Wanda

CHAPTER VII

Mr. White wasn't the only one to find Wanda extraordinary. It was true that the seeming contradictions between her words and her actions sometimes aroused people's suspicions. There was also something wonderfully innocent about Wanda. She seemed almost like some strange fantasy creature, brought to life from a man's most private daydreams.

As Mr. White would later put it, “You know, I almost believed that I had made her up, but no. Not so."

Wanda seemed to possess the coolest case of self-assurance known to man or, in this case, woman. Mr. White was somewhat taken aback by his first experience with Wanda. It took quite a while for him to sort out his emotions regarding her.

Unfortunately, just as Wanda was about to give Mr. White his first blowjob in a very long time, the telephone rang. They were both startled, suddenly struck with the reality of the moment. Wanda was on her hands and knees. Her luscious breasts were exquisitely naked, her nipples hard. She had kicked her high heels off and was wiggling her little painted toes inside the reinforced nylon of her sheer stockings.

She had just finishing turning full-circle on her hands and knees so that Mr. White could have a good look at her from every angle. This had been her suggestion and he had readily agreed.

He had gotten a magnificent view of her breast, hanging pendulant in her kneeling position capped by a hard nipple, and pointing to the floor. Her skin was stretched over her ribs and the lithe muscles in her arms were flexed under her weight. Her long legs were bent at the knees, in a ninety-degree angle, and the tops of her feet rested against the floor.

Then he had told her to turn, wanting to see her buttocks. She had done so, slowly, teasingly, until he had a full view. Her buttocks were slightly spread open showing a glimpse of her asshole. Her hips rounded out to the sides in a full, pleasing swell and tapered in at the tops of her thighs. He could see the well-defined muscles of her thighs running down to the backs of her knees. The tendons at the backs of her knees protruded slightly; her heels were perfect, round balls. He admired the delicate points of her spine, stretching along her back to her neck.

Finally, she turned to face him once more. Her head was down and her hair fell like a waterfall toward the floor with her breasts just visible behind it. That was when the phone had rung.

"Damn it to hell!” Mr. White cursed. “You must excuse me, Wanda, my dear.” Cursing again, this time under his breath, Mr. White arose. His prick was amazingly erect, looking proud and powerful. It bobbed gently before him as he went to his desk and took the phone call.

"Oh no,” he bellowed into the receiver after listening for a moment. “Oh no, not again!” He slammed the receiver into its cradle.

He looked over at Wanda, who had crawled up on the couch. Her knees were drawn up against her breasts. She was rubbing her now-drying panties all over her hairy cunt, which Mr. White could plainly see through her parted knees.

"I'm so sorry dear, but I must leave you. It's that Mrs. Long again. Can you believe it? We were we just speaking of her."

"Yes. We were.” Wanda sat up and began to adjust her brassiere over her lovely, silky smooth breasts. As he watched each sweet inch of her flesh disappear into its cup, Mr. White sighed. They were so beautiful.

As she put on her panties, she was tempted to say something about Alice Long, but she decided to be discreet.

She slipped her sexy spike heels onto her stockinged feet. Mr. White continued to gaze at her with both admiration and desire. She had perfectly delicious legs, from her delicate ankles to her slender calves. Mr. White imagined what it would be like to have those legs wrapped tightly around his waist as he drove his cock into her.

She adjusted her garters to perfection, sliding them up and down her thighs, wrapping them tightly around her flesh. Wanda felt there was a real art to getting them in just the right position. She ran her fingers along the bands, lingering at the point where they met between her legs, then moved her finger to the top edges and petted her cunt. Finally, she pulled them up so that they lay just beneath her cunt. She sighed.

Mr. White strode across the office to her and she looked startled, as if she had been mesmerized by the feel of her own flesh and forgotten he was there.

When he reached her, he gave a sudden great laugh and picked her up in his strong arms, holding her high in the air as if she were a child.

Wanda didn't weigh very much, but the way he was waving her from side to side, up and down in the air, with her feet about four feet off the floor, made her feel like a rag doll.

She did enjoy it, though. When he lowered her down a little, he nuzzled his face between her breasts. Then he tossed her into the air again, catching her in his strong arms. Her head had almost hit the ceiling.

She was giggling happily when he lowered her gently to the rug. He bent to kiss her on top of her head.

"Well, you're off to check out the apartments, right? And you'll be back, say in two or three hours?"

"It won't take me that much time."

"Great. Maybe when you get back we can have a little talk, eh?"

Wanda smiled. “That would be nice,” she said. “I loved the talk we just had."

He wrinkled his eyes in laughter and then cleared his throat.

"Yes… yes… of course. Well, I must get dressed. I have to visit with Mrs. Long about some plumbing trouble, you see. But never mind that now."

Wanda leaned her cheek forward after he escorted her to the door and he brushed it with his lips as if she were merely a distant cousin who had come to visit for an hour or so.

She went out the door and it closed behind her. As she climbed the stairs to the sidewalk, he gripped his stiff cock and jerked it vigorously, his eyes riveted to the saucy sway of her wonderful behind. At last, she turned, waved down at him and strode off.

"Oh God in Heaven!” Mr. White exclaimed aloud. He sat on the couch and spread his thighs, moving the handsome dragon Japanese robe wide. Then he jerked off his cock with one hand while he manipulated and massaged his aching balls with the other.

Closing his eyes, he once more visualized young Wanda, gloriously naked. He concentrated on her leather garters, envisioning the way they wrapped around her white flesh, tight enough for her flesh to rise around their edges.

Once, when he'd been a youth, he'd glimpsed the garters of a woman sitting across from him on a train. She'd been reading a book and had been quite unaware of the fact that across from her a boy sat peering lasciviously into the open space between her legs. He had wondered, later, if perhaps she had been aware after all. She had sat with her legs spread, her slit skirt falling to either side of them, with her crotch plainly visible. He had not only seen her garters, which had aroused him, but also the panty-covered mound of her cunt.

It had been the garters, however, which had stimulated him more than anything else, causing his cock to grow hard in his trousers. They had been silk, he'd guessed, from the way they wrapped so delicately around her thighs. They were red, like blood; they'd looked almost like welts running horizontally around the slender, luminous skin of her thighs. He'd pressed his hand into his lap, weighing down his erect cock and shifting his position quietly, lest she should notice his excitement. He had pressed and pressed, all the while staring at the opening between her legs, even-not too obviously, he'd hoped-rubbing his cock beneath the fabric of his trousers. He had come, wetness exploding in his pant-leg. He'd imagined those garters wrapped tightly around his cock as he fondled himself. He recalled the whole scene vividly as he pictured Wanda's leather garters.

He dressed for what would be, he hoped, a brief visit with Mrs. Long in her privately owned brownstone around the corner on West Ninth Street. He had idle dreams all the while of making love to Wanda while she wore her leather garters. He was sure she'd go along with his kinky desire. And the idea thrilled him.

As Mr. White trundled down Christopher Street, waving politely to the few neighbors who recognized him-he seldom came out of his basement office-apartment-he was in a state of euphoria. The sun was remarkably warm, the weather balmy, and he thought the winds smelled sweeter than they had in years.

Inside his billowing white cotton trousers, which resembled harem pants, his naked penis still throbbed with pleasure, hardening, stiffening and lengthening with every step. He loved the sensation of his prick slapping against his thigh. Already he could begin to feel that delicious wetness as his cock leaked with his increasing desire.

Ever so slowly, he was formulating plans for a grand adventure with Wanda. But at the same time, he wondered about the curious contradictions in her behavior. What could explain her attitude toward sex-her seeming innocence combined with her expert ability to arouse him? She fascinated him. What was the mystery of Wanda?

At the corner of Christopher and Greenwich Avenue, Mr. White stopped at the greengrocers. He bought three ripe, juicy peaches, which reminded him of his first intimate view of Wanda's delightfully virginal cunt.

He also bought a pound of plums. Next door at the florists, he purchased a somewhat expensive bouquet of colorful summer flowers for Mrs. Long. He had to admit that although her complaints were a bother, there was something about her that attracted him.

As it happened, the parcel of land under Mrs. Long's elegant brownstone and the house itself had once been owned by Mr. White's mother. He'd inherited it along with the profitable real estate business when she'd died.

Mr. White still owned the land under the house, and if a single month passed without some complaint from Mrs. Alice Long, Mr. White considered himself fortunate indeed.

This time it had something to do with her neighbor on the right whose pipes ran under Mrs. Long's fabulous “village” garden in her back yard. Legal disputes, though not unfamiliar to Mr. White who had once practiced law, were a real annoyance. He sighed as he rang the highly polished brass bell on her oaken door, which gleamed in the bright afternoon sunlight. He hoped Mrs. Long-Alice as he thought of her-wouldn't take too much of his time. He wanted to get a present for Wanda. He would give it to her when she returned from deciding on which of the apartments she would rent from him.

"Well, hello there, Homer!” Mrs. Long greeted Mr. White by his first name, a name he never used. In fact, on his letterhead and his business bills were the initials, H. A. White. Very few people knew his name was Homer. Hearing it made him shudder. He'd always disliked it.

"Good afternoon, Alice.” He took her hand and kissed it gently.

"Always the gentleman, eh, Homer?"

She led him into the deep, but friendly shadows of the library in the middle of her house. Potted plants, orange and lemon trees, vines, and other greenery grew profusely.

A wide-open window overlooked the vast garden. A refreshing breeze blew in through it, bringing with it the varied perfumes of blossoming flowers. There were many such gardens in the neighborhood, all extremely well cared for.

"It's so nice to see you, Homer."

Alice Long was wearing a long, ankle-length chiffon robe. When she had passed in front of a strong light coming from the hallway, Mr. White had seen that her gown was entirely transparent! He had caught his breath, certain he'd seen the outline of her long, athletic legs. As Alice stood quietly for a moment before the open window, he noticed he had begun to sweat.

She stood with her back to him, looking out. The transparent gown was so sheer that he could see the entire outline of her body. Her shoulders were broad, and there was a full, softly swelling bosom. Her outline tapered in at the thin waist and again expanded at her hips and buttocks, which he could see clearly. They were ample and well formed. He could even see the dark line where they met, the two halves coming together to form one erotically full whole.

When she turned and came toward him, her breasts beneath the shimmery chiffon jiggled and danced delightfully. He could see her nipples, large and dark against the thin white material of the gown, rubbing against the fabric, trying, it seemed, to burst through.

"Oh God,” he murmured, half-aloud.

"What is it, Homer?"

"Oh… oh, nothing, Alice. Nothing."

But that was a lie. Alice was naked beneath her robe, naked! He could see her body, the lines and curves softened by the soft fabric of her gown, which made it all the more enticing. He could see the mound of her cunt, rising slightly above the nexus of her thighs. And he could even just see the lips of her cunt poking from beneath her mound as she would stand with her legs parted slightly.

He felt his penis throb and begin to lengthen. He took a seat at the table where he'd sat many times before.