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It was the fourth time I saw her that I nearly got up the courage to approach her, but she got to me first. “Hello, finally.” I felt as if sinking into warm isolation as her eyes drank me in.“Hello,” I responded lamely, then rallied gamely, “At last I have the pleasure of your company.”A smile spread across her face like the sun breaking through clouds, “Come here often?”“Never before.”“A shame that.”“Oh?”“Best coffee in town. You’ve really missed out.”Looking steadily into her eyes, I said, “Yes, I have. I can see that now.” I smiled at the thought of the flier I had found on my office door and thanked my stars I had decided to try it out.She chuckled, “Some things do become clear with time.” She turned to pour herself a cup of coffee; I inspected her figure, plump yet taut, full-breasted, and round-hipped, within a tight butterscotch spaghetti-strap top and knee-length brown plaid pleated skirt. As coffee rose in her cup, my gaze rose with it. I briefly scanned her legs and up to her waist, then settled on her chest. Knowing I could never get my fill of them, I looked up from the intoxicating curve of her breasts inside lace, a black strap next to each butterscotch strap, to her strong neck and rounded face, her wide smile making me notice the little mirror on the wall through which she good-humoredly watched my examination. Suddenly she turned to face me, leaning against the counter and delighting me with the curves this set off.I held out my hand, “Roy.”She smiled and quickly shook, “Laura.”She soon walked before me to her booth, where we chatted easily, her brown skin entrancing me when her brown eyes left mine, her brown eyes fixed on me whenever I turned back to her from an interruption. It was as if we had known each other quite well already even though the answers were new, a flow and surge to the unflagging conversation that left me feeling both breathless and fully alive. All through our talk of the city and nearby sites, my work and travels as a translator and her coyness sweetly turning aside any questions she wished to ignore, burning desire pulsed under the surface of my thoughts and words, fed by her attentive eyes and rich voice.“You watched me nicely,” she finally said. Letting me flounder in my thoughts for many seconds, smiling at my blush as I thought back on ogling her as she drew her coffee, she then added, “At the store, inspecting me the same way I inspected the melons. Those were good cantaloupes.” She laughed, “You seemed equally pleased. And then at the museum. All those beautiful paintings, and yet me. And then at the mall, as I window-shopped.”She tilted her head, a slight smile as I remembered the last two weeks, seeing her amid the fruits and watching her walk away, gone when I went to other aisles; at the museum, my chest suddenly tight as she smiled, acknowledged my viewing for a full minute, and ducked into another gallery, gone when I searched for her; and at the mall, watching me unblinkingly for a minute in the store window as I stood reflected in it, uncertain whether to approach her, before turning to quickly duck down the hallway next to the store to the parking garage, and I remembered standing at the mouth of the hallway for a few seconds, unwilling to frighten her by following her from a public space. In simple acknowledgment I replied, “You did attract my notice.”“So I noticed,” she said with repressed laughter. “Respectfully watching, or scared?”“In awe.”She smiled widely, leaning in a little as I stared into her eyes. “Which scene inspired the most awe?”Having read my share of fairy tales, I chose the least commercial and least physical option. “The museum.”“The space is good for display, and for studying the displays. Excellent lighting and such quiet, with guards to make sure no one touches the displays.”“I admired your palette.”“My favorite scarf. Goes well with my skin.”“Perfect blue for a perfect brown.”“An impeccable color sense. Good observers are so rare, who’ll simply stand and see what’s before them. Watch and learn, look and know.”I looked back into her eyes. “It’s rare to find something worth observing.”“Shall I show you something?”I smiled, “I’m all eyes.”We stood and I noted that she stood no nearer to me than before, two hands-lengths beyond the range of my hand, as if a perfect stranger, perhaps from formality or safety, perhaps to afford me the best view. She moved gracefully ahead of me, looking over her shoulder at times, and small purse in hand led me from the coffee shop along the street to a small park; we passed through abreast, no closer than strangers, to a gate in a brick wall that opened when she pushed. Through the alcove, we passed through a metal door to a drab hallway, and she opened a door on the right and ushered me into a small office. She indicated the desk opposite the bahis siteleri door as she leaned against the one next to it.I faced her as she looked me up and down, a goddess deciding my fate. She said, “I appreciate a man who listens to my words as well as sees me. Every syllable and every unspoken meaning.” She watched as I grasped her words and then smiled. “You watch so sweetly, yet with so much need. It deserves to be requited.”She stood straight and raised her top over her head, watching my eyes the whole time. I watched the belly and shoulders that she showed me, and as her fingers paused at the clasp between her breasts, she smiled. “I watched you closely. I know what you like best. You stared at these so much…” She undid the top hook and stopped. “I also appreciate a fine display.”I reached up to my top shirt button and she shook her head. “Don’t put off to later what we both want now.” She glanced down at my crotch and then smiled as I blinked in surprise and reached down to undo my belt. “Yes, good,” she said, and watched avidly as I dropped my trousers and then my boxers to my ankles. “Yes, like that.” I stood there hard and throbbing as she grinned and said, “Oh yes. Such enthusiasm must be rewarded.” She undid the rest of the hooks and let her breasts swing free for me.She puffed out her chest and stood akimbo as I stared my fill. The apotheosis of roundness, her breasts sagged upon release to the side, their coal-black nipples coming erect in the centers of the deep brown aureolae I yearned to squeeze and kiss. I stood still as directed and smiled as I remembered the hundreds of times I had stared at breasts less beautiful in magazines.“Is the composition of the scene to your liking?”“Perfection.”“Surely it’s old hat to you?”“Never.”She lowered her right hand to her waist and reached inside, staring at my crotch as I stared at her breasts. In response, I reached down to fondle myself and she nodded briefly as I began stroking. Soon her hand was moving vigorously inside her skirt, her breath quickening in pace with my own stroke. I stared at her breasts jiggling for me as the squishing of her fingers inside her became louder. My gaze passed from her breasts to her lust-filled eyes and down to the rapid motions under her skirt, then back to her breasts. At times her eyes would rise from my cock to my face, drinking in the sight of me as we inspired each other.After about seven minutes, our hands worked faster and in unison. Her hips thrust hard against her hand, working out a lust as deep and dirty as my own. When her first squeal was torn out of her, my hips locked and the first stream shot out of me to land a few inches from her shoes. She squealed with each spurt as they landed further and further from her, and when I collapsed against the desk she closed her eyes and thrust her mount against her hand for another fifteen seconds.She stood up suddenly and slid her top back on; picking up her bra, she opened her purse and took out an envelope that she placed on her desk. She stepped to the door and said, “Towels are in the cabinet over there. Mop up well so the cleaners don’t have to deal with our fun. You’re a beautiful sight!” She blew me a kiss and slipped through the door before I even thought to lift my pants, and by the time I was publicly presentable, I had already heard another door close further away and knew she was gone.I cleaned up carefully with the cleaning fluid and hand towels, and once the scene was sanitary, I picked up the envelope. The letter read: That went well! As well as I had dreamed. I do hope you’re not the sort to feel cheapened by being watched as women so often are. You received a letter, so you’ll see me again; had you pushed, you’d not be reading this. You needn’t look for me—you wouldn’t find me, but I will find you, soon enough. Turn out the light when you leave, and please don’t bother the poor saps who have to work here; they know nothing about this and you’ll just embarrass yourself. Now keep your eyes open and stay sweet.  —L I chuckled, reread it twice, and quietly slipped out of the building, silent as a crypt that Saturday, and went back to the coffee shop, where she was, as promised, nowhere in evidence.Four days later I found a note slid under my office door. My heartbeat quickened as I recognized her writing in the “R” on the envelope. I looked up and down the hallway, but none of the other small offices of freelance drudges were open at 7 AM and no beautiful flash of brown was visible. I opened the envelope to find a ticket and a quick note, “I do admire a man who will only watch. An observant man learns so much that way.” After flustered speculations and happy thoughts of being somehow chosen, I buckled down and somehow forced myself to work.I arrived at the gallery opening at 7:00 that Saturday. canlı bahis siteleri Most of the photographs were spectacular landscapes; the others were scenes of surrealism in daily life—a ginger bush in a flower bed resolving somehow into a cat on a floral pillow, a limousine burning in an RV campsite, a child dressed as a monster on a porch holding out a bag into which a green hand was dropping a grenade…In the final wall of the exhibition, I passed a short hallway and stopped. I took one step back and turned to see her standing at the end of the hall. Her hair was elegantly coiffed, her breasts barely restrained by a strapless silk blue dress tight on her figure, and her eyes pierced mine as she clasped her hands before her. We looked at each other for half a minute, and after I felt someone pass behind me she turned, opened a door at the end of the hallway, and passed through; a crooked finger poked out, beckoning me onward, and I looked around to see no one watching and slid to the back and through the door. I saw her at the end of another hallway and followed as she slipped through another door. I descended the stairs and found myself in a small office. She stood in the corner to the right of the door and motioned to the far wall.“Your tie matches my favorite beret. You chose well,” she smiled.“Your dress suits you perfectly.”“Like the show?”“Love it.”“Don’t you think it’s a bit incomplete?”“Not now.”She smiled. “Flattery will get you, well, some places.”“I hope the truth just now gets me further.”“In the fullness of time, perhaps.”After a brief pause, I said, “I looked for you.”“Just now?”“During the week.”“You missed me.” Pondering how to interpret that, I nodded, as it was true in any case.“I had to prepare my part of the exhibition,” she said, reaching around behind her. She unzipped, freeing her breasts, even more beautiful than before, and lifted her dress enough to reach underneath it. She looked down to my belt and nodded, and over the next ten minutes, we satisfied ourselves as we satiated our eyes. My seed launched into space just as her thighs clinched and her hips twisted, and when we finished we stared at each other for a few seconds. By the time I had started buckling up, she was already fully dressed and at the door, wiping her hand on a wet wipe and smiling. “Cleaning supplies are in the corner.” She smiled and pulled an envelope from her purse; placing it on the table, she slipped out. I cleaned my mess in two minutes and rushed up the stairs and through the hallways.As I re-entered the gallery, I saw her near the entrance. Just then, an older woman stepped in front of me. “I’m told you are a translator?”Damning her mentally, I nodded politely, and she said, “Please, can you help us?” For the next five minutes, I translated a load of largely nonsensical art talk from Russian for one of the photographers, and then for another five minutes more normal human content from Russian by another photographer. I noticed a blue dress from the corner of my eye lurking around the edges of the small coterie of art fans listening intently, but by the time I had freed myself, she stood at the door again, nodded, and disappeared. That woman is silent and swift, I thought, and chuckled to myself as the gallery manager handed me a free glass of wine in thanks for my contribution to art and nonsense.When I was able to pull myself away, I walked to a nearby coffee shop and pulled the envelope from my breast pocket. I do hope you are honored by my attentions; I feel honored by yours. When you devour me with your eyes, anything we do is the height of elegance, where so easily it could be seedy and seamy and gross. I hope you enjoyed meeting the artists; one at least has talent other than verbal. You’ll see me when you see, so please don’t waste away on me.  —L I laughed and shook my head.Three days later I found a large manila envelope slid under my office door, with her handwriting on the front, “Private—delivered with great care; open with great care.” I opened it at my desk, finding a letter and three pictures of her bare to the waist, posed to perfectly suit my tastes and stir my memories. Astonished, I stared at them for many minutes, then pushed them aside to read the letter.Since you loved the exhibition so much, a special keepsake made just for you, and only for you, to tide you over until you have the good fortune to meet me again. Enjoy them fully, but be sure to leave some tribute for my delectation later. —LI laughed, then I locked the door and started work half an hour late.By that time I missed her like an addict. I remembered my last couple of years of high school, holding a magazine and masturbating three times a day to beautiful women I would never touch, never see in person, but who let me see the beauties of the female form, canlı bahis so many ideal figures and faces so different from each other yet so perfect. The fused despair and desire, the joined senses of fulfillment and waste, that accompanied my adolescent self-pleasuring flooded back into me when I thought of our meetings.Then again, after three days draining myself obsessively, brown having transformed from just one beguiling color to the essence of beauty, the despair faded. She watched me, she showed herself to me, and she rubbed off while watching me. I wondered what she ultimately wanted, but knew it was her place to tell me, not mine to find out. She seemed to have eyes everywhere and knew exactly where her chosen spaces were. Her mastery of the situation convinced me that she would know if I searched for her, followed her when she didn’t wish, or hired a detective, and without hiring a detective, I had no leads to go on; even the pictures were unmarked, anonymous, nothing in them to let her be tracked down.Chuckling to myself that my balls were in her court, I realized I didn’t care. It was all her choice; I would follow her implicitly or else, quite likely, make her vanish forever, and fell into the pattern of masturbating more often than my seventeen-year-old self had to thoughts exclusively of her for the three or four days until new orders appeared in my office, then living chastely as a monk until our next meeting.Of course, life was dead outside of work then. Work was booming, clients were multiplying, friends had moved away over the past couple of years; life was a cycle of working and reading to prepare myself for other work. Her letters opened a door to fun and mystery that left the rest of my life feeling like it finally had a point I’d missed before. And so I enjoyed the fun as it came, not wishing to spoil it, and smiled giddily whenever I found her messages.She slipped notes under my door three more times in the next three weeks, our meetings alternating between chatty dates and cultural events prohibiting conversation, but always with a rushed finish and an envelope: At a park, where we chatted for two hours and then watched each other in a hidden maintenance shed; at a chamber music concert, where she sat on the other side of the room from me, as if to inspect my reactions to the music, and then led me to a quiet room in the back afterwards; and at a museum, where she chatted with me about history and science as we saw all the exhibits, then led me to a restaurant for a late lunch and then strolled off without looking back as if daring me to follow. She waited for me in a hidden hollow in a park penned in by bushes where we sat facing each other on benches; my dream came true when she raised the hem of her skirt and then spread her thighs to let me see her fully, thick black hair above purple-brown lips and pink center, and as we climaxed together, I stared obsessively at her fingers inside her as her palm cupped her mount. Finally, her body collapsed, and as I stared down at my seed, she smiled, “Leave it this time; no one will care.”Although I could perhaps have caught up with her as she left, I simply watched her walk off after we settled our clothes and she left her envelope. She looked back, smiled at me staying seated, and disappeared. You do manage to hold my attention constantly, my sweet! Your passion ignites my own each time I see you, leaving me boiling even after I put out my fire. You have such a light touch around me—a thought I find too intriguing to bear much longer. I thought I was teasing you; now I wonder. But as always, you’ll see me when you see me. —L I smiled in anticipation and waited, and waited. As if afraid of taking a further step, or in an effective bid to tease me to distraction, she left me lonely for two weeks. Finally, a cloudy Wednesday morning brightened: “I do hope you haven’t withered away to nothing without my care. I’m sure with a little handiwork in the garden, the petals and stalk will be full to overflowing with sap.” I memorized the day, time, and location.She left the coffee shop with me three hours later and steered me to a belt of trees. We passed through to yet another of the many maintenance sheds hidden away in public green spaces, and she pointed to a bench and said, “Please show me all of you; I need to see you.” She watched eagerly as I stripped for her and sat down on the bench. She slipped off her top, leaving her bare to the waist, and slowly walked to stand beside me, for the first time letting me through the boundary of her personal space.“Such patience is a rare virtue. You have fine control of your urges! None of that tramping through the garden willy-nilly and sticking noses and fingers in just anywhere—taking familiarities and liberties before they’re earned.” I nodded slightly at that and she smiled. She stood beside me, her right foot on the floor and her left knee on the bench beside me. Gingerly, without touching me, she leaned over and slowly moved in, watching me as her lips approached mine.

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