As I sit to write, it is raining again on the east coast of Florida. Some of my constant readers would say I have a preoccupation with the rain. Me, I just feel that the elemental change in the forces that be make it somehow easier for me to find the words to properly express what I am feeling at a certain moment. I feel somehow moved by exposure to a raging thunderstorm. A few weeks back I took a walk down Ormond Beach at night. Not only was this the first time I had ever been on the beach at night, it was also a time of realization for me. The ocean is very loud at night. The tide works and moves in its eternal pull and draw. The ocean hisses, the wind hums, the waves rumble and crash. I felt very small and weak walking along the shore. My feet were just within reach of the trailing edge of the waves. Man oh man is this fucking thing huge I thought. She goes on as far as the eye can see and farther. And somehow the ol’ gal moves me. 

Time To Write.

The subject of this story was very dear to me. The truth of the matter is I still hold her very dear to my heart, and some time has passed since I saw her. We both wanted different things out of life. We both wanted different means to the same end. Happiness. Complacency. Peace and lots of comfort. So we both agreed to go our separate ways and let our relationship come to an end amicably. I was always flattered that she read everything I wrote. So I have no objections about writing this little memory made with her. I know if she comes across it she will sit and read it with some fondness. Besides, she knows me. I feel that life is in the details. And oh lord that girl gave me some damned good details to remember. I will not use her name of course. Besides, to me she will always be blue eyes. Her eyes were afire with this deep passion that always left me hungry. There is no fiction to this work. None. So when it is complete and my pseudonym the darkeyeddemon is burning holes in the back of my head (from the inside out no less) I will in tandem write a sister story to this one to let him vent. He’s a real manic bastard. 

The Set Up. 

It occurred to me today that there are basically two kinds of memories. Mechanical memories and triggered memories. I experienced one such triggered memory today. Mechanical memories and ones we learn due to simple repetition. Like remembering your phone number, your address, the way home from work, your bank account number etc. etc. Triggered memories are ones that come to us by being exposed to some outside element. Like a scent, a taste, a texture against the skin, a rarely seen sight or landmark. Triggered memories are almost always very strong. They are very vivid and taken with great detail and emphasis. They can be quite overwhelming, actually. At times they can be downright overwhelming. Some memories are possessed with such rich detail and strong emotion they elicit a genuine emotional or physical response. They can carry us to the most beautiful of places or times. I experienced one such memory at work today. I have a particular appreciation for perfumes. Perfume straight out of the bottle smells nice, but perfume on warm skin takes on an entirely different texture, a cleaner smell, a much more sensual element. It seems to somehow more of everything you enjoy about it. It makes you want to feel the warmth of the skin, inhale the fragrance and tangle your fingers gingerly in their hair. Personally, it makes me want to explore…. 

The Trigger – Part 1

I was standing in front of the dish machine at work today when it hit me. I was running a rack of plates into the machine when one of the girls walked behind me and stopped at the ice machine. She’s a very sweet girl. Feminine and pretty in many ways. I always take a moment to linger in her perfume whenever she’s close by. Today I was struck with the most vivid memory as I stood there inhaling her perfume. It was like the world in front of my eyes was stuck in a freeze frame and a new set of film was put in the mental reel. So strong was the sensation in fact, I think I damn near kissed the girl. That might be a different story altogether one day J

The dog days of another Alabama summer were crawling to an end. Every day on my way home I enjoyed a beautiful golden red sunset. Every morning I enjoyed a cup of coffee while I watched a bronze and white sunrise that left me very serene. After a long day at work, seeing the harvest moon over an Alabama sky always made me breathe easier, it seems. I met ol’ blue eyes in the summer of 2000. Just as the weather reminds us that old man winter is close by. It’s not cold enough to be winter yet, but the days can still get hot enough to make you break a sweat. And baby did I ever break a sweat before it ever got cold. 

Every man has his own ideas about what he likes most about women. What features catch his eye, what things about a woman arouse him and interest him the most. To me a beautiful woman can take on many forms and degrees, but in the end I, too have my own likes and dislikes. Blue eyes was what I immediately identified as “ my kind of woman “. She was tall and slender. Long firm legs, a supple flat stomach with the slightest hint of a paunch. What a like to call a sexy belly. Her hair was brown, shoulder length. It always felt soft to the touch, always smelled comfortable and welcoming. Her breasts were small. Very well pronounced, very well shaped. They had a graceful slope to them I found quite fascinating. Her hands were slender, the nails neat and trim. I was eternally fascinated by her hands. They always felt cool somehow. Her eyes were a cool steely blue color. The exact blend of blue is hard to describe in a way. Go to your refrigerator, open the door and reach in and touch an ice tray. Now close your eyes and think blue. That’s the shade of blue her eyes are to me. For those of you who get it, well you get it. 

On our first date I was immediately intrigued by the way her mouth moved when she spoke. Her lips were naturally red. Not lipstick red, but just a touch brighter red than what you normally see. She was blessed with a brilliant beaming smile. Her eyes seemed to light up and her body danced as she laughed. And as I sat there undressing her with my eyes I wanted to kiss her very much. I have always been taught that respect for woman is necessary. Important. Over the years it has become as much a matter of self-respect as it is respect for a woman. I know better than that and I was raised better, I think to myself. So I am the kind of guy who never asks for or expects a kiss goodnight on the first date. That night after I brought her home from our first date, standing on her stoop smelling the fresh cut grass, I gave her a hug goodnight. As we parted our eyes met. She closed her eyes and sighed. I cradled the back of her head in my right hand, caressed her cheek against mine. I lingered in the soft warmth of her skin for a moment, and I kissed her. We shared the most electrifying kiss. Words to describe such a simple thing are often elusive. The words total body warmth come to mind. That’s what it felt like, and then some. 

We saw each other a few more times over the course of a few weeks. I discovered she liked leather. This pleased me to no end. I love the solid warm texture of leather against my skin. There is a comfort to leather that no other fabric can duplicate. We decided to visit one of the leather shops in the small. I was very anxious to make this little trip. Her legs were quite arousing to me, and the thought of them wrapped in a pair of black leather jeans… well my what candy for the eyes that had to be. We had been intimate a time or two already, and I knew what her legs looked like from heel to thigh. Very much to my liking, and some very strong fuel for my imagination. We went to the leather shop, and I think it almost a form of mutual masturbation for us. Something that intrigued me about her, she had a very strong yet subdued sexuality about her. She would hold up a garment for me to look at, look at me, look back at the garment, look back at me and open her mouth a bit, exhale slowly and quietly and just smile a wry grin. A fuck me smile if I ever saw one. 

She tried on several things while I watched happily. I tried to hide a mounting erection and be as fashionable discreet as possible. She decided on two pair of leather pants and a leather bustier top. On our way out she spotted a pair of black leather harness boots. After a quick trip back to the sales counter those went into a box, too. By this time we were both exchanging those glances. You know, those glances. As we left she stepped close to me and palmed my crotch, fixed me with a feral stare and winked. I’m sure I had an idiot grin on my face. I’m sure of it. 

Next door to the leather shop is a small bath and body the shop. You know the kind of place. They sell homemade soaps, body wash, lotions etc. For me passing by one of these places is like standing in front of an old time bakery. The smell gives you a host of warm fuzzy sensations. We went in to look around. A lot of fragrances compliment leather, and it looked like tonight was going to a sensory explosion indeed. She picked up a small chubby bottle of lotion, smiled and handed it to me. It smelled like butter cookies. Warm and sweet. The fragrance was so convincing I wanted to dab some on the end of my finger and taste it. There was no oily feeling or smell to it at all. So a few minutes later we were leaving the bath and body shop with an eight-dollar bottle of butter cookie lotion in our possession and we were on our way home.

We stopped and ate dinner on our way home. Food has always been an indulgence for me. I love a well-cooked meal and a pleasant atmosphere. Dinner also proves to be a very nice platform for very good foreplay. We ate at a nice Italian place. Cool stucco walls with a tasteful amount of ivy on the walls and a roman column here and there. As we ate we exchanged hungry stares and played footsie under the tables. Not too much was said. Very little at all actually. An hour or so later we were walking into her apartment and grappled in a long deep kiss. One thing I always observed about blue eyes the girl had good taste. Her apartment had hardwood floors. It was decorated with a subtle feminine blend of candles, wrought iron, lace and plain old country charm. 

She had long white curtains of a gauze like material. In each of her windows was a row of colored glass. When the sun shone through them they cast a soft pastel color against the white fabric of the curtains. It was always cool and quiet in her apartment. I can remember very clearly standing at her door each time I would come to visit. I could hear her heels clicking on the wood floor when she came to the door. With every footstep my anticipation grew. She was so sexy in so many ways. 

We dropped our bags on the floor and fell onto the couch together. We shared a few deep kisses, then she got up to change into something more comfortable. I sat on her couch with my eyes closed, singing to myself as dinner digested.

“time to take her home”

“her dizzy head is conscience laden”

“time to take a ride”

“it leaves today no conversation“

She kissed me as I sat there singing with my eyes closed. I opened my eyes to find her wearing a pair of cut off shorts and a t-shirt. One thing I learned about my own sexuality from blue eyes is that women can be so sexy when they are comfy. Blue eyes was the epitome of that. Just smoldering as she stood there, perfectly at ease. 

“So would you like to watch a movie?” She asked.

“That would be fine by me darlin’ “ I told her. 

The cast me a sly glance and went to the TV hutch. She fished through the tapes for a few moments and put a movie in the player. 

Fade to Black