Phantom Whiffs

Well, this is embarrassing. I don’t remember how this story came to be at all. I just know I wrote it at some point in my life. I hope you enjoy reading it.

I’m sure you’re familiar with this scene now as it’s a bit overplayed especially in movies and such… yet, if that’s how my story began, I have no choice but to make a reference to it to get things on the way.

Imagine a beautiful blonde woman sitting on a towel beach, wearing a leopard print swimsuit and holding a green vial of suntan lotion in her hands. Now, picture a random guy that happens to be walking by her without paying much attention when, suddenly, she asks him with an irresistible smile on her face if he “could be kind enough to apply the cream on her back.”

In case, you’re wondering, no I wasn’t that guy, but I did see it all taking place from the back of the counter of my rustic, little bar, and I remember thinking to myself: “Lucky bastard! What I wouldn’t give to be in your place, right now!”

As part of my genetic make-up, I can’t help but feel attracted by the sight of a gorgeous feminine body and hers was just about everything I could hope for. As I saw the way he so delicately rubbed her back and shoulders with the ointment, I imagined myself doing the same in the hope that I could get to know her better shortly after, yet that wasn’t to be at the time.

A couple of minutes later, the guy left her, idly sunbathing, and walked straight into my bar.

“Can I have two fresh beers, please?” he asked, feeling very happy and content with himself.

“One for you and the other for the lady, I suspect…” I couldn’t help saying. “Sorry, don’t mean to be nosy or anything, but I did see what happened from over here.”

“That’s okay. You’re right. I’m guessing you see a lot of things from where you stand. Nice little place you’ve got here, by the way.” he replied as I took care of his order.

“She’s a stunner. Good luck!” I said, trying to be nice when in fact I felt pretty dismayed on the inside and was actually hoping to see him fail for good.

That didn’t happen because when he returned to her, they sat together chatting joyfully and laughing. She touched his hand on more than one occasion and he did the same thing, clearly indicating that some sort of chemistry was in place and that it was best for me to simply forget the whole deal. I was actually relieved when they left the beach together because I managed to regroup my thoughts and focus on my work. When the clientele began to rush in, she was already nothing more than a fleeting memory of beauty.

On the next day, much to my astonishment, I saw her again, this time standing right across the wooden counter. Though she was wearing sunglasses, there was no doubt it was her and I went to take her order.

“What can I get you?” I inquired.

“A Cuba Libre, please.”

“Certainly… Coming right up!”

“Thanks. You know, this may sound a bit strange, but yesterday I’m pretty sure I caught glimpses of you looking my way with a certain interest in your eyes, to say the least.”

Okay, that one came totally out of the blue and, for a while, I just held the bottle of rum in my hands, whilst thinking about a proper response. Eventually, I went for the straightforward approach.

“If you’re pretty sure, it’s because it did happen. You’re a very beautiful woman if you don’t mind me saying so, and you had me intrigued.”

“I don’t mind at all,” she smiled. “My name’s Ashley. What’s yours?”

“I’m Ian, and it’s a pleasure to meet you, Ashley.”

“Likewise. Say, Ian, I’m heading out to the beach after you serve me that drink and I was wondering if you could close the bar just for a few minutes to help me with my tan…”

“Yesterday’s company didn’t turn out to be so great?” I asked, surprising even myself with the boldness.

“Oh, he was sweet, but you’re much more handsome,” she flirted. “So, what do you say?”

What do you think I did? Naturally, I said “yes” and made a pretty good job of enjoying every inch of her body in a slow, sensual way as she giggled and came up with a cute nickname for me.

“My, my… Ian, you’re really Mr. Naughty Hands, aren’t you? I like that. Why don’t you come over to the hotel I’m staying in when you close down the bar for today?” And from inside her cleavage, she took out an extra key to her bedroom and I was ecstatic.

“Count on it.”

And so it came to be that time really flew that afternoon, as I kept picturing Ashley in sexy lingerie (or wearing nothing at all…), mostly due to the fact that the smell of her lotion was still in my hands, permeating every pore with a hint of unmistakable allure. Luck had finally smiled down on me!

Around 7 p.m., I closed the place because I couldn’t wait any longer to go see her. I took a cold shower, put on some nice clothes and entered the hotel lobby with my ego skyrocketing all the way to the stratosphere.

She was staying in a luxurious suite on the top floor. When I entered it, I saw the opulence all around and noticed her swimsuit on top of a mahogany chair, leaving my imagination even more restless than before.

“Ashley?” I called.

“Over here, dear.” came the sound of her voice from behind a bedroom door. I ran to it and opened it far and wide only to receive the greatest shock of my life.

Ashley was wearing a gothic-style black leather corset with matching long gloves and sexy ankle strap platform high heel shoes. Next to her, sat an equally attractive redhead wearing a similar outfit, but in shades of dark green. The most disturbing part was that her gorgeous looking ass was pressed against the top of a metal cage and that the small confinement space was occupied by the same guy I had seen the day before, though he wasn’t smiling anymore, humbly prostrated in utmost submission.

“What the hell?” I blurted.

“Actually, it’s more like Paradise,” grinned Ashley and her friend did the same. “Let’s have some fun, shall we?”

“I don’t think so. I’m not really into kinky stuff,” I retorted.

“Then, I guess you shouldn’t have rubbed that cream on me. It’s a special concoction especially designed to render certain parts of the male human brain inoperable, such as the one responsible for freedom of will and the ability to make decisions. Phoebe was the one that invented the formula and came all the way from Scotland to share it with me. It takes a few hours to be fully absorbed into the bloodstream, and start wreaking havoc inside one’s mind, but I’m suspecting you’re already feeling the effects right now. I bet you couldn’t stop thinking about me during the whole afternoon.”

“That’s not true… I… I…”

“Feeling a little dizzy?” asked the one she had called Phoebe. “And weak in our presence, exactly like you’re supposed to be?”

Sadly, that seemed to be the case, as the world started spinning faster and faster and I was rapidly enveloped by filaments of extreme devotion towards them. I can’t remember how long it took me to give in and kneel at their feet, but it finally happened and the fun they were seeking was eagerly provided.

For over a week, I served them mindlessly, alongside the other man whose name I came to know was Charles. Unable to fight the influence of the chemical substances messing with my central nervous system, I was nothing more than a human puppet, happy that my strings were being pulled by suck skillful hands. I did things I never dreamed possible, things I rather not divulge though I’m pretty sure you can guess what they were if you think hard enough about the principles of domination and subservience.

And when that period came to an end, we were released from our forced enslavement and returned to the real world. Ashley and Phoebe checked out of the hotel and they were never seen in town again.

Charles drops by the bar every now and then and we share drinks together, despite the fact we hardly speak with each other at all. Our silent complicity works just fine, for I know that deep inside, we have a lingering feeling of loss we don’t want to admit out loud.

Maybe someday our Goddesses return, not just looking for ephemeral pleasures, but to claim our lives for real… Until that happens, I’ve decided never to look down at the beach again, afraid that seeing a familiar event might trigger a relentless descent into the dark pits of depression. The yearning to surrender once more only grows deeper with each passing day. Will this thirst ever be fully quenched? I can only hope so, clinging on to phantom whiffs and the promises of everlasting, blissful joy within.

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