An Offer Not Sampled … Part II

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Here is the 2nd installment of my story about my neighbor Becky. In case you need a refresher, here is part 1

Well it wasn’t too long until I returned to the outdoor party. I forget … did I mention Becky was wearing a slinky dress? I hope I did, because I may mention it again. It’s bound to come up.

As I walked up the driveway to the backyard where the party was still going strong, I saw Becky glance up and watch my approach. A big smile lit up her face.

“You were gone so long!” she pouted.

“No, I wasn’t” I countered with a smile.

She had had the time to quaff several adult beverages by that time of the evening. And in the Japanese-lantern illumination of the late evening, she was positively glowing.  She danced briefly with some other neighbors, as I watched attentively.

She could see I was watching … I watched her watching me if you know what I mean.

When a break in the music came, she made her way over to the table I was sharing with another male neighbor.  Becky was perspiring as a result of he full-tilt boogying and the warm evening temperature. She giggled as she plopped down beside me.

“When are you going to dance with me? she asked straight out. While usually conservative and quiet, tonight the booze had dispatched her everyday caution and professional-level subtlety on vacation. This girl was primed!

I hoped my wink and my smile hid the gulp in my throat I was experiencing. She had lain her tawny locks on my right shoulder as she spoke. Frankly, I was a bit taken aback. We had never been so forward with each other, and yes, there was another neighbor present. I couldn’t (or shouldn’t!) lose sight of that fact.

“Well?” she asked again as her cute nose and grey eyes looking up confronted me.

“You’re going to have to give me a minute,” I answered, stalling for time, for what reason I haven’t a clue.

“OK, I’ll wait for you, Marty,” Becky snickered.

Just then the music restarted with a lively song and Becky rose from her chair and began dancing right in front of my chair. I mentioned, right, the slinky dress? I thought so. At least I hope so, because right at that point all I could think of was Becky in that dress, the movement of her hips, and thoughts of getting her out of that dress.  I barely had time to tun and glance at my neighbor sitting at the table with me, to see his reaction. He smiled and looked away.

My private dancer continued to shimmy … the hips never taking a breather. My eyes were transfixed. Becky pranced, she dipped, she bent over, she pirouetted, she pressed her navel button to near my face. She had my full attention. I had no thoughts of her husband. I’m betting neither did Becky.

Other parts of my anatomy were also paying attention. My jeans’ cloth gripped more firmly. I mentioned Becky’s tight fitting dress, did I not? Fortunately the light was so dim, I doubt anyone noticed my growing erection.

The final installment coming soon!

 

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Midweek Fantasizing … The Letter

This hasn’t happened. It’s a total figment of my imagination. I just kind of day dreamed it the other day.

Cassandra came to see me in my small corner of your globe. It was just a quick visit on a Saturday. She managed to stop off for a day on the return trip from some business thing-ma-jig she was on. So I thought I had better make good use of the time I had with her.

We strolled leisurely down by the water, close and occasionally touching, but no PDA. Neither of us are really into that. She was enjoying seeing me relaxed in my village, in my element, where I’m very comfortable.

The mid-afternoon sun was becoming quite warm so I suggested it was time for a cold beer. I had planned ahead. Cassandra thought this was a superb idea and we headed for a nearby bar. The pub’s outdoor patio was lively and perfect for people watching, a Cassandra-favored activity. I knew this, but instead I suggested we find a table inside.

“Why Darling? It’s so lovely outside. And lots of people.” She knows that in my climes, we need to take advantage of any sunshine we can get.

But I was firm … “No Baby, I want to go inside. I think my pale skin has had enough exposure for today.”

“Ok” she pouted, “if that’s what you want.”

“It is,” I sweetly smiled. I knew it wasn’t making my girl happy, but I rarely do things without a purpose. Cassandra well knows this, but for some reason she didn’t further question my choice.

We found a small table at one end of the bar. It was far from crowded inside and we had our pick of spots. The pub’s dark wood finishes all around would be very warm and cozy on a chilly winter day, but this afternoon they lent an air of coldness and an almost gloomy vibe. Cassandra was not her usual beaming self. I just inwardly smiled. The server approached, raised her eyebrow toward me, and indicated in the affirmative when I ordered two pints of a local brew.

“Oh look,” I said. “Maybe there will be a group performing” as I nodded to a nearby corner where there was a stand up microphone sandwiched between an electric keyboard and two large congas.

“Hmmpphh. Maybe. I hope so.” Cassandra retorted.

And just as she finished snarling her words 3 grizzled veterans of the 1960s strolled up to the mike and instruments. My kind of guys!

“This could be fun!” I said, hoping to drum up some interest. No reaction.

The “boys” immediately broke into Ray Charles’ “Georgia On My Mind“. And it was good!

The songs began to roll out out in a constant stream, mostly blues, and then some older pop hits. These boys were taking no breaks!

Now Cassandra and I are alike, and at the same time,  so very different. I’ve touched on these things before, but I should also tell you she plays the piano. Classical. Me? I’m musical, too. Ask me anything about the British Invasion.  Same part of the brain I figure … only a different mix and quality of neurons.

Cassandra’s mood was rapidly improving despite the dark interior of the pub.

“The singer reminds me so much of Joe Cocker” she chimed in as she tapped her foot to the groove happening a few feet away.

“Mmmmhmm” I answered while slurping my ale, trying not to choke as I chuckled.

She was correct, of course. He sounded a lot like Joe … a small register higher, and an itsy bit less of a rasp, fewer arm and hand gestures, but the similarity was irrefutable.

“I love Joe Cocker!”

“I know” I smiled. “You used to hear him while riding in your daddy’s truck when you were small.”

“That’s right! How did you remember that?”

I smirked downing another sip. Cassandra was full-on giggly-happy right now.

I told her how I had first been exposed to and got into Joe Cocker, as a young barman in a South London pub, pouring pints while watching him on telly on Top Of The Pops.

The band then did an unbelievable rendition of Ben E King’s Stand By Me. I think this was going to be a Celebrate the Great Ones Recently Gone Saturday for the band.

There was pronounced applause from every corner of the room. The bar was totally full and fully rockin’ at this point. The singer smiled broadly. As the cheering ended, the singer looked towards me. I smiled and not so discretely nodded back to him.

In my mind, Joe Cocker was absolutely the best rock interpreter of other peoples’ songs. He covered songs as well as, or often better, than the original. Think about With A Little Help From My Friends, or You Are So Beautiful, Ain’t No Sunshine, and several others. Including the one that I had prerequested … heh heh … The Letter.

On cue, the piano played the familiar opening chords and I watched as Cassandra’s eyes lit up. She knew what was coming …

“Come on, Baby! Let’s dance!” I shouted.

“Yes!” she laughed. “I don’t care if we’re the only ones!”

This is one thing Cassandra and I have never done … danced.

And we did! My lord she’s a great dancer. Such wonderful rhythm as I twirled her and swung her, as I hugged her, I dipped her. We danced cheek to cheek, we laughed. And I watched the older audience eat it up watching us … the vintage male with a few moves charming the hot blonde babe.  The raised eyebrows and nods of first disbelief, then comprehension.

All to The Letter.

We had to leave. The bulge in my jeans was much too obvious now. It needed to be taken care of. ASAP.

Here’s the late great man himself. This reminds me I need to get one of those hot, black female bass players for myself.

 

An Offer Not Sampled

ff_holmes_large[1]My, but I was in a good mood! The laid back, outdoor patio, weekend brunch had been excellent; the conversation with old friends stimulating; the sudden warmth in the air invigorating after such a miserable spring so far. I was enjoying my walk back home. I had just finished texting Cassandra how good life was.

And there she was! Standing on her front lawn talking to someone in a car stopped in front of her house. I had had an email from her several weeks previous about some changes she was going through, advising me on her new coordinates. It had been probably 18 months since I had laid eyes on her. She looked radiant.

I slowly meandered over her way, not wanting to interrupt her conversation, but also not wishing to pass up the chance to chat. Becky had been a neighbor for several years, and we had become somewhat close-ish. Not too close mind you, because she was married after all.  And I liked her husband. But I always recognized the enhanced electrical energy running through her when I was around. She would always just light up. And truth be told, she got my adrenaline up a notch, too. But playing with a neighbor’s wife wasn’t something I was prepared to do.

Becky  is, in case you haven’t guessed, very attractive. Though she doesn’t have the curves I’m partial to, she, in fact, is a doppelganger for a famous TV/movie actress. If I think of this actress in about 10 years time, she’ll be Becky’s better built twin. But Becky’s daughter is the actress’s even better built sister. I swear the three of them could be the same hottie at different ages (the daughter, the famous actress, and Becky)… say 23, 38, and 48.

What a minute … thinking of those three together is making me lose my train of thought. Oh right! I need to give you some more background.

Four years ago there was a neighborhood lawn party. Where some neighbors let down their .. ahem … hair. You see Becky’s husband left the soiree early, and my date wasn’t feeling well, so I took her home and returned. Before I took my date home, I had promised Becky I’d be back. No hanky panky with an unwell woman happening that night I assured her.

I promised Becky I’d be back ASAP … and I promise you the same. As soon as I can …