Listen To Me: Kissing A Genius
It all began on a weekend break to the Scottish highlands where I found an old book in a charity shop in Inverness. Simply entitled, 'Majick,' a somewhat archaic spelling of the word telling me it was really old. I just had to buy it because the subject of magic had always fascinated me. Not conjuring or stage magic, I mean the possibility of real magic. I had never found any concrete evidence for real magic, but on reading the chapter dealing with, 'words of power,' I learned a word that would supposedly give me sexual power over any woman of my choice.
I set out to test the word on women who would otherwise be impossibly out of my reach, starting with my cousin (not illegal in the UK) but still something to be avoided if possible. She was a militant feminist lesbian, a daunting prospect, but beautiful, and besides I had always loved her, and truth be told, lusted after her sexually. The second woman I tested was the fiercely devout, but sexually repressed wife of an evangelical preacher. Much to my surprise it seemed to work with both of them, and by now I was almost convinced that it was one hundred per cent effective. Just to be sure though, I was intent on finding a few more women to test it on.
I found my next test case with Ellen Smith, such an ordinary name for such an extraordinary woman. Quite simply, she was a genius. I was reasonably intelligent, and had my first class university degree to prove it, but I was an intellectual dwarf in comparison to Ellen. She had been described as the next Stephen Hawkings, or Einstein in a skirt, a term she thought of as highly derogatory and insulting, and she was right. However, the fact that she habitually wore the aforementioned skirt or dress proved her undoing, and my good fortune.
How does an ordinary guy like me manage to meet someone like her you may ask? Quite simple really, she was here in my city to attend a conference at the local university. It was a three day event, featuring academics from all over the world, and she was the keynote speaker on the Friday afternoon. After her main presentation speech, she would be attending a book signing to sell copies of her latest book. I thought it would probably be one of those books like Stephen Hawking's, 'A Brief History Of Time,' which many people bought, but few actually read. However, I was desperate to get my hands on a signed, 'First edition,' copy, and quite keen on getting my hands on her too.
At the book signing I didn't automatically join the long queue of fans buying copies of her book. I hung back a bit, watching and taking in all that was going on, studying the lovely Ellen.
I'd been there when she entered the room; a tall young woman, about five foot seven inches tall, very slim and slender. Shoulder length dark hair, a very pretty face, minimal day time make up, wearing a simple white blouse, buttoned up to the neck, and a loose dark knee length skirt allowing me to catch a glimpse of her bare, suntanned legs. Nice legs I thought, and nice trim ankles too. No cleavage to be seen with the blouse buttoned up so tight, but then she was so slender, I figured even if some of her buttons had been open there would be no cleavage to show. I guessed a 32 A cup at best, but that was no disappointment to me. I've never seen tits, big or small that didn't make me hard, and Ellen's would be no exception I was sure.
I'd studied the programme of events for the rest of the weekend, talks, workshops, etc, and I couldn't see Ellen's name attached to any of them, so after this book singing, she may well be free for some time, which was good. I was going to need a few hours of her time if the, 'word of power,' worked on her as it had worked on 'Holy,' Mary Jane Rydell, and my stunning cousin Maisie.
I like to take my time when it comes to sex, giving as much pleasure to my partner as possible. I'm sure a psychiatrist, psychoanalyst, or such like could diagnose something lacking or overdeveloped in my psyche that makes me so obsessed with giving a woman pleasure. I don't care, let them think what they want, it's what
I
do and what I like, and no woman has complained yet about my foreplay and aftercare.
The queue began to grow shorter after the initial surge, and with only three others in front of me now, I thought it was time to tag on the back of it. Ellen chatted quite freely to each person, just a few words, asking them who they'd like the book dedicated to, etc, mostly themselves it seemed, which was fine. That's what I intended as well, and then it was my turn, nobody behind me and last in the queue, which was what I'd been hoping for when I hung back, biding my time.
She looked up at me, and smiled. She had perfect teeth, and it was a genuine smile. She made a show of looking behind me as if checking something, and obviously saw there was nobody behind me.
'Last, but not least, it seems,' she joked. I liked her straight off. She seemed, on first impression, to be a very likeable young woman.
'Yes, always at the back of life's queue,' I quipped, and she smiled again.
'It looked deliberate to me,' she said as she looked up at me, 'I noticed you hanging back, but never mind, here you are now.' She knew I was up to something; she was too bloody clever. I shrugged as if to say, guilty! 'Well, luckily for you I still have a few books left. How many would you like?' she asked, joking again, ignoring my embarrassment.
'Just one please,' I confirmed, and she immediately reached for a copy and opened it. I noticed her hands then, very elegant, no coloured nail polish, slender like the rest of her.
'Who should I dedicate it to?' she asked, and I told it was just me, so she wrote my name and added, 'just for you,' which was a nice touch, and signed her own name under it, adding a little, 'x.' Did she like me? I was unexpectedly and so easily thrilled by so little from the lovely Ellen. It was almost a shame to say what I said next.
'Aww, Ellen, that's so lovely, thank you so much. I'll treasure this book for always. I may even read it one day,' I added with a wink to let her know I was joking. She looked at me not quite sure what to make of my joke, but then she saw me smiling and she laughed. She knew alright.
'Can you actually read?' she joked in return, giving me the opening I didn't really need, but we were flirting a little it seemed to me anyway, and I got the impression that she liked me anyway.
'Let's see, mmm..., the last book I read was, "The Life Of P------," which was about magic,' I said. I waited for her to reply, but no reply was forthcoming. She seemed to stare vacantly at her hands for long seconds, until I reached down and took one of her hands in mine, and squeezed it gently. It was like she'd been switched back on, 're-booted,' and she came to life, looking up at me a faint bewildered smile on her lovely face and I let go of her hand. It looked as if it had worked again.
'What were we saying?' she asked, 'I got lost in my own thoughts there, I'm sorry,' she apologised, trying to explain it, more to herself than me.
'We were just laughing about my dismal reading ability,' I offered, and that seemed to satisfy her.
'Are you finished here now?' I asked her, 'because if you are I'd love to talk to you a little more. I've enjoyed our little chat. Would you like to come with me and get a coffee or tea or whatever? There's a coffee shop type restaurant on the eighth floor,' I offered. She nodded in a distracted sort of way, as if still trying to put things together in her head..
'Yes, why not,' she asked herself, suddenly bright and alert again, and then, 'I don't normally do these sorts of things, but you seem like a nice person, so I'll take a chance that you're not some weird serial killer disguised as a nice man,' she joked again.
