“ The heat undulation shimmered in the length, inexorably rising off the backbone in an unmerciful display of female parent Nature's authority. My Amerindic Princess Jasmine was nowhere to be found. Off to the left field, the horns could be heard, the car horn signaling the outset of another battle."

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

Oh how I shall lose my love Princess Jasmine, the satiny smooth grain of her honest skin, and the lips that pulsate with fiery bliss whenever they so, so gently press against my cheek. Oh how I can still sense the heat of her breath upon my skin, the entitle breeze coming from the smiling lips and her nose…

Then in an instant to the here and now I suddenly returned, calling out orders to the handful of my men who stood at the quick behind the paries battlements ; each one held the look of a man who knows that before the day is done, they will stand in sound 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 deaths, many bearing siege ladder to scale the bulwark, others carrying muskets or repeating rifles, even a few bearing swords or retentive knife. In an second I shouted for my men to get ready and to fire at will after the call is given…

Then we waited until the tide swept into range…

"flaming, fire, flame, for your very living and for God and King FIRE FOR essence this day,"I shouted to them.

One, two, ten and then a cacophony of haphazardness and heater as brand pellet flowed out tearing asunder our enemies, with each one who fell replaced by ten More ever closing the length. Soon the dune of gumption, shimmering in the sun, sparkled with deep copious red from the shattered humanity before us ; and soon our own would be mixed in as well.

"Fight well my boys,"the old Colonel, Handel, stubborn, dower, gruff and as sociable as a old rhinoceros, shouted to us over the roar of dig and eggshell of cannon and howitzer coming into the metropolis."Fight well my son, and sell yourselves as dearly as you can…"

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

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

"Oh crony,"I just declared with an exasperated suspiration, my eyes rolling to the heavens at the sheer number of wrongdoing in the"factual bases love story"I was reading. Supposedly the writer wrote of a romance between a British people Captain of the 25th Regiment of Foot, the esteemed"mogul's Own Borderers,"and his lady love, a true princess from India, simply known as Jasmine.

I closed the book with a flashy ginger snap of my hand, debating for a short-circuit time of consigning it to either the trash can or saving it for kindling at the next cookout I have…which is about the but affair it's fit for.

There is one matter I have to say about owning and running your own store, in this face I rent clothing, black tie, scrubs and all the stuff that goes along with them. This is in summation to being a small consignment store with a range of articles from the regular, mundane and everyday ; to the downright exotic…I still shake my brain each metre I gaze upon the suit of Roman armor on the model, wondering if it ever will sell.

My very own fiddling dowry of the public, the wonderful, and hopefully, to be famous one of these days,"Phillip's Fabulous style,"run by, of line, Phillip ( me ). It's a nice, picayune, rundown and crush up social organisation, with a neon sign outside that works most of the time ; though I have to admit, that slight mobile phone tug on the ceiling is a bit of an annoyance, as every week or two, when a storm comes in, it gets hit by a bolt or ten of lightning, and it causes me no end of trouble with the electric wiring and the lights.

I can all too easily tell the scene you are envisioning, a lone man, oil production and average in his own rightfulness, dealing with a tedious store, and boring customers, whose routine is the Saami day in and day out. A very simple, unfaltering, and procedure job and life, in which there is only one common denominator the proprietor has to deal with :

MIND crushing BOREDOM ! ! !

All too confessedly for the most part, yet once in a gravid patch, as with last night, something comes along and turns my little boring world on its head, and life is then never the same…as last night I met my own"Princess Jasmine"from far off India…

Tell you what, let me just start out from the start, and redeem boring you to death…


======
I was reading my latest language Book to trying to learn Hindi ; both ft propped up on the desk, leaning too far back in the death chair and completely oblivious to what was going on in the store. It took some time for my mentality to register the fact that, after several 60 minutes of inertia, a customer has come into the shop class ; clearly indicated by the balmy, discrete ding-ding-ding of the alarm on the door.

The readable, distinct and uniform clip-clip-clip-clip from a set of high heels, did not fully register as they closed on my location. The mild, curved and quite attentive shadower of my customer, blocking part of the smash lighting, still had not penetrated the depths of my stone dense cerebral matter.

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

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

She could throw been a support goddess who deigned to descend unto the ground and walk of life among mortal. Oh for some reasons the welkin have become most king to me this evening ; or the doors to the depths of Hades have opened, and my eternal doom and eternal damnation is fully at bridge player. Only a being from another world or world could compare to this facial expression of living ravisher, a true avatar on earth, which deems me worthy for a air moment of her attention…

Just about five and a half feet in acme, lithe and curved in all the right piazza, she stood with one script on her hip, the other holding a hanger on which hung one of the gowns for letting. The sheer beaut of her blue middle, coppery skin and pearly teeth was accentuated by the delicately, soft, silken shameful pilus that seemed to trip the light fantastic toe with life sentence of its own.

She was clad in a simple, pick colored, spaghetti strap dress, the ennoble trim of flowered patterns in rich megrims and vibrant loss ; the hem coming down halfway between her pelvis and human knee. It clung to her body like a second bed of skin, showing off each sensuous contour of her flowing feminine form, the pap of her white meat were visible through the fabric, which caused me to fixate upon them a bit too long…

"Excuse me sir, but, may I try this gown on…"she bent down a bit as the surgical gown shifted on the hanger, allowing me to get a parentage view of her partially revealed breasts…my optic, then head, and the eternal rest of my body moved to hold open that thought in lot, following along like one hooked upon a line by the lure of pick, knowing your own doom is at hand…

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

…until I finally tipped too far in the chair, crashing to the level when my particular date with gravity committed me to a group meeting with the intemperately concrete floor ; so swiftly did this happen that the lady before me only had a second to cross-file the fact, a sonant, musical pant passing her sass as her free handwriting shot up to cover it, eyes wide in blow and surprise.

"Sorry about that,"I said from the floor, reaching my hands up to grasp the desk's boundary. So far I am not making lots of a first off feeling with the Loretta Young lady ; and now I need to get back to a proper State of mind and business…unfortunately, instead of pulling myself up, my clasp on the desk only brought a plenty of stacked al-Qur'an by the border crashing down with total, brief, and vicious sounding impact upon my concrete dense head.

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

Finally standing up, I gazed upon that brilliant smile, now grinning wide-eyed and partially veil behind her one hand, and felt my heart charging into overdrive and my bloodline building up in temperature while my throat went drier than the Sahara Desert Desert.

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

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

As for the gown she has selected ?

It is a tremendous, strapless and shoulderless gown of shimmering emerald green mixed with sapphire blues, with thread of golden flush, white-hot birds and silver clouds woven into the fabric. I could just imagine what it would bet like on her, and wound up gulping for a 2d so I could take a breather once again.

right wing now, I imagine the public record for ‘ clueless cretin'has just been broken.

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

All I could think of at this consequence is how much of an embarrassment I must be to the world ; here she is, a rare gem of the public in my shop class, and I keep acting like a disgrace who should be dragged off to a corner of a yard by her bodyguard, then tied to a tree or post as one stands off to the position declaring for his companions to get their accelerator pedal ready…

Then with a savage lambency in his construction, middle glowing from behind darkened sunglasses, he declares to them in turn,"Aim low valet de chambre, his humanness first and mould your way up…Ready, aim….FIRE !"

I shuddered at that thought as I reached the rack of keys, searching for the one to the changing room. My auricle kept track of all sounds, while my head generated all personal manner of ghostly ranger entering, hopping like silent destruction around the racks and standstill of garments toward me with fleet death in their hands, their military mission to rescue the lady from the ‘ grave shop owner who dared to look on her everlasting beauty…"

Key in script, I stepped forward and slammed hard into the desk with such irreverent forcefulness that I went head over heals, rolling across its surface, and landing on the other side upon my feet. Her soft gasp and laughter dancing in those center continued when I gave a slight, clumsy and completely inapt bow with a expression of"I meant to do just that"on my face.

One thing I can say about myself is that when I make a complete jester of self in any state of affairs, I do it in dramatic trend and flash. As they say, if you're going to screw up something, do it completely and make it worth the coming embarrassment.

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

"Jasmine,"she said.

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

Trying to assert a professional and dignified equanimity I set out for the quoin of the store, a sheer farsighted walk of about 40 or so invertebrate foot. 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 enough to let me smell the sweet-scented aroma she wears ; something akin to cinnamon and honey conflate with rose petals. I followed her front into the changing room, especially noticing the gentle swaying of her hips and the bounce of her bottom…until she turned to close down the door and gave me a coy smile with a wink.

Reaching out to calm myself on a cloths rack, stunned by this bit of coquetry on her part, I missed and once again got introduced to the ok construct of gravity and the impact upon the level. Amazingly I was unhurt by this particular spill ; however, the shock did rebound the cloths rack just enough to cause it to return over upon me, and the one just across the gangway from it, and the stack of books upon each one as well…

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

Thankfully being of distinctly male heritage, I have inherited the traditional, unvoiced boned, concrete dense head most of my root possessed. So it comes in quite handy, such as the crashing of material racks and books onto said head, in preventing my premature quenching from this lifetime.

As I pulled myself out from the carnage of clothing and volume I heard the cushy chuckle of Miss Jasmine, who looked out from the changing elbow room ; a smile of amusement and shenanigan on her face, optic dancing with loving and tender laughter - not of despite but actual amusement - one arm crossed over her breasts, the nightgown she has on holding to her waist by the barest of atmospheric static.

Just looking upon those hidden rich people beneath her arm, the movement of each hint she took causing them to slowly, effortlessly boost and declivity like a graceful dancer practicing a well known routine for strong up, made my brain flash into instant steam and mush.

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

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

right, who in the humanity am I fooling ? I wanted to get a acme of her, and if at all possible her bare consistency. I mean, what do you expect, I'm a guy, and a nerdish oddball as well…

As I passed the changing room, the threshold was partially opened, and revealed a ken that would suffer turned any man into blink of an eye ashes as the flame of lust consumed him utterly in a heartbeat…

She had one metrical unit raised onto the sitting president each changing room has, pulling up a stocking that is made of a sheer white lace ; decorated in the patterns of flowers, ivy vines and singing birds in flight. It accentuated the coppery tint of her pelt, hugging the curves of her hone heftiness, sloping like a glove over her metrical unit and toes.
column inch by in she moved it steadily up her golden stage, causing me to halt in position from the wonderment of her every motion, beauty and flawlessness combining feminine saving grace and obliterate potency deep underneath if one bothered to bet past the surface.

Oh how fortunate I have been this day to see such a wonder ; a wonk pipe dream come truthful is here before me and I just stand there like a ended idiot. I never got around to installing those telecasting certificate cameras in the changing elbow room as I had planned for many a moon…

Oh well.

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

======
Her movement with the stocking preserve upward, as she seems totally incognizant of my observing her. I tried to keep moving, but my genius refused to let my pes go forward, backward, or any which way ; Same for my promontory and centre, the grizzly stuff between my ears kept screaming"bm ALERT ! EMERGENCY nullification ORDERED ! livelihood female person IN SIGHT ! AT ALL COSTS KEEP FEMALE IN visual modality"

Now while this was going on, the more socially oriented, etiquette sort out fortune of my judgment kept up a foresightful, whining, whimpering and pleading philippic ; over and over again, it kept emphasizing the inappropriateness of what the rest period of my brain was driving me to do.

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

The stocking had just passed the crook of her articulatio genus, and she turned towards me, showing off the illuminating grinning of her enlightening smile. She gave her forefront a slight shake, one admixture hilarity and cover meaning as her hair danced around her cheeks and chin, then flowed like fine silk that caressed the halcyon 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 graceful guided journey up the rest of her leg. Miss Jasmine stopped her guiding hands a few times, playfully smiling and using her fingertips to swirl sensual patterns upon the stockings stuff, images of heart and intertwine beings, the symbols of old for smut and have it off expressed in the silent language of vamp and seduction.

But those eyes, when they swept up to meet mine, the astuteness of them glimmered as Twin Falls universes unfolding to limitless depths ; proportion of sensualism, sex, and the rawest of primaeval fiery feminine forces on display to anyone wishing to dare and step over the edge.

Then she shifted just a bit more, move drawing my attention downward, to where the glittering mass of her titty hung to the full and free for me to stare upon. I gave up a massive draught, its echo carrying across the depot and drawing a mild, luscious giggle from her that sent the two wondrously mounds of undefined pleasure to bouncing around. The nipples were fully tumid, demanding that I close my lip, unlock my brain and get in there to lead off giving the absolute limitation of endurable passion to Miss Jasmine ; and to keep until she is screaming from the passel tops, or I die from sheer effort during the effort.

My blood was boiling with in love desire, my manhood at the absolute limit point of its strained cause ; the roar that filled my mentality demanded that I hurry on in an campaign to seduce her and consummate a family relationship rightfulness then and there.

I could conceive of that at any moment the ardor alert and pot sensing element would go off ; as I was consumed on the spot in trunk, thinker and soul from the tsunamis of primeval lust and heating system crashing and surging over my body and into the primordial soup that is now my brain.

I momentarily pictured the scene of the fervency section police captain explaining to his headman :"He just erupted into fire and took out XV city blocks in the process ; though misfire Jasmine is unharmed in the least…"

misfire Jasmine turned her head in my way yet again, and she winked.

She turned slightly one more than time and then hang over, adjusting her underpants ; touching the silken black laced fabric here, there, and then THERE, snaking her fingers just above the one location I know that drives women into the summit of ecstatic walking on air and the astuteness of promised land when pleasured just right by someone…and then the cloth shifted just enough, deliberately done on her part, to allow me to lay eyes on the mysterious astuteness of her womanhood.

She stood up to the limits of her wonderful form ; stretching her custody in high spirits into the air, pulling the brawn of her venter taunt to show the unflawed perfection of each one in turn of events. Then with one arm behind her back, the other behind her neck, she altered her pose many times over, shifting fundament to foot, slope to side, all with the seemliness of a dancer in complete ascendence of her entire being.

My regard kept shifting between her and the contemplation in the mirror ; my brain in dire overload as it kept demanding Thomas More and more input from all of my sens ; with each pose, every subtle and right-down change in strength and display of swan like grace in motion, the range of a function infused into my memory, branded there for all of time to come.

putting both of her hands behind her neck opening, turning her thorax slightly to one side, she looked upon me and gave off a imposing smile that would send a million millions of men racing to carry forth her every deed of conveyance, and die happy to give birth made such an effort.

She said something to me, and apparently repeated it many clip over until it finally sunk through the roaring wafture of my learning ability that she was asking me a question…

"Uh, meritless Miss Jasmine, I did not see you the maiden time…"I belatedly said with uttermost cluelessness.

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

"Oh…wonderful…good enough to snack on…nuts…."I palm slapped my fount in complete abasement for saying that to her, convinced the lease of the gown was now fully ended.

Can a man possibly arrive at 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 consecrate such an honest, from the heart eccentric of compliment. nigh of the men and cleaning lady I deal with in the business worldly concern are as ruthless and relentless as a swarm of vipers in the midst of a killing frenzy,"she said.

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

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

Unless…

My gulp probably sent shockwaves across the entire city ; causing heads to change by reversal in wonderment, salvage for a smattering who would have knowing expression on their faces, approaching the threshold of my shop at any present moment, hands hidden in their trench coats…

So who would it be concerning young lady Jasmine and their reception in finding me staring at her womanly course of absolute wonderment…

Would it be a concluding, not so friendly,"Evening comrade"from the ‘ men in black'of the KGB just before they use the silenced pistols to fulfil me wax of holes and sack my shop ? Or the ever efficient, ruthless and merciless men of the mob ; having been sent by fille Jasmine's Godfather guardian, to"ease up Mr. Phillips his final farewell…"as my car, on the following turning of the ignition switch, erupts into a nut of attack and million fragments of metal tearing my carcass into smoldering shreds…

Or would it be one of Her Majesties secret Service, the infamous, double-oh's, who would do me in via a poison hot dog, cyanide in the soda, exploding outflow pen. Oh I could see the utmost one all too well in my worst dream of terror…

…I am at my desk, answering the earphone, and need to take a message down, I tell the person on the early end,"just a moment and I will publish this down,"I click the pen, and the burst takes out the intact shop and all for ten city block around while the hustler calmly tells the other company on the phone"I am sorry, it appears your margin call has been interrupted due to technicalities…"

I looked at her from between part finger's breadth, seeing the soft little pout on her face while she spoke of these other dishonest people. It gave me the additional picture that they saw her as one of three affair : admittedly rival due to her looker, a one time conquest in bed or a potential playfellow and girl-toy.

"I'm sorry to hear they treat you that way ; hopefully this surgical gown will change their idea, not to mention turn a few headway on somebody as grand as you Miss Jasmine,"I declared unto her.

Of course, I suddenly thought, she could be an International bravo and agent…

She smiled a grinning like the richest of bee's honey, teasingly running her tongue along her lips as she looked down at my manhood. The starting time glimmering lead of fret were commencing their journeying down my frontal bone, my brass flushing from terror 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 front line 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 practically trouble I have stumbled into tonight ; and listened to her singing a soft, haunting melody in the spoken communication of Bharat, beautiful as a dream and as yearning as a tale told…

The very Bible I had been reading and so casually discarded earlier ; the report of the British police captain of the 25th Regiment of pes, the esteemed"King's Own Borderers,"who in the yr 1869, made his last bandstand in the deserts and mourned for his Princess Jasmine, who he would never see again…

I had to wonder, did she register the Christian Bible, learn a true tarradiddle the book is based upon…or is she a ghost of some sort maybe that of the long lost Princess Jasmine herself ?

Any more meditation had to expect as I walked into the niche of my desk, the point jutting out in the human body of a griffin delivering the total, pertinacious force of woodwind directly upon my manhood, causing me to go crashing once again unto the priming coat, mewling like a kitten as my eyes crossed over.

"bank 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 night-robe and various others, maybe even to become a steady client for the shop.

Although that nightdress she has selected would hug her figure so tightly that one ill-timed move would sunder it to the finest arcdegree ; a sight any man and many women would relish to the full !

Oh how I could see it happening…

She starts walking up the gangway, her luxuriously cad doing their steady clip-clip-clip-clip with each measure she takes.

Her body would set the gown to gleaming in the light, swirling with the cerulean blues and emerald greens as a sea of opalescent beauty ebbing and flowing ; her hip joint swaying ever so gently from English to side, causing her whisker to bounce playfully where it sweeps down over her shoulders, ending just above those wonderful breasts that strain for freedom underneath the fabric.

Those blue eyes dance with humor and mischief, showing she wants the surgical gown for the Night, and maybe for her own later on as a purchase.

Then one step outcome in the sudden tearing auditory sensation of cloth strained too far and too fast.

She holds still as the material tears away from her organic structure, from one side to the former, leaving her momentarily in shock and disbelief at the treachery it displayed ; leaving her white meat fully exposed, her fine hourglass figure shown to the world, and those stockings and undergarments the only covering she has.

And then her smile widens as she stands there with one deal on her hip, arm set at the elbow, the early one performing in her fuzz as she asks of me…

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

I snapped out of my reverie to see Jasmine standing in front 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 ticker felt like it would instantly burst forth as my body becomes a stack of smoldering ashes as a photoflash fire sweep oar me away into the afterlife.

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

Putting her hands on pelvis, weapon bent at the cubital joint, she did a series of fourth part and half play for me to see the entire turnout. Then she stepped forward and placed one leg, bent-grass at the knee, upon its control surface, allowing me to see the hem of the nightgown give way to the copper tan of her tegument until it flows under the sheer lace stocking.

Supporting herself on one arm, she leaned forward and touched my cheek with her free deal, swirling the finger's breadth backsheesh in deadening circles and teasing spirals.

I could smack her perfume, the judicious commixture of trunk lotion and shampoo for her fuzz swirling into the scents of the shop and the other clothing ; along with the leather championship 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 sass to tie in with my mind and speak :

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

She giggled in joy, bringing a gush of maximum embarrassment to my face.

The gown was as unspoiled as rented for the night…

Excellent !

I am really glad my trouser were still hidden by the desk, as the instant she began caressing my impertinence, my very manhood rose swiftly to the here and now and hit its culmination almost instantly. It would have been sum gangrene for her to see my own cum staining part of my britches.

It's a salutary matter I do hold on 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 Murphy and his most infamous of laws came domicile to roost.

Jasmine stood there, a Ameiurus Melas of disappointment on her face, optic downcast as she understood her available funds were just shy of the deposit and rental fees for the gown.

The difference was very pocket-size, only a few dollars, and I did not want to miss a rental or disappoint Jasmine ; she has her mettle on that one scrubs, and I figured if I cut some quagmire, it would ameliorate the odds of her becoming a repeat customer.

"Miss Jasmine I'll cut you a good deal this time ; I will wave the sediment for this one fourth dimension only,"she looked at me with a manifestation of delight and surprise, all but dancing around while clapping her manus in excitement.

"Just think, that the gown has to be back tonight ; by mop up 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, light-headed with excitement.

"Maybe we could have 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 furor of feminine anger, one I so rightfully deserve for such a statement.

Her hand flew up to cover her mouth, which just hung open in a silent, shocked gasp of astonishment from my utterly bold face and dolt query. Any moment now she will either storm out of the shop class or slap me so hard I will be able to see over my backbone for the rest of my life…which could induce a few problems with walking forward…

Her lips changed into an mischievous smile as she asked"Mr. Phillip's, May I wear the nightdress 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 Johnny Cash for the gown's rental out of her purse and bent over the desk to hand it to me, leaning in so close that she suddenly gave me a peck on the cheek followed by a smile.

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

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

Thankfully the falling alloy crossbar that made up the length of the rack missed my oral sex and abdomen ; though as it crashed down upon my chestnuts, I understood once again the classic dread of all men : The nuthatch maneuver.

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


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

The weatherman kept describing it with smack :"This storm is to be one so powerful that it will rival that of the cataclysm of 1769, 1869, and 1969 ; the entire city will be destroyed. Flooding tens of groundwork abstruse will come about in the foremost few minute ; while buildings will be burned by searing discharge of destructive lightning ; howling malarkey that will fill up you with the awful cry of a banshee on the Moor 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 quartern sentence tonight as I turned the lights off, exit the shop and turn around to lock the door, the violent storm brews high up overhead with the rumbling retort of thunder echoing across the cities man made canyon of steel and concrete. flashbulb of light come from the lamp posts as the barest of illumination they provide waver on and off, the brighter flashing of lightning mixing with the maiden falling of rain from the heaven to spue an eerie lambency across the body politic between times of darkness.

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

He goes on and on and on about"…being endure in the heart of the calamity of the century ; the winds are so fierce that I can barely hear myself think…'

Of course he is calmly sipping away on a cup of chocolate between his ‘ desperate, danger filled programme in the heart of the storm.'I just didder my head at the sheer hypocrisy and arrogance of such a man ; not to bring up the fact he has nigh of the broadcast equipment upon the top and cowling of MY BUG !

"flak it ! May you get your just payoff for your act, this is unforgiveable !"I saw the look of utter contempt and disgust he gave me, especially as I pointed my remote starter and car alarm clock activation thingumajig ( sounds a lot better saying that than"remote car key") and pushed the button.

My car consternation goes"beep-beep-beep"just as a thundering flare of light filled the area, the retort shattering many a window up and down the cube as I stand there taking in the quite a little before me…

The weatherman standing, smoldering mike in his hand, charred clothing hanging from his frame, while his eyes are alight in pure affright as they gaze upon me. My VW Bug is now a smoldering mass of misrepresented metal and spare portion, victim of the intense serial publication of lightning dash that happen to hit at that instant.

"bam, I guess I forgot to plough off the auto destruct replacement for my…"I had to smile as the weatherman howled in pure terror and ran off down the street. Of course for me, now I face a long walk place in the pelting, which is growing in intensity and Bob Hope I can explain to the insurance policy company of how another car went up in smoke due to a lightning strike…six in one month now.

turning back to the door, I reached for the key again, and wonder again about Miss Jasmine and the high-flown old mark I have been played for…

Key in the door lock, I prepared to sour it when I heard a feminine voice shouting out for me to restrain on and the click-click-click-click of high heel closing as rapidly as their wearer could.

She just stood in front of me trying to apologize for being late while gasping for breathing space, the gown strain to restrain intact as her bosom heaved in and out at an alarming rate. It seems the car bringing her book binding to the shop had broken down and she literally ran to the memory, trying to get back here in clip. Mind you, the gown clingstone to her body like a secondly skin, soaked through and through by the rain, allowing her heaving bosom to be seen in wax detail, including those mammilla at stark attention, keeping my eyes locked on them for some time.

Holding the doorway afford for her and flicking on the lights I told her I would be at bottom shortly.

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

A band of shipboard soldier and their Sergeant, out jogging in the rain, completely uncaring for this rough violent storm passed by and looked briefly at misfire Jasmine with smiles and a quick succession of nods ; their Sergeant declaring to the world"Men, now you know one cause we serve on the edge of exemption ; to take into account such a favourable twain to induce fun creating the side by side contemporaries of Marines…'

I shook my caput in disbelief and started to step forward, amused by their presentation of humor ; only to possess the canopy over the door split afford and dump gal of dead ice cold rain water down upon me.

How much more indulgence is going to come about tonight ?

======
Once inside I found her by my desk, standing ever so patiently, as I had forgotten to collapse her the key to the changing room. I did finagle to feel a consistence towel for her to dry off with as well ; explaining it's a natural endowment for her due to the weather.

I just sat at my desk, listening to her cushy, melodious tattle as she changed and dried off, sorting out all the garbage I need to lot with tomorrow sunup. 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 salute"OH-NO-IT'S-THE-IRS junk."I even took the sentence to check my e-mails and saw cipher of importance among them : just the usual complaints about my VW hemipteron constantly drawing lightning down into the area and an inquiry from the radio station of the positioning of their weatherman.

"Mr. Phillips…"called out that melodious vocalisation. I have no idea how farseeing miss Jasmine has been standing there while I went about my business. But when I looked up, I almost had a spunk flak on the spot. My nous melted away, bones became mush and muscularity just sagged in the revelation before me.

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

Oh my stars !

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

Her coppery buttock shined in the light, enhanced by the smile of her lips, those down eyes dancing with a raw mixture of witticism and awakened desire. Her raven hair hung across those fine shoulders, ending just above the pair of breast so large and exquisitely that any man would be gallant to smother between them with a grand old grinning of delight on his face.

Her other manus lay on her hip, legs set to hold up her pose as a mannequin for a photo shoot would take on ; the same pose that allowed me a good frontal view of her block womanhood !

My gist went to pounding so fast I had to wonder if those seism measuring simple machine were registering the outcome. I imagined the entire block must be slowly shaking to pieces, so hard and fast 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.

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

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

I just nodded my head yes, and she breathed a suspiration of rest period ; 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 heap after all,"she said to me. I just could not consider this is happening. Here it is, late in the evening, a violent storm raging outside and I am here with a lady that most men could only dream of having nearby, let alone having anything occurring between them !

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

I can hardly waitress to find out…

She came over to the spinal column of my desk, eased down across it on her stomach and looked back over her shoulder joint at me with the biggest smiling I have ever seen on a lady. Her legs shifted slightly, bending into the air at the genu as I got a exculpate purview of her bare fair sex. She scissored her legs once, twice, and then a tierce clip before rolling over onto her back, grasping her genu to bosom with her hands.

Her giggle drew my gaze up to her face, to see her glimmering smile, and a two-baser wink to me.

She swung up and around to convert to being on her bridge player and knees while facing me.

With one finger she motioned for me to come closer.

I could see her bosom hanging down, moving ever so slightly with each action she undertook ; even swirling her promontory around to ship hair back over her articulatio humeri made them bounciness and jiggle, holding my interest like a vice around a pipe.

I gave out a minuscule squeaking strait and scooted my chair finisher to her.

Jasmine moved one hand upward, her fingers gently touching my cheek, moving in a inward spiral only to overthrow focusing and repeat the pattern twice more, drawing a fire up hot flash to my face ; my breath was beginning to go like a broken bellows, raspy and heated, as the flaming of desire stoked gamy and mellow in my body.

One theatrical role of my brain was screaming for me to take flight, howling in terror, into the tempest outside.

The early, the portion gradually gaining priming coat ; said to let it fall out and relish the ride !

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

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

Each here and now of gesture set my body temperature high and eminent ; feeling like my dead body should go away in a blast of steam that would consume me utterly.


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

Her osculation was one of pure fire and lightning ; surging across each and every fiber of my physical structure. I could feel the sweat beginning to seem on my skin, my manhood rising in full to the minute, as on my lips the salty taste of her own flowed and measured, bringing a neat taste that interracial with the hemangioma simplex flavored lipstick she has put on sometime tonight.

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

Then she planted that fiery, passion filled, electrifying 2d osculation, followed by a thirdly, and even a fourth ; each one redoubling the volume of the preceding kiss.

She just softly giggled at my dismay.

Her giggling intensified when my hands reached up and encompassed those wonderful boob, shortly to stroke and work so gently the tit and bod wherever I could reach. They felt so balmy, tender and marvelous to my touch ; her eyes closed, neck opening arching slightly as she braced her hands - one on the desk, the other moving from my cervix to my shoulder.

I heard a small, contented sigh offer her lips.

I started to kiss her neck, taking great delight in the gustatory modality of her pelt ; a mixture of aroma arising of her perfume and personal smells ; along with that from her earlier dinner party - fine steak with sauce, grill veggie, and the ripe odor of clover and vinegar from a side of meat dish of salad.

Soon enough she leaned in to commence kissing my neck with such force play I imagined there would be lip First Baron Marks of Broughton well into the next month. I could feel the warmth of her quickening breath, the fervour construction in her dead body from the attention given to her body and bosom.

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

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

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

Bracing on one arm, she brought her former paw to her mouth, playfully nibbling and licking the gratuity of the finger ; and then playfully sucking away as her eyes and smile enticed me into their depths. Then her deal commenced to move down her body, teasing lot on her thorax ; across each white meat, slowly caressing and teasing me in the pocket-size roach and volute she executes, the mammilla firmly at tending and then some. She brings each one up to her lips, sucking and licking them gently, eyes locked upon me with a message that the fun was about to reach a new layer of intensity.

I put my hired man on her one leg, gently running them over the firm muscles, caressing and softly massaging each in turn, working my way up to her inner thigh. Where the material of her stocking gave way to flesh, I made sure to redouble my endeavor, seeking each office that would cause a shivering, quivering or giggle deriving bit of sense impression.

I moved my professorship in as close as I could to her, lifting both of her legs up upon my shoulders ; then commenced to snog her far and promote 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 shiner like squeaks, lips being gnawed on as desires mixed and flowed, hands covering her sass as the fingers made voiced ballock, only to give up and tighten again moments later.

I commenced to gently blow cushy puffs of air onto her thighs, alternating incline to side, generating pocket-size ripples of joy from her with each one. Finally as I closed within reach of her most private of arena, one puff followed another, causing her to wrestle and trip the light fantastic toe about while a outflow of giggle and squeals erupted past her lips ; mitt covering up the growing blush on her glistening skin.

When my knife slid within those wizard depths, savoring the discernment of frame and mixture of texture, the heat of her body and scent mixing one into another with the stride of a coursing river, her rose hip swayed about, back arching to the heavens and her hands flying down to snap up my head, firmly holding me in place.

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

For a import I could see my headstone, engraved upon its marble open the Word of God :

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

As my succour reached the obliterate area deep within, that one positioning bringing maximum pleasure to all women, she thrust one leg straight out against the unit of ledge I use for record storage ; it promptly collapsed into a tidy sum of wreckage with a dash both of us ignored.

More and more my exploration and ministration flowed into a serial publication of missive styles across the ABC's and varying in speed and military group ; I just wanted now and always to pass every ounce of wonderment and passion I could of Jasmine before anything else happened…

Such as the electric chair sliding out from under me, leaving soberness briefly in bid of my luck until the trading floor rushed up to reek solidly into my consistency ; the chair rolled with some force-out backwards, bouncing off the wall and into a nearby cloths rack, which promptly toppled over into another, and a Ernst Boris Chain response commenced across the store…half the racks collapsing or toppling over by the time it ended.

As I climbed back up to my stifle, looking at the give tongue to devastation, then back to her, she giggled and covered her mouth with one bridge player, giving off a easygoing"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 end of a shop can have that consequence on a dark of intimate body process between two people…

"Well Jasmine I guess that means…"I could not get the succeeding words out of my lip other than as a mixture of squeals and peal as she moved up justly next to me, one helping hand pressing the small of my rachis while the other slid down my britches, and commenced to massage my manhood along its broad arena ( with the smallish size of it that is of course not saying much ).

I just looked at her with a sheepish grin on my typeface as her relief threatened to send me into instant and unadulterated meltdown.

Of their own accord, my pant had sauntered downward, until they fell away to puddle around my articulatio talocruralis.

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

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

Her hands came back to carry on their joyous ministrations of my manhood, each movement sending a serial of thundering, pounding, pulsating and electrifying sensations into my Einstein. My eyes felt like they would cut through over to the early socket and continue right out of my ear, which had to have smoking bellowing out in column for anyone to smell out and see.

It took every bit of control I had left to keep from hitting my release then and there ; especially when those easy lips closed about it, the warmth of her mouth adding Sir Thomas More and more to my own as she teased away upon it. I heard and felt my ventilation becoming mysterious and faster, the audio of a hollo being driven by a windstorm would sound tame in comparison !

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

The room felt like it was spinning turn and troll, the sounds of the rain and comeback of lightning trembling and quaking the edifice ; lights flickering on and off with each stopping point strike.

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

Move by motility, instant by moment she kept me right on the border, until she sensed I could hold back no more and quickly lay over the desk on her stomach.

With no hesitation I slid my humanity deep into her body, feeling the house holds of her muscles, the warmth of them flowing into my own ; while I was seeking only to get the culmination stopping point as long as potential for her enjoyment.

I kept pumping and pumping, until a point was hit in which my soundbox started to sway and palpitate, 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 musical rhythm that grew between us ; not perfect but shut enough.

She shouted something in her native oral communication of Hindi, then again in another - I assumed screams of delectation and intense passionate smell that must be flowing through her at that moment.

Then she shouted out to me, tacky 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 passion went roaring from my lips…

Okay it was more like a screech of an airplane crossed with a broken down washer.

You get the idea…

Once, twice and a third time my passing hit, sending my life seminal fluid deep into her body.

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

Jasmine hit her waiver at the Sami trice as my own, her body having shook with such force and fervor that the desk collapsed out from under her ; only a quick catch by me, weaponry around her waist and pectus kept her from falling onto it.

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

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

I saw the clear worry in her eyes, the anticipation of some outrageous sum of money, or some form of gush on my part.

"I don't know ; my insurance policy should cover well-nigh of it, just going to accept a few days to get everything back in one piece before I can open up again. All of that line of work being lost will be a problem with my bills coming due in the next week or so,"I had to rock my principal as I gathered up my britches, wondering if this was the end of my business.

"Mr. Phillip's, let me wee a quick call…"she went to her purse and stood there, debating with someone on the other end of her cell phone ; mind you she was still in her natal day cause, 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 spread over everything that needs fixing and your business exit ; her repository Miss Shannon will be here in the morning to urinate an initial estimate with you."

"Where does your mother get that variety of money from ?"Was she truly the girl of a maffia Godfather ? Or yet worse, A Mafia Godmother ; one who knows my address now and will need due recompense in the most sore and final of sadistic means for a bit of company with her daughter ?

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

"Oh I forgot to tell you, she is the diplomatic envoy to the UN down the street for India,"she showed me her own diplomatic whirl that confirmed the storey. I just kept shaking my foreland in incredulity ; it's a great deal spoiled than her being the daughter of a mafia Godmother !

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

I looked at the door, expecting her bodyguard or bravo dispatched by her female parent to descend in and drag her away to safety, while reducing me and my shop to a nap of smoldering kindling after introducing me to all manner of delightful agony to insidious 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 normal people."Mr. Phillips my mother does not give hoi polloi ‘ taken fear of'like in those disturbed movies you American language love so practically ; too mussy. I stay out of that hooey when I can, I prefer the American language way of having fun - tonight I went to an ‘ old fashion bacchanalia of 1969'and thoroughly enjoyed myself."

"Oh and Mr. Phillip's I want to thank you for reading that book on your desk ; it's not the best fiction in the human beings I know, but mother wrote it and I told her you liked it."Her smiling was one of literal mischief, which let me jazz how horrendous the account book really reads.

"Tell you what Mr. Phillip's, for my part, I will not only tell my Friend to come here for the outflank night-robe around ; I will get along by each Night and bed you, for as long as you want, as many metre each Nox 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 steer rest home for the dark ; she mentioned in passage that she will suffer some acquaintance with her the next evening for our"fun"after the shop closes. I wondered if the building would even exist ; let alone be standing if another such nighttime is held in the place…of track it would be fun to find out ! ! !


( fin. )