0 comments/ 32414 views/ 3 favorites Vignettes By: showandwatch Vignettes: Shopping in the mall was never a fun thing for me to do, but sometimes it cannot be avoided. I trudged out of the last store, still unable to find the “perfect gift”. Approaching the rail, I stopped and looked out over the first floor, not really looking for anything, other than inspiration. I put one foot on the bottom rail and leaned against the top, trying desperately to think of something to buy so I could get out of there. After a few minutes, I figured I could not delay more, I had to find something. Just before I turned to go, I happened to look down. There, just below me, only twenty feet away from my suddenly twitching pussy, two men were staring up at me. Maybe not me, exactly. They were staring up my skirt, which was open wide from the bottom thanks to my position with my foot on the lower rail. As usual, I was not wearing panties. My thighs became hot, as if their stares were providing heat. I guess in a way they were. Normally, I would have jerked away and left, but today I stood there for some few minutes, feeling my breath coming faster. I felt as if I were on display for everyone in the mall, and I loved it. Finally, I could stand the pleasure no longer without touching myself. But before I left, I looked directly down at my voyeurs and smiled. Walking away, I knew just what gift to get for my boyfriend. I went directly to Victoria’s Secret and began looking at their shortest skirts. +++++++++++++++ They were not really boys. They were probably in college, but they had that geeky look that can defy age estimation. They had followed me around the mall, trying to look inconspicuous. I knew they were following me, of course. I had lured them to me. I had lured them to me. I had scouted and stalked until I found some likely looking "victims", then I placed myself so that they had to see me. Once they started following me, I could begin my show. Walking around the mall, I had bent over often to check something out. I had paused outside a storefront to allow them to catch up, and then abruptly boarded the escalator to go up to the 2nd floor. Of course they followed me. How could they not follow me? I was wearing a short, fluffy skirt; the kind that blows easily in the wind, and rides up over my ass as I bent over. The kind that, from a few steps below, would afford an exciting view from behind during a ride on an escalator. Sometimes I heard them excitedly whispering to each other, and – so help me God – giggling. I was pretty sure that they were pretty inexperienced sexually. Probably their prime sexual moments were all off the Internet, and I was giving them the ultimate upskirt show. I found a seat in the food court, and waited. Eventually – probably so as not to appear too obvious – they found their way, with their newly purchased drinks, to the open table that I had taken such great pains to locate, directly in front of me. I sat with my legs crossed, the short hem of my skirt halfway up the tops of my thighs. I knew, from practice in front of a mirror, that the underside of my legs was visible halfway up my ass. I sat like that for a few minutes, and then slowly crossed my legs the other way. Besides the brief glimpse of my pantyless pussy, the process of uncrossing and re-crossing caused the skirt to slide even further up my legs. I had practiced that maneuver. On purpose I dropped my napkin to the floor, and bent over to pick it up. My loose blouse hung free from my breasts, affording my audience a view to my navel. As I straightened back up, I brushed my arm against my skirt, pulling it still higher. The boys were transfixed. They were no longer able to maintain a pretense of innocence. They were staring at me. They were staring at my legs, at my breasts, at the still covered place were my thighs came together. After a brief while, I could not last longer either. I put both feet flat on the floor; spread more than a foot apart. I knew my very wet pussy was visible. I bent over to adjust the strap on one shoe, again displaying my breasts. In the process, I placed one foot on the leg of the table, opening my pussy even wider for their enjoyment. Finally I had to leave and relieve myself. Sitting with my legs spread, I finally caught the eye of one of them. As he watched, I slowly lowered my hand to my crotch and, lifting my skirt, sensuously ran one finger from my ass to my clitoris. Finishing that, I raised that blessed finger to my lips and sucked it, briefly. I stood up and languorously walked by my entranced young friends. I stretched out my hand and placed my finger on the lips of he who had first made eye contact. He greedily placed his lips around the finger and gave two quick sucks. I withdrew and walked away. As soon as I was out of sight, I moved more rapidly to my car and collapsed in the drivers seat. I pulled my skirt up and touched myself and almost immediately began cumming and cumming. Even the approach of a matronly lady to the car next to me did not deter me, and hearing her reproachful “Hmmmphhh” only served to increase my orgasm. Then I drove home and played with myself again, remembering every detail of my afternoon. And again. And again. +++++++++++++ For once I was in the lucky position. I happened to be sitting in my hotel room, just inside the balcony, working on my laptop, when I noticed a movement in the window of the room across the courtyard, one floor higher than mine. It was a woman who had apparently just taken a shower. She was wearing a short robe, and her hair was wet and hung long over her shoulders. She was walking to and fro in front of her open balcony door as she talked on her cell phone and played with her hair. The robe came to mid-thigh on her, and I could see the outlines of shapely breasts above the drawstring. I was fascinated watching her walk back and forth, unaware of my spying on her. I could enjoy without fear the view of her supple legs as they moved. After a couple of minutes she came out onto the balcony and talked while she looked around the courtyard. If she saw me in the gloom of my room, she did not appear to notice. I watched as she raised a foot up to the bottom rail, and the robe fell slightly apart, exposing the creamy softness of her upper thigh. Suddenly she put her leg down, as if she was aware of the show she was giving, and I feared that I had been noticed. But she did not look too long in my direction, and I breathed a sigh of relief. She went back in to her room, just far enough so that I could watch her let the robe fall from her shoulders before she went so far back that I could not see her any more. I waited anxiously, afraid that she was gone, and then she reappeared, this time with bare breasts and a towel wrapped around her waist. She did not come out to the balcony. She stopped in front of the big wall mirror by the TV, and began combing her long hair. I felt my cock beginning to throb as I wickedly watched her combing, watching her breasts rise and fall and sway as she brushed. Sometimes she would use both hands to raise a strand far above her head, giving me a clear view of both marvelous breasts. Sometimes she would half turn in my direction opening herself more to my stare. Eventually the pressure became too much, and I had to unzip my pants to relieve the pain of my stiffening cock within. I pulled it out and slowly stroked it as I watched her brushing. Once, she even walked directly to the balcony door and looked out, and I saw her totally naked and in view from the waist up. She stood there a few moments, then turned and went back to the mirror. Finally, she was done with her brushing, and turned and went once more back into her room. I waited, with my dick in my hand, for her to return. She did return, this time with a couple of dresses in her hands. She draped the dresses over the back of the chair by the balcony door, and then stood once again looking outside. As I watched, incredibly she untied the towel wrapped around her waist and threw it back into her room. She stood there, naked, open to my eyes, and to any others who may have been as fortunate as I. But I did not care about them, only that I was getting a once in a lifetime voyeuristic opportunity to watch a beautiful naked woman going about her life. My dick was throbbing as I stroked it, drinking in the sight. She turned, and I saw the perfectly shaped ass as she bent over to pick up a dress. Turning back to the open door, she held the dress up to her. Then I saw her hand slide under the dress to her crotch, where it remained. I saw the tiny movements in her arm as she apparently played with herself. I saw the breasts begin to heave and sway. She pulled her hand and the dress away and once again she was naked, and once again she turned to pick up the other dress. She repeated the procedure, only this time, after a while she raised the hem, and played with her pussy in full view of my lecherous stare. Fascinated, I saw her suddenly take two steps backwards, deeper into her room, but still in full view of me. She threw down her dress and spread her naked legs and reached to her pussy with both hands. Her eyes were closed as she feverishly rubbed her pussy and shoved her fingers and hands deep. My eyes remained open as I watched and feverishly pounded my meat, feeling the pressure beginning to build to a huge cumming. She began to jerk violently, and I watched her breasts move as she tried to breathe and I watched her hands moving rapidly where those two exquisite legs joined. Her knees seemed to buckle a bit, and she threw one hand back to the credenza to catch herself. I saw her as she finished her orgasm, still spasming from the exertion. Then, an amazing thing happened. She returned once more to the door and looked straight at me. I saw her smiling as she blew a kiss directly at me, and still nude, pulled the drapes closed. And I, knowing that she had known all along I was there; knowing that the whole incredible show was for me, began to cum and cum, spraying cum all over my self and my pants and my laptop and the carpet. I jerked and jerked myself, enjoying the most fantastic climax I had ever had, alone. It had all been for me, and that made all the difference. Vignettes The Cucumber (Author's note: This was part of a challenge I gave to some readers to give me three words or phrases that I would work into a short piece. The person who this was written for sent me the phrases 1)Bus going to work 2)cucumber 3)embarrassed, used, slutty. It was obvious what story he was looking for. I think I gave him some food for thought) She kept her eyes on the book in front of her. It was safer that way. She didn't have to look across the aisle to see what she already knew reflected in the face of the woman across from her. She could feel the contempt from here. The bus bumped and she gasped softly. Her body was still tender from the "scene" yesterday... and the day before. She was grateful for the dark stockings that hid the marks he and his friends had left on her body. She was tired of feeling slutty and used. The bus jolted to a stop and the offended woman across from her got up and left. She was replaced by someone else. Something made her look up. She almost dropped her book. What was he doing on the bus? He grinned at her like a feral cat sighting a flightless bird. The bus lurched back into traffic, horns honking in irritation. He pointed to her briefcase and made a motion for her to open it. She undid the latch and looked inside. Nestled among her papers for work was a cucumber. She glanced back up at him nervously. He just looked at her. She looked at it again. There was also a note. "Stick the cucumber in your cunt now and keep it there until you get to work." She looked at the cucumber and then at him. He knew she had no underwear on. He knew that for the past six years she had obeyed him - sometimes faster than other times, but she had always obeyed. The bus almost skidded to a halt, people shifting position like a sliding puzzle. Master ended up next to her. "Obey me, Slave. Stand up and I'll put it inside you." She took out the cucumber, no one around her caring or noticing, holding it, looking at it. Six years ago she had knelt on the cold basement floor, naked and fearful and felt the collar around her neck. There had been so much pleasure then - for both of them. When had it stopped? She thought of the weekend. He had called it her biggest gang-bang yet. She wasn't sure how many cocks she had sucked or how many had been pushed inside her. They hadn't been men, but cocks. There had been orgasms for her, but not true pleasure. Where had the intimacy gone that they once had? What had happened to the limits they had set. The bus lurched off again. "Stand up, Slave." The words were almost a hiss. Mutual consent. Consent. Consensual. The words played in her head and she looked at him. "Pickles. Cucumbers become pickles." He knew what she meant and a darkness covered his face, "Don't pull that safe word crap on me, Slave. Stand up. You have double punishment now." She knew, as she had probably known for some time. She licked the cucumber, looking him directly in the eye, seeing the anger soften as he thought she was lubricating it. The bus shuddered to a halt at the next stop. With a sweet smile she bit off the end of the cucumber, dropped the castrated cucumber in his lap and disembarked. Numbers on the Clock (Author's note - This is another three word writing challenge. 1)bedroom 2)knife 3)loneliness, rejection, self-hatred.) The digital clock glowed a red 3:27 am. Silently it changed to 28 and a minute later 29. He did not move from his place at the window. Outside the winter storms tossed the bare branches of the tree back and forth like a parent shaking their child in a rage. He saw none of it. 32... 33.... 34....The seasonal lights mixed sickeningly with the blue and red and gold lights that danced against the homes. He felt all of it. He could feel the pain soaked into the room like the blood in the carpet. If he stood here long enough, he would hear her sobbing or hear her whispering. He could feel her ache, her despair. He did not have to turn to see the room. He knew it as if he had lived in it all his life. 47... 48.... 49....It was not what was here that gave the answers, it was in what was not here. There were no ribbons of achievement, there were no photos pinned to the walls or taped to the mirror of friends laughing on some distant summer day, there were no mementos of dates or dances. There was no note. Usually there was something, but in cases like this, what was there to say? Why document the failure, the rejection, the agony? Who was there to blame? Why tonight and not tomorrow? What had happened today or not happened that made her go to the kitchen and get the knife? 03... 04... 05.... "Sir," a hand touched his shoulder. He turned to the young and earnest officer, faceless in the dark of the room, "Yes?" "We're done here, Chief. Is there anything I can get you...." he trailed off awkwardly. "No, there is nothing," he walked heavily to the door and glanced again at his daughter's room, "nothing." And the clock silently changed numbers again. The Reference Question (Author's Note - Yet another three word writing challenge 1)Library 2)Pen 3)Nervousness) Wednesday’s were slowest night of the week at the library. Kendra knew this. She had been in the library as often as she could every night it was open. For over a month now, she had been trying to get up the courage to approach him. There he sat at the reference desk, looking so normal, so everyday. Once again she was torn with conflict. Perhaps she was mistaken. She had only been once to the club, but she knew him then, and unless he had a twin brother…. A long shot, but still. No, what decided her mind was the pen. At the club he had taken out a pen to write something down. It was a beautiful pen of black wood. That pen was in his shirt pocket right now. She had to make up her mind. How hard could it be to talk to him? What was she supposed to say, “Hi, I think you a Dom and I want you to tie me up?” Yeah, right. This was always so much easier in the books. Kendra glanced at the clock, 30 minutes until closing. She couldn’t take another night of going home, not knowing…going home alone. She stood and walked to the reference desk. Part of her mind screamed for her to go back and just leave. “Can I help you?” his voice was warm and firm. She looked up at his brown eyes and then back down. She couldn’t do this. Her fingers tightened around the paper in her hand, crumpling it. “You need help finding something?” his tone had shifted just slightly, changing it from a question to a statement. Kendra was too scared now to run, she glanced up again and nodded wordlessly, pushing the crumpled paper toward him. She could feel her face burning bright red. His warm fingers touched her hand as he took the paper and smoothed it out. He smiled to himself. He had watched her when he was here. A whole month she had waited. He had seen her at the club. He had been there often enough that a new person caught his eye. She was beautiful, half-Asian, tiny and delicate. Her shyness aroused him more than he cared to be. He could imagine her at his feet, her almond-shaped eyes looking up pleadingly over a gag. Oh yes, he could imagine a lot with her. Her paper had once sentence in neat script, “I am seeking information on the balance of power in a Dominant/submissive relationship.” “Have you been through the books in our collection,” he asked professionally. Kendra nodded, daring another glance up, only to find her gaze trapped in his. “A direct question should get a direct answer,” his reprimand was soft, almost playful. She trembled, almost bolting back to her seat, “Yes, Sir. I have read the books here.” Her voice was like honey, he thought as he continued, “Then I would suggest some web sites and perhaps contact with someone in the area that could answer any questions you have.” He pushed the paper back towards her. Kendra took a few shallow breaths and jumped in feet first, “Please, Sir…” “Yes?” She could feel the power in his tone and felt her body respond to it, “Please, could you recommend someone to me…” He smiled at her, trying to reassure her, “Yes, I know just the person. He could see you tonight in fact. If that is amiable to you?” “Yes, Sir.” He took the paper back and slid the black pen from his pocket and wrote an address on the paper, “He will be able to show you everything you have ever wanted to know on this topic. He should be home in about 30 minutes. Best not to keep him waiting.” Kendra took the paper and looked at the scrawl of an address, “I will be there, Sir. Thank you.” He smiled as she hurried back to her papers and gathered her books. Carefully he put his pen back in his pocket and smiled. It was going to be a good night. The Worn Collar (Author's note - another three item writing challenge. 1) Home to a D/s couple 2) a worn down collar 3) Respect) Shelly got out of the shower, grabbing the well worn and ratty blue towel nearest to her. Towels. Next time she went to the mall, she should pick up some more towels. She looked at herself in the mirror with dissatisfaction. At twenty she had been trim and perky. Three kids and fifteen years later there wasn’t a lot of perky going around. She turned away from the mirror, not wanting to look. Wrapping the towel around her she headed into the bedroom, noticing the one wall in the hallway needed cleaning. With a small sigh, she added it to her mental list. The month the kids were at camp would probably be spent doing chores around the house. Tom would do his part; he always did. Good, old, faithful Tom. She finished drying off and opened the dresser drawer to select her underwear. She frowned looking at the serviceable and dull white panties. When had the pretty sexy things been replaced with these? What did it really matter anymore? She pulled out a pair and her fingers brushed something in the drawer. Worn leather. Shelly took it out and sat naked on the bed, holding it. She hadn’t worn the collar since…. was it last summer or the summer before? She didn’t remember it being so worn, dark with age. She ran her fingers over the edge, feeling tears in her eyes. She could still remember the feel of it the first time he had put it around her neck. They had been so young, nothing seemed impossible. Hesitantly, she put the collar around her neck, latching it, feeling the leather still snug around her. She began to cry softly as she remembered last summer. Tom had leaned into the kitchen, “Hey, Honey, the kids are gone. Wanna rekindle old times? I can get your collar?” “Can we do it some other time? I had plans to meet Alice and Kendra. You don’t mind do you?” He had given a small laugh, “No, Honey. No problem. Let me know when you are ready.” But she never brought it up, nor did he. He had too much respect for her. The realization sunk deeply into her soul as she realized that somewhere, somehow she had let her respect for him dwindle into nothing. When was the last time she had done anything for him that was not convenient for her? How often had she just said no? How many times lately had she made some snide remark to her friends about Tom? Was there still a chance for them? * * * Tom sat for a moment in the car looking at the house. Maybe he should have said yes to Kim. She had practically begged him to come home with her. Shelly probably wouldn’t have even noticed him coming home late. He had often imagined what Kim would look like on her knees. If she asked again, he could lay the ground work for a business trip or something now. Grabbing his briefcase, he walked into the house, “Hey, Shell. I’m home.” Silence. She was probably out with those bitchy friends. He should have taken Kim up on the offer. Then he noticed the note. Go to the bedroom. He blinked a few times and shrugged. Whatever. He walked to the bedroom, half-expecting to see some new piece of furniture. The bed was neatly made. That hadn’t happened in several years. On the bed lay a white pirate shirt and black slacks. Next to the bed were his black leather boots. His eyes widened, all thoughts of Kim leaving his mind. He picked up the handwritten note. Master, I realized today that I have not been what I promised I would be all those years back. I beg you to give me another chance and to teach me to love and respect you as I should. I am in the basement. Shelly. Tom looked at the clothes and the note and felt a surge of hope. Maybe there was still a chance for them after all. Vignettes There were four of them, travelling interstate by train. It was lunchtime and they were ready to head for the Diner. Linda delayed for a moment as the other three left, getting something from her bag. Straightening, she stared in surprise as a man she knew entered their cubicle and closed the door. "What are you doing here?" she asked, surprised. The man didn't speak but slid down his zip, releasing his erection. Linda stared, horrified. "You're disgusting," she snapped, "Get the hell away from me." Still not speaking the man calmly stepped forward and lifted a surprised Linda's dress, swiftly pulling down her panties. Before Linda fully understood his intentions, his hand had slid behind her and gripped her bottom, pulling her towards him. To Linda's shock, he slid smoothly into her, thrusting in deep and hard, and then holding her firmly while he moved within her. Too astounded to speak or yell, Linda stood there, eyes wide, while he quickly climaxed. Then a quick nod and a smile, and he was gone. Linda stared after him in shock and horror. How could she ever tell anyone that that man had walked up to her and had sex with her? Easy answer. She couldn't. - - - Suzy was leaning against a bench in the park, watching the ducks placidly swimming, waiting for Mark. Then she felt him behind her, giving her that little pat on the bottom he always did. "Hi, Mark," she said with a smile, not turning but continuing to watch the ducks. "How are things going." Instead of an answer, she felt Mark flip up the back of her skirt and pull her thong to the side. Then he was standing close behind her, sliding swiftly into her surprised pussy. Shocked at the sudden invasion, where someone might notice at any moment, Suzy stood there, feeling her pussy flooding as Mark hurried to pleasure himself. Then he was coming inside her, finishing and withdrawing, leaving her stunned at his audacity. She stood frozen while Mark readjusted her thong and let her skirt drop back in place. Then there was silence. Suzy stood a moment longer, then took a deep breath. "What the hell, Mark?" she started to ask as she turned around, to find herself alone. No-one was there but some stranger, further down the track and walking away. - - - Carla was a sneak thief, and quite good at it. She made shops her specialty, checking which ones had back doors she could slide through while the staff were busy in peak periods. Once she had a place marked she'd wait for the right time, slip in, raid the nearest purse and be gone. Trade was picking up in her current mark and Carla moved into position. A quick glance showed the shop was busy, so Carla slipped into the back door and looked around for any handbags. Spotting one she snapped it open and started looking quickly through it. Then a hand closed over the back of her neck. "Damn," she thought, "Maybe crying will work." Before she could speak her shorts and panties were pushed roughly down, and a hand was pressing between her legs, pushing between her lips. Then she could feel her lips were being held apart while what felt like a very large cock was ruthlessly making its way into her. Carla opened her mouth to scream, but the hand that had been on her neck was now clasped across her mouth, and her pussy was being energetically pounded. She felt a gush of hot liquid splashing within her and cursed. Then the cock and hand were withdrawn, and turning quickly around she was in time to see someone leaving by the back door, leaving her with her panties and shorts dangling around her ankles. - - - Penny fronted for her interview right on time. She was escorted though to the relevant conference room and told to wait. The interviewers wouldn't be more than five minutes. A few minutes later Penny was sitting across from two men, one in his fifties and the other in his twenties. About her age, she estimated. The interview was pretty solid, covering schooling, previous work, etc. etc. At the end of the grilling the older man looked across to the younger. "I'm quite happy with her. I think we should put her on the short list." The younger man nodded. "Just one thing," he added. "I'd like to try her out first." The older man nodded, and with that the younger man arose and walked around the table towards Penny. Penny glanced towards him inquiringly, but her attention was diverted across the table. "Could I see you hands for a moment, please," she was asked. Puzzled, Penny held out her hands. "Closer, please," she was told, so she rose and leant forward, showing her hands. "Why does he want to see my hands?" she wondered. Now that she was close enough, the man took hold of her hands and drew her more firmly towards him. Penny tried to pull back, shocked, but that was nothing compared to the subsequent shocks. The young man was now standing behind her, and while she was held leaning over the table, he lifted her dress up and tucked it into her belt. Then he commenced rolling down her pantyhose. With them out the way, her panties followed swiftly. This is not to say that Penny just stayed there politely, letting it happen. She protested. Quietly at first, but then more loudly as she found herself being ignored. Finally, the main interviewer spoke. "A little quieter, please. We're not deaf." Then the ignoring part resumed. Once her panties were out of the way, the young man stroked her between the thighs, playing with things that Penny considered her private property. Her complaints started to rise to the skies again, but stopped when she received a firm smack on the bottom and told to quieten down. Stunned, she leaned there, not really surprised when the younger man spread her lips and slid his erection into her. Then, taking his time the man entertained himself, enjoying himself at her expense. Finished, the man withdrew and strolled back to the other side of the table. He shook his head. "Not for the shortlist," he said. "She's far too noisy." The older man looked at where Penny was trying to tidy up her clothes. "Thank you, miss," he said. "We'll let you know." - - - Janice was a thief. Quite a good one, but this time she'd nearly been caught. She'd managed to make it to the empty house she marked as a refuge, and now she was standing in an upstairs bedroom, leaning out the window and enjoying the show. Police were checking up and down the street, checking alleys, looking in gardens and under cars. Several of them had noticed her up there, looking down, but ignored her. Just another rubber-necker watching honest people at work. She was laughing quietly when a voice spoke from behind her. "I assume that you're the one that they're searching for," it said. She started to turn around, but a hand was placed firmly on her back, holding her still. "Don't try and turn around," she was told. "I have no intention of calling up the boys in blue, but you may feel free to if you wish." At her continued silence, she heard a soft laugh, and then the voice continued. "I suggest you stay right there and keep watching. Any yelling or struggling will have the cops up here fast, won't it. They're so nicely close to hand." Janice waited, wondering what he was getting at. She quickly caught on when a hand slid around her waist and started undoing her belt. "What the hell do you think you're doing," she hissed. "You," came the laughing answer. "Is it a fate worse than a prison term?" Janice sweated, but took no steps to protect herself as her belt, button and zip were undone. Standing there helplessly she felt her trousers being pulled down, followed by her panties. "If you cross your arms on the window sill and rest your head on them, you'll have an excellent view and I'll have a better position," came the hateful voice. Hating him and hating herself for letting him do it, but seeing no other alternative, Janice positioned herself as instructed. The man seemed in no hurry, playing gently with her, making sure her body adjusted to the demands about to be made of it. Then he was sliding smoothly in. Once in, his hand slipped up under her top and undid her bra. Reaching around, he very quickly held a breast in each hand, squeezing them in time to his rough taking of her. "I bet when you got up this morning, you never thought you'd be having sex with half the police force looking on," came the laughing comment, and Janice had to bite her lip at the sheer absurdity of it. Being bonked in full view of the cops while they were looking everywhere for her? Ridiculous. Then the stranger was withdrawing and, although she didn't hear him leave, he was gone, leaving her to get dressed and wait out the search. Vignettes WARNING: The following is very short and not very explicit. It's not nearly long enough or complete enough for a stroke story, but I hope some find it pleasant. It's a collection of several actual mini-fantasies about someone I knew. One of these would pop into my mind of out nowhere, play for a few seconds, and be gone. They recurred for years after I worked with her, but none were ever realized. Vignette # 1 She is at the sink in the small windowless kitchen in her little apartment, doing dishes after our supper together. She's wearing blue jeans and a tight-fitting blue ribbed turtleneck sweater which accentuate her long body. I move behind her, wrapping my arms around her, and begin nuzzling at her neck under the turtleneck sweater, kissing under her ears, and nibbling gently at her earlobes. She stops her hands in the sink, and lets me continue for a few moments. Then she turns inside my arms to face me and places her hot soapy hands on either side of my face. She smiles and kisses me, long and soft, tender affection. Then she pats the side of my face with her wet hand and says, "Now behave," before turning back to the dishes. Vignette # 2 I am sitting on the small sofa in her apartment. We've been chatting as she bustles around the apartment straightening things while she looks for a book we were discussing. She's wearing blue jeans and a Scandinavian-type wool sweater - browns and greys and white, reindeer and snowy pine trees. She says something sassy at a moment she has approached too close to me and I snatch her hand and begin pulling her over my lap. She laughingly protests but doesn't fight much while I arrange her with one arm held behind her back, her soft bum rising over my legs. I spank her six or seven times, very gently, while she squirms softly on my lap. When I stop she doesn't try to get up, just lies there as though she's happy to be there. I begin gently rubbing her bum with one hand and her back with the other while we murmur affectionately to each other. Vignette # 3 I am sitting on the small sofa in her apartment as she brings us tall glasses of Coke filled with ice. She's wearing blue jeans and a Scandinavian-type wool sweater - browns and greys and white, reindeer and snowy pine trees. She hands both glasses to me, and in the seconds I'm feeling confused about that she folds herself gracefully onto the sofa and under my arms. Propped on an elbow, she is over my lap and facing me with an impish smile as she reaches for one of the Cokes I'm holding. We each take a few sips, but soon the Cokes are on the side table, I have wrapped her into my arms, and we are necking gently, tongues dueling sweetly as I hold her warm body and soft chest against me. When we pull back, some of her long silky brown hair has fallen over the side of her face and as I reach to brush it back I say, "Best waitress I've ever had!" She smiles and brings her soft lips to mine again. Vignette # 4 I am sitting on the small sofa in her apartment, flipping through a magazine while I wait for her to return from the washroom. She calls to me from her bedroom, asks me if I can come there for a minute. When I enter the room I catch my breath. She is stretched out on her stomach on her bed, under a silky sheet, obviously naked beneath it. Under the curving sheet her long body looks even more graceful and lithe than I have imagined it. The sheet slides over her round bum as she wiggles it a little and asks, "Would you mind giving me a back rub?" Her eyes are slightly embarrassed, hopeful, and her smile is gentle. "Babe," I say, "how much do I have to pay you for the privilege?" I sit on the side of her bed, her hip pressed against mine. I can feel her warmth and softness through my clothes as I reach for her shoulders. The sheet is pulled up to her neck and I leave it there, beginning to work my fingers around her neck and inner shoulders, and then out to the firmer muscles at the tops of her arms. She drops a warm hand onto my thigh as she sighs. I move slowly down the center of her back, rolling the muscles on either side of her backbone for minutes until I reach the top of her bum. I tease gently at the top of her cleft and then run barely-grazing fingers down the cleft and towards the heat of her center. The silky sheet forms itself to her luscious curves and I can feel all of her warmth through it. She moans and raises her bum appreciatively. "I definitely consider that to be part of my back, thank you," she says, and squeezes my thigh with her hand. I return to her neck and begin peeling the sheet down her body. I move very slowly, and as her soft smooth skin is exposed I run barely-grazing fingers of my free hand over her. The top of her bum appears, and then slowly the rest of it is revealed. I feel a surge of excitement as I lean down and plant little butterfly kisses all over her bum and upper thighs as I push the sheet down to her calves. She smells clean and hot and her pure white skin so smooth against my lips. She moans again, and moves her bum gently against my face. I ease myself down onto the bed beside her, still dressed, and fold her long naked body against me for an endless sweet kiss.