Three Nights To Remember
If you can say anything about her, it is that she is naturally erotic. Every move she makes is a sexual gesture. Every word is a double entendre that eludes to a pleasure of some kind. It would be accurate to say she oozes sex. She moves like an erotic dancer and glides through her days leaving men weak behind her and women feeling something they may never have before.
She lives for some form of sexual intercourse, or at least seducing some poor soul who has fallen under her spell. She simply drips sexual depravity, showing as much as the law will allow and to whoever will look.
She did not like clothes, not wearing them whenever possible, and choosing--when she wore them--the ones that revealed as much of her as plausible without risking outright arrest. She never wears underwear often strikes poses that offer peeks at her privates, or at least under the thin material that covers them.
To say she is mindful of her gifts, her allure,
her sexiness, is an understatement of gigantic proportions. She is aware which movements are seductive, prurient, lustful, and effective at attracting men's sexual attention and keeping it as long as possible.
She is a King Cobra at hypnotizing men into sexual compliance, and she never misses a chance to lead a man into her sexual lair. Like a Black Widow, she lures a naive fellow into her web and devours his energy and sexual appetite. It is definitely intentional. She plans, practices, and does everything she can to achieve her goal of seducing every male she comes close to and many women, which I learned she has done both.
Her name even sounds sensual. Clarissa. When she says it, she draws out the middle syllable as if it is a tasty chocolate that she wants to hold in her mouth as long as possible. It is a combination between clitoris and piece. Just hearing say her name can be a sexual experience.
The first time I met Clarissa I knew the moment I heard her speak I wanted to have her in my life, at least under me. I was also aware, of course, that I would only be one of many. It became an obsession, and I thought about her every day after that for years.
She wore a dress that first time that could not have fit tighter if it had been painted on her. Every curve, every succulent inch of her body was held firm by the nearly sheer, delicate fabric of her elegant long, slinky outfit. She stood and exposed herself to those present, as if she was who they came to see. After they saw her, it was clear they were happy they had come to wherever they were.
Eventually, I introduced myself and her smile was enough to give me sexual fantasies for a year or more. It was an event where she wasn't there main feature. She wasn't even a part of the program, but you know if you go to a wedding or an event and someone says, "Did you see her?" and everyone knows who it was they meant? It was that kind of a thing. People remembered her, even though she was just a guest, like most everyone else, but she stood out and everyone, man or woman, remembered her.
"Are you with the organization?" she asked after I told her my name.
"I am just here with a friend," I said. "He is a member." She nodded, as if the same thing applied to her, and raised her glass. It was a toast to 'guests' and she took a sip.
"You from around here, David?" she asked.
"Burbank," I said.
"North Hollywood," she said, answering the unasked question.
Of course, I thought. The perfect place for a person who stands out so much to be from.
"What do you do in Burbank?" she asked.
"Pasadena," I said. "I work in Pasadena for Granite Publisher."
"You a writer?" she asked.
"Editor," I said. "I am a glorified proofreader."
"Well, glorified is better than nothing at all," she said. "I am impressed anyway. I've never met an editor/proofreader before. Glorified or not," she said.
"This thing is a drag," I said. "Want to go find something more fun to do?"
"I'd love a little fun," she said. "Any ideas?"
"One, but I am embarrassed to say it aloud," I said.
"Don't be embarrassed. I may like it," she said. "You never know unless you try. Why don't we try dinner first," she said. "That should be safe, then maybe what you are also thinking about."
I was about as pleased as I could be. Here was the most beautiful and sexy woman I had seen in years, and she was suggesting we go to dinner and maybe more. I didn't want to seem too eager but it was a losing battle to avoid sounding eager.
"Dinner would be wonderful," I gushed. "Do you like seafood?"
"They call me Shrimp Girl," she said with a sexy grin.
"How about an early dinner? This place is a drag," I said.
"I was thinking the same thing," she replied seductively. Even when she said something nonsexual, it came out dripping with sensuousness, suggestive and depraved. She smiled in a way that implied an eagerness to engage in sexual adventure.
I chanced a quick glance at that sleek figure underneath her skintight and long, sexy dress. She seemed to appreciate my clandestine appraisal and turned away, grinning, as if she knew what I was thinking, which I am sure she did. I was thinking sexual, and I was sure she knew it.
I could almost taste her as we moved toward our cars. I watched her from behind and her bottom swayed seductively under that dress as she approached her Jaguar convertible. I thought what a perfect car for what moved under that sexy, velvety dress. It was as sexy a view as I had ever had. Pure sex, absolutely prurient, totally seductive, absolutely addictive. I followed her like a puppy in heat, hoping for more than a lustful view.
I imagined her naked under that dress, pictured a lovely bottom, perfect breasts, wonderfully long and sexy legs, and I envisioned a trimmed bush circling a sweet and beautiful pussy slit, with delicate and rosy pink, puffy lips.
There was nothing about her that didn't cry out sex, and I stiffened as I walked to my car. I adjusted myself in my pants and sat behind the wheel before starting my car. We had agreed she'd follow me, but I knew following other people, especially men, was not something she did much of. She was a take-the-lead woman, and I was eager to follow her guidance.
I had picked a famous seafood restaurant near the harbor that I knew had a secluded section in the back that I would ask for. We parked next to one another in the parking lot and she brushed against me as we walked to the door.
I ask for a table in the back and the waiter led us to just what I wanted. There was a candle on a small table and just enough light to let me see her lovely face. She smiled as she placed her napkin on her lap. "Very romantic," she said. "You have expectations beyond dinner?"
"One can only hope," I said wiping my mouth with my napkin. She chucked, as if she felt she was a prize at a raffle and I had just bought a ticket.
"That's true," she said. "You want something, you've got to go for it," she added with a sexy and mischievous smile.
She ordered oysters and grinned at me as if she'd just said an obscene word. "Probably don't need any help," she said, "but it can't hurt, right?"
I ordered the same, plus shrimp and a bottle of wine. Before I did, I asked her what she liked.
"I like things with alcohol," she replied. "Champagne is good. Moonshine is okay. If it removes my inhibitions, then it's working its magic."
As we ate I imagined what the evening might bring. I pictured her sitting naked at the table and smiled to myself. She looked like she knew what I was thinking. Her ankle touched my leg and she didn't move it.
