Falling Into Emerald Eyes

I had the occasion to rebuild a kitchen in a rental house here on the coast. The renters, though, still lived there. The kitchen was just so bad the owners decided not to wait until the lease ran out and they hired me to do the counters, walls, cabinets, floor, sink, etc.

I was there for about a month. During that time I met one of the renters, Jennifer.

Now, I'm 56 and my studding days are pretty much in the rear view mirror. I live alone now, by choice, and quite frankly I'd sort of given up on finding a partner. Let's say I'd become comfortably numb. But over the past few months I found myself frequenting certain porn sites, this being one of them. I took to writing erotica as a means of working up my libido.

Well, it worked. Suddenly I found my brain churning out story ideas, and oh my god, I couldn't keep my hands off myself. Let's face it, the internet is a veritable feast of sexuality and I happily consumed dozens of videos and countless erotic stories daily.

Sure, it's sex. But I wasn't making love to anyone.

But oh how I imagined fucking. My stories found me fondled, fellated, frenched and fornicated by stunning beautiful women unable to resist my powerful and relentless sex drive.

But as pathetic as that sounds, writing erotica open my eyes to the power of words, the way to paint pictures with phrases, spin sentences into worlds of possibility, to use prose to ignite fires inside my imagination.

Jennifer is a good thirty years younger than me. She works evenings, so was home a lot while I was there. It being her off hours, she, of course dressed down in sweat pants and sweatshirt, no makeup, hair in a ponytail. I'd see her several times a day at least. I was in her kitchen six hours a day or more. She liked to get high after lunch, toke a hit or two in the backyard. I don't partake but I like to hang around high people. They're fun and talkative.

And we did some talking, laughed a little, so by the second week we were pretty comfortable around each other. I, of course, fantasized what it would be like to lick her labia and nibble on her nubbin then ride her to multiple orgasms. But that was just exercising every guy's God given right to fuck any woman he meets in his head. It was just fantasizing - I was always respectful, polite and focused on my work, not her.

At the end of the second week Jenn and I happened to be sitting in the kitchen one afternoon having coffee. One of the perks of working in a kitchen. She was, as usual, dressed casual, but I was noticing, belatedly, that she was really quite cute. Lively green eyes, infectious smile, long brownish hair that always seemed to be coming out of the pony tale, a slim body somewhere under those baggy clothes she wore at home, freckles dotting her small, upturned nose and a certain kind of physical grace some women have, you know, she walked like a cat. I never saw a boyfriend.

I don't know what got into me. Well, I do. Hormones. Raging. And I wanted to see what I could do with my new found ability with words.

"Jenn," I ventured one afternoon when I knew she was high, "do you mind me asking a rather forward question? You seem pretty open minded. Fun, too. I expect you to laugh and call me goofy, but I gotta ask."

"What a setup," she smirked. "Okay, go ahead and ask, goofy Mike."

"I'm, um, single and have been out of the mix for, well, for too long," I began. "I lost whatever skills I may have had back in the day, and I guess I spent a few years there kind of letting myself withdraw, kind of giving in to a low level of depression, I think. But I'm feeling like I gotta get back into the flow of life. Do something."

She nodded as if she knew what I was talking about, then sipped her coffee. She had a leg under her, as always in bare feet, and she looked pleasantly stoned, cool and relaxed.

"So, what I want to ask," I continued, "and like I said, call me an idiot if you must, is this: would you allow me to flirt with you?" I let this set in for a moment. She didn't spit her coffee across the room, so I went on. "Just flirt, I'm just interested in learning how to talk to women again. And one day, find one who wants to hang out with me. But I need practice. I need confidence."

Her answer came quickly and without a moment's pause.

"Sure, Mike," she laughed, "you can flirt with me." Then she surprised and encouraged me. "Maybe I need some practice too, like, being flirted with."

I asked about any men in her life that I might be pissing off, but she assured me there was nothing serious happening in that area right then.

"Thanks," I said and started right off. "You know, you definitely have a sort of cute thing going, most def, Jenn, but the longer I know you the more I see a deeper, more subtle kind of real beauty in you."

I swear she kind of blushed, though I can't be sure. She quickly sipped her coffee. "Thanks, Mike," she said, keeping her voice noncommittal.

It was a good start, anyway.

"Just saying," I added, trying to sound casual and breezy, "I've never seen you dressed to kill, but you got a kind of easy charm that is fun to be around."

"So," she looked at me quizzically, "you sure you haven't been doing this all along?" She laughed, "You seem pretty good at it."

"Well," I chuckled, "you make it pretty easy, Jenn. You're smart, funny, relaxed, and you got a pretty nice smile. Besides, this is just practice, no pressure. You got a sweet way about you."

"Alright," she nodded her head, "you're doing fine. You complimented me. You said nice things. What girl doesn't like that? Try to keep it real, though, Mike. Don't pile it on. A girl knows when a guy is just trying to, you know, get in her pants. Throw in some humor. Be genuine."

I took the advice, glad for it. "You're toes are kind of big, though," I said, nodding knowingly and making a face.

"What?!" she looked at me with mock shock. She picked up a bunched up napkin and threw it at me.

I caught it.

"That's good, Mikey," she said, "Get a reaction, tease her gently. Make her want to swat you or something, something physical."

"How do I know if I'm going too far?" I asked, genuinely curious. "Or, worse, not far enough?"

"Well," she said, "every woman is different. In fact, worry a little about the woman who doesn't put up a little resistance."

"Hm." I stood up and started fiddling with cabinet hardware.

"So, the trick," she continued, "is that you aren't too obvious. You have to play with her, which will, you know, make her playful."

"So, like with you, Jenn," I smiled as I spoke, "Does flirting work with you?"

"I don't need a guy to flirt with me," she asserted.

"You just go right to playful, then? No flirting required?

"That's not what I meant, Mikey," she smirked, she picked up another napkin and threw it at me.

"I shouldn't, like, try to tickle your fancy?"

"That," she said, kind of defiantly, "seems to be what you're doing right now."

"I guess I can't help myself, ma'am," I said, "I'm falling for your charms."

"Aww. What charms?"

"Well some are obvious," I commented, still fiddling with the cabinets. "Like, I'd chase that tail across a bed of hot coals. Hell, I'd stand and sing outside your window every night for a thrown kiss."

"Can you sing, Mike?"

"Not a note. But I'd learn, and hire a mariachi band to accompany me if I thought you'd turn them emerald eyes in my direction."

"That's good. You're doing fine, boyo."

"I'm just a poor working man, my lady, and a guy's gotta have a dream to dream. You're mine." I made eye contact and smiled.

Jenn's entire body language had changed. She was more perky, her tits sort of poked up in her sweatshirt, she was sitting more upright and now she was perched cross legged in her chair, crotch pointed in my direction.

"Goodness, Michael," she sort of blushed again, "you do know how to charm a woman after all."

"You're too special not to try, Jennifer. And if I can make you feel... a kittle better for just this little while, my...my whole day will feel...brighter."

"I'm starting to feel a little light headed here, Mike," she cooed, jokingly, sort of toying with her coffee cup.

"Well, I'm walking on air over here, Jenn, just getting a chance talk with you. You got a way about you."

"What way is that?"

"Soft, easy, sweet, like...like a cool drink on a hot day. You sort of exude a natural, and very attractive, glow."

"Glow?"

"Sexy, Jenn, you just radiate a kind of physical attractiveness that's hard to ignore."

"Are you flirting with me, Mikey?" she asked, very softly.

"Not any more, Jenn. Now I'm just speaking from the heart."

"But I'm dressed like a slob, dufous," she laughed.

"That's the amazing thing about it, hon'," I couldn't have stopped if I wanted to at that point. "I can only imagine the effect you would have if you were dressed to kill. You got a gracefulness that the baggiest clothes couldn't hide."

"So, put on my three inch heels, little red dress and makeup and you'd drop dead?" she teased.

"Do you have three inch heels?"

"No."

"If you, right now, put on old ratty coveralls and walked across this room, my heart would try to break out of my ribcage."

"What would you do?"

"I'd ask you to dance."

"Dance?"

"Slow, close and a little dirty."

"How do you know I'd want to?"

"Because today is an incredibly special day in your life."

"Why is that, Mikey?"

"Today you made a man fall in love with you. Surely that doesn't happen every day."

"Yeah," she said this kind of wistfully, then brightened and asked, "What's a little dirty?"

"That's where I hold you so close, so tight, that your knees get weak."

"They're a little wobbly right now, and I'm sitting down, sir," she kind of pouted at me. Was she just playing the part?

I looked at her quizzically, trying to answer my own question. And my God, she was indeed glowing with a kind of feminine radiance, blushing skin, twinkling eyes and her breasts heaving slightly. It was a good thing I was wearing a tool belt. My tool was trying to push it's way out of my pants.

"I wish," I said, from my heart, "you were thirty years older. I'd ravish you right here."

"Ravish me?"

"Yes. I'd sweep you away. Right off your feet. I'd invite you to step up onto this cloud I'm walking on.

"You pass, Mike," Jenn whispered. And with that she was gone, just up and walked out of the room, on cat's feet, of course. And each stride she took, watching that pure female grace in poetic movement, sent a pulse of pleasure through my body. But it broke my soul and heart a little too, to see her go.

She was gone. Leaving me there to install hardware on cabinets, breathing hard and hoping the blood would return from my cock to my brain soon. So, I got back to work, hoping to bring my respiration, heart rate and blood pressure back to equilibrium soon.

No chance. Some fifteen minutes later I glanced out the window to the back yard, and there on the patio, standing in bare feet and wearing a little red dress, full makeup, her long brown hair fluffed up and hanging over her face a bit, was Jenn. She was looking at me. She had applied makeup and had a finger in her pouty red lips, her other hand was sort of massaging the silky material of her dress on her thigh. Her legs were crossed in front of her slightly and she was writhing them together softly, something I've only ever seen a woman named Marilyn Monroe do before, and that was on screen.

I left my tool belt inside, stepped outside and took a long drink with my eyes. She tossed her hair, smiled and her eyes drew me closer. We danced. There in that quiet backyard, a slight breeze blowing, hip to hip, me in my work clothes and she in nothing but that red dress.

My words came from someplace deep inside me as we stepped lightly onto the grass. "You...take my breath away, woman. You are, so very clearly, the exact reason I'm alive right now, the very reason I was born." I fell deeper into those green, green eyes and continued, finding the words as I spoke them. "I am blessed to have found you. You are a gift from heaven, an angel dropped down into my arms. I'm folded inside your wings, and I want to spread them wide and fly into the afternoon sky with you, feel you rise and sing out, cry out to the sun and the moon all the joy and love we make together inside your deep heart." I stopped to spin her around, then leaned in close to her lips, speaking now in a near whisper. "I want to kiss you until you turn into a pure cloud of love that I can sail away on, out over the world, flying across oceans and mountains, up into space and into the star filled night. I want to fly into the burning center of the universe and explode in brilliant colors in these soft, tender, graceful, loving arms. You can, in this very moment, make every color in the world more colorful, every feeling more intense, every thought more joyous, every breath fuller and deeper." We were dancing slow and entwined. Now I spoke in a full whisper, "And life itself, can you feel it?" It just kicked up into another gear. We just entered a new level, far more amazing and awesome than we ever dreamed of. And it all begins right now, right here," I touched her lips, "with a kiss."

It was a kiss that burned right through me and lit the fuses on a brilliant afternoon, evening and night of startling fireworks. We were two people surfing on waves of love and lust into the light of the morning, riding on each other to redemption, opening doors to a new world where the old one was, opening our minds to a new way of seeing the same things in a whole new wondrous light.