Many thanks to again PubliusNaso, his continued assistance is greatly appreciated.
*
After returning home from the best sex of my life with Bridget (see The Phycologist-The Beginning) I had concluded that I hadn't been sexually attacked and pleasured because of my stud-like qualities (these were sadly missing) but because I had discovered an aphrodisiac, or more accurately Gary's aphrodisiac.
Gary had died under strange circumstances. He had left me his factory and a series of clues in his will. The clues had lead me this far.
My fingers still smelt of pine nuts. I thought this could be the smell of the aphrodisiac which drove Brigit mad with sexual passion. I resolved to test this theory on my new neighbour: 'The Ice Queen'.
I had christened her 'The Ice Queen' for the obvious reasons that she appeared cold and unobtainable, and also because her beauty made her regal. She was blonde (natural? I hoped to be able to prove that soon) and this connected Scandinavia and ice in my mind.
It was difficult to pick her best feature (most women would kill for any bit of her) but perfect as she was I always appeared to have difficulty lifting my eyes from her breasts. Her breasts were full (I guessed two standard handfuls) but were so beautifully shaped, almost spherical, they appeared to defy the gravity which affected the rest of the population. Yet the most alluring feature of these magnificent breasts were her nipples. Not only did they appear always semi-erect, but they were positioned so high on these heavenly mounds.
Every time I saw her I had an almost overwhelming desire to explore her bosom in an attempt to explain this perfection.
Her body however was not merely a vehicle to transport these magnificent breasts, it too was perfect. She was about 5' 9" and athletically slender. She was probably heavier than anorexic fashion dictated, but if that was so it was caused by muscle not fat. To my eye, she was ideally proportioned: long slender legs, with natural muscular definition, which didn't need high heels to accentuate; a thoroughly grabable arse perfectly curved from her upper thigh (her arse was another gravity-defying feature).. Her stomach was flat. Her arms shared the same muscular definition as her legs.
She had a long slender neck which mounted, haloed with almost white blonde wavy hair, the most beautiful face. Her eyes were translucent blue. Her skin was healthily pale. It seemed the sun kissed her perfection rather than darken it. All of these features were connected, as if by a architect, with perfect French curves.
This woman was superb, only using the word perfect eight times in a description of her was to sell her short. If my theory was correct I would soon be carnally experiencing this heavenly body.
It was 3 am when I drove into the car park, wondering how I was to meet the Ice Queen at this time in the morning. I needed to contact her before this smell of pine nuts disappeared. Looking up to her apartment window, I thought I saw a dark shape moving on the fire escape, and suddenly I had my excuse to 'knock her up' (both meanings were valid) at 3 am.
I climbed the stairs to her apartment, approaching her door I decided that one loud knock would be better than many softer ones, so pretending I was a 'drug squad bust' I bashed the door so hard the frame rattled. Surprising quickly I saw an eye flash over the spy hole, followed by an angry "What!!"
"I'm your neighbour" my confidence was beginning to slip.
"I know. What?" she was persistent as well as good looking.
"I've just got home and saw someone on the fire escape outside your window" I said
The locks on the door started clicking: there must have been about six (she was a worried lady, this one)!
"Come in!". She almost grabbed me by the shirt, such was her urgency to have me enter her apartment. She then refastened all the locks (there were seven!). She turned to face me, she was so pale she was almost translucent and she was visibly shaking. It was the closest I had been to her, and such was her distress that I didn't even look at her physical attributes. She then fell into my arms and started crying. I held her for a long time, trying to ignore the feel of her breasts and semi erect nipples. She obviously needed help, not rooting. She gradually composed herself.
Pushing herself away from my chest, she said "It's my ex-boyfriend. He was so insanely jealous I could no longer live with him. Even though I've tried everything to hide myself, he has obviously found me".
She broke down into tears again and snuggled back into my chest, which was clearly a haven for her. I felt like a louse. If I had guessed I'd do this much damage to her composure I could have delayed my experiment. I could have gone to Gary's lab later got some more aphrodisiac and tested my theory another day. Still, I couldn't leave her like this. I would have to see if I could repair some of the damage I had done.
When her crying stilled a little, I held her shoulders, and pushed her away from my chest, I looked into her eyes, trying hard not to be sexually affected by her beauty.
I reached up and brushed the tears from her eyes. She seemed to sniff and pause briefly. Her face seemed suddenly become infused with colour, as if a pot of pink paint had been spilt over her face. Her eyes brightened and sparkled, and for the second time that morning I was devoured by hungry eyes,
She turned, in the fall of a tear, from a susceptible, frightened, exposed child to a brazen, warm, wanton woman. Even though this was what I had wanted from her, my phycologist's brain was finding it hard to adjust to this change, and how her pain had so quickly been submerged.
The sound of her falling dressing gown as it slid to the floor, and the view of her naked body soon got my thoughts back to 'sexual'.
My earlier attempts at describing her perfection were woefully inadequate in face of the reality, but I was not allowed long to study her form. She was quickly on me, part undoing and part tearing my clothing from my body. I thought Brigit was a tiger, but this performance made her more of a pussy cat.