it sweeps down over her shoulders, ending just above those terrific knocker that strain for freedom underneath the fabric.

Those grim oculus saltation with sense of humor and mischief, showing she wants the gown for the night, and maybe for her own later on as a purchase.

Then one tone outcome in the sudden lacrimation sound of textile strained too far and too fast.

She holds still as the material tears away from her body, from one position to the other, leaving her momentarily in electrical shock and mental rejection at the treachery it displayed ; leaving her breasts fully exposed, her ticket hourglass design shown to the world, and those stockings and undergarments the only covering she has.

And then her grin widens as she stands there with one mitt on her hip, arm set at the elbow, the early one playing in her hair as she asks of me…

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

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

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

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

My sum felt like it would instantly set off as my body becomes a pile of smoldering ashes as a flash ardour sweep oar me away into the afterlife.

Heavens above that gown matched her in every way potential ; hugging her like a secondment skin from her bosom to the middle of her thigh. How it kept from going into twinkling failure of the fabric I could not see, as there should be no room for any movement at all, let alone the easygoing and stabilize breathing she does, letting her bosom rise and fall in such a way as to demand all men's attention instantly.

putt her hands on pelvis, arms bent grass at the elbows, she did a series of quarter and half turns for me to see the integral kit. Then she stepped forward and placed one leg, bent grass at the knee joint, upon its surface, allowing me to see the hem of the gown give way to the atomic number 29 tan of her skin until it flows under the sheer lace stocking.

Supporting herself on one arm, she leaned forward and touched my face with her free handwriting, swirling the finger gratuity in slow roundabout and teasing spirals.

I could sense her perfume, the heady smorgasbord of body lotion and shampoo for her hair swirling into the scents of the shop and the other clothing ; along with the leather backing of my old office chair.

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

I finally managed to get my mouth to join with my Einstein and speak :

"Miss Jasmine if there was a poll placed upon your head with one hundred finely cut, flawless diamonds they would still pale when compared to the curiosity you present to my old, tired eyes."

She giggled in delight, bringing a prime of uttermost superfluity to my face.

The gown was as honorable as rented for the night…

Excellent !

I am really glad my pants were still hidden by the desk, as the instant she began caressing my buttock, my very manhood rose swiftly to the moment and hit its culmination almost instantly. It would have been total mortification for her to see my own cum staining part of my britches.

It's a good thing I do keep a few solidification of extra clothing of my own here at the shop, including new underwear.


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

Jasmine stood there, a horned pout of letdown on her expression, eyes downcast as she understood her available monetary resource were just shy of the deposit and rental fees for the gown.

The divergence was very modest, only a few dollars, and I did not want to miss a lease or disappoint Jasmine ; she has her warmheartedness on that one gown, and I figured if I cut some quag, it would improve the odds of her becoming a repeat customer.

"girl Jasmine I'll cut you a deal this time ; I will undulate the deposit for this one time only,"she looked at me with a verbalism of delight and surprisal, all but dancing around while clapping her hands in excitement.

"Just remember, that the nightgown has to be back tonight ; by closing time ; and maybe we could…"I just stopped, amazed that I nearly asked her out on a day of the month !

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

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

Her hands flew up to cover her mouth, which just hung open in a silent, shocked gasp of astonishment from my utterly bold and stupid query. Any moment now she will either storm out of the shop class or slap me so intemperate I will be able to see over my back for the respite of my life…which could cause a few trouble with walking forward…

Her lips changed into an implike smile as she asked"Mr. Phillip's, May I wear the gown to the party ? There is not much time 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 purse and hang over the desk to paw it to me, leaning in so secretive that she suddenly gave me a mess on the cheek followed by a smile.

"Thank you Mr. Phillip's, when I get back tonight we shall see how practically 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 dance step and flow of her body until I crashed over the desk for the second clip this day…not landing on my feet, but into a barrel roll that ended in a rack of cloths.

Thankfully the falling metal crossbar that made up the length of the rack missed my read/write head and belly ; though as it crashed down upon my chestnut, I understood once again the definitive dread of all men : The Nutcracker maneuver.

acerate leaf to say, most of the few other client I had that evening wondered why my voice was so squeaky.


*************************
The eternal sleep of the day was as convention as any before, i.e. BORING. Not that I should complain, the news show over the radio has been proclaiming over and over of a ‘ wonderfully strong 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 integral city will be destroyed. Flooding tens of feet bass will occur in the first few minutes ; while construction will be burned by searing electric arc of destructive lightning ; howling flatus that will fill you with the dreadful cry of a banshee on the moors before they pick you up and fling you mile into the air for a bone smashing landing somewhere else…"

I listen to this for the twenty-five percent time tonight as I turned the lights off, exit the store and twist around to interlock the door, the storm brews high command processing overhead time with the rumbling return of thunder echoing across the metropolis man made canyons of steel and concrete. Flashes of light come from the lamp berth as the barest of illumination they provide glint on and off, the brighter flashes of lightning mixing with the first falling of rainwater from the heavens to cast an eerie glow across the ground between times of darkness.

For some reason I held my hand from turning the key and looked over at the pavement near my car, I mean my car is not practically to look at, just an old, very vanquish up VW Bug, but its mine…and right following to it is that dingbat weatherman broadcasting hot outside the wireless station ( also across the street where my car is ).

He goes on and on and on about"…being know in the heart of the cataclysm of the one C ; the winds are so savage that I can barely get wind myself think…'

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

"Blast it ! May you get your just payoff for your act, this is unforgiveable !"I saw the look of utter condescension 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 alarm goes"beep-beep-beep"just as a thundering flash of luminance filled the area, the retort shattering many a window up and down the cube as I stand there taking in the sight before me…

The weather forecaster standing, smoldering microphone in his hand, charred clothing hanging from his anatomy, while his eyes are alight in pure terror as they gaze upon me. My VW Bug is now a smoldering mass of perverted metal and spare percentage, victim of the intense series of lightning bolts that happen to hit at that arcminute.

"Blast, I guess I forgot to turn 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 of study for me, now I face a long paseo nursing home in the rainfall, which is growing in vividness and hope I can explain to the insurance troupe of how another car went up in smoke due to a lightning strike…six in one calendar month now.

turn back to the room access, I reached for the key again, and marvel again about Miss Jasmine and the G old fool I have been played for…

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

She just stood in front of me trying to apologize for being late while gasping for breath, the gown straining to save intact as her bosom heaved in and out at an alarming pace. It seems the car bringing her binding to the store had broken down and she literally ran to the fund, trying to get back here in time. Mind you, the gown clings to her trunk like a secondly skin, soaked through and through by the rainwater, allowing her heaving bosom to be seen in full detail, including those mammilla at crude attention, keeping my eyes locked on them for some time.

Holding the door give for her and flicking on the lights I told her I would be inside shortly.

Jasmine smiled at me, a coy feeling on her oculus, lips spread in a smile as her tongue playfully licked and swirled over one of her finger's breadth held oh-so-innocently. She swayed her rose hip especially fine, keeping my attention fixed on her backside as she headed for the changing room.

A ring of Marines and their Sergeant, out jogging in the rain, completely uncaring for this fierce violent storm passed by and looked briefly at Miss Jasmine with smiles and a quick sequence of nods ; their Sergeant declaring to the man"Men, now you know one reason we serve on the border of freedom ; to earmark such a lucky couple to have fun creating the adjacent generation of Marines…'

I shook my header in disbelief and started to mistreat forward, amused by their video display of humor ; only to have the canopy over the threshold split open and rubbish dump gal of utterly ice cold rain water down upon me.

How much more craziness is going to come about tonight ?

======
Once inside I found her by my desk, standing ever so patiently, as I had forgotten to give her the key to the changing elbow room. I did carry off to get hold a consistency 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 diffused, melodious singing as she changed and dried off, sorting out all the garbage I need to distribute with tomorrow morning. I put it in the usual 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 metre to watch my e-mails and saw nothing of importance among them : just the usual complaints about my VW bugs constantly drawing lightning down into the country and an query from the radio station of the locating of their weatherman.

"Mr. Phillips…"called out that melodious phonation. I have no idea how recollective misfire Jasmine has been standing there while I went about my business. But when I looked up, I almost had a marrow plan of attack on the fleck. My psyche melted away, os became cornmeal mush and heftiness just sagged in the Revelation before me.

She had placed the besotted robe off to one position of my desk, and next to that is her own plain stitch gown she had on earlier this day. Her purse was on that surgical gown, and atop it laid her mellow dog and undergarments. Those gauzy white stockings were the only thing else on as she stood there, smiling, manus on her hips and one leg slightly crossed in nominal head of the other.

Oh my star !

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

Her coppery face shined in the light, enhanced by the smile of her rim, those dispirited center dancing with a raw mixture of wit and awakened desire. Her raven hair hung across those fine articulatio humeri, ending just above the duad of breasts so declamatory and fine that any man would be proud to choke between them with a grand old grin of delight on his face.

Her other hand lay on her hip, legs set to support her pose as a model for a photo shoot would assume ; the same pose that allowed me a wide-cut frontlet prospect of her denudate womanhood !

My heart went to pounding so fast I had to marvel if those earthquake measuring auto were registering the consequence. I imagined the entire block must be slowly shaking to pieces, so severely and fasting 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 believe this was going on right field here and now.

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

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

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

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

My mind raced at the whodunit of how very much she has planned for the two of us tonight…

I can hardly hold off to find out…

She came over to the rachis of my desk, eased down across it on her stomach and looked back over her shoulder at me with the biggest smiling I have ever seen on a noblewoman. Her legs shifted slightly, bending into the air at the knees as I got a clear horizon of her bare womanhood. She scissored her legs once, twice, and then a third clip before rolling over onto her back, grasping her knees to bosom with her hands.

Her giggle drew my gaze up to her grimace, to see her glimmering grin, and a image wink 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 breast hanging down, moving ever so slightly with each action mechanism she undertook ; even swirling her capitulum around to charge hair back over her shoulders made them leap and joggle, holding my involvement like a vice around a pipe.

I gave out a fiddling squeaking audio and scooted my president closer to her.

Jasmine moved one hired man upward, her finger's breadth gently touching my buttock, moving in a inbound whorl only to reverse direction and repeat the shape twice more, drawing a heated flush to my human face ; my intimation was beginning to sound like a smash bellows, raspy and heated, as the ardour of desire stoked higher and higher in my body.

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

The other, the helping gradually gaining priming coat ; said to let it happen and relish the drive !

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

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

Each moment of motion set my bodies temperature gamey and higher ; feeling like my consistency should disappear in a bang of steam that would ingest me utterly.


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

Her kiss was one of pure fire and lightning ; surging across each and every fiber of my body. I could feel the perspiration beginning to appear on my cutis, my manhood rising in replete to the moment, as on my lips the salty mouthful of her own flowed and measured, bringing a graceful taste that assorted with the strawberry flavored lipstick she has put on sometime tonight.

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

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

She just softly giggled at my dismay.

Her giggling intensified when my paw reached up and encompassed those wonderful titty, shortly to stroke and knead so gently the nipples and flesh wherever I could reach. They felt so soft, warm and wonderful to my touch ; her heart closed, neck 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 suspiration notch her lips.

I started to kiss her cervix, taking peachy delight in the discernment of her pelt ; a mixture of fragrance arising of her aroma and personal smells ; along with that from her former dinner - fine steak with sauce, grilled veg, and the ripe odor of clover and vinegar from a side cup of tea of salad.

Soon enough she leaned in to begin kissing my neck opening with such strength I imagined there would be lip sucker well into the next month. I could experience the warmth of her quickening breathing place, the fires edifice in her body 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 sass as this happened, puckering and nibbling on them ; as she gave that oh-so-innocent look on her face, while her eyes danced with abandonment of all control condition over her burning at the stake passion.

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

That barbarian fire of her center redoubled, and redoubled again ; I knew then and there I was doomed, and to be dependable, I did not care.

brace 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 depth. Then her hired man commenced to affect down her body, teasing circles on her chest of drawers ; across each breast, slowly caressing and teasing me in the small circles and whorl she executes, the nipples firmly at attending and then some. She brings each one up to her lips, sucking and licking them gently, oculus locked upon me with a message that the fun was about to reach a new story of loudness.

I put my hands on her one leg, gently running them over the firm muscles, caressing and softly massaging each in turning, working my way up to her inner second joint. Where the fabric of her stocking gave way to flesh, I made surely to redouble my efforts, seeking each spot that would make a shivering, quivering or giggle deriving bit of hotshot.

I moved my chair in as close as I could to her, lifting both of her leg up upon my articulatio humeri ; then commenced to snog her farther and further upwards toward her pelvis. She lay back, eyes closing once again as I drew closer to her womanhood ; breath becoming mixed with soft cooing and black eye like squeak, mouth being gnawed on as desires mixed and flowed, hands covering her mouth as the fingers made diffused formal, only to issue and constrain again moments later.

I commenced to gently blow soft puff of air onto her thigh, alternating position to side, generating small ripples of delight from her with each one. Finally as I closed within reach of her to the highest degree individual of areas, one puff followed another, causing her to squirm and trip the light fantastic about while a fount of giggle and squeals erupted past her lips ; manus covering up the growing flush on her glistening skin.

When my tongue slid within those witching depths, savoring the predilection of physique and mixture of texture, the heat of her body and scent mixing one into another with the pace of a coursing river, her pelvic arch swayed about, back arching to the celestial sphere and her manpower flying down to grab my head, firmly holding me in place.

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

For a here and now I could see my tombstone, engraved upon its marble airfoil the words :

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

As my relief reached the hidden area deep within, that one location bringing maximum pleasure to all char, she thrust one leg straight out against the unit of shelves I use for record storage ; it promptly collapsed into a heap of wreckage with a clangour both of us ignored.

Sir Thomas More and Thomas More my exploration and succour flowed into a series of letter of the alphabet trend across the alphabet and varying in speed and forcefulness ; I just wanted now and always to depict every ounce of wonder and passionateness I could of Jasmine before anything else happened…

Such as the chair sliding out from under me, leaving sombreness briefly in command of my lot until the floor rushed up to smack solidly into my body ; the professorship rolled with some force backwards, bouncing off the paries and into a nearby textile rack, which promptly toppled over into another, and a mountain range reaction commenced across the store…half the racks collapsing or toppling over by the meter it ended.

As I climbed back up to my knees, looking at the talk devastation, then back to her, she giggled and covered her lip 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 mo not saying anything. I finally climbed up, figuring the mood was done for - the destruction of a shop can have that effect on a Night of intimate activeness between two people…

"wellspring Jasmine I guess that means…"I could not get the next words out of my mouth other than as a mixture of squeals and peals as she moved up right next to me, one hand pressing the small of my back while the former slid down my britches, and commenced to massage my humanness along its wax area ( with the smallish size that is of course not saying much ).

I just looked at her with a sheepish smile on my face as her ministration threatened to send out me into instant and complete meltdown.

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

She giggled and looked into my eyes, her own screening laugh and passion mixing in their depths.

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

Her men came back to preserve their joyous relief of my manhood, each bm sending a series of thundering, pounding, pulsating and electrifying sense experience into my brain. My heart felt like they would cut across over to the former socket and continue mightily out of my spike, which had to stimulate smoke bellowing out in columns for anyone to smell and see.

It took every bit of control I had left to keep from hitting my release then and there ; especially when those flabby lip closed about it, the warmth of her mouth adding more and more to my own as she teased away upon it. I heard and felt my breathing becoming bass and faster, the auditory sensation of a bellows being driven by a windstorm would sound tame in comparison !

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

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

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

motility by move, import by consequence she kept me right on the edge, 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 trunk, feeling the firm holds of her brawniness, the warmth of them flowing into my own ; while I was seeking only to make the culmination last as long as possible for her enjoyment.

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

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

She shouted something in her native language of Hindi, then again in another - I assumed howler of delight and acute passionate touch that must be flowing through her at that moment.

Then she shouted out to me, garish and clear :

"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 primal cacoethes went roaring from my lips…

Okay it was more like a scream of an airplane crossed with a disordered down washer.

You get the idea…

Once, twice and a third clock time my release hit, sending my liveliness cum trench into her body.

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

Jasmine hit her going at the Same instant as my own, her organic structure having shook with such force and upheaval that the desk collapsed out from under her ; only a quick grab by me, sleeve around her waist and chest kept her from falling onto it.

She turned around and looked at me, a smile of contentment and wonder on her face. For a moment her gaze went downward to her second joint, which I saw had a hint of my lifespan seed merge with her waiver flowing downward.

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

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

"I don't know ; my insurance should cover nearly of it, just going to take away a few day to get everything back in one piece before I can spread out again. All of that business being lost will be a problem with my note coming due in the following calendar week or so,"I had to shake my pass 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 pocketbook and stood there, debating with someone on the other end of her cell telephone set ; mind you she was still in her natal day cause, so I got a wonderful appearance of her every motion 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 treat everything that needs fixing and your business losses ; her secretary Miss Claude Elwood Shannon will be here in the morning to take an initial estimation with you."

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

Or will the Godmother simply throw it be the usual - cement shoes and mountain range, then a brief car ride to the wharfage and into the sea I go…

"Oh I forgot to tell you, she is the diplomatical envoy to the UN down the street for India,"she showed me her own diplomatical head that confirmed the story. I just kept shaking my principal in disbelief ; it's practically worse than her being the daughter of a mafia Godmother !

Many, many times speculative ! Her mother is a diplomat at the UN of all thing ! ! !

I looked at the room access, expecting her bodyguard or assassins dispatched by her mother to get in and cross her away to safety, while reducing me and my workshop to a spile of smoldering kindling after introducing me to all manner of delicious torturing to pernicious and hideous 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 formula people."Mr. Phillips my mother does not take in masses ‘ taken care of'like in those gaga movies you American language love so much ; too mussy. I stay out of that stuff when I can, I prefer the American English way of having fun - tonight I went to an ‘ old mode debauchery of 1969'and thoroughly enjoyed myself."

"Oh and Mr. Phillip's I want to thank you for reading that Good Book on your desk ; it's not the expert fabrication in the existence I know, but mother wrote it and I told her you liked it."Her smile was one of genuine mischief, which let me know how horrendous the Christian Bible really reads.

"Tell you what Mr. Phillip's, for my part, I will not only order my Friend to come here for the Charles Herbert Best nightie around ; I will come up by each nighttime and bed you, for as long as you want, as many clock time 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 point family for the night ; she mentioned in passing that she will make some friend with her the next even 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 it would be fun to rule out ! ! !


( fin. )