She sat back slowly in her desk chair, feet pulled up with heels hooked on the edge, second cup of coffee cradled in her hands. The smoky curls of steam floated lazily upward. Her thoughts wandered through a mindless jumble of nonsense, no real coherence, as she waited for the caffeine to work its magic. The laptop computer she used for work sat in front of her on a big oak desk, cluttered with a week’s worth of mail and pocket trash. The laptop also stumbled through a similar routine of waking up, beeping as the caffeine effects of electricity flashed through circuit boards and memory chips, stimulating the machine to awaken fully. A smile crossed her face as she thought about the day in front of her, a Saturday with no work to catch up. Now it was her time to play in a world of fantasy, to start another journey into cyberspace. She leaned forward to launch the browser, her fantasy train rolled away from the platform of reality on a new magical journey.
The mouse clicked softly as she navigated her way to her web-based email site, always her first stop. As usual, it was chocked full of mail. Past experiences told her 90% of what was there was not worth reading, much less deserving consideration of a response. Since she placed a profile in a new erotic pen-pal site, her incoming emails had multiplied exponentially. For nearly a week after posting the profile raunchy responses from hundreds of mindless men and sixteen very twisted bisexual or lesbian women appeared in her mailbox. However, not all the mail was undesirable. One man in particular piqued her curiosity in his very first message, a very sensual introduction and open invitation to join him in his world of fantasy. Two months after his first message they were exchanging emails almost daily. To her delight, he lived fairly close, about an hour drive from her condo.
His handle intrigued her in the beginning. Intimate and thoughtful were the first two things that popped into her head when she first saw the name “slokiss”. Of nearly a hundred emails, his was one of the few she selected to read. Since then, nothing in her life was the same. Her mind wandered to thoughts of him often. There was a presence of him with her as she drifted off to sleep at night. Her attraction to him was a mystery, yet it had strangely familiar feelings attached. She told herself she didn’t really “know” him, but deep inside there was a pull she could not understand. His sensitivity toward her was so incredible. He seemed to know what she was thinking many times before she could respond to him. It seemed he knew her with an intimacy she could not explain. The intimacy he offered filled an empty space in her otherwise satisfying life, addicting her to the passions of a man she had never met.
Pausing to reflect on their last correspondence, she felt the tingle of arousal gain momentum, her breathing became shallow and more rapid, anticipation filled her center with thoughts of moving to a new level with him. That momentum pushed her toward a real face-to-face meeting to indulge themselves in one of their mutual fantasies; sex in a public place. Momentum pulled her out of bed this Saturday morning to look for his message describing “when” and “where”. Momentum ignited a fire in her loins, moistened her palms and her softest woman-place. Momentum pushed her closer to the laptop screen searching for his instructions for the next part of their magical journey. The list of new anxious suitors scrolled by as she searched for his handle. Half way down the second screen she felt the familiar hitch in her stomach when she spotted his name. She loved the rushing sensations when she saw his handle. They reminded her of speeding over a hilltop in her car, feeling her stomach flip in an instant of weightlessness. Expertly, she guided the cursor to the entry of her cyber lover’s message and double clicked; speeding over another new hill, a new journey, as his words filled the screen.
She read his words hungrily. . .
“Hey Sweet! I have been up since before the dawning of this special day. The anticipation of really meeting you has been pounding at me unceasingly. The rush is incredible. The imagery of being complete, exploded, into a million little pieces inside of you has ignited a raging firestorm within me. Adding the element of danger to our adventure is driving me mad with excitement. I wonder, do you feel the same urgency?”
She felt an urgency, unsure if it was the same one. Then, quickly, not caring if it was as she squirmed in her seat, raising her empty coffee mug to her lips for the second time, still not noticing it was empty.
“I walked through the mall last night checking out a few spots for our little adventure. You’ll have to laugh when you hear my choice, Intimate Encounters.”
“Oh my!” She whispered softly to herself, placing her left hand gently on her chest between her breasts. Nervously she twisted a lock of strawberry-blond hair around her index finger, a habit of hers when she was excited.
“It is a new boutique on the second level right down the east wing from the food court. They sell intimate apparel, sleepwear, and lingerie, that sort of thing. Several dressing rooms in the rear of the shop look like a perfect spot for our crime.”
She liked his choice of using the word “crime”. She read on eagerly, still twisting her hairÂ…
“Come into the store at 11:30AM and find the big round rack of nightgowns standing in the rear of the shop. It’s on the left-hand side opposite the desk by the fitting rooms. You should plan on taking a few minutes and browse through the gowns. I am certain you will like the ones on the rear of the rack best of all. I will introduce myself to you in a very pleasing and intimate way when you find the right gown. I think you’ll like my introduction at least as much as I will.”
She was instantly wet, thrilled by the implications of his words, the anticipation of his touch. There was no doubt in her mind what he was going to do. They had already talked about favorite things and preferences. He was very oral and held a passion for pleasing her that way. She wondered if he really knew how much she craved that pleasure too.
“Wear the white cotton dress that has all the buttons on the front. Remember when we exchanged pics, the one you wore in that photo? That’s the one I want, and I want it real bad lover. Also, take a few minutes to remember the fantasy I shared with you about undoing all those buttons!”
“Oh God!” Escaped from down deep in her throat as she thought back to one of their cyber fantasies from over a month ago. She recalled him guiding her through his ‘button fantasy’. He instructed her to touch herself with such exquisite precision, creating the sweetest agony. Reading his words, she masturbated her way into a crushing orgasm. His words lit a fire deep inside of her then. And now, once again, his words made her center burn deeply with the intense heat of desire, wanting this sensitive man’s touch.
“Enjoy shopping for the gown of your choice, that is, if you can concentrate. Select a couple to try on and go into the fitting room area. Try to get the fitting room at the end. I’ll give you a few minutes to slip into the gown before joining you. What happens after that is in the hands of the public sex gods. Email me back to confirm you can make it. I’ll see you later lover! Criminal love for you, Slokiss”
Both hands came to her face, covering her mouth exhaling the breath she had been holding unconsciously. The chair squeaked on its pedestal as she leaned back, head rolling upward, eyes staring blankly at the ceiling. Thoughts and images raced through her mind of the impending pleasure she was about to experience. The thoughts of doing it with a man she had only seen in a picture added an element of danger and suspense that scared her passion to a level. The fantasy was much bigger than simply being in public. Her heart was about to burst from her chest as she thought about what she agreed to do with him. He would touch her later that morning to transition her thrill from fantasy to reality.
Wetness filled her center as she reached inside her robe. Fingers gently slid down her belly to her mound, caressing the closely groomed pubic hair, brushing lightly across a very swollen clitoris and into a soaking warmth she would share later. Slowly, she closed her eyes, imagining standing in front of the rack waiting for his hands, the hands of an unseen and unknown man reaching to touch her, to fondle her womanhood. The excitement of giving him permission to touch her, to explore his fantasy with her body, drove her to within a touch of an orgasm. Withdrawing her hand she brought her fingers to her lips, tasting her wetness, smelling the scent he would soon enjoy. She loved the erotic images of him loving her with his mouth, the pleasing touch of his tongue, as she sucked her fingers deeper into her own mouth.
Decision time had arrived. A reply was due to her lover. A commitment to fulfill a mutual passion had to be confirmed or passed over. Mechanically, her hand moved the mouse, drawing the cursor toward the REPLY TO MAIL button. She clicked on the icon. A reply email to slokiss opened, already addressed, and waiting for reply text. The simple nature of the task defied the enormity of the commitment being made. Simply type in the text, click on SEND MAIL and it was finished. A raging battle between head and heart was at a fervor pitch. Thoughts bounced from outright fear screaming ‘NO!’ to burning desire within her heart screaming a louder ‘YES!’
The battle was decided by her short reply…
“Suddenly I feel like shopping for a night gown! Your partner in crime! Sweet”
Her index finger rested lightly on the mouse button, a single click on SEND MAIL and her fantasy journey would became reality. The tingling in her center rose in a wave, cresting as the she made the confirming click. The footer message bar transitioned through the remote host connection and acknowledgment reply scripts rapidly, confirming her commitment. Quietly she sat staring at her computer wondering what his reaction would be upon receipt of her reply.
Part 2
She tore into her dressing room that was adjacent to the built-in wardrobe searching frantically for the off-white cotton dress with “his” buttons down the front. To her delight it was hanging on the bar neatly wrapped in the plastic covering provided by her dry cleaner. ‘Great!’ she thought, “Things are going to be perfect!’ Stepping into a new white cotton thong she turned to the mirror for a brief inspection. Her body was a well-maintained 5’7”, carrying a weight she would always argue was too much, despite being where all the height-to-weight ratio charts said she should be. She admired the reflection of her long dancer’s legs, thankful her mother insisted on countless years of ballet. Cupping her breasts in her hands she frowned slightly, thinking to herself as being barely average, although nicely shaped with dark pink nipples. She exhaled a breath signaling agreement she would never be perfect, head cocked to one side in submission.
Before the dress could go on she dabbed several spots with a special scent. They swapped emails about various colognes and perfume scents they each enjoyed. She remembered he had an attraction to Wings by Giorgio of Beverly Hills. The moistened glass applicator was touched gently between her breasts, a spot high on the inside of her left thigh, and once on the underside of her left wrist which she promptly rubbed against her right. Touching beneath each ear on her neck she covered the last special spots he described in his writings of breathing in her scent.
Fingers flew, along with handfuls of flashing strawberry-blond hair, as she deftly wove a tight French braid. Several wisps of hair in front of each ear were strategically pulled out as a finishing touch. Swiveling her head from right to left, eyes locked on the image of her face and hair, the mirror provided a reflection validating a final approval. There would be minimal make-up applied since her coloration, with the help of a late April sun, was nearly flawless.
After slipping into a sheer, white, seamless bra trimmed in lace, with a tiny pink bow nestled in the front; she removed the cotton dress from the plastic covering. Hanging it on the valet hook on the wardrobe she began to unbutton the dress as it remained on the hanger. Her mind wandered into the fantasy he shared with her over a month ago. Would he start at the top as he did then, or would he begin at the bottom? Closing her eyes she allowed herself to imagine what he would do in the very near future. The result of her musing was a tingling between her legs that shrilled as she crossed her legs, flexing her thighs together, a smile spreading along with the warmth in her center. Each button undone was a singular event in her mind, twelve in all. Looking forward to each event in her approaching future, she wrapped herself in the dress, refastening “his” buttons. Selecting a pair of off-white woven sandals from the shoe shelf, she completed the package. After one final inspection in the mirror, she whirled about and headed for the door.
* * * * *
The mall was filled with the normal hustle and bustle defined by a late Saturday morning. Walking from the opposite end of the mall, she stopped by the large marquis that contained a map of the two-level shopper’s paradise. One level above where she stood, and well down the east wing was the small boutique named Intimate Encounters. Glancing at her watch, she noted it was 11:25 AM. Her heart was racing in perfect harmony with the short breaths she was laboring to take.
‘What am I doing here,’ formed as a silent question in her mind. The logical, common sense part of her was already busy developing a sound case for turning around and walking back out into the parking lot. The part of her that had a hunger strong enough to override logic and common sense was busy plotting a course to the rear of a small boutique one level above and somewhere to the east, somewhere toward a passion that had been denied way too long.
Searching the faces of countless people passing by, she made her way to the cluster of elevators, focusing on every face, yet seeing nothing. Pressing the “up” button, she stepped back to watch the glowing numbers centered over the three elevator doors. Every step she took, every face she passed, and every button pushed was one step closer to the source of her anticipation. For every notch closer she came, another beat was added to an already rapid thumping in her chest. The pit of her stomach was tied in the most pleasant knots she could remember. She marveled at how swollen she felt as the elevator doors slid closed lifting her one level closer to her objective.
With a shudder the elevator jerked to a stop. The doors opened to eager shoppers ready to push their way past her as she stepped toward the eastern wing of the mall. Her strides were confident as she merged into the flow of window-shoppers and mall-rats busy with their own agendas. Intimate Encounters was six or seven shops down on the right. Her eyes searched the small boutique signs hanging over each of the shops she passed by. Upon seeing the sign that marked her destination, her heart leaped into her throat and her stride diminished to a more guarded pace.
She stopped at the edge of the large plate-glass display window on the near side of the entrance. Her eyes scanned the store interior looking for “him”. From pictures exchanged earlier she knew what he looked like. Her initial scan of the small intimate boutique turned up only three other shoppers and two clerks manning their posts. Drawing a deep breath, she stepped into the shop.
Senses erupted with recognition of the smell of flowers; gardenias, she thought. Primary lighting came from canisters embedded in the ceiling. Complimenting them was a scattering of eyeball lights strategically highlighting various displays. She felt like she was walking into someone’s dressing room, or maybe it was a bedroom. Whatever it was, it was a comfortable, intimate feeling.
“Hi, I’m Kathy. Welcome to Intimate Encounters. Is there something I can help you find,” a freshly scrubbed teenaged salesperson inquired.
“Ah, no. Thanks! I’m just going to look for a bit.”
“Cool, she bubbled back at her, “just let me know if I can help you. OK?”
“Yes, thank you. I will.”
The salesperson spun on her heel and scuttled off to busy herself with retail-type things. Lifting her eyes she looked across a landscape of intimate apparel hanging from a maze of round racks and assorted waterfall displays. Tucked in the rear corner of the store was a chest-high rack of sleepwear. She stood frozen in her tracks deciding if she was really going to go through with this crazy plan. Logic and common sense were fighting a valiant battle over recklessness. Recklessness won. Pulling her purse strap up on her shoulder she headed toward an unknown, an unknown that was causing her loins to tingle with an anticipation that coached recklessness to victory over logic.
* * * * *
The large, round, display rack was filled with sleepwear. Some of the garments were short nightgowns, but most were longer, adorned with lace or were slinky deep-cut pieces with spaghetti strap shoulders. Her pelvis felt like it was vibrating as she walked around the rack cautiously. The garments were hung so closely on the round bar she was unable to see into the darkened interior of the display rack. Her mind questioned, ‘Is he in there? Should I do this?’
Stepping behind the rack she tried to look as casual as she could. The flush on her face burned like a beacon as she made mental notes of where everyone else was in the shop. Absently, she started to look through the nightgowns. The subtle screeching of metal hangers on the metal bar seemed so loud to her as she shifted the hangers to the left, aimlessly shopping for something that was clearly not hanging on the rack.
Nothing was happening. She considered his proposition was a hoax. With a flash of impatience and a dash of disappointment she shoved several gowns back the other way. In the same instant she felt the flat of a hand come to rest on her lower belly. The touch came just as she decided it would not happen. Contact was made in a very soft caress, surprising her, causing her to jump like a startled cat; garment hangers clattering as she steadied herself. Looking down she saw neatly manicured nails on long fingers attached to a perfect, strong hand. He was there. He was real. The warmth of his hand was attached to her like a magnet locked smoothly to a piece of iron. She could not pull away. Nor could he.
Within seconds of touching her, his hand pulled back. Leaning back slightly she glanced down to see what was happening. The hand slowly rolled, palm up, as the fingers closed into a loose fist. The index finger extended outward as his thumb closed over the remaining fingers, and began curling with a request to ‘come closer’. Her breath froze in her throat as she leaned closer to the rack. She wanted desperately to close her eyes and thrust her hips into the rack, giving in to the magnetic pull that held her within his grip.
As she stepped closer her breathing was ragged and shallow, anticipating anything, anticipating everything, and simultaneously fighting the urge to run away from a dangerous situation. Nothing happened. She stood there waiting for something, not knowing what. Again, as she reached the point of deciding nothing was going to happen she felt him make contact with her left calf. Again she jumped at the sensation of being touched unexpectedly. Slowly his hand started to slide up the gentle curve of her calf. Sliding across the inside of her knee, his hand forced a rush of sensations to streak up her leg like a tsunami crashing toward a beach as a harbinger of an approaching passion-storm. She shuddered as the garment hangers rattled their applause.
His hand rolled around to the back of her lower thigh and squeezed softly, lingering slightly above her knee. Instinctively, she flexed her calf muscle, rolling her left foot upward, rising to her tiptoes. His hand rode her leg as she lifted it slightly. Finally, he moved again slowly, back to the inside of her thigh, inching upward with excruciating slowness. She felt herself pressing her hips farther into the rack in an effort to speed his advance.
“How’s it going,” bubbled little-miss-freshly-scrubbed, “are you finding everything OK?”
She could hardly breath as she snapped back to the reality of where she was and what she was supposed to be doing, struggling to regain the composure necessary to speak, “Umm, yes. I’m very busy here. . .I mean I am looking at these gowns. . .” His hand slipped away from her thigh. “I think I might want to try a couple of these gowns on in a few minutes.”
“Cool! Just let me know when you are ready, K?”
“Right! I’ll let you know,” she answered in a tone bordering on leave-me-the-hell-alone.
Little-miss-freshly-scrubbed turned and disappeared into the maze of display racks. She was once again alone in her corner. Thrusting her hips forward slowly, she continued to “shop”.
Copyright © 1998 by ECS Publications. All rights reserved.
For more erotica by G Gregory, visit MyErotica