That's the Spirit

There was this woman. She must have lived or worked in my neighborhood in New York City. I say this because I often saw her either when I left for work at 7:30am or returned home around 6pm. Occasionally I would also see her shopping at the same market on the weekends.

There are a lot of people in New York, especially if one includes the tourists, but one tends to notice people one sees in one's neighborhood with some regularity. This woman would be hard not to notice. She had long blonde hair, not too straight, a delightful curvaceous body, twinkling eyes, and a ready smile.

We had never met, but I saw her often enough that I began to smile at her when I saw her, as if I knew her, and she always returned my smile with an easy, ready smile of her own. It simply made me happy when she smiled at me. Women are often such a positive force.

She was around my age, which is mid to late 20s. We stayed that way for around a year, never actually meeting each other, but seemingly getting to know each other through out smiles.

During the workweek she wore a uniform of a nice blouse and skirt, a suit jacket, stockings or panty hose, low heels, perfume and jewelry. She always looked appropriately dressed to be perhaps a successful office worker, and at the same time she managed to look gorgeous.

On the weekends, however, all bets were off. She would dress casually, but it was a calculated, studied casual. If she wore a tee shirt, it would hug her curves. If she wore a skirt, it would be much shorter than during the week, and her legs might also be bare, rather than covered in nylons. If she wore pants, they would be a second skin, hugging every inch or her body, even to the point of showing off the features of her perfect behind.

One Saturday when I was sitting in a local coffee house, she came in and ordered a coffee, but there were no tables free. She saw me, and as if we knew each other, she asked if she could join my table. That was how we met. We talked nonstop for an hour or so, and ended by exchanging Facebook and texting coordinates.

One hour later I sent her a text asking her out that night, for dinner and a movie. Ten minutes later she texted me back asking when and where? I suggested that we meet at the restaurant, at a very nice Italian place in Nolita.

She had changed for the evening and I had never seen her dressed like this before. He blouse was low cut, and I mean very low cut. I'm not sure how she arranged it, but she showed quite a lot of each boob. I was not even sure if she was wearing a bra, or not.

I had a lot of trouble looking at her face and not her boobs. She broke the tension by saying,

"So I guess you're a boobs man Rich, am I right?"

"Boobs, behinds (I did not want to say 'ass'), legs, everything, at least where you are concerned. But frankly, Melissa, it's your beautiful face that has won my heart," I replied.

"So you are in love with me on the first day we meet?" Melissa teased, both smiling and with a twinkle in her eye.

"It does make me sound a bit superficial, but I feel as if we have known each other for a year now. You know, our paths often cross in this city of 15 million people," I said.

"Yes, I know. I guess we have similar work schedules and all that. I like you too, Rich. Your eyes are the color of my favorite beer," Melissa replied. Then she added, so quietly it was barely audible, "I'm glad you like my boobs."

We had a delicious dinner and finished off an entire bottle of Chianti Classico, but mostly we just looked into each other's eyes and in my case, her boobs. I treated, and then we walked over to a close by movie theater. "Do you have a preference for the movie, Melissa?" I asked.

She gave a run down on the movies, and ended by saying, "There's a lot of nudity in this one, according to the critics, and since you like boobs, why don't we go to it?"

I did not have a riposte, so we went to that one. I guess she had reapplied her perfume in the ladies' room at the restaurant, because as I sat next to her I became intoxicated with her smell. "I love your perfume," I whispered to her.

"I put it on my neck, behind my ears, and you'll never guess where else," she said.

I leaned over putting my nose in her cleavage and inhaled deeply. "Good guess," she said, and giggled fetchingly. I let my nose linger there a little, and she wiggled her chest so that her boob touched the right side of my nose and then her other boob touched the left side of my nose.

"Melissa, you are making my hands jealous," I said.

"Patience is a virtue, Richard. Now shush, the movie is starting," she said. She was smiling a mischievous little smile.

When the movie was over I said, "Let me take you home, pretty woman."

"It's okay, Richard. I'll grab a taxi," she said.

"But don't you live walking distance from here?" I asked.

"Do you know where I live?" Melissa asked. She tried to hide it, but there was alarm in her voice.

"No, but I just assumed we live near each other, and..."

Melissa cut me off, saying, "Richard, I had a great time. You have my digital coordinates, and I hope we can do something like this again soon, but for now, can you get me a taxi?"

So I did, and before she got in she leaned over and gave me an open mouth hyper sexy kiss and sped away, out of my evening but I was hoping not out of my life.

***************

I had never seen the Cloisters, in the northwest corner of Manhattan, far from everything else. John D. Rockefeller had built it in the early 1930s, importing many of the ingredients from ruined old churches in France, and now it is a museum.

I invited Melissa, via Facebook, to come with me to see it on the very next Saturday. I rented a car and she met me at the car rental place. It had become cold, and she was wearing a long coat and a red cashmere scarf.

I love the way stylish women look all dressed up in the winter, and Melissa looked as if she could have just left a photo shoot for a fashion magazine.

When we got inside the museum, Melissa checked her coat and emerged from the coat check area wearing a skintight very short and low cut dress that was essentially a second skin. It had the same effect of exposing a lot of the inside sides of her boobs.

The dress was a shade of subdued green and caught the green tones of her eyes. She looked like a siren. It was not appropriate dress for a staid museum, but boy did I not care! She looked so hot I wanted to touch her all over. So too, I suspect, did quite a few of the men visiting the museum that afternoon.

Melissa got more attention than did the star attraction: an ancient tapestry recently discovered hidden away in a French church somewhere.

A nice feature of the museum is that it is high up on a bluff overlooking the Hudson River and the forested Palisades Park across the river in New Jersey. After we enjoyed some of the art displayed in the museum, we went for a walk around the grounds with its amazing views. I discovered that Melissa was quite knowledgeable about art. When she saw my surprise at her perceptive comments about almost everything in the museum, she said, in toto, "Art History major."

It was cold and Melissa reflected that in two ways: the first is her nipples got hard, and that showed through her skin-tight dress, under which she was obviously braless, and second is that she began to shiver. She did not say anything, however.

I put my arm around her. Melissa was a nervous woman and I worried that putting my arm around her might spook her. She clearly had a paranoid streak, especially about where she lived. But when I did engulf her with my arm she melted into my body, and I could feel her shivering.

"Shall we go back inside?" I asked.

"No. Your body is so warm and cozy. Hold me tight, and I'll be fine," she said, and then she again smiled her mischievous smile and added, "My boobs are so cold. I can't seem to get them warm." She looked up at me, entreaty in her eyes.

I turned her away from the few other people milling about in the cold and we faced the river, gazing across it at New Jersey, and I cupped her breast with my hand. "That's the spirit, Richard," she purred.

I began to play a little with her nipple as it poked out of her dress. "Mmmm," she purred. "You are a little devil, aren't you Richard?" she mumbled. Holding her tight against me I looked down at her (I am at least 6 inches taller than she is; she is around 5'3" of pure woman, maybe 5'5" in her heels). She looked up at me with her seductive eyes with their hints of green, emphasized by the green color of her skintight dress.

I was hooked. I bent down and kissed her. She kissed me back, and then I placed a hand on her ass and pulled her in. She melted her body into mine, crushing my erection with her stomach, and moaning a very soft, almost inaudible, little moan of pleasure.

She squirmed a little, and one of her boobs popped out of her dress. She whispered to me, "I'm exposed. Best cover me up with your hand."

I placed my hand over the soft, warm, seductive skin of her right breast. When I did it she moaned very softly and again said, "That's the spirit, Richard."

She took my hand away, leaving her breast still exposed to the air and to anyone's view. She took my hand and led me away to a small alcove where there was nobody about. Once there she rolled down her top all the way to her belly button, rendering herself naked above the waist and then some.

We were in a little traveled area of the outside of the Cloisters, overlooking the river, but nevertheless with a high risk of discovery. I had not suspected this aspect of Melissa. I liked it.

"I hope you like what you see, Richard. I know you have been curious about my boobs. Well, here I am for you. Please enjoy me and keep me warm for the next five minutes. Then I'll roll my dress back up."

I let my hands wander all over her body, and I slobbered a bit with my mouth on her boobs. My hands went to her ass, still covered of course by her dress, and I decided to take a chance. I slipped my hands under her dress to caress her ass. To my surprise, she was not wearing panties.

I was terrified I had just blown it with Melissa, as she got a strange look on her face when my hands went under her dress. Then apparently she made a decision and said softly, rising up to get as close to my ear as she could, and whispered, "That's the spirit, Richard."

I caressed her wonderful ass with one hand, and her perfect boobs with the other, and kissed her mouth with mine. I was in heaven. While I did this, she gingerly felt my erect cock through my pants.

I had known my fair share of women before then, been in love twice in fact, but neither worked out in the end. But right then, outside at the Cloisters in the winter, was the most erotic moment of my life.

Five minutes is a long time for a woman to be topless on the grounds of a museum. But it is a precious short time for a man to be enjoying it with his hands all over her. Yet that was all that I got.

When we left the museum, Melissa apologized but said she had to go. I asked her why, since it was Saturday, but all she said was, "I just do. I had a lovely time, Richard. Thank you very much. May I see you next weekend?"

I would have liked more time with Melissa, especially after having enjoyed feeling up much of her body on the grounds of the Cloisters, but I was glad to have the prospect of seeing her again, even if I would have to wait a week.

I did not understand why she was so mysterious, but if I could have a chance with her, I was going to take it! I heard her voice in my head, saying, "That's the spirit."

***************

We dated like that for five months: once a week on Saturdays. I never learned where she worked or where she lived, and she never agreed to come home with me. We kissed and petted and I would occasionally get her partially undressed, but we never had enough privacy for sex. I was getting frustrated. I had never wanted a woman as badly as I wanted to have Melissa.

I come close once or twice. As the weather got warmer and the days got longer, she stopped being in such a rush to go home, wherever that was. One Saturday she was wearing a short skirt. In fact it was a very short skirt, barely covering her crotch, and a light vee neck sweater.

We went to an organ concert in a local church. I'm not religious, and I am not sure about Melissa. It was a Catholic church, and she felt right at home, genuflecting as though it were second nature for her. I noted she always wore a cross around her neck, and I may not be brilliant, but I can add two plus two.

Out of respect I was well behaved in the church, but Melissa was not. After the service she led me by the hand down to the crypt. We were alone down there, and it was cool and damp. She reached under her skirt and her hand came out with her panties. "You have custody of my panties, sir, for the next 20 minutes," she said, and she smiled her mischievous smile.

I just stared at her, in shock I guess, while she smiled at me that knowing smile. She knew me by now, and probably had my every action choreographed in her mind. I pulled her into me and kissed her. I stuck my hand under her skirt and caressed her bare ass as we kissed. She gave one of her barely audible moans; I live for them.

My hands gradually moved south and found her snatch. My fingers had yet to explore that area. We had dated five months and she had never let me get near her snatch. I gingerly caressed the area and got another barely audible moan.

I let one finger gingerly enter her and I heard her sigh. I started pumping it in and out of her snatch and she sighed a bit louder, in pleasure. I added a finger and then a third, and she whispered to me, "That's the spirit, Richard." Then she moaned and shuddered slightly.

She gently removed my fingers, breathing heavily. She saw my eyes, and said, "Yes, Richard, I had one. It was magical. She stood up and straightened her skirt as we heard the sound of footsteps on the stairs down to the crypt.

When the priest entered, surprised to find us there, Melissa quickly asked, "What happened to the relics? I wanted to show them to Richard. Father, this is Richard."

We shook hands.

"I think you're confused, Melissa. The relics are in the Church of the Most Holy Redeemer, and not in the crypt but in the chapel." I was very surprised the priest knew Melissa by her first name. I inferred she was a regular at St. Joseph's. It must be her parish church.

"Yes, of course. Thank you, father. I need to get more sleep. Come along Richard, it's not too far to walk to the Church of the Most Holy Redeemer; you'll like it. It's in the East Village and it has beautiful stained glass," and as she said this, the priest smiled at her beatifically.

I had to agree it was a beautiful church, and I made appropriate noises regarding the relics, which Melissa seemed to appreciate a lot more than I did. But mostly I could not get out of my mind the fact that Melissa had just enthusiastically let me finger her. It was progress, that's for sure, even if the pace was a bit glacial.

I realized later when I got home that I still had her panties in my pocket. I sniffed them, and put them under my pillow.

****************

Finally I had an idea. I kicked myself for taking so long to think of it, but truth be told, I was worried even then it would freak out my skittish love object. I rented a room at one of New York's fancier and more luxurious hotels. I suggested we meet at the hotel bar the next Saturday. Melissa outdid herself with the outfit she wore to our date. My description won't do it justice, but I'll try.

She entered the hotel wearing a long raincoat, since it had been raining. Once she gained the bar area and found me, she removed her coat to dramatic effect. Under her coat she wore an evening gown that was backless and had straps in the front that barely covered her nipples and areolas.

Almost all of her luscious orbs were exposed to my view, and of course the view of everyone else in the bar. Melissa acted as if this were the most natural thing in the world.

The view of her entire boobs except for her nipples and areolas was splendid. The skirt was long, but was slit up the side to her waist. It was clear she was also without panties. Every man in the bar had his eyes glued to her. Most of the women did, too.

She kissed me lightly hello and asked the hyper attentive bar tender to make her the house cocktail, whatever it might be. "What's the agenda for this evening?" she asked, wide eyed in mock innocence. "I suspect I know where we will end the evening, don't I?" I nodded.

"Good for you, Richard. It took you long enough to think of this. That's the spirit." Melissa was smiling at me as she spoke. Her smile can melt the heart of the strongest man.

I wanted to take her to the room immediately, but I knew she would not approve of that. I took her to a fancy restaurant that was kind of a hybrid of French and Indian cuisine. I plied her with a fancy Bordeaux wine, and looked into her eyes the entire meal. She looked right back into mine. We must have looked like a couple on a honeymoon.

After dinner I took her to a jazz club with soft romantic music. After half an hour there, Melissa said, "Richard this is wonderful. I love you. Let's cut this short and go to the hotel, okay?"

I could not resist and said, "That's the spirit, Melissa," and I led her up out of her seat, every male eye in the club following her graceful female form gliding towards the door where she was handed her coat. Then it hit me: She had told me she loved me.

We hailed a taxi, and once it was en route to the hotel I said to her, "I love you too, Melissa."

"Oh sweetheart," she replied, "I know that. I've known it for a long time. I just had to wait to tell you until you thought of the hotel option. Smart move, Richard."

Of course if she were normal, I would not have had to spend $700 for one night in a nice New York hotel. But would I have loved her as much if she were normal? Damn right I would have; who needs all this mystery? I figured it would all change after tonight. I was wrong.

The first time after a months-long romance is always special, and this night was no exception. We ordered a dessert from room service, along with a dessert wine, and while we were waiting I kissed her while my hands explored her body under her dress. She smiled and kissed me while I enjoyed myself.

Once the room service waiter left, she stood up, unhooked the straps of her dress, and slid it down her body to the floor. She stood before me naked for the first time. My eyes drank in the view of her perfect body. It was even better than all of my masturbation fantasies of it had been over these last five months.

"Your turn, Richard," she said, standing there in front of me, stark naked. She smiled her mischievous smile. "I've been wondering how you taste. Salty or sweet? Do you know?"

"No, gorgeous. I have no idea." I stripped, revealing my raging hard on. Melissa approached me.

"No touching," she said.

She knelt down in front of me and began gently to lick my balls. "Mmmm," she said. "Salty. I thought so. You're a sweet man, Richard, but not down here."

Gradually she licked up my shaft, grabbing it with her soft, small hands and giving it a couple of sweet pumps. Then she took the head in her mouth and swirled her tongue around it, probing the hole just a bit. I could tell that this was not her first blowjob.

She then took my cock into her mouth. I suppose my cock is average size, but I have never worried much about it. If it's too small, well no girls have ever complained, but maybe they are just too sweet to emasculate me that way.

In return I've never complained about a girl's body: whether her boobs were too big or too small, or whatever. We all have our bodies, and it is the people not the bodies we make love to. But loving Melissa's body as I did I had to admit: it was an extra benefit.