Desperately seeking Susie
I had never guessed what sort of a girl I was needing. But Susie was the one. Despite her, um, issues.
An AP-500 to be borrowed or adapted …...
I saw her late on a Friday. Gorgeous, long black hair, lovely legs sheathed in shimmering nylon. Her breasts like those admired in the rather colourful sections of the Bible such as the Song of Solomon…” Your two breasts are like two fawns, twins of a gazelle which feed among the lilies”.
She was not beautiful exactly. But she attracted me like a magnet. I could not get her out of my memory. She walked away down Chiswick High Street towards the Church.
I caught glimpses of her over the next weeks. One time, I was sort-of following her and she looked up and locked eyes with me. I was caught. She knew I was keen on her and that I wanted her. And she winked at me. She knew that I was, if not stalking, at least watching out for her.
And I couldn’t stop.
Gradually, by seeing where she was going and where she came from, I learnt more. Was I surprised to find a company making and selling up-market lingerie?
Of course she noticed me. It wasn’t stalking – not in a grubby, furtive way ………. . Maybe to a lot of people what I was doing was stalking. But I wasn’t doing anything ugly or vile, let alone abusive, I told myself.
It was months later that, pure fluke, I did get close enough to find out more about her. I'd gone into a bar I’d never noticed. She was talking with a group of three other girls.
I, subtly, who am I kidding, went nearer.
At a table behind her, I enjoyed the view. I guess I was pretty obvious. All four, then later six, of them were pretty or attractive or downright gorgeous. But it was my girl that I watched. After a while, once they knew that I knew they were watching me watching them – is that getting a bit complicated? - they began to play for their audience. And I lapped it up.
After a while, she came towards me. Slinky, hips swaying like a dancer, her red jersey dress clinging like a second skin – no evidence of underwear.
“Hey there, honey. Ma’ names Susie. D’y walk on the wildside?” To my horror and wonder and instant pleasure she stroked her hand across the front of my trousers. Then she took my hand and did the same. And my fingers touched something hard – and not usual on a woman.
And from that moment on – I was walking that wildside, her wildside. Eagerly. Devotedly.
Putty in her hands – well not putty everywhere. But my brain was soft and mushy compared to the governing part of my anatomy. That was hard, staring, eager, wanting, wanton.
I had been a sad, tired, bored middle-aged man and I had been seeking for something. And now I had a glimpse of what I had wanted. I’d never realized. Now I was an addict. And Susie was exactly what I had been seeking. Desperately.
Hands …… stroking …….. wonderfully!
And another AP-500 story
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