The Red Bracelet

Note: this is a somewhat long and slowly developing story.

Everything started when I woke up on a later autumn day with a strange idea in my head. Well actually it started the first time I saw Bianca a couple of years ago, when she was a work colleague of my then girlfriend. I met her a few times at work parties and even though I quickly noticed that she was both gorgeous and desirable, we didn't really get any opportunity to talk. That changed after a beach party... When I saw her in a bikini, I decided that I was going to get to know her. How shallow, will you think? Well, yes.

And we did get to know one another. At the time I was really in love with my girlfriend, Jennifer, so I merely enjoyed Bianca's company, and beauty, with nothing more in mind than an occasional glance down her blouse. I'm serious! But then something changed. My girlfriend got a promotion that soon transformed into relocation across the country. I was really heartbroken: not only by loosing my girlfriend but also by seeing how easy taking the decision to move away from me had been for her. I thought we had something that could have grown into a lifelong relationship. Boy was I wrong: I learned through Bianca that my ex had found a new guy barely two months after moving out.

On my part, during those few months after the separation, I dealt with this kind of careless desertion with the help of a few friends, especially Bianca. Even then, as lonely and "on the hunt" as I was for a new relationship as I was, I still didn't think of her as a potential partner. Then again, she had a guy in her life, Frank, whom I didn't know very well. I met a few girls during my first bachelor year, with nothing more to show for it than a few very good, sweaty nights. Through it all, Bianca was encouraging me to go out even when I didn't feel like it, helping me to choose which clothes to wear and especially which clothes *not* to wear.

Without even realizing it, we were starting to spend more and more time together. Be it alone at my place (she worked only five blocks away from my apartment and often came after work for a beer or two), going out for movie or a good restaurant and even sometimes at her place (where I sometimes went to fix up a few things around the place: her accountant boyfriend didn't even know they had tools in the laundry room.). When her own romantic life began to deteriorate, I tried my best to help her think through all the usual questions and doubts, *again* without even thinking of myself! I was only glad to be able to return the favor.

My generous innocence suddenly changed one day during that same autumn, a few weeks before waking up with the idea that made everything after possible. I was at her place, her boyfriend gone for a short business trip, helping her to make a big batch of pumpkin soup. As was usual I didn't even notice how sexy she was, with her old jeans and tank top. But when I happened to see her reach for the top shelf of the cupboard, up on her toes, for the last mason jug, something clicked inside my head. The fall of her long ponytail on her back, the curve of the small of her back transforming into her hips and ass, her round, womanly thighs stretching the jeans and most of all her full-size breasts, jutting forward because of her position... A lightning storm fired all through my brain in a second, blowing away the last remnants of my innocence.

My eyes lost focus and luckily some instincts made them look away from those breasts of hers, for when I came to, Bianca was laughing, asking me whether I was on the moon or further in outer space. What would have happened had I blanked out with my eyes glued to her breasts? Who knows? I wove my way as best I could through the stressful next few minutes, but as far as I could tell, Bianca didn't realize anything out of the ordinary. Yet for me, everything had changed. As soon as I thought that she had forgotten about my temporary moon exploration, I excused myself and went to the bathroom. Leaning against the countertop, I tried to regain my bearings, knowing full well that I'd have to spend the rest of the afternoon with her, all the while *not* staring at her body.

How on earth could I have missed that for so long? I now remembered that day on the beach, nearly obsessing about her, how incredible she looked in her black bikini. Where had that memory been for the last year and a half? Damn sometimes the brain could play tricks on itself! I flushed the toilet and got out, somehow managing to get through the rest of the day with her without looking like a complete degenerate.

I got a grip of myself during the next few days and finally realized that I had been in love and lust for that woman for a long time. For some reason a hidden part of my psyche decided to hide that fact from the rest of me, and now that phase was over. The only remaining question was: what to do about it. It's hard enough to transmute a friendship into a romantic relationship without having to deal with a troublesome boyfriend. Even though the thought crossed my eccentric mind, I couldn't deal with Frank in a typical gangster fashion. Nor could I, a much more sane approach; slowly convince Bianca that her boyfriend was a complete moron never worthy of her extraordinary grace and majesty. Nah... As true as that was, I owed more to her than to try and destroy her relationship.

So what else then? I couldn't just keep on going as if nothing had happened, by being the perfect gentlemen friend, watching from the sidelines, as months after months would go by. For one thing, I'd be watching her breasts. And her ass. And thighs too, and ooooh, her nice smooth, oh-so-slightly rounded belly, and her hair, yes, her incredible hair... Well, you get the picture. Idleness would not do.

So that's how, a few weeks later, somewhere near the end of November, I woke up with an idea: I would let her decide if she wanted to be courted by another man. How to do that without compromising myself? By sending her an anonymous letter. I spent a few hours that very morning writing the letter. Then I waited a few days to re-read it and make a few corrections. After a few more days I had a good letter that, I hoped, would have the desired effect. I talked about beauty and desire, a bit about lust, and a few lines of honest prose praising her beauty. With mention of her breasts and buttocks. I didn't want her to think I was an adolescent poet wanna-be with pure intentions in mind.

In a sense, the most important part in my letter was the final paragraph. Since she couldn't write back to me, I told her to wear a red bracelet to all social events she went to in the next few weeks. If the anonymous author of the letter saw that red bracelet, it would be the signal to write another letter. If she didn't like the letter, I asked her to forget about it.

So there I was with my letter printed and unsigned, sealed in a non-descript envelop, ready to be mailed. A week after waking up with the idea, I was dropping the letter in a mailbox and tried my best to wait for a red bracelet.

Nothing happened the following week. Christmas preparations were under way and we decided that this year Bianca was going to host the huge Christmas party. Every year since the end of high school, her old gangs gets together and have a huge Christmas bash, at least 2-3 days long. I've been happy to attend the last two years and it's without a doubt the biggest party of the year. This year she had enlisted me for help. Her boyfriend would spend five days on a last minute business trip and wouldn't be able to help much. So two days before he was supposed to leave, a Saturday, we spent the entire day preparing the apartment itself. Frank was with us most of the day, but we had a lot of fun nonetheless.

At first I thought it was my imagination going into overdrive, but I noticed around noon that Bianca was teasing me. She wasn't dressed in a way that was obviously sexy, but the skirt she wore over white tights was quite short nonetheless. And her tee shirt, a simple tee-shirt, was old and thin and very form-fitting. When I became aware that something was different about her, I thought that she was playing some sort of teasing game with her boyfriend. She talked to me about some of those games, a very few times, but I'd never seen her playing one while I was there. I was starting to have problems concentrating on whatever I was doing. The first time I hit my finger with the hammer, because she had bent down right in front of me, she turned around looking genuinely concerned. The second time I did it, about an hour later, while she was hanging Christmas lights above the guest room's door, facing me, with her large breasts in full display, she looked at me with a small smile.

What in hell was happening here? Never before had she done anything quite like this! She had modeled new clothes for me a few times in the past, even a swimsuit once, but never before did I receive such a "vibe" from her. What had caused such a change? The letter? Could she have found out it was me? Impossible! And where was the damned red bracelet I was anxiously waiting for? It couldn't be the letter. So what? Try as I might, I couldn't figure it out. And I was so anxious about that red bracelet that I couldn't fully enjoy it.

Pressing a breast against my left arm while decorating the tree, with her boyfriend standing just to my right; bending down towards me, on the other side of the tree, to hang a Christmas ball al the while showing me her breasts shamelessly; standing right next to me to rearrange some gnome figurines on a shelf while I was kneeling down trying to figure out how to plug everything safely, offering me a real close-up look at her wonderful legs and tempting me to look up her skirt, which I did when she slowly turned to leave; finding, in that very brief instant of uncovered flesh, that her tights were in fact stockings; taking the classic pose while talking on the phone with her old best friend, bent over the counter with one leg straight and the other bent, offering me an unmatched look at her ass; stretching her arms behind her back, blatantly pushing her big breasts outwards while I was taking to her about Christmas balls that were too big to be hung in the tree... It just didn't stop.

We ate dinner all three together and even with her boyfriend very near she managed to get a few subtle teases in: her knee leaning against mine under the table, touching my arm when I made funny jokes, playing with her loose hair, which she knew I loved while "accidentally" calling attention to her breasts by having her arms up over her head, jumping up and down in glee like a little girl after getting a phone confirmation that one of her old friend was coming (for those who didn't catch that one, a grown woman with generous breasts jumping up and down in a tight tee-shirt doesn't have the same effect as a little girl jumping up and down)...

At one point, while Bianca and Frank were talking together, I very nearly became overwhelmed with all this. Then again Frank himself, while having witnessed most of those things, didn't seem to be upset at all. And since he wasn't a very subtle man, he was quite certainly *not* upset. And despite a few strange looks during the day, Bianca wasn't unmistakably trying to seduce me. Come to think of it, she does touch my arm often, especially when I make jokes. Same thing with playing with her hair and stretching all the time. What about the upskirt and the phone call position? Was that her teasing, or me taking advantage of the situations? Was she simply feeling at ease with me, not having to worry about perverts trying to see what they shouldn't?

On the other hand, stockings? I mean, what the hell? Why not wear an old pair of pantyhose? And with such a short skirt... I don't know. Maybe that was some sort of game with her boyfriend. In any case I spent most of the afternoon with a semi-erection threatening to turn into a full blown all obvious affair. We watched a classic Christmas movie to end the evening, with Bianca and her boyfriend on the sofa and me on a big old and very comfortable chair. On a few occasions when she moved or switch position on the couch I saw more flashes of thighs above the stockings, but nothing out of the ordinary. She did give me a few smiles during the movie, but then again, nothing to write home about.

As was sometimes the case they invited me to stay over, as a early winter storm was growing thicker and thicker outside. I lived quite a long way from her apartment and I had slept in her guest room more times than I remembered. Usually it was after parties or long evenings with friends, after which I would fall into deep sleep in a matter of minutes. But tonight, even after everything became silent and dark, I couldn't even think of sleeping. My little upskirt peek, and those breasts of hers on my back kept haunting me. Have I been dreaming all day, or did she tease me at every opportunity she had?

Turning around in the bed, trying to sleep in vain, I tried and failed to get to a solid conclusion about the day. But my speculations were cut short by a sound heard through the wall: a low moan. All of a sudden I was sitting up in the bed, trying to hear what was happening on the other side of the wall. But for a minute or so my heart was beating so fast that I couldn't hear a thing. Then as I lay my ear against the wall I began hearing what was more clearly moans and other, er, assorted fucking sounds. Very faint but I was quite sure that they were fucking, right there next to me. My erection returned just as the thought crossed my mind that the stockings were most likely part of a game that was concluding right now.

After a louder moan cut short, nothing. Silence. Dead of night. After a few more minutes I lay back down in my bed and couldn't for a million dollars stop my mind from imagining Bianca fucking. Of course under her strong thighs and ass would be me, not that damned Frank. And right then, close to a fist-induced climax of my own, I heard the door to their room opening. I froze. Quiet footsteps in the hall, coming this way. The door to my room was wide open. It could be Frank, but I was hoping that the lightness of the steps was a sign that Bianca, fresh out of bed and off of a climax, was walking this way. I half-closed my eyes, trying to calm my wild heart.

I saw a head appear in the doorway, with long luscious hair flowing beneath it: Bianca. She looked at me for a long while, then disappeared. Only to reappear a second later, completely nude, walking across the living room towards the kitchen. Oh my Gods. I had seen her in bikinis that left nothing to the imagination, but it was a glorious sight to see anyway. A fraction of a second, in the moonlight, her skin covered in sweat. Uncontrolled response: my eyes focused and followed her breasts for the entire two seconds I had. In the moonlight, her aureoles appeared a pale pink, quite large and crowned with really big nipples. Underneath those tiaras were the two wonderful breasts I had come to know and love... Big, large and proud, never flattened like big breasts sometimes are but instead thrusting forward like sails in a strong wind. I knew they were natural, as Bianca really hated artificial body alterations of any kind, but it was hard to believe. She was 32, not 22, yet her breasts seemed to effortlessly ignore that fact. Heavy with firm flesh they moved with her steps, bouncing slowly up and down as the corner of a wall finally hid her body.

I then heard Bianca filling a glass of water, then silence as she probably drank it. When she came back she ran on tiptoes, this time offering me more a tease of her nudity than a real show. But her full bush, only barely trimmed, seemed to glow in the moonlight, framed by her smooth belly and thighs. My erection was raging, and my imagination was back in full swing. Three minutes later I was panting in my bed, my hands sticky, unable to figure out what to do with everything I was feeling and thinking. Thankfully sleep overtook me and gave me an eight-hour stretch of peace of mind.

The following morning is when it finally happened. We ate breakfast together, with Frank gone to pick up a few more things to decorate the apartment. Bianca had to leave too for a dance lesson she couldn't miss, the last one before the Christmas break. Just after closing the door she came back and shouted: "Just forgot something." I came to the door and saw that she was putting on a bright red bracelet. My heart nearly stopped. She kissed me on the cheek but with no sly smile, or knowing look. It confirmed what I had thought: she didn't know that I had written the letter. And that yesterday's teases were just my imagination overheating. Then again, she *did* want another letter... Nervous and excited, I could only think of one thing: her breasts.

As I was about to leave, trying to find key she had given me long ago in my backpack, I looked in their bedroom by accident. Right there on the bed, with its pure white coverlet, lay something like a ruby on snow: a bright red bra. My hand paused its searching and my breathing probably stopped as well for a few seconds. During the first few weeks after the break-up that brought my relationship with Bianca to a more intimate friendship, I had been invited to sleep over a few times. And so quite by accident, like now, I had seen a few of her bras lying around. But as if I had had a mental block in my head, they had never registered as objects of fantasy. Heck, I was not really a fetishist, but if I had to choose one it would probably be bras. And long thick hair. Bianca had more than enough in either instance to fulfill any fetishist's wildest dreams.

Slowly I got up, locked the door from the inside to prevent bad surprises, and answered the call of the red bra. I picked it up in my hands, for the first time touching one of Bianca's bras. This one was very bright red, with both thick and very delicate lace designs all over it. Unable to resist I brought it to my nose and smelled deeply: a soft, slightly soapy and perfumed smell. I'm not a big fan of perfume, but Bianca was the exception: she always used the same perfume, in very small quantities. Both her and her bra smelled of clean female flesh mingled with some mysterious exotic fruit aroma. Kneeling beside the bed where she had most likely made love only a few hours ago, I could have stayed there, inhaling her scent all day. But I had a letter to write. Before placing the bra back on the bed, I looked for the little tag. Made by Aubade; I should have guessed. Moreover, I knew her breasts were big, but the 32EE size sent a small ripple of pleasure through my body. I would have guessed her breasts to be somewhere between D and DD, probably 34, but what do I know. Ideas, fantasies, new fetishes and even some perversions bloomed in my head all the way back to my place.

* * * * *

Five days later, the winter sun beginning to set, I was getting myself ready to go back to Bianca's place. She *should* have received the letter by now. I wrote it two days ago in a long and intense morning of fantasies and masturbation, focusing on her breasts and bras. Beside the slightly perverted comment I made about her breasts, I had re-emphasized just how beautiful and sexy and desirable she was, how wonderful and women she had become. I tried to explain how desire was the natural expression of inter-gender beauty, and that praising a woman's beauty without talking about desire was vain and deceitful. And so I talked about desire... A lot!

Again I've been invited to sleep over, as her boyfriend was leaving on a two day seminar, the last one before Christmas. As soon as Bianca opened the door an alarm rang in my head: her long hair were loose, overflowing down her shoulders both on top of her breasts and all over her back. Her thick mane was something that defied description and tested the limits of the concept of beauty. But underneath those dense strands was something even more remarkable: a thin white top, held together in the front by four tiny buttons, barely managing to conceal a deep blue bra underneath. In turn, the bra was doing its best to conceal and restrain a wonderful pair of 32EE breasts. Both were failing. Lamentably.