Memoirs of a Lady

"As for us, querida, I now know that someday we will meet again. I do not know where or when, or what the outcome of that meeting will be. But I know it will happen. For now, it is enough for me to know that you have read these words. The passage of time has done nothing to diminish the power of your flame, Erica. But do not forget the smoke. When the time is right, when you are ready for me, remember to turn to the shadows. I will be there, waiting for you." (

Smoke From A Hidden Flame

by Gaucho. Reprinted with permission.)

I waited. I looked in the shadows. I sought him in the smoke. I waited. Was he playing me like a finely tuned instrument? Was he there at all? The moon waxed, waned, and turned full again. I waited. Still, he refused to show himself.

A storm was building, bringing a gunmetal sky and sending the surf crashing onto the narrow beach at the foot of my cliff. It was going to be a bad one. I filled the oil lamps and had dry wood brought in for the fireplace. As the wind rose, my thoughts turned to other lovers, other times. I went to the small box that held so many priceless memories, tied up in satin ribbons. The alchemy of time turns scraps of paper into treasures more precious than gold.

A letter from Sam almost leapt out to me, begging to be read. Sam and I were always good for each other. Uninhibited, carefree, and knowing how to give as well as to take pleasure, Sam became more than a client. He is now my friend, the only one I trust with my secrets, the executor of my estate.

Our Parisian spring is so long ago, so far away. I let his words wrap around me like a blanket, taking me back to our first tryst.

April 18

New York

My Dear Erica,

I trust this letter finds you well. I promised to send for you when I returned to New York, and enclosed you will find your ticket for the Concord flight of May 1. I have planned a fortnight of debauchery for your pleasure. Buying the ticket made me want to hold you again, and feel your hand in mine. You are so pretty and bright. I love the way you throw your hair back when you laugh.

I recall that party in Paris where we met. Jacques and I were celebrating the merger of our companies, and he gave you to me to seal the contract. You were angry at being treated that way, and rightly so. I offered to leave you alone and give you the second bedroom of my suite, but you wouldn't hear of it. "I keep my promises, even when they are made by someone else," you said, with passion burning in you fiery eyes. You pulled my arm to your breast and said, "I will show you the City of Light as no one else can."

What an ass Jacques was. One of my worst contracts to begin with, he only acknowledged me when he was horny, and then was a crude, clumsy lover, doing little more than pumping until he came. I was indignant at being treated like a prize in a carnival, but it was a relief to be free of him. Besides, Sam was kinda cute, and he smelled so good.

We danced, and learned that our bodies seemed to respond to each other on their own accord. Our tango was seamless, as if we'd practiced for years. We flowed to the logic of the music, letting it take us to new plateaus of union, moving before thought, simply reacting. Then came the ballad. You threw your arms around my neck and drew me in close, pushing your breasts into my chest, grinding your crotch onto mine. When my cock began its inevitable rise, you reached down and straightened it, breathing in my ear, "Oh, I will make you feel so good." I complained that it wasn't fair that you could feel me, but that I couldn't get to you, you took my hand and slipped it under your dress and onto your smooth and very wet pussy. I put fingers on either side of your swollen clitoris to tease it further. You moaned as the music changed to an old torch song. Before long, you were biting your lip, your body trembling as you reached your orgasm. When the song ended, you grabbed my hand and led me out the door.

Oh my! Do I ever remember that? Coming in waves, and trying not to scream. I can still taste the blood where I bit my lip. Sam was one of just two men who had me come before he did and always seemed to derive pleasure from my orgasm, the way I do from a man's. My professor was the other one.

I hailed us a cab, and started to give him the hotel name, but you interrupted, and told the driver to take us to the Eiffel Tower. He tried to tell you that it was closed for the night, but you insisted, covering my mouth with yours as you climbed into my lap, cutting off any discussion. We kissed all the way down the Avenue D'Iena, and across the Seine. Somewhere, your dress came unbuttoned, and I showered your lovely breasts with kisses. I was dimly aware of the traffic that was passing us, but you had me so focused on my pleasure that our arrival at the park the tower sits in came as a complete surprise. Looking up at the floodlit masterpiece, I was awed to silence. You had to remind me to pay the cabby.

You led me through the park and to a service entrance that you seemed to know would be open. The elevators were shut down for the night, so we climbed the staircases, pausing to kiss at the landings. Finally, we attained the observation deck. You took me to the side, pointing out the other floodlit monuments and buildings, all the time holding my arm around you, snuggling close, making sure that you were always touching me. When we had completed the circuit, you turned to me and softly said, "Now for the most magnificent sight of all," as you pulled my trousers down and knelt to worship my cock. At first, you just licked it, thoroughly washing it like a cat does its paw. Satisfied, you took me into your mouth, and did something amazing with your throat. It was like it was contracting up and down the length of my erection, milking it in a way that I had never felt before. I couldn't take it for long and soon exploded. When you felt me start, you pulled me out of you, and pointed my cock at your pretty face. The first shot hit your nose. You corrected your aim and the rest went into your mouth. When I was at last done, I pulled you to your feet and kissed you, savoring my seed mixed with your now familiar taste.

I remember those floodlights shining up at us. It was like giving a blowjob on a stage, with all of Paris watching. God, what a turn on! Then Sam picked me up and attacked my mouth, his tongue seeking out any semen that I hadn't swallowed yet. I had never had a man do that before, and not many since. Of course, Sam tasted good, and knew it, but it was so sexy to share his come with him. Later, he would teach me to "snowball," to hold his come in my mouth and pass it back and forth between us in a languorous kiss. Hmm, a good thing that he is so sweet.

The luggage restrictions on Concorde won't be a problem. Pack light. We have excellent shopping in New York, and we are going spend days buying whatever you want. But do bring the nipple jewelry that we bought in "Shop X."

Do you recall how you challenged me to put them on you in the back of the shop? "Double dog dare you" is what I think you said. The shop did have half a dozen customers in it, but we were at the back and there wasn't anyone close, so I unzipped your shirt and licked a nipple up to erection. I can still see those little bumps guarding the perimeter of your areola like sentries. I took the wire hook and bent it around the hard nipple, pinching it down while you bit your lip to stifle a moan. The other nipple was already hard, but I liked licking you in public, so I did before clamping it, too.

You grabbed the back of my head and attacked my mouth moaning, "Fuck me, fuck me now. Right here, right now." Your hand started working on my belt and buttons, freeing my suddenly erect cock. Turning you around, and bending you over a counter, I lifted your dress, and slammed into you, mounting you in short swift strokes. Little moans escaped your mouth even though you had your arm muffling it. It was so outrageous, so very hot that I came very quickly, filling your cunt with sperm. You smoothed your rumpled skirt and headed to the front of the store.

I handed the sales clerk the empty package, telling him, "She decided to wear them out. Show him, dear." With that you blushed and pulled the zipper down, showing him, and whoever else was looking, the three gold chains that were now connecting your nipples. As you walked ahead of me, out of the store, I noticed that your thighs were shiny with our mixed fluids.

I still have that set of nipple baubles. I've had others, some much more expensive, but none with fonder memories. I didn't normally get that aggressive with my clients. Sam just brought out that side of me. To have him put them on in the shop was one thing, but I didn't really expect him to fuck me over a counter, and with half a dozen or more witnesses! It was incredible! I didn't have any way to clean up, so I just had to wear the evidence back to the hotel suite. I felt like such a slut, especially after Sam had me show the sales clerk how nice the chains looked. I didn't think that I could be embarrassed by anything sexual, but this man kept surprising me. He still does.

We will be in the City for three days before heading upriver to my place on the Hudson. They will be mostly free for shopping and sightseeing. I do have tickets to "Cats" for Tuesday night, but that is really our only definite plan. Make a list of what you want to see here, and I will see that you love New York as much as you made me love Paris. Or maybe we could just stay in the suite at The Algonquian. The room service is excellent.

We will go to my home, "Fire Thorne" on Wednesday, where a dozen friends with their companions will arrive by Friday to stay for two weeks of fun and games. I am so looking forward to seeing you again, I'm counting the hours ‘till you are back in my arms, my dear.

Always,

Sam

Fire Thorne was beautiful, the perfect location for "a fortnight of debauchery." Set on the banks of the Hudson, it is a very private estate, surrounded by a hedgerow of pyracantha and locked gates. I especially remember my last day there. The guests had left the previous afternoon, and the staff would not be back until later in the day. Sam grilled steaks and baked potatoes for dinner, while I tossed a salad. Washed down with a hearty burgundy, it was a good simple meal.

After two weeks of a wild party in which sex in all sorts of ways was the prime ingredient, it is odd that evening of long slow sex is what comes to mind most vividly when I think of that time with Sam. After dinner, he put Miles Davis' Kinda Blue on and asked me to dance. Dancing with Sam is making love in a most intimate way, matching move and counter move. We worked our way around the terrace, glorying in each others' presence. I was so happy to just be there, a part of that wonderful moment. When the music finished breaking my heart, Sam took me to his bed and made long, sweet love to me, celebrating our unique union.

I had an early flight, so we were up at dawn. The mist was still low on the river, and there was enough chill in the air to make the terrycloth robe feel good. Sam made us a chili omelet that we ate on the terrace, watching the robins gathering twigs to build their nests. He asked me to stay and become the mistress of Fire Thorne. But I could not. I had promises to keep, and contracts to complete.