Chapter I
Up and Coming
“Sandy Jamieson here.”
“Hi Mr. Jamieson. This is Curtis Green from Fairgreen Ford. I’ve good news. The car you’ve ordered- it’s just come in. Our man’s going over it. Can you…”
“I’ll leave the office in fifteen.”
“That’s great. But the car won’t…”
“Thanks Mr. Green. Bye.”
I pressed the com button. “Tina, can you come in here for a moment?”
She brought in her steno pad. “Mr. Jamieson?” She wagged her pencil.
“No memo. I just want to tell you how much I’ve appreciated your efforts over the past year. I wish you all the best on your new job.”
She lowered the pad. God I’ll miss her sweet face. Twenty-two and natural blonde. She reminds me of the front end of my brother’s ’58 Cad.
“Have a seat Tina.”
She held down her skirt and sat opposite my desk, crossing her legs. I never knew that knees could be so god damned stimulating. I lifted my eyes. “Any plans for the evening Tina?”
“Packing.”
The word induced images.
“I’m getting my car. Care to go for a drive and celebrate?”
She looked up, the eraser resting on her bottom lip. “Won’t Stacy get upset?”
God I love white blouses on deep breathing blondes.
I smiled, “She’s on a run to New York.”
Her knuckles turned white. The pencil snapped between her fingers. “Yes. and won’t Stacy get upset?”
C’est la vie. I stood up. Tina’s face dropped and her breasts lowered.
“Good luck to you Miss Wilson. If you ever need any references, I’ll be happy to tout your praises.” I looked for co-workers and lowered my voice, “Why don’t go home sweetie? I’ll tell payroll you stayed until five.”
Her eyes questioned. The nearly forgotten voice from the bedroom, “But Sandy, it’s only 11:30.”
“It’s also Friday Tina. You can get a jump on your packing.”
* * * * * * * * * * *
“You’ve got the first one in Southern California Mr. Jamieson. You’re a lucky man.”
The scent of virgin vinyl. Polaris white. Sky blue interior. The top down. And the first drive in my 1964 Ford Galaxy 500.
The kiss of the Santa Ana’s. Dry, hot wind carved through Brylcream. I tooled along Pacific Coast Highway, past miles of oil derricks and blackened sand, over the iron and concrete bridges to downtown Long Beach. I saw my home- a stack of concrete records that reached into the dusty blue sky. The windows reflected the gold of a late September afternoon.
* * * * * * * * * * *
I stepped from the shower and stood nude on the balcony. Dried in the wind, I admired the Palos Verde Peninsula and the slow burn of the setting sun. Chet Baker played in my living room. I closed my eyes. My God, his tone and phrasing. Some day.
* * * * * * * * * * *
I pulled up at Stacy’s near eight.
She’s the only stable woman in my life. The others blow in and out like the devil winds, the Santa Ana’s; the winds that have kept me alive; seasonal and hot.
She answered on the second knock.
Dark haired in powder blue with silver wings on her breast, pinned above the unseen black bra and sweet beauty mark I’ve admired for six months. She wore stiletto heels. The flight cap still on her head.
Stacy slammed the door in my face.
Three knocks later.
“I told you to get out of my life Sandy. You’re a philandering snake and I don’t want to have a thing to do with you.”
I rested my forearm on the doorjamb. “But darling, you love my snake.”
“You bastard.” Her eyes lied.
“Let me take you out Stacy. Let’s talk.”
“Talking to you always gets me in trouble.”
I lowered my head. “And not being with you always gets me in trouble.”
In three heartbeats, her shoes moved towards me. “Why do you do this to me Sandy? I got a six a.m. flight tomorrow.”
I looked up at her. So beautiful. “Come darling. Let’s eat and go
dancing.”
“I’m tired. I just walked across America.”
“I’ll massage your feet.”
In her eyes. “Feed me first.” Sweet surrender.
* * * * * * * * * * *
I let her shower in private while I mixed two martinis. She came out of
the bath half an hour later, fresh and floral in a black and gold kimono, the ends of her hair wet. Stacey’s the only woman I’ve known that allows me to see her with out make-up.
She sat beside me on the sofa and took a sip. She winces, “This will go straight to my head.”
I lean towards her, “Interesting you should say that. You have that same effect on me.”
She took another sip, her eyes eating me. “A corpse would have that effect on you.”
I followed Stacy in her room and sat on the bed. I’ve always enjoyed watching her dress.
She turned her back. The kimono piled around her feet, revealing a sixteen-year-old ass attached to a well-heeled twenty-four year chassis. She stepped into her sheer white panties- the latest silken wonders from France. She spoke into the mirror, “Did Tina have an enjoyable final day?”
Even reversed, she’s beautiful. “I let Tina go. Early.”
She looked up at me, hooking her bra. “That was kind of you.”
She turned and faced me. The glorious silk covered triangle of womanhood three feet away. With effort, I looked up into her eyes.
“I won’t tolerate anymore of your lies Sandy.”
I nodded. “Stacy, I never meant to hurt you.”
* * * * * * * * * * *
We drove to San Pedro, in an oil flavored night; the top down, Stacy’s eyes blissfully closed to the wind. Her long legs reached out to the purring engine; skimpy black dress flirting on the edge of her silk stockings. I placed my hand her upper leg.
Stacy smiled at the moon.
* * * * * * * * * * *
We ate crab in the darkest corner where I leaned over in Dungeness intimacy and kissed her buttered lips. I pulled away to a softened moan and the sight of an exquisite tongue that wanted more.
I took her hand and led her to the dance floor. A combo I sometimes jammed with, The Earl Redmond quartet, smiled and swayed with California cool over the changes of an old jazz standard.
I took Stacy in my arms, her hips against mine while her hands roamed my back. Her lips hovered below my ear, “Is this prelude to a seduction?”
I smiled and whispered in her hair, “Definitely.”
She looked at me with bedroom eyes. “Sandy, will you massage my feet first?”
* * * * * * * * * * *
We stepped into the paneled elevator. I stood behind her and pressed the eight button. Stacy leaned back into my arms, her sweet bottom tight against my crotch. I kissed her neck; delicate hairs basked under my lips.
My hands drifted across her tummy; she turned her face, her breath of white dinner mints. My hand roamed to her right hip. Under the dim elevator light, I looked into her eyes. My lips touched her shadowed cheek. She turned around, held my face and kissed me. Lingering and sweet.
Stacy liked our love slow. I would always deliver.
* * * * * * * * * * *
Clothes dropped like leaves in the Santa Ana’s.
Her shoes were the first to fall. Her back to the door, I dropped to my knees and reached under her dress, sliding down her black stockings, kissing her upper thighs, following the trail of silk with soft fingertips and lips. I took her hand and led Stacy to the sofa. She lay back; her right hand draped over her forehead.
I settled to the South and faced her. I cradled her feet, supporting her ankle under my left hand. My right thumb slid over her arches followed by gentle squeezes to her toes. Her heels fit beautifully against my palm.
I drifted upward, above ankle and calves. Her eyes closed. Accepting. Knowing of the prelude.
I found the zipper, painfully small and hidden in jet black folds. Down it went; long inches surrendered in the dark. Stacy moved her hips and arms. The dress departed.
I moved up to her side and dropped to my knee. My lips found hers. The sound moist, the sensation: a blend of Santa Ana sparks and tropical heat. I took her hand and kissed her palm.
The winds blew outside, the curtains stirred like my cock.
I pulled aside her lacy bra; the strap, a ribbon of feminine enchantment. With a painter’s flourish, tongue touched nipple. My trumpeter’s lips blew upon the pink bud. Her breast swelled under the autumn wind.
Stacy touched my hair and whispered my name. While in the dark, I found the beauty mark I adored- just under her left breast. My kiss brought a sigh to her lips.
Slowly, I ventured south, like Monarchs in exodus.
I kissed the tops of her panties, my lips playfully pulled at the few dark hairs that rose above the French silk. She pushed my head lower. I flirted over her mound and along the curve of upper thigh, bathed in floral scented skin.
Her legs parted.
And I kissed Nirvana.
Her voice, muted by her bitten finger, “Sandy, you’re a tease.”
* * * * * * * * * * *
I carried Stacy into the bedroom. She lay back on the bed, her bra partially removed, her panties moist from kisses and nature.
I bent over and tasted her lips. My tongue caressed, and danced in slow lazy circles around her soft mouth.
I removed my tie and shirt, my chest heated from restrained lust and Santa Ana’s. I stood up and unbuckled my pants, my manhood very much awake.
However, Stacy wasn’t.
She lay on her back, legs parted- a French invitation. And the most charming snores escaped from her sweet lips.
It wasn’t personal- after all, she did walk across America.
I placed a satin blanket over Stacey and kissed her forehead. I raised the cover and lay beside her, cheek to cheek.
I closed my eyes. My erection slowly faded while the winds gained force through out the night.
* * * * * * * * * * *
Chapter 2
Monday morning. The winds shifted and the evil sister appeared. These were the Santa Ana’s from the Arctic, the biting winds that cut through clothes and shriveled cocks and balls. This was the wind that brought Dorothy to Oz.
I drove to the office, catching a glimpse of my blue eyes in the mirror. I smiled, thinking of Stacy. She was somewhere over the Great Lakes. “I’ll make it up to you honey.” I could still feel her lips on me. And that was two days ago.
* * * * * * * * * * *
I stepped into the office and remembered I was to select my new secretary. I turned into the waiting room where four women sat in opposite corners, locked in a silent battle of perfume, hairspray and tight skirts.
Three other execs stood in line, huddled together in deep discussions about actuary tables. But in reality, their eyes fucked the girls. I hope to God I’m never that obvious.
The girls were called up and assigned to their new bosses. The Matron (our name for her) looked up from her desk. “You certainly burn through your secretaries Sandy.”
“No. I develop careers.”
“This time, I’ve got a seasoned one for you.”
“What, my mother’s here?”
I looked at the remaining girl, a saucy blonde with sky blue eyes and thick ankles.
The Matron called out towards the hallway to her left. “Barbara Bristol!” Christ, was that a fleck of oatmeal that flew across her desk?
The scent of Joy. I heard the click of high heels on tile. I looked towards the hallway.
“There she is” The Matron nodded at me. “Mrs. Bristol, this is Sandy Jamieson, you’ll be reporting to him. Don’t let his youthful charm put you off. He’s our up and coming executive. He’s in charge of our West Coast new accounts service group.”
“Good morning Andy.” I took her hand. My tongue refused to work.
The Matron shook her head. “Sandy Mrs. Bristol. With a S. Like…”. The matron looked at me. “You’ll get it soon enough…”
“May I have my hand back?”
“Yes. Of course.” Mr. Happy moved on his own. “Nice to meet you. Mrs. Bristol is it?”
“Mrs. Bristol if you please.” She bit her lower lip. “I like to keep things professional.”
* * * * * * * * * * *
I have been given the gift of foresight. I can look at a woman and know her sensuality as if reading a map. With Barbara Bristol, I needed my Raybans.
I spent my day looking at her. Auburn hair with vivid green eyes, a heavy bottom lip, with an aura of raw sex lying below the pearls and professional demeanor. Barbara Bristol was a time bomb. I certainly had the fuse.
She had hips of a fertile valley; wide and rounded, her skirt followed the contours of her delicious ass. She was a woman of experience, a woman accustomed to the finer things of life, a woman who could dominate a man in the bedroom and support him in the board room. I’d been waiting for her since my first lay at 13.
I understood Barbara Bristol the moment she came into my office and began to clean up. She looked over her shoulder, held my eye and bent over giving me an impossible to miss view of her glorious bottom. Her skirt raised, revealing a scant inch just above her knees- not much of a view really, but it was the way she used that inch. Her hand slid down her leg, in a deliberate, slow movement. Then as if pulled by a thread, back up, the skirt moving under her long nail. “Oh dear, did I tear my stocking?”
She brought in folders and placed them on my desk. Not the top, but second button undone on her blouse, ensuring I caught glimpses of the delicate lace treasures that kissed her fair skin.
But where had I seen her before?
* * * * * * * * * * *
Quitting time. We took the elevator together. Along with a dozen others.
The parking lot swirled; dust devils kicked up from the Santa Ana’s. Her hair blew across her face. Another tease. I envisioned her at 5:30 in the morning after an evening of…
“Good night Mrs. Bristol.”
She came over to me. The wind tore at her blouse. “You can call me Barbara when we’re not in the office. May I call you Sandy?”
“Of course.” She walked along side me.
“Barbara, I have the feeling I’ve met you before.”
She shouted into the wind, “I worked here ten years ago.”
“I was in high school ten years ago.”
“How old are you Sandy, if I may ask?” A stray hair touched her lip.
“Twenty-five.”
“That young?” We stopped at her car and waited. Her key slid into the lock. “I see someone’s trained you.”
“Meaning?” I headed towards my car. I’d parked next to her.
“You didn’t ask my age.” Barbara groomed her hair.
“I’ll wait till I know you better.”
“I’m ten years older than you.”
“So?”
“Yes. So what…” She watched me unlock my car. “Nice car. New?”
I came back to her. “I was going to a little club. Care to join me?”
“No thank-you.”
“You’ll be safe. I promise.”
Deep, sexy laughter, “But will you?”
I smiled. “I‘ll take that chance.”
“My husband.”
“My girlfriend.”
“Only one?” She slid into her car, giving me a view of stocking tips and the button of a garter belt. She fired up the engine. “And my job…”
“Is safe. You do good work Barbara.” I put my hand on the open window.
“Thanks for the vote of confidence.” She lowered black sunglasses over her freckled nose.
“I’ll see you tomorrow Mrs. Bristol.” I could feel her masked eyes on my ass. Two of us could play this game.
* * * * * * * * * * *
I heard Carly’s voice from the parking lot. I popped the trunk, grabbed my trumpet and stepped into the club.
Carly was my High School sweetheart and over the years we remained close friends. Hey, if you can’t remain friends afterwards- then why love them in the first place? I’ve know her most of my life.
Carly’s a stunner. High cheekbones and brown eyes. And tall with a dancer’s legs. She’s curvy and sweet and feminine with a dark, dusky mezzo that oozes of golden honey.
* * * * * * * * * * *
I love dinner music. She’s doing “My Funny Valentine”, her fingers floating over the keys. Carly smiled and sang to me, “Yet, you’re my favorite work of art….”
I put a hand on her shoulder and kissed her cheek, popping a dollar in the 3-gallon brandy snifter. I set up my trumpet and on cue, closed my eyes and doodled over the changes, serenading a nude Barbara Bristol.
* * * * * * * * * * *
I turned on the light to my pad. Carly went to fridge. “Any Champaign Romeo?” The chingling of bottles. “And Sandy, no Jackie Gleeson again. I want sex, not sleep.”
“Good idea.” I put on Julie London.
Carly sang with Julie. I stepped into the bathroom and turned on the water. She handed me a glass along with a warm, soft kiss. I’ve always enjoyed Carly’s lips- she kisses like her mother.
“Thanks sweetheart.” I dimmed the lights and placed my glass on the counter top. Carly lifted her hair, humming along with Julie. The zipper surrendered under my fingers. I put my arms around her while Carly swayed in my arms.
She turned around and unbuttoned my shirt, her voice blended with Julie’s, “oh is it any wonder I’m in the mood for love….” Her fingers drew shapes around my nipples. She slid her hands upwards, encircling my neck, drawing her lips to mine.
Connected, I eased the shoulder straps from her dress, over smooth shoulders. I hooked my index finger under her slip, the strap falling over curve and swell. I cupped her lovely breasts and teased her nipples with my tongue. I began my slow decent and lowered to my knees, kissing the line between her breasts, freeing the dress; it vanished in a satin hush, down the sweep of her waist, beyond her glorious hips. I looked up at Carly, her eyes focused on my tongue. She smiled at my expression. “I didn’t want to waste time by wearing underwear tonight.”
“I appreciate your consideration.” My tongue gave her a standing O.
She slid down the wall, her legs shaking. Sound entered the room. I quickly tuned off the bath. Water began to overflow the tub. “Tubs full.”
“So are you.” Carly reached out and traced a nail along the ridge in my pants.
Her tongue touched her upper lip. She unzipped me, her fingers slipped under the waistband of my underwear. I held her face and kissed her. She pushed me onto my back. Her carmine lips drifted above my foreskin, the Santa Ana’s of her breath, her tongue floated over the…front door opened.
“Sandy! I’m back.” The click of high heels across the marble foyer. “We had a tail wind.”