A note to readers: I sometimes write sections of my stories out of sequence or to ensure that a specific idea or scene is captured when I think about it. I hope that when I fit the parts together they appear seamless and the resulting story does not 'jump shift' when the parts are melded together.
Below is such an example of a scene that I did not want to lose when the inspiration struck. I expect that the scene will be part of a coming chapter of You Can't Spell MILF Without M-I-L.
I decided to post it separately just to see how it stood on its own. I've placed it in the Erotic Couplings category (and not the Incest/Taboo category) to separate it for now.
SPOILER ALERT! Since this may end up in a future chapter of the story you may find that reading it reveals too much of future events in the story.
*****
I looked up. I stared. I mean, I just stood there, motionless, with my eyes fixed on her. I'm sure my mouth was agape.
Her dazzling smile slowly waned. "Well, say something," she pleaded.
I said the first thing that came into my mind. "Janet, you look TFS."
Her eyebrows arched and confusion clouded her gorgeous face. "TFS?"
"Totally Fucking Stunning."
It is always a joy to watch someone you love bloom with raw emotion when they feel good about themselves. Not pride, not arrogance just that deep seated feeling of self worth for which we all have a primal need.
She shyly dropped her eyes, not having sought or expected such a raw reaction. She smiled a demure, but genuine smile created by a mixture of happiness, satisfaction, relief and confidence.
Janet floated into my arms, her entire body molded to mine. I felt her eyelashes on my neck as she blinked. I could feel the soft skin of her cheek and the edge of her lips shift below my ear as she spoke.
"How is it you always know the perfect thing to say to me?"
"I don't even need to think about it. You just bring the words out of me, Janet."
"I'm going to need to go back and start again," she sighed, "For you, my dear, sweet man, have turned me into a puddle."
I realized that I was, more or less, holding her up. She was draped against me, my arms tightly around her and her arms clinging to my neck.
I felt her body rise against me as she stood under her own power. She placed the softest of all kisses on my cheek and walked away.
"You look TFS from this view, too," I called after her.
She went into her bathroom; I heard the sink running, then nothing for a period of time. After what seemed to me an eternity, but was actually only two minutes, I heard the door open. She walked toward me again, this time using that runway strut that fashion models use.
"Stop it," I begged. "You're killing me."
I will attempt to describe the vision that she was. I am incapable of truly communicating the beauty, the grace, the raw carnal splendor that she embodied.
Her long blonde hair was swept back over her the top half of her ear on each side of her head. It was collected in a not loose, not severe gathering at the back of her head. Light shading of color on her eyelids and mascara made her already captivating blue eyes even more amazing. Her lips were once again the color of sweet, pink frosting (I was sensing that this was a favorite) that allowed their sensuousness to be accented but not overpowering and fit perfectly with the color of her tan skin.
Her ears were adorned with simple diamond studs, I estimated them at a carat each. They sparkled and flashed in the light, drawing attention to her long, graceful neck. A hammered silver necklace about a half inch wide circled the base of her neck, lying flat against her collar bone.
Over each shoulder lay a thin, round strap that descended to meet the top of her black, silk dress. The fabric collected loosely, sexily but not provocatively over and around each breast. The material draped perfectly between her two unharnessed mammaries and on her sides the material was taut, but not tight as it circled to meet the strap at her shoulder blades. Between the straps on her back the silk gathered and flowed in a dramatic fashion, similar to the effect between her breasts, allowing her tanned back to be displayed.
The dress fell softly over her flat tummy and the gentle curve of her hips. Somehow it seemed to dip in below her behind. It ended at the middle of her thighs all around.
Her tanned, toned arms never looked better and she wore a silver watch with a white face on her left wrist, a single silver cuff that matched the necklace above her right bicep. Only the ring finger of her left hand was embellished with that blue sapphire ring. Her fingernails were a perfect, muted French Tip.
The effect of her legs, exposed from mid-thigh to toe was heightened (literally as well as figuratively) by the five inch spike heel sandals with the half inch platform. Jet black leather, the heels arched her foot perfectly. A single, thin strap that crossed behind the heel and buckled at the side of the ankle worked in concert with a single, slightly wider strap that ran straight across the top of her peds, just behind the line where her toes met her foot. Each nail was painted a perfect, bright red guaranteed to draw attention but not distract.
In short, Janet was beauty, class, sex, dignity and style all packaged into one feminine human.
Her breasts bounced lightly with each strutting step as she approached me a second time.
"Oh, man Janet! I do not think I have ever seen a woman look so perfect as you do tonight. We'll need to do two things before we leave. First, call the fire department and tell them to increase the number of ambulance crews because of all the men who will have heart attacks looking at you. Second, we need to call the police department and get a police protection detail to keep all the other women from attacking you in fits of jealous rage."
She slapped at my arm and told me to be quiet as she blushed. She then wrapped her arm in mine and bent her head into my shoulder. "Tom, please stop. I'm not used to such effusive flattery and you're making me feel embarrassed."
