… her stunning eyes catch mine… her ample bosoms busting through her top… playfully asking… knowing I can’t resist her offer… and opens the door for me… as I crawl in beside her… her delicious feminine scent fills the car… and she puts her hand on my leg… close to my manhood… as it begins to swell with desire… she leans over… presses her gorgeous lips against mine… and kisses me deeply… her hand move between my legs… and she admires my desire…

An old antique lamp in Cory's Theo's (Greek for Uncle) collection. I love the glow and beads.

 

Altars of Light

by Pierre Joris

 

If the light is the soul

then soul is what's

all around me.

It is you,

it is around you too,

it is you.

The darkness is inside me,

the opaqueness of organs folded

upon organs--

to make light in the house of

the body--

thus to bring the

outside in,

the impossible job.

And the only place to become

the skin

the border, the in between, where

dark meets light, where I meets

you.

In the house of world the

many darknesses are surrounded

by light.

To see the one, we need

the other

it cuts both ways

light on light is blind

dark on dark is blind

light through dark is not

dark through light is movement

dark through light becomes,

is becoming,

to move through

light is becoming,

is all

we can know.

 

A couple of young girls who live in the same neighborhood and most likely are best friends, momentarily look directly into my camera while they are playing on the roadside of an inner village street in Subic, Zambales, Philippines.

"Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness,

Close bosom-friend of the maturing sun; . . . ."

- John Keats: 'To Autumn'

 

HOLLY - CARD DESIGN - From a photo taken 24 September 2021 on a nature shoot along hedgerows and roadside verges.

Borders added for a Greeting Card design.

Reduced size for web posting.

 

Personal reference: 20210924-D85_5853-CardDesignSmallForWeb

A pair of young boys - ages 8 (l) and 11 years old - enthusiastically pose after I acceded to the older lad's request to take his photo together with his first cousin, who he said is also his best friend.

 

Taken at a village seashore in Subic, Zambales, Philippines.

peek-a-moon

Female fitness passing through the shade ~ Poughkeepsie, NY

Soothes like the warmth of a mother’s bosom - wp.me/31YwA

Blog | Twitter | Instagram | iPhone Flickr |

© Leanne Boulton, All Rights Reserved

 

Candid street photography from Glasgow, Scotland. Love is in the air on this commercially created day to sell more cards, chocolate and gifts. Enjoy!

I think that I shall never see

A poem lovely as a tree.

 

A tree whose hungry mouth is prest

Against the sweet earth's flowing breast;

 

A tree that looks at God all day,

And lifts her leafy arms to pray;

 

A tree that may in summer wear

A nest of robins in her hair;

 

Upon whose bosom snow has lain;

Who intimately lives with rain.

 

Poems are made by fools like me,

But only God can make a tree."

 

- Joyce Kilmer, 1886-1918, Trees

For more details → H E R E

 

An old one of me and my friend, Taryn.

Out of the bosom of the Air, Out of the cloud-folds of her garments shaken, Over the woodlands brown and bare, Over the harvest-fields forsaken, Silent, and soft, and slow Descends the snow.

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

 

just a few images of the snow event remaining . have a great weekend all

To Autumn

John Keats

 

I

Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness,

Close bosom-friend of the maturing sun ;

Conspiring with him how to load and bless

With fruit the vines that round the thatch-eves run ;

To bend with apples the moss’d cottage-trees,

And fill all fruit with ripeness to the core ;

To swell the gourd, and plump the hazel shells

With a sweet kernel ; to set budding more,

And still more, later flowers for the bees,

Until they think warm days will never cease,

For Summer has o’er-brimm’d their clammy cells.

 

II

Who hath not seen thee oft amid thy store ?

Sometimes whoever rocks abroad may find

Thee sitting careless on a granary floor.

Thy hair soft-lifted by the winnowing wind ;

Or on a half-reap’d furrow round asleep,

Drows’d with the fume of poppies, while thy hook

Spares the next swath and all its twined flowers :

And sometimes like a gleaner thou dost keep

Steady thy laden head across a brook ;

Or by a cyder-press, with patient look,

Thou watchest the last oozings hours by hours.

 

III

Where are the songs of Spring ? Ay, where are they ?

Think not of them, thou hast thy music too, ‒

While barred clouds bloom the soft-dying day,

And touch the stubble-plains with cosy hue ;

Then in a wailful choir the small gnats mourn

Among the river sallows, borne aloft

Or sinking as the light wind lives or dies ;

And full-grown lambs loud bleat from hilly bourn ;

Hedge-crickets sing ; and now with treble soft

The red-breast whistles from a garden-croft ;

And gathering swallows twitter in the skies.

 

*

A l’automne

 

I

Saison de brumes et de moelleuse fécondité,

Amie très intime du soleil qui mûrit ;

Tu conspires avec lui afin de bénir d’un fardeau

De fruit la vigne qui court sous la saillie du toit de chaume ;

De faire ployer de pommes les arbres moussus de la chaumière,

Et d’emplir tout fruit de maturité jusqu’au cœur ;

D’enfler la gourde et de bonder les coques des noisettes

D’un douce amande ; de faire toujours davantage

Bourgeonner les fleurs tardives pour les abeilles,

Jusqu’à ce qu’elles pensent que les jours de chaleur jamais ne cesseront,

Car l’été sature leurs poisseuses alvéoles.

 

II

Qui ne t’a pas vue souvent parmi tes provisions ?

Parfois quiconque cherche au-dehors risque de te trouver

Assise sans souci sur le sol d’un grenier,

Ta chevelure ondulant au vent vanneur qui la soulève :

Ou sur un sillon à moitié moissonné profondément endormie,

Assoupie à l’exhalaison des pavots, tandis que ta faucille

Epargne le prochain andain et toutes ses fleurs enroulées :

Et quelquefois telle un glaneur tu maintiens

Ta tête chargée en travers d’un ruisseau ;

Ou près d’un pressoir à cidre, d’un regard patient,

Tu observes d’heure en heure les derniers suintements.

 

III

Où sont les chants du printemps ? Oui, où sont-ils ?

N’y pense pas ; toi aussi, tu as ta musique, ‒

Tandis que des nuages striées fleurissent la douce mort du jour,

Et caressent d’une teinte rosée les chaumes sur la plaine ;

Alors en un chœur plaintif pleurent les menus moucherons en deuil

Parmi les saules sur la rive, soulevés

Ou bien sombrant au gré du vent léger, vivant ou mourant ;

Et les agneaux grandis bêlent avec force près du ru sur la colline ;

Les grillons des haies chantent ; et désormais d’un doux soprano

Le rouge-gorge siffle dans le clos d’un jardin ;

Et les hirondelles qui se rassemblent pépient dans les cieux.

  

The TV chef is seen sporting some heavy frames to match her equally well endowed bust :)

 

Big, bold and beautiful.

 

UPDATE: 1ST AUGUST 2013. Whoopee! Nigella is now divorced from that dreadful violent Charles Saatchi and is single! Now, any chance of meeting up with her would be a dream, she would be my Domestic Goddess

 

"This girl single-handedly could make bosoms a thing of the past!" - Billy Wilder. From Life's "Legends". Photograph by Norman Parkinson.

to be honest, it started much before that

Peaceful Field.

 

Sanfte Seufzer bosomed Farben feierlichen Grüns dargestellt Goldgelb suspendiert goldenen Farben,

lointains blues délicieux nature ombres tranquille mystérieux tranquillité somnolent lumière du matin,

هناء السعادة عبق المتعة الوديان تيارات الأفكار تورم المجيدة الحيوانات بسيطة قرب,

Iluminado estrellas alto willowy alegrías hermoso oriental nubes interminable pinos torciendo flores espirales,

זרים סתויות התמהמהות אוצרות מרחוק טרי שריקה רוח בדידות מתפשטות מוח,

Питательные фрукты кормить величественные мечты шелест чувства покорившие взгляды бесконечное воображение бороздил землю,

sussurrando margherite odorose d'incenso tenera eteree belle fioriture ascolto minuti sorrisi di sole ora,

銀の眠りを愛撫する拡大された雑草平静な詩歌う蝶の快適な平気のふしだらな目の近く.

Steve.D.Hammond.

Have you ever seen a flight of herons

Silhouted against the azure blue sky,

And the placid lagoon down below,

Which mirrors its flapping wings floating high?

 

My winged thoughts couldn't discern,

As heaven and earth both seemed one!

My soul in its etherial flight, lost....

In the bosom of white-streaked time!

 

Raj Nandy

 

frontenac park, devil'slake....worked by a beaver

Joy all creatures drink

At nature's bosoms...

~Friedrich von Schiller

  

Tora | 2013

Keats got it right

 

Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness

Close bosom-friend of the maturing sun

Conspiring with him how to load and bless

With fruit the vines that round the thatch-eves run;

To bend with apples the moss'd cottage-trees,

And fill all fruit with ripeness to the core;

To swell the gourd, and plump the hazel shells

With a sweet kernel; to set budding more,

And still more, later flowers for the bees,

Until they think warm days will never cease,

For Summer has o'er-brimm'd their clammy cells.

Who hath not seen thee oft amid thy store?

Sometimes whoever seeks abroad may find

Thee sitting careless on a granary floor,

Thy hair soft-lifted by the winnowing wind;

Or on a half-reap'd furrow sound asleep,

Drows'd with the fume of poppies, while thy hook

Spares the next swath and all its twined flowers:

And sometimes like a gleaner thou dost keep

Steady thy laden head across a brook;

Or by a cider-press, with patient look,

Thou watchest the last oozings hours by hours.

Where are the songs of Spring? Ay, where are they?

Think not of them, thou hast thy music too,–

While barred clouds bloom the soft-dying day,

And touch the stubble-plains with rosy hue;

Then in a wailful choir the small gnats mourn

Among the river sallows, borne aloft

Or sinking as the light wind lives or dies;

And full-grown lambs loud bleat from hilly bourn;

Hedge-crickets sing; and now with treble soft

The red-breast whistles from a garden-croft;

And gathering swallows twitter in the skies.

 

Naughty Little Monkey is the patient model

 

maps.secondlife.com/secondlife/Falcon%20Cliff/116/169/22

"Sacred Goddess, Mother Earth,

Thou from whose immortal bosom

Gods and men and beasts have birth,

Leaf and blade, and bud and blossom,

Breathe thine influence most divine

On thine own child, Proserpine.

 

If with mists of evening dew

Thou dost nourish these young flowers

Till they grow in scent and hue

Fairest children of the Hours,

Breathe thine influence most divine

On thine own child, Proserpine."

-- Percy Bysshe Shelley

 

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Thanks a lot for visits and comments, everyone... Enjoy your Sunday...!

Please don't use this image on websites, blogs or other media without

my explicit permission. © All rights reserved

Here’s hoping you all are still nestled in the bosom of your family and stuffed from the Thanksgiving banquet. Enjoy those leftovers!

 

When time comes for the drive home from Grandma’s house, you may want to stop by Pete’s Holiday Village. It is easy to find, just follow the signs.

 

For many classic roadside attractions, clever and insistent use of billboards, dozens of them, scattered across the landscape for hundreds of miles in all directions was the best way to ensure your kids would start chanting, “ARE WE THERE YET?”

 

This is a forced perspective photograph of 1/24 scale die-cast model cars in front of a real background.

  

1953 Studebaker Commander Starliner is Danbury Mint

 

1947 Buick Roadmaster Estate Wagon is Danbury Mint

 

1930’s 1/24 scale billboard is scratch built

 

....taking a walk in the park

It's just me and you and the moonlight

I'm starin' at ya, starin' at the stars tonight

The sun that fell so hard has now disappeared

And you and I can start this evening right

 

What I say out loud's only half of what's in my head

Tonight, I'd rather look at you instead

I can't get enough of you

And every little thing you do

 

You, the night, and this candlelight is all I really need

'Cause I'm lovin' you, lovin' me

~Dave Barnes videolink

 

Adapted from an original upload

 

DSC00054-004_pe2

3 Jun 20

Out of the bosom of the Air.

Out of the cloud-folds of her garments shaken,

Over the woodlands brown and bare,

Over the harvest-fields forsaken,

Silent and soft and slow

Descends the snow.

 

- Snowflakes, by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

 

We really live in a beautiful place.

Happy Topless Tuesday on Election Day ~

I have become very fond of my H cups and they love me wearing them! As such, I think that it is fair to say that we have become "Bosom Buddies!"😄😄😄

Happy Woman Wednesday and a Chevrolet pickup truck ~

love so much clean smooth pussy

Living dead girl at a local cemetery

.. but they only rest their lips on my empty bosom, where my heart once was!”

Quan Ba, Ha Giang, Vietnam

A Curious Vigilance p1

Grammarly another role play story idea

 

A Curious Vigilance

Part One of Two

 

A Watchman Cometh

  

“If you can’t take the heat, don’t be tickling dragons !”

 

Acte 1

 

Ginny and I had, several weeks ago, received invitations to a fellow student's upscale, formal evening wedding.

 

Since we both love to get dressed up, it was a no-brainer to accept. Even though we really weren’t players in her circle.

 

Probably just wanted the gifts. The git.

 

So I borrowed my twin brothers antique roadster, drove up the road a short way, and picked up Ginny.

 

As she walked up to the car I couldn’t help but think how we both were dressed for the kill.

 

I had on my smart purple silk dress with the long pleated slinky knee-length skirt and spaghetti straps. The dress came with a cuffed long-sleeved, waist-length, black satin jacket with rhinestone buttons.

 

I had put in a diamond pin on one side of the jacket. It was in the shape of a bursting star, giving off a pleasing shimmer.

 

My other jewels consisted of my silver v shaped necklace. The v was set with small round rhinestones with 3 kite shaped sapphires set hanging down the center of the V. I also had in the necklaces’s matching semi-long earrings. Also worn was my diamond tennis bracelet on my right wrist, while gracing my left was a wide rhinestone bracelet. One ring, diamonds surrounding a gold rose(my best ring) gracing the ring finger on my left hand, completed the look.

 

Ginny?

Well, our Ginny girl was smashing.

 

She had poured her lithe figure into the sleek satin high shoulder sleeve sheath dress she had bought to wear in a play she acted in last spring. It was midnight black with a brite lime green inner lining and tight lime green Lycra pants. The only decoration on the elegant dress was a glittery silver rhinestone Dragon, with green slanted eyes and a red fiery tongue. It was embroidered crawling up one side of the dress, grasping claws reaching around up towards her bosom.

 

“Naughty Dragon.”

 

Ginny had green mascara above her eyes, around which she drew lines of black mascara to give them a slanted look. The whole effect looked a lot like Shirley Jackson did in the Michael Caine movie Gambit. Right up to the solid gold headpiece in Gunny’s reddish hair.

 

Ginny also had in her emerald drop earrings, along with her wide emerald bracelet loosely dangling along an otherwise bare left wrist, and a fancy emerald cocktail ring flashing from the pinkie on her left hand.

 

But it was her necklace that stole the show.

 

The opulently handsome necklace was the estate auction won, long pendant that had neatly set her back a month's wages. We both had opened bids on it at the same time, with me immediately backing off so she would win it.

 

It was a very shimmery piece of jewellery, with its long rhinestone encrusted chain hanging past her breasts, ending with a dangling pendant which held a birds egg size synthetic oval-shaped emerald, surrounded by long rhinestone fringes that resembled the silver beard of the dragon on her dress.

 

It was a very striking effect, especially when it stopped swaying and hung straight down, appearing just out of reach from the grasping front rhinestone claw of the gem greedy dragon.

 

^^^^^^^^

 

The church and reception hall was only about a 60-minute drive away green m our village.

 

We arrived in the city where it was located early and stopped at a pub for a glass of wine, which we drank outside at a garden table.

 

We then left, arriving at the church with plenty of time to walk around and soak in the surroundings.

 

Acte 2

 

The wedding Proper was pretty normal, with the usual pomp, circumstance, and rigid schedule only the upper class seem to achieve with nothing atoll coming close to being original and new.

 

The reception was more of the same. Ginny, per normal, snagged more time on the dance floor than me. Though I was

by no means being ignored. The bar was free, so we made good use of that.

 

By around 7:30 we were a pair of happily well-fed, well-partied, and well-liquored-up young ladies.

 

The reception for the most part was the usual fun and the usual routine flow that goes on at such affairs.

 

There was only one incident of note, well actually I guess, two, that have a bearing on my story.

 

The first was this:

 

A young girl was wearing what must have been a previously worn, hideously yellow, satin bridesmaid gown. She also was wearing a nice set of real diamonds. Ginny was really impressed with the jewelry she was wearing. As the party went, and the more we drank, the more Ginny prattled on over different ways someone could try lifting some of those diamonds from the lady.

 

Sensing there may be trouble soon brewing, I was getting tired of holding Ginny back from her obsession, that I suggested we should be heading out.

 

Then I was asked to dance, and lost track of her. When I found her, she was chatting up the lady in yellow satin and diamonds. The lady was holding up Ginny’s shimmery pendant, and I saw that Ginny had a hand placed lightly on the lady’s wrist, next to her diamond bracelet

 

Telling myself:

“Enough of that missy!”

I went up and pried Ginny away.

 

“Don’t be tickling that Dragon, even if you were thinking of doing it as a prank.”

I scolded.

 

My twin brother is always saying “If you are not prepared to take the heat, don’t tickle a dragon!” In other words, don’t invite trouble if you are not sure you would welcome the outcome.

 

I started suggesting to her we might be heading home soon.

 

“Stop at our pub(The Poet & Peasant),” I suggested.

 

Ginny said we should do one better…

 

We could stop at the old cemetery where we liked to role-play various games of both pickpockets, and jewel thievery. Sometimes combining the two. There she could nick my jewels to her heart’s content.

 

I admitted that sounded promising.

 

Then came the second incident on the heels of her suggestion.

 

Ginny said pleasantly, if we’re not doing the pub, then we should take something to drink with us. That way we don’t need a pub.

 

Suspiciously, I asked my grinning childhood friend.

“What’s you on about? “

 

“I mean Cade, nick a bottle while I distract the bartender. He’s working over there alone for a few minutes.”

 

I sighed, but it may be fun, so game on….

 

We pulled it off. It was far easier than it should have been.

 

As Ginny flirted with the young man tending the open bar, so I kept moving till his back was to me, and I ended up sitting on the far end.

 

I took a deep breath, scurried around and grabbed a bottle from the supply bin on the floor, and walked straight out the nearest exit.

 

I circled around the building to the lot and found Ginny at the roadster waiting.

 

She had placed her black beaded purse, opened, on the bonnet of the car and was bending over to put lipstick on using the car's outside mirror.

 

“What did you snag luv?”

 

Breathless, I looked at the bottle for the first time. It was a bottle of Penderyn.

 

Slightly disappointed, I would have preferred wine over a single malt. But it would do.

 

Meanwhile, I was standing between Ginny and the roadsters’ bonnet.

 

I handed the bottle to her, and as she looked I reached out behind me and dipping my fingers into her purse pulled out her wallet.

 

Holding it behind, suppressing a desire to laugh, I circled around to the right side and got into the driver's seat.

 

Ginny put her lipstick inside her purse and snapped it close with one hand still holding the bottle. Then picking up the purse and got inside the passenger’s seat.

 

She never noticed her wallet was gone, and by then I had it inside my own purse.

 

Still totally clueless, Ginny asked as we drove away :

 

“Do you think we should include your brother in with us?”

 

I said he was practicing darts with Brian(my boyfriend) and their friend, teammate, and one of our fellow players, Derrick.

 

Ginny giggled, hoisting up the bottle.

“More for us then.”

 

Acte 3

 

We arrived at the cemetery with plenty of light left in the evening. Parking in the open lot, we made our way past the open wrought iron gates.

 

The almost 40 Hectares square-shaped cemetery is no longer in use, its main gates are permanently opened to the public, but besides us, only very few ever visit it. Judging by the dates on the gravestones, the last burial was not too long after the Victorian age officially ended. No way of truly establishing when its first burial was.

 

It lays along a lane called Abbots Chase.

 

Where a highwayman by the name of Craig Abbot used to roam several hundred years ago. It is said he is buried here in this very cemetery. Though most of the old stones are so blackened the names are not legible.

 

My dad is a direct descendant of Craig Abbot, and much to the chagrin of my mum’s Irish catholic family, my twin brother was named after him. Destiny?

 

The other end off Abbots Chase lane, west of the cemetery goes past the large old manor house some 5 kilometers away from the cemetery. The manor is now a private men’s seminary college.

 

^^^^^^^^^^^

 

We hung out at the cemetery and its interior, and surrounding woods, as kids, walking the 2 Kilometers along from the east end of the lane, where the local village was.

 

Both Ginny and I grew up in houses located on the opposite side of the village.

 

We use this private cemetery for our role-playing game adventures. We had the run of the area. Not only because of its solitude, and lack of visitors, but also because there were no roads in it. Only narrow overgrown horse-drawn cart paths. And a few cobblestone footpaths. Both of which are blocked by fallen gravestones.

 

The games have evolved. But they mostly are based on pickpocketing and other forms of thievery. Mainly related to lifting or the nicking of jewels that the one portraying the victim is wearing. We take turns being one or the other.

 

Originally there were just the 3 of us, Ginny, my twin brother, and myself. We would bring various costumes, play jewelry, and other various items. Backpacking them in from our homes.

 

We have since added four more “players” to our group, though only a few times have we all met here in force.

 

There are also times as we grew older that we have stopped to play after being somewhere dressed up. The motivation can be anything from too much to drink, or something that evening triggered the idea.

 

Like tonight, with Ginny taking a fancy to a young lady’s diamonds.

  

Acte 4

 

Ginny and I entered through the main gate and walked the 75 meters up to the marble pagoda sitting on a small hill.

 

In years long past, this pagoda would have served as the last service area for the deceased being buried here.

 

There is a set of steps leading up to the platform which is eye level. On the ground, flanking the steps are a pair of long marble benches. With old wrought iron ones scattered about surrounding the octagonal platform.

 

As per normal, no sign that anyone had been here in a while. Though we did have a bit of a jump when a fox ran out from underneath the pagoda, giving us the evil green eye before slipping off into some tall grass.

 

I had brought a blanket which we laid on the stairs. We put down our purses on one of the marble benches.

 

Sitting on the stairs, Ginny opened the bottle and took a small sip. Followed by a bigger one.

 

“Whew, that burns going down.”

She exclaimed passing it to me.

 

It smelled strong.

“Should have brought some water to cut it.”

I said taking a hit, feeling it burn warmly.

 

We each took several more sips before getting down to business.

 

I place a hand on Ginny’s arm, looking her in the eyes.

 

She starts to giggle. As do I also, both of us falling into each other’s arms, hugging as our figures are being racked by our uncontrollable laughter.

 

Meanwhile, I was busy. My hand running down her arm, I reached her her emerald bracelet and nimbly opened the clasp, easily pulling it off and cuffing it in my fist, moving that hand to her backside, using it to hold her quivering figure close.

 

Finally, we broke away, settling down. As I stroked her sleek backside with my hand, I say:

“Ok lass, are you ready to lift some of my diamonds?”

 

Taking a belt from the bottle ( it was not a sip, nor a gulp, somewhere in between)

Ginny nodded her head, earrings sparkling with intensity, like the look in her eyes just before she said:

 

“Let’s dance.”

  

Acte 5

 

I went over and pulled the cell from my purse, seeing a text from my brother asking if:

“Us girls were having fun?”

 

I sent one back:

“Smashing fun, wish you could be here, now I have to go and see a lady about doing a lift on some jewels she is wearing…”

 

That should make him stop in his tracks and ponder. I would imagine his own game now being off all of a sudden.

 

Giggling mischievously, I laid the cell in front of my purse on the marble seat, I selected “And we danced” by the Hooters.

 

Ginny was already on the platform, strutting her stuff. I went to the stairs, grabbed the bottle, took a swig, and ran up to join her.

 

She bumped into me with her hip, then went behind me, her hands running along my figure, then pulling me against her she ran her hands down along the satin sleeve of my jacket. I only felt it because I knew it was coming. After all, as her hand slipped along my wrist, she expertly whisked off my diamond bracelet.

 

I pushed her away using my hinney, then turned and began dancing close to her, wriggling up against and away from her figure. Her eyes had been opened quite wide, from the thrill of the bracelet lift, but she closed them as I rubbed my figure up along hers.

 

I had been eyeing her dazzling dripping jeweled pendant. My arms went up behind her back. Pulling down the clasp I unhooked it and reaching my hands up, pulled it away from her gown’s rhinestone dragon’s clutches

 

I had it pocketed before she reopened her eyes.

 

The music ended, and arm in arm we went back to the stairs, passing the bottle to each other.

 

We were becoming quite happily intoxicated by now, giggling at everything.

  

Acte 6

 

Ginny sets down the bottle, then stares at her bare wrist.

“I don’t suppose this bracelet fell off on its own?”

 

I chuckled, looking at where her necklace should have been dangling, picking up the bottle.

“No, it had a bit of help, I felt inside my pocket and pulled it out, replacing it as Ginny held up the bottle and asked:

 

“Another round?”

 

We both took several swigs before I decided it was time to have a bit more role play.

 

I place a hand on Ginny’s chest...

“Give me a lead luv…”

 

Ginny thinks a minute, long enough for us to take another swig each from the fast becoming 3/4 full bottle.

 

Looking me over, she tells me.

“Take a walk..”

I stand (maybe a little wobbly), and manage to do so, taking the path around the pagoda.

 

She comes up behind me, putting her hands over my eyes.

 

“Guess who Abigail?”

 

I answered...

I’m not Abigail?”

 

The voice behind me, as the hands are lifted from my eyes and reach down to my chest..”

 

“I’m so sorry, of course, your not, my bad.”

 

I turn around to face Ginny…

 

Placing a hand on my chest( lifting off my broach from the lapel of the jacket) Ginny says:

 

“I’m so sorry, I can’t believe I made a mistake like that. “

 

I feel her placing the broach in my pocket, as I say(thinking that counted as two lifts)

“That’s ok luv, we all make mistakes.’

 

Quite pleased with herself Ginny went back to the steps.

 

She thought I was following as she talked to me.

 

I did not, rather I hid in the bushes and watched her.

 

Ginny picked up the bottle and took a swig, handing it to me…

 

It was then she realized I wasn’t there.

 

“Where are you, you silly ninny?”

She called out, then began to walk back the way she had come.

 

I jump out of the bushes behind her my hand in the satin jacket's pocket( I can feel the cold necklace inside. I point my fingers In the pocket like I am ‘ packing heat’.

 

Prodding my finger in her back I say

“Stick 'em up, pretty lady!”

 

Ginny giggles,

 

“Speaking of sticks. Is that one or are you just happy to see me?

 

“Funny lady, now turn around. “

 

She did and gave a fake gasp, hand to her mouth, ring sparkly.

 

“There you go, now be a good Lass and hand over those jewels around your wrist and finger. ”

 

She lifted her wrist and undid the bracelet, then slips off her ring. As she hands them to me:

 

“My this bracelet is popular with thieves this evening.”

 

She then pulls out her gold hairpiece, shaking down her hair as I take it:

“Here thief. The thing was starting to pull on my hair and bothering me anyways.”

 

I smirk:

“Thanks, lady !”

 

We both have a laugh over this latest sequence of events, while I give her back the bracelet and ring.

 

I lead her, as her laughing satin clad figure leans into me, over to the steps.

 

But as we approach, Ginny stops and grabs my arm, her, heavily mascara’d eyes suddenly bugging out, placing a hand to her mouth, she really Gasped.

 

“Cade,Look, over by the gate!”

 

I did, feeling the hairs on my scalp rise by what I saw!

 

To be Continued…

 

To be Continued…

the first time I actually tried to create some cleavage

 

Chi Chapter Holiday meeting, Chicago