Dear Mahatma Ghanid,
I man the souvenir store by the main road on weekend breaks from community college in the adjoining town.. Quiet Sundays are the best because I get to read my stuff in between occasional shoppers who stray in from the big supermarket one block away. Mostly family types with kids in tow who ring the door chime to saunter in with hesitant faces.
One good looking Dad came in one time with his little girl. The well behaved toddler got absorbed with the little ceramic figurines on the antique table. The mid-thirty heartthrob looked at the shelf behind the counter and then turned to see me sit cross legged in my shorts while perched on the stool. I look cute with appealing curves but was never a stunner. My ordinary looks had to ride on my legs which made boys do a double take that’s why I wore shorts all the time.
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He came over and leaned on the counter and tried to pose nonchalantly by looking around over my head but then zeroed in again on my shapely thighs. I smiled inwardly and pretended to bury my head in my book because I knew he was hooked and hoped he’d strike up a conversation. He cleared his throat and opened by saying that my book seemed interesting.
There was no time to reply as a clunking brought him running over to the imp to try to prevent any damage he had to pay for. Once order was restored he waved back from the door to say goodbye as he led her outside. I was not going to let him go that easily so I zapped him with my practiced extended pink tongue. It was a direct hit because he stumbled on something or maybe stepped on the child as the door closed awkwardly behind them with a slam.
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True to my hunch, he popped in the following Sunday, this time alone. He looked suave in his Hollywood shades and designer sweatshirt which matched the faddish pipe jeans that outlined his fit form honed via gym workouts. I was not lacking spitfire myself as I swiveled around on the stool to greet him with my exquisite thighs which gleamed with baby breath hair and creamy roundness. He gulped like something hit him in the stomach.
Nervous laughter and bumbling marked our initial reunion as we tried to avoid each other’s eyes by pretending to look somewhere else. He asked about the book I was reading the last time and I played cute by giggling and giving him another round of the tongue. His face pinched from muscles forcing to smile but warping simultaneously in wantonness. He drew closer and mumbled something about me looking very cute. And that’s when our eyes locked.
I slowly asked in a hushed tone where his baby was and his wife. Our faces were inches apart in the secluded corner behind the counter. At the going rate, the entrance of another visitor would be due any minute soon to break the intimacy. He said that he left them at home but that was not important now and nudged me with his body against the book shelf. His face was so handsome plus he smelled rich with upscale cologne. Before long, we kissed deeply.
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We broke apart startlingly when the doorbell sounded to usher in an elderly couple from Church. Mr. Rocky eyed the stranger curiously who hovered in a holding pattern at the corner then focused on my flushed face to deduce correctly that something extraordinary was afoot. His trained eye did not miss my chest which stood proudly more than usual under the knit shirt. To hose down the hot temperatures, the grandfatherly habitué whispered to his wife to tarry until the man left with the excuse to check on his car.
I know he will be back for more of what got started. I’ve never kissed an older person before but don’t regret trying it for once. The thrill was there and I have to admit that the thought of being a pampered younger mistress played in my mind temptingly a couple of times. I could use a stipend to afford a better college. However things could not be as easy like they seem. A lot of complications could arise that could be damaging to the lives of those who are affected like his wife and baby. Tell me what to do.
Dead Ringer
Dear Dead Ringer.
The hots pass quickly when offered an avenue for release. You are not the loveliest young lady and rely on your lower appendage to hook the men folk. If you let them have it especially a rich handsome playboy like the unnamed weekend paramour, there’s a high probability that they will be good for a few treats then hightail it. Unless you are the best lay in the world, the odds are whatever accommodation ensues given the disparity in you age and social standings, they would probably not be for the long term.
Of course you can trap him into a technical rape or teen molestation kind of court suit, I don’t know, I’m not a lawyer. Then you can squeeze him for some real dough to settle the case like Kobe Bryant and then make loads of royalties selling the story to the National Enquirer. Maybe, I really don’t know, or else your face will be the meat of all the sensational tabloids’ front pages like you were the slut who let a love starved Governor get some for a fee. I would advise against that kind of fame through notoriety.
Thrills are easy to get around the corner in school or among your peers. Just avoid getting pregnant. The novelty of an older more matured, refined, cultured, dapper, erudite, and polished partner who is adroit in the styles of Kama Sutra could be very intriguing for a young woman like you. But let me assure you we have our pitfalls too. I’m talking from experience because I have been through the whole rigmarole. For one, the older you get the more restive the gasses in your stomach become to cause you to fart with the straining.
There is no substitute for love. It doesn’t have to wait until you get married. You just have to feel an emotional, creative, inspirational, giving, and spiritual bonding with the person you love. That is the extreme measure that should be used no matter how many times you fall in love. The kissing and the sweet petting are just erogenous aperitifs barely impacting below the nerve surfaces. There’s a whole lot more of you that counts in the deeper anatomy and in the transcendental recesses.
Abba Krishna bless you.
Mahatma Ghanid
PS:
You won’t believe it until you try but all problems have a resolution using love including the ones done with a humorous twist to add gaiety to worship.
Tuesday, August 25, 2009
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