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“You wouldn’t deny me.”
She said it in such a matter of fact tone that it was more than just a statement. It was law… it was gospel… and it was the truth.
“I know,” was his response. And he said it in exactly the same way she did, as if it were already written in stone. It was why they didn’t socialize more, why they kept their relationship strictly business. The few times they did get together, there was always a safety net of a group, never less than two others. The attraction was tangible and it surrounded them completely. Everyone felt it – and yet – the two pretended it never existed. Ever.
He was her boss and she was so much younger than him. The ramifications of acknowledging such a magnetism were unfathomable. She had everything to lose; her job, her house, her comfortable way of life. His children from a past marriage were almost as old as she was. What would people think?
Sometimes, though … it was fun to fantasize a little, to let their imaginations wander and explore the possibilities. But, that was dangerous too…
…They were coming from the 2nd floor of the gallery, down a very secluded staircase. His frustration let loose and exploded in waves of passion around her. In a very uncharacteristic fashion, he confessed… ” I’m feeling so lustful. I never have time to myself and I need release.” She stopped in her tracks and turned to see his face twisted with emotion. She couldn’t let him know the depths his aching reached inside her, so she reacted in the only way she knew… with comic relief.
“Come here,” she laughed. “I’ll hump your leg a little, like a dog!” He laughed too, as he allowed her to walk around and stand behind him. She grabbed his shoulders and pumped her fully clothed hips into his hind quarters. Once. Twice.
“OK,” he teased. “Now let me do that to you.” He never expected her to comply, but she turned to lean over the banister and stuck her rear end into his crotch, gyrating slowly. Now it was her turn to be surprised as desire overcame caution and he grabbed her hip with his left hand. He ran his right hand up the back of her neck to entangle his fingers in her hair and pulled back with an erotic yank.
“Oh,” she breathed.
A split second later, their co-worker walked around the corner, breaking into the fantasy moment. Thank goodness he had his face buried in his i-phone writing a text; never even catching a glimpse of the sex charged encounter on the stairs. The thought of getting caught in this moment of suggestive playfulness was enough to sober the boss and his employee. They straightened their clothes, shaking off their lustful feelings. The emotional guards were up and the walls put back in their proper places. Business as usual…
But, the thought of that erotic yank of her hair lingered in her mind all day. The throbbing between her legs was barely manageable as she tried to focus on the day’s work. Finally, it was 5:00 and she could leave the office.
As she rode the subway home, she no longer tried to push the memory away. She let the heat of that brief flirtation take possession of her body and it filled with desire. She fully intended to go home to her apartment and masturbate to completion while re-living the encounter on the stairs. Only this time, the fantasy would not be interrupted by some mindless co-worker happening upon them.
By the time the train pulled into her stop, she was filled with feelings of confidence and sexual power. She almost felt like skipping the 2 short blocks to her place. There was a definite bounce to her step as she rounded the corner and glanced into the big picture windows of Jake’s Tavern. Her heart skipped a beat when she saw a familiar figure. Sitting on a stool at a table in the window was her boss, her fantasy, the man she was daydreaming about for the last six hours.
The immediate rush of blood to her face made her stagger and she came to an abrupt halt on the sidewalk. She noticed there were 2 martini’s on the table, even though he was the only one seated and her heart sank as she realized that he must be on a date. At that moment, he looked up and out of the window. The tavern’s neon lights made it easy for him to see her astonished face. With a visible swallow and a deep breath, he pushed himself off the stool and walked outside to greet her.
Their eyes locked for an intense moment before anyone spoke. His hand clenched into a fist and she ran a finger through her hair as memories of their brief encounter coursed through each of their minds.
Finally, he took her hand and gestured towards the door of the bar. “I hope you don’t mind me being here. I really wanted to see you, I couldn’t stop thinking about you all day. I’ve ordered us both a martini for HAPPY HOUR… will you join me?”
Tie Me to the Bedpost
1 oz. Citrus Vodka
1 oz. Coconut Rum
1 oz. Melon Liqueur
1 oz. Sour Mix
Pour all ingredients into a cocktail mixer filled with ice. Shake.
Strain into a chilled martini glass.
Enjoy!
“Shaken, not stirred.”
“Really?” Francie tilted her head away from the guy in the tie standing at her bar and whispered to Sarah, “Did he just say that?”
Sarah giggled and nodded, raising her eyebrows. “Yup, girlfriend, he really did.”
As Sarah sashayed her way towards the kitchen, Francie took note that she didn’t retort with any snarky comments. Usually she was good for a zinger or two. Maybe something’s troubling her tonight, Francie thought. I’ll have to ask her later. But, right now, I have a Bond-inspired martini to make. She filled the glass with ice and water so it would chill, then reached for the SKYY vodka. The trademark blue bottle was almost empty and she still hadn’t made out a new order. Things seemed crazy these past few weeks and she didn’t know why. She felt like she just wasn’t keeping up with the things that needed to get done. Maybe I should stay off Twitter for a while, she thought. It’s kind of becoming an addiction. Francie immediately pushed those thoughts away. Nah… that can’t be it! She picked up the cocktail shaker and shook it vigorously, catching the eye of her customer.
He smiled as he watched her movements. He loved to order his martini’s shaken when there was a female bartender. The way it caused their breasts to heave inside their shirt as if they were struggling to be released, was always a pleasure to watch. At home, he wouldn’t even consider shaking his martini, let alone use vodka in it. He preferred Gin. And just a gentle stir, so as not to bruise the alcohol. Now that, is a true martini. Just like it was made in the 50′s. Or even in the early 60′s, when TV shows like Bewitched, had Samantha waiting for Darren to come home from work with a pitcher in hand and ready to pour. Undoubtedly, that was a gin martini, he thought… that was the era… women had class then…
The barmaid placed the cocktail in front of him with a wink, interrupting his thoughts. “There you are, Sir. Shaken, not stirred.” She seemed to be holding back a snicker, as if she knew a joke that he wasn’t allowed to share.
He noticed her name tag, “Thank you, Francie,” he said. “I appreciate that. Is your name short for Francine?”
“Ya, old-fashioned, I know. My Mom’s in love with Francine Reed’s music. She insists it’s like listening to someone’s intimate conversation. All throaty and jazzy, ya know?” Francie’s eyes glazed and her head swayed as she listened to music only she could hear. “I guess I’m a fan, too,” she chuckled, pulling herself back to the present.
The guy in the tie grinned knowingly.
“You’re dressed kind of gentlemanly for a young guy,” Francie prompted. She liked the way he looked. Most guys her age only wore t-shirts and ripped jeans. This guy is different, she sensed.
“I guess, like your name, I, too am old-fashioned. I tend to appreciate a slower paced life. Most people don’t get me.” He took a sip of his martini.
“I know what you mean,” Francie commented as she busied herself wiping the bar. For some reason, she wanted to stay and talk to this guy. “My girlfriends are always laughing at the music I listen to. They say I’m way too young to like Blues and Swing. But, you know what? I really don’t care. It’s my life and I’ll live it my way!” She resisted the urge to fold her arms across her chest and stick out her tongue like a stubborn child.
The guy chuckled. “My name is Rex. I guess my Mother liked names from the 50′s, as well.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Rex,” Francie said, extending her hand across the bar. Rex took it and gently pulled her arm towards him to plant a kiss on the back of her hand. Francie blushed and dropped her eyes to the bar. “Now, where is that rag?”
“I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to offend you,” Rex mumbled in a low voice.
“Oh, no! You didn’t offend me… just the opposite, actually!” The words rushed out. The last thing she wanted, was for this quiet person to think she didn’t like him. “I’m just not used to being treated like a lady. It kind of throws me off balance. Usually, guys in bars are pretty crass. They think that because I work in one, that I’m here for their enjoyment. You, Rex, are truly a breath of fresh air!”
Rex looked at her for a long moment. “Are you available on Saturday afternoon? There’s a model sailboat race at the lake in the park for Thanksgiving weekend. Would you like to go with me?”
Francie laughed. “Of course I’ll go! That sounds like a perfect date.”
“Hey Francie!” Sarah shouted from the kitchen. “Did you forget you’re the only bartender on tonight? Get your ass moving… it’s HAPPY HOUR!”
Old Fashioned
Muddle together in a glass:
Stemless Maraschino Cherry, Orange slice,
1/2 tsp. Sugar, 4-5 dashes of Bitters
Fill the glass with ice.
Add 2 oz. Whiskey
Splash of Seltzer or Soda Water
Stir.
Enjoy!
Samantha pulled off her Uggs
and propped her bare feet close to the blazing fire. Her toes felt like ice, even with the benefit of having them nestled inside the sheepskin of her boots.
“This should do the trick,” she murmured as she scooted even closer to the burning embers. She reached over the back of the sofa, grabbed the heavy quilt her Grandma had lovingly created for her and wrapped it around herself. She remembered when her Gran gave the large throw to her, telling her it was made with love and a little bit of magic. Samantha smiled, closing her eyes and sighed. She snuggled into the warmth of the blanket and the fire.
Now, if only I had a coffee with Bailey’s, I’d be perfect. Samantha opened her eyes and looked over her shoulder into the kitchen where her espresso machine stood staunchly at the ready. All she had to do was get up and push a button for a nice hot cup. So easy. But, that would require actually getting up out of her warm cocoon and walking across the cold hardwood floor in her bare feet. She gazed longingly at the coffee maker, trying to decide if the cold floor would be worth the hot coffee.
Just then, the mudroom door burst open, giving way to four teenagers talking and laughing loudly. The rush of cold air they brought in with them sent a chill swirling around the room.
“Hi, Aunt Samantha! We just came in for a cappuccino, want one?”
Bingo!
“I’ll have a coffee… thanks, that would be great!” See, Samantha thought smiling, ask and you shall receive.
The kids busied themselves in the kitchen, loudly banging cabinet doors and clanging coffee mugs as the espresso machine automatically ground the coffee beans and tamped them down into a perfect puck. Finally, they all had their beverages and Samantha’s nephew carried a steaming cup of coffee into the living room. “Here ya go, Auntie! Black… right?”
“That’s right… thanks, Josh!” The cacophony in the kitchen receded as quickly as it arrived and the four teens, cappuccino cups in hand, stomped back outside into the crisp fall air.
Samantha watched as the mudroom door closed behind them, then looked down at the yellow ceramic cup warming her palms. The fact still remained that in order to satisfy her craving of having some irish cream in her coffee, she would undoubtedly have to get up and get it.
If I would have a personal butler, I wouldn’t have to freeze my feet, just to get something to drink! Hmmmm… “Oh, Garçon,” she chuckled, calling into the empty kitchen. The only answer she received back was the ticking of the cuckoo clock.
“Oh, Garçon!” she called again with more enthusiasm. She broke out into a wide grin and laughed out loud. This was turning into quite the fun game!
“OH, GARÇON!” she yelled, roaring with a fit of hysteria. “Where are you?” she sang, raising her timbre two octaves.
“Samantha.”
The low, deep, rumbling voice startled her. She spun around, wide-eyed, searching for its source. She was the only one in the house right now… how could she have heard her name being called? Her heart was racing as she looked about the empty room.
Slowly, out of the shadows, a mans figure emerged. Her sharp intake of breath almost knocked her off the sofa.
“Who… who… who are you?” she asked trembling.
“Relax, Samantha… you called for me… I am your attendant, ready to serve your every need.”
Samantha sat, stunned. Where in the world did this man come from? He looked like a genie from some tv show in the 60′s with his billowy pants and bare, sculpted chest. Actually, he looked like he stepped off the cover of one of those Harlequin romance novels. The long, flowing, wavy hair and dark, smoldering eyes that pierce right through your soul… yes…
“THAT’S IT… I’M DREAMING!!”
“No, Samantha, you’re not dreaming… I’m real,” the gorgeous man from the shadows purred. “You’ve called to me… awoken me from my slumber. Your intense unfulfilled desire broke the barrier of reality and brought me to you. It’s been quite a while since you’ve been fully and completely satisfied and it’s my job, as your attendant to correct that injustice.
I will run a scented bath to take away your chill and I will carry you to it, so you can stay warm tucked into your magical quilt. I will wash you from head to toe, then wrap you in a heated towel. I will lay you on your soft bed and massage almond oil into your lithe body, soothing you into relaxation. And, when you are ready, I will make slow, passionate and intense love to you until you melt into exhaustion. I am here to bestow upon you every physical pleasure you can imagine. But, first… let’s get you that Bailey’s in your coffee… it’s Happy Hour!”
Bailey’s and Coffee
2 oz. Irish Cream
Hot Black Coffee
Whipped Cream
Add the irish cream to a mug.
Fill with hot, steaming black coffee.
Stir gently. Top off with whipped cream.
Enjoy!
The sun was rising
above the lush Garden meadow, basking the trees and flowers in a glorious pink glow, when Eve turned from the Serpent’s glare and gave the apple to Adam.
Even without the tell-tale sign of a smile, the pleasure radiating from the Serpent was unmistakable. He knew the woman would falter, would submit to the temptation he offered her. How could she not? he thought smugly. His powers of persuasion were irresistible. He settled back in the tree to watch the events below him unfold. He was so looking forward to the fall of humanity…
Eve watched the Serpent as he coiled himself around a branch. She knew he thought she was following his will. By taking a bite of the offered apple, the Serpent’s treachery exposed Eve to feelings of guilt, shame and embarrassment. The acute awareness of her own naked body was enhanced by the Serpent’s lustful glower.
But it was, as Eve stood rooted to the meadow floor under the Serpent’s scrutinizing gaze, that she comprehended the power of her new knowledge, the power of her sexuality, the power of her feminine form. The Serpent couldn’t know of the joy from this realization that spread through her body, crowding away the shame and guilt.
The emotions coursing through her were so paramount that she needed to share them with her Beloved, to show him the beauty of love, both emotionally and physically.
And so it was, that Eve took another apple from the tree and gave it to Adam, urging him to eat and lift the veil of naiveté, to delight with her in this new-found freedom of confidence.
Adam held the shiny, red fruit in his hand, the sweet scent was enticing in itself. He cast a glance at the Serpent, who was calmly lounging in the tree, but eying him intently. He looked at Eve who was vibrating with excitement, coaxing him both verbally and physically to take a bite.
He looked once again at the Forbidden Fruit.
Slowly, almost sensually he raised the apple to his mouth, parting his lips to partake of the juicy fruit…
Eve could no longer control herself, the anticipation of Adam sharing her desire was overwhelming. She violently reached for him and shoved the apple into his mouth –
“CUT!!!!”
“Goddamn it, Eve! I told you to show some patience! This is an extremely important part of the film and it’s gotta come across in the right way! How many bloody times must we re-shoot this scene?!?” The director was fuming and began to pace back and forth, trying to regain control of his temper. Ridiculous actors, he thought, always trying to upstage one another.
Finally he turned to the cast… “Oh, hell… You know what?… forget it… let’s wrap it up for today… it’s HAPPY HOUR.”
He Said...She Said...