Luc of the Roses

I saw him coming from a long way off. There was something about how he carried himself, the way he seemed comfortable in his suit and tie that set him apart. It was like he knew what he wanted.

I kept peering at him over the top of my book.

“Damn!” I thought. “He fills out those pants quite nicely!”

He paused at the newspaper stand and bought a paper. While I couldn’t hear what they were saying, it was clear he was having a friendly exchange with the newspaper vendor. Something the vendor said made him laugh heartily, and the sound made me smile. By the time he left, the old man selling papers had a big grin on his face.

I could see him looking for a place to sit, but it was rush hour downtown and all the benches were full as people waited impatiently for their buses. I kept glancing at him, admiring what I saw. His gaze flickered across me as he shrugged and pulled out his newspaper and began to read where he stood.

The old lady sitting to the right of me began to cough. She made several disgusting noises, then hawked some phlegm onto the sidewalk. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, her moustache and chin hairs quivering. She began to cough again, then ended her coughing fit with a large belch.

She leaned over toward me. “Do you have any spare change?”

I started to brush her off with a negative answer, but then paused. I chuckled inside. “Oh, sure,” I said. I dug into my purse and pulled out a five dollar bill and handed it to her. Her eyes lit up in surprise and she looked at me.

Her gaze was unwavering. “Thank ‘ee,” she said. “You’ll have good luck today. I see it.”

“Good luck?” I asked. She nodded. Then she put something in my hand. “Here’s a charm for ye. It’ll bring ‘ee good fortune.” I began to protest, but she cut me off. “Ye shouldna try to turn away good luck when it comes to ‘ee.”

I didn’t quite know what to say to her odd comment. “Well, thanks,” I said lamely. She nodded, and just then a bus pulled up to the curb. She got up, and waddled over to the bus, leaving an empty seat next to me. I looked in my hand and frowned. The old woman had given me a tiny crystal heart on a cheap bit of necklace chain. The chain was worthless, but the tiny crystal sparkled in the morning sun.

Someone sat down beside me as I admired the way the crystal caught the light.

“That’s a pretty thing,” a rich, male voice said to my right. I looked up and was surprised to look into the eyes of the man I had been admiring. His gaze was penetrating, and I returned it in full measure. I looked back at the crystal, feeling a light blush on my face. I smiled and looked at him again.

“The old woman who just gave it to me... she said it was for good fortune. She told me I would have good luck today.”

The man’s eyebrow went up. “Really?” he said. He smiled. “That’s funny. That’s what the newspaper vendor told me, that today was my lucky day. Must have been something about my horoscope.”

I smiled at him. “I guess we’re both living a charmed life, then. At least for today.”

He chuckled. I heard a bus coming and turned to look. For a moment I thought it was my bus, and I stood to my feet. The man next to me stood as well. I realized that I had read the number wrong on the bus - that it wasn’t the one I was waiting for. But the man was looking at the bus as it pulled up to the curb.

Impulsively, I said, “That the bus you are waiting for?”

“Yeah, I guess it is.”

“Well, I guess we are living a charmed life today. It’s on time!” I said, pretending like I had been waiting for this bus all along. I somehow knew I didn’t want to have him get on that bus and disappear out of my life.

He stood aside and allowed me to board the bus first. It was crowded with people coming into town to work, and there was standing room only. I smiled serenely at him, but inside I was laughing hysterically to myself. I had no flippin’ clue where this bus was headed or where I would end up!

I grabbed the overhead strap to have something to hang on to as the bus pulled away from the curb. I could feel him standing next to me, his thigh touching mine as the crowd pressed us closer together.

The bus jerked to a quick stop to let passengers off and on. I stumbled a little, and fell against him from behind.

“Oh, I’m sorry!” I said. I wasn’t very. His thigh had felt firm, and the touch of his leg was stimulating.

He smiled at me over his shoulder. “It’s a little hard to keep your balance when you’re riding the Whiplash Express.”

I laughed at that. He had a mischievous look in his eyes, and I momentarily found myself caught in his gaze. He turned his head once more and faced forward.

I fixed a silly smile on my face and wondered what in heaven’s name I thought I was doing. Here I was, riding a bus to God knew where, with a man I didn’t know, who was probably married and had 2.5 kids and would get off to go work in some anonymous building downtown and whom I’d never see again.

I was so close to him, I could smell the light aroma of the after shave he wore. It made me feel giddy, and I could feel myself getting damp. I allowed the movement of the bus to swing my body closer to his, and for a moment I thought he was backing up slightly to press against me. I wished I was facing the other direction. I wondered if I would be able to see the outline of his cock in his pants.

The bus pulled over again and disgorged more passengers, including the two sitting next to where I stood. I slid into the seat next to the window. I took a breath, deciding that it was time to be brazen. I smiled up at him.

“Would you like to sit with me?” I asked.

He smiled back, and nodded as he sat down. “Thanks,” he said. My gaze flashed across his lap, and I nearly gasped aloud. I could swear I’d seen a bulge there. Maybe it was just extremely wishful thinking.

He put his newspaper down in his lap and calmly looked out the window. We were nearly out of the downtown area, and there were fewer people on the bus. I wondered where he was going.

I fished around for something to say, anything at all. “Looks like we are going to have a nice day,” I said. I cringed inside. ‘Idiot!’ I thought to myself. ‘Is that the best you can come up with?’

“Yeah, I think you are right,” he said. “But I predict that we’ll have a 30% chance of rain by this afternoon.”

“Oh? Really?” I asked. “How do you know.”

He pointed to the newspaper. “Weather forecast.”

I nodded sagely, and tried to think of something clever to say. I made small talk, but it seemed silly and trite to my ears. I wondered when he was going to get off the bus, when my chance to get to know him would be gone forever.

I looked out the window, and noted we were headed into the West Hills. The area of town where the wealthy people lived. I suddenly realized which bus line this was. The line ended at the top of the hill at the public rose gardens that overlooked the city. We were already approaching the outer edges of the park that bordered the gardens. I thought about how foolish it had been to jump on this bus, not even thinking about where it was going. Not to mention the fact that I was late for work. And he was probably some executive who lived in a posh house with a sophisticated wife. He probably rode the bus in a noble effort to reduce pollution and traffic congestion, unlike ordinary people like me who rode it because we couldn’t afford the monthly extortion that the parking garages charge.

As the bus rounded the corner approaching the rose gardens, I rang the bell to get off. It was better to flee now before I humiliated myself by being the last one left when the bus got to the very end of the route at the far side of the park.

He rose to let me out of my seat, and I smiled at him. His eyes were gorgeous. I stepped toward the door, and to my surprise, I noticed he was following behind me. We got off the bus together.

“Do you ride the bus up here often? To the rose gardens, that is,” he asked.

I felt a sense of panic. How could I confess to him that I never took the bus this way, that the only thing that had brought me this direction were his incredible eyes?

“Um... it’s been a while since I’ve been here,” I said. I continued to walk toward the rose garden as if this had been my plan all along. “I just like coming to see the roses when they are in bloom.”

“Me too,” he said. “A coincidence.”

I smiled at him, wondering if I was imagining things. His eyes gazed at me intensely, and a crooked grin gave him a devilish look.

“My name is Mark,” he said.

“I’m Joy,” I replied.

“Joy,” he said, as if my name had a delightful taste. He repeated it. “Joy. It suits you.”

I flushed slightly, not sure what to make of that comment. By now we had reached the first row of roses. It was still early, and from our vantage point we could only one other person in the park - an old man who seemed to not have noticed our arrival.

Mark bent over to smell the rose blooms from the first bush. The roses were a deep red, and the morning dew still clung to the petals.

“Ahh. Exquisite,” he said.

I admired his firm ass as he bent over. His pants were trim and stylish, and the fabric outlined his buttocks in a most pleasing manner. I suppressed the desire to run my hand on his backside.

“Smell it,” he commanded.

I looked at him, startled. It took me a moment to realize that he meant the rose.

I bent over and inhaled the scent of the rose. It filled my head with perfume. I took another deep breath, conscious of the fact that while I was bending over, the fabric of my own skirt was clinging tightly to the moons of my ass. I suspected that the hem had probably risen high enough to be entrancing.

Mark made a pleasurable sound in his throat, and I guessed that my suspicion was correct. I made a point of smelling another bloom and vocalized a small cry of pleasure. As I straightened up, my eyes darted quickly past Mark’s crotch, and I was delighted to see the unmistakable signs of a growing bulge there.

That bulge made me feel bold. I walked on to the next bush, conscious of the sway of my hips. I spotted a rose bush that allowed me to take up a position facing him. I bent over and sniffed, the low cut neckline of my blouse falling forward to reveal the dangling globes of my breasts.

“Spectacular,” he said. I looked upward at him and smiled. He nodded at the roses in front of me. “The flowers, I mean.”

He looked a little uncertain, as if he weren’t sure what to say or do next. We wandered on, deeper into the rose garden. He walked to another rose bush, one with miniature white flowers. He squatted down to read the tag that identified the rose’s name. “Lucky,” he said. He looked up at me with a smile. “Seems like we have good luck all around us today.”

I moved closer to him until my knee was lightly touching his arm. My skirt was short, and I knew that at that angle it wouldn’t take much for him to see my lavender colored slip and panties. I looked up and noted that the old man had moved to another area of the garden and was now out of sight. No one else was around.

I touched his shoulder lightly. He looked into my eyes, and seeing the invitation there, reached out and put a gentle hand on my calf. I responded by taking a stance that spread my legs a little wider.

His fingers began slowly tracing a trail upwards, and I was grateful that today was a day I had chosen to wear stockings and not pantyhose. I touched the top of his head and ran my fingers through his hair, feeling the soft brush of his fingertips on my knee, and then moving upward to my thigh.

He hesitated at that point, as if asking permission. I pulled my skirt up higher on my thigh, raising the bar. He smiled and his uncertainty vanished as he sensed my consent. I felt his hand stroke upward on my thigh, his thumbs lightly massaging the muscle. His fingertips brushed lightly against my panties, and I knew he felt the dampness there.

“I see there is dew on the rose,” he said, his voice husky.

My nostrils flared as I felt the pressure of his thumb through the silken fabric of my panties. “The rose seems to be overflowing with nectar,” I replied.

“Nectar of the Gods,” he said, and then his fingers pulled aside the fabric and a fingertip pressed deeper, penetrating between my labia into the hot and juicy cauldron beyond.

“Oh!” I gasped. His touch sent a writhing shock of electrical excitement up and down my spine as he gently massaged the rosebud of my clit.

“Here,” he said. “Put your foot up on my shoulder.” He lifted one foot, and moved it upward so that I could prop my leg up high, leaning on him for balance. His face was under my skirt, and I felt him tug on my panties to move them aside.

And then I felt his tongue. He lapped at me like a cat drinking milk, then sucked my clit into his mouth. I felt my heart pounding, and I closed my eyes as a moan escaped my lips. His tongue suckled me, and toyed with me, darting all around as it explored my labia, then splaying over my clit and pressing hard.

I gave another groan as I happily tried to shift to give him greater access. I opened my eyes.

With shock, I saw the old man approaching us. Somehow he had reappeared and was only two hedgerows away. I was certain he couldn’t see Mark through the foliage. Well, fairly certain.

I reluctantly pulled back, and felt his tongue disengage. “We have company,” I whispered as I put my foot back down on the ground.

“Damn,” he muttered, as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Damn, damn, damn.” He stood to his feet, and brushed the grass from the knees of his trousers.

We smiled at the old man, and I was sure that Mark was wondering the same thing; what had he seen?

“Good morning,” the old man said jovially. “Not often I see folks out here this time of the day.”

“Good morning,” we replied in innocent unison.

“You enjoying the roses?” he asked.

Mark smiled. “The fragrance of the rose is intoxicating.” I smiled. I knew he wasn’t talking about the variety that grew on bushes.

“Have you been over to the area by the gazebo?” the old man asked, pointing to the area he had just come from. “The roses are sweet there. Those roses were chosen because they are the most fragrant. Lots of weddings there. I guess the folks like the scent of roses while they are getting hitched. Over thirty varieties, just in the Gazebo garden.”

“Thirty! That’s impressive!” Mark said appreciatively. Personally, I was impressed at how well he was able to carry on a normal conversation, considering the fact that the scent from my pussy juices must have been filling his nostrils.

The old man looked at us and a sly grin came across his face. “Not everyone bothers to walk clear back into that area of the gardens. It’s a little more remote there. More private like.”

Mark’s grin widened. “We’ll go take a look. Thanks for the suggestion.”

He took my hand and we began walking that direction. I giggled. “Do you think he knew?”

Mark laughed. “I think he suspected.”

We wound our way to the farthest part of the gardens. We passed underneath an ivy archway, and found ourselves in a secluded place with a beautiful white gazebo on one end. The roses that ringed the circular area were in full bloom, and the fragrance was heady.

I smiled in delight. “How beautiful!”

“Yes. How incredibly beautiful.”

I turned to look at Mark. He was gazing at me, and I had the feeling that roses were the farthest thing from his mind.

He wrapped his arm around my waist and pulled me close. Like a starving man, his mouth descended on mine and captured my lips in his hungry kiss. His left hand was warm and firm at my back, while his right hand tugged at my nipple through the fabric of my blouse.

I moaned as his caresses became more intense. His tongue penetrated my mouth, and I sucked on it like a miniature cock. My own hands had begun to explore as they wandered lower and lower. I brushed against the front of his trousers, and the muffled sound of enjoyment he made through our sealed lips stirred me to greater desire. I began to rub harder on the stiff bulge that was growing larger.

His hand slipped down the front of my skirt as his fingers found my bush. He grabbed me on the mons, putting firm but gentle pressure on the entire area. I groaned louder in delight as he slipped a finger inside. I could tell how slick and wet I was, and he smiled in delight through our kisses.

His finger began to rub slowly, maddeningly slow, as he penetrated me deeply with his finger, then pulled it out to rub the length of my clit. I shivered as he slowly began moving in a rhythm, and my hips began to follow his lead.

My kisses became more urgent and my breathing faster. I couldn’t stand it anymore, to be so close to his cock and not feel it inside me. Our hands got tangled as I fumbled with his belt buckle and zipper. He laughed, lips still suckling mine, and I noticed he had increased the pressure on my clit. My knees were getting weak.

I finally succeeded in freeing his cock. It had grown to an admirable size, and it felt thick and hot in my hand. I stroked it lightly, and this time it was Mark’s turn to moan. I reluctantly disengaged myself from his lips and dropped to my knees. The grass was moist and cool as I knelt in front of him, and the scent of the surrounding roses filled my head.

I felt like a pagan worshipper in front of my god. His cock was upthrust, rigid and full. For a moment I paused to admire the velvety soft skin encasing his rock hard erection. Then I gently reached out and touched it with my tongue. His taste was delightful and I savored it as my tongue captured the bead of dew that had emerged at the tip.

Mark’s breathing had become ragged with expectation. I smiled, knowing he ached for my mouth to enfold him while I continued to tease him, tantalize him, with my probing tongue. I finally could stand it no more, and I stuffed my mouth with his cock. My tongue began stroking him and exploring the texture of him. I took both hands, one lightly massaging the base of his shaft while the other gently tugged and massaged his balls.

He let out a loud groan at this point and grabbed the back of my head, pulling my face closer. His cock slipped deeper into my throat. I could feel his knees buckling as I sucked and massaged his cock with feverish delight. His cock was as hard as granite. I knew the intensity of the feeling and the erotic nature of our encounter was about to make him cum.

It was with great effort that he pulled back, extracting himself from my greedy mouth. “Not yet,” he rasped. I felt a mixture of disappointment at feeling his hard shaft slip out of my mouth, and anticipation at what was to come next.

His breathing was still ragged and I knew it was only with a great deal of self-control that he had been able to pull away. He sank to his knees so he was facing me. A small corner of my mind wondered if he were going to regret the grass stains on his pants. He reached out and palmed my breasts, rubbing the tips through my blouse until both my nipples were erect. He slipped one hand inside my blouse while the other worked at unbuttoning it to grant him more freedom. One by one the buttons came undone, until the silky fabric slipped off my shoulders and bound my arms from behind.

His kisses were hotter and more demanding, and I sensed that his appearance of self control was mostly a sham. He gently bit my earlobe and my neck as his lips blazed a trail downward.

He made a low sound of appreciation, like a tiger purring, and then he dipped his head. His mouth was hot and moist as he sucked first one nipple into his mouth, and then the other. A slight breeze in the air played with my moistened nipples, causing them to contract into turgid peaks. His noises of appreciation became muffled as he buried his face between my breasts, all the while gently tweaking my nipples with his fingers.