An Urban Amazon

It wasn't that Miriam had actually "decided" to remove her panties in the stifling heat—it was more of a natural and consequential thing to do, like a serpent shedding its outer layers, exposing the vibrant ones beneath. Her butter-brown skin looked exceedingly Amazonian. Her thighs showed the tone of a tri-athlete. And the curvature of her back defined itself grandly as it worked its way down to the incredible cleft of her perfectly molded ass, which had been pinched and squeezed and lusted after many times, sometimes not always welcomed.

In the sun atop her apartment complex, she dropped the satiny thong merely by standing up and rubbing her legs together and gyrating her hips. This was a trick she had used playfully many times in the bedroom, and it drove men mad.

And in fact, this time it did as well. Because a man with a telescopic lens was waiting and watching. Ever since his brief encounter at the drug store (she was buying condoms; he tailed her home) he had neglected just about everything in order to focus on the most sensual woman he had ever seen. Within two weeks, he had completely abandoned his actuarial responsibilities, his plants had died, and he barely ate meals anymore. Friends and co-workers were concerned, because he had built his reputation as something of a rock-steady corporate exec by day and a playboy by night. He was the kind of guy most girls felt moist about—a successful businessman who filled out his trousers and made the act of smiling look like an art form. He could converse about the movies of Woody Allen and the philosophy of Siddartha, all the while undressing the conversant with his eyes. And when the girls didn't have a clue about what he was talking about, he'd chat flippantly about American Idol, or whatever happened to be on television. He'd gone through a streak of something like twenty different women on consecutive days, each one a treat for any man.

And he loved long and he loved hard. His maleness would always arouse shock and awe as it invaded foreign soil, as he like liked to think of it. And the passionate breathless screams emanating from his bedroom made neighbors wonder why their own lives were so mundane. And, as if that were not enough, he was somewhat experienced in the art of tantric. Most girls needed about a gallon of water before he escorted them politely into a taxi and off into the night.

Miriam sunbathed. The man ejaculated. He couldn't help it. She was doing to him what he had done to the girls he wooed. And she didn't even seem to notice the sexual potency that surrounded her. She read her book, applied the tanning oil (as if she needed it), and completely ignored the fact that her building was by far not the tallest around.

"Oh GOD!" the man sighed as he climaxed, suddenly aware of his surroundings. The powerful explosion rocked him back to focus, and he wished to immediately climax again. In his apartment, in fact a bachelor pad to be proud of and flanked by custom-leather furniture, he paced relentlessly, naked, still horny, and confused. He simply had to meet her. He just had to. Otherwise, it was possible he might actually burst his flesh wide open from all the pent-up sexual aggression he now felt.

A woman came out to Miriam's lounger. She was a cute little thing, nubile with perky little breasts that suggested a seductive innocence, but bearing the body of complete female as well. "What's this?" the man asked to the open air. He nearly impaled his right eye on the viewfinder.

Through the lens he saw the Amazon stand up again, her elongated naked figure towering over her companion. The little woman approached the sun-drenched lioness in a way that appeared to suggest a long-lost mate. Because in a few seconds, the little girl's hands had stretched firmly for sloping buttocks of the Amazon and allowed the woman to bend toward her delicately-positioned lips.

"WOAH!" the man exhaled. His body shook with tension at the sight. What incredible luck! How he wished he might be involved in this tryst! The phone rang but he didn't hear it.

The Amazon now had decided to control things, because she gripped the girl's baby-blonde pig-tails in each hand and steered her body lower and lower until her head was level with her hands, which had playfully prodded her companion's bronzed posterior until she got so hot she almost hyperventilated. Now she put her mouth to more use, on her knees in the August afternoon. The Amazon arched her head slightly, still gripping the pig-tails. She widened her stance to allow an anxious tongue to sample the delectables. Suddenly, the sweet-spot was discovered, and she convulsed, wriggling and writhing, pulsing her box towards the mouth that gave her so much pleasure.

Again, and again, and again, she thrusted, each time rolling her eyes to the back of her head. The pulsing became more powerful, and the girl at her knees rocked in rhythm to better accommodate her. They became a dancing act, building towards an awesome finish. One girl straddling the other, completely subsumed in an ecstasy like nothing of this world...it was beautiful and tortuous, and it seemed like the feeling would last forever.

Unfortunately, the man finished well before them. He lay on the cold floor, trying to recover, and although he was not now watching the couple engage in their sexual artistry, he heard one long, piercing scream that could mean only one thing—an orgasm on the level with sheer Enlightenment.

When he approached the telescope again, they were gone. He was, in a word, lovesick.

* **

"It's always about a woman," his executive assistant gossiped to the receptionist. "Whenever an unattached man loses his appetite and his mind, you know where his heart is."

"Janice, can you get me the Peterson file?" Dorian said as he walked past her into the hallway. "Just leave it on my desk. I'll be back later."

"Where are you going?" Janice asked. "It's only 9:30."

He didn't answer. He didn't have to. He was the boss. And the boss wanted it to appear like he was working, so he had strewn things around on his desk, papers and files, and so forth. But the ruse was fooling no one.

"I used to like the old Dorian," Janice whispered to the receptionist. "He used to look me in the eye. Now all he does is shuffle along."

"How long has this been going on?"

"A month."

Dorian appeared again. "Forgot my jacket," he said and was gone.

* **

In the safe enclave of his apartment, Dorian checked his watch. The woman's schedule, he'd figured out, was difficult to ascertain. Her lights switched on at odd and unpredictable hours. She rooftop bathed, it seemed, when she knew no one else would be around. He was sure she didn't hold a nine-to-five job, or perhaps she worked from home. Did she work at all? Did sensual temptresses even have jobs? Work was what ordinary people involved themselves with, and she was of a higher station in life, or so he believed. He had staked out her entryway from a coffee-shop on the corner, spending long hours sipping coffee near the window and playing Solitaire on his computer. She always came and left alone. The myriad men and women who entered the complex were always lovers he suspected and envied, and he imagined each one lying next to her in a state of bliss. He hated them all.

No luck tonight. She wasn't at home. Only a black slinky dress hung over a chair by her window.

* **

Janice came by Dorian's apartment. Clients were furious. He had not returned their calls, and for someone who had made a career out of financial planning and risk-assessment, he had completely abandoned his agenda. "Vacation" was the word he used when he passed his work off to a colleague. The colleague was only too happy for the unexpected surge in business.

Janice rang the buzzer, and he came down to meet her. She gasped at his unshaven face and his emaciated figure. He looked sad.

"Dorian, I think an explanation is in order," Janice demanded.

"Yes, you're right," he admitted. "But I can't really explain it myself."

Janice invited herself up to his place, despite his reservations. They chatted politely about work-related matters and other things that required his attention. As they sat there in the darkened living room, he kept looking over toward the window.

"Dorian, you've known me for a long time," Janice said finally. "So you've got to level with me. Who's the girl? And what did she do to you?"

For the first time that evening, Dorian looked right at her. Then he sighed. "You know, I've never been one to regularly mix my professional and personal life. You're just about the only person to see me in both arenas." This was true. One early after-work cocktail encounter had made them intimate and truly affectionate for each other, despite their continued working-relationship. "So, here's the deal. I am absolutely in love with a woman I've never really met. And I think it's killing me."

"Never met?"

"Yes." He threw his head towards the telescope. She stared at him, and then went to take a look. Through the blinds across the street a woman was dusting, in nothing at all. Her nude body arced to reach the lamps and the furniture. Janice gasped. She was unbelievably beautiful. Her breasts bobbed as if supported by the air around them. Her lips pouted in a way that allured even the straight awe-struck woman peering secretly at her. The silence convinced Dorian of the woman's presence. He pushed Janice out of the way rudely, and she almost hit her head on a table.

"Ahhhhhhh." he said, excited beyond belief.

"Dorian!" Janice couldn't believe the behavior. But, strangely, she wasn't repulsed. In fact, she was titillated. Something so primal had overcome her boss and her friend that she found herself wanting to be near him, wanting to touch him somehow. And likewise he with the woman across the way. She approached him as he stared through the viewfinder. "Dorian," she called again, this time more gently. "Dorian."

"Ahhhhhhhh," was all he said.

"I want to take another look." He gave her no response. "Dorian, please." He remained motionless, transfixed. Cautiously, she placed her hand on his back. He raised his head slightly in response. "Dorian, I don't understand it, but I want to see her. Please."

It was another man altogether who responded, "Not until I'm finished."

Though Janice would be shocked at herself later, she took it upon herself to finish him. Her perfectly manicured hands decided to move ever so slowly towards the front of him, where he had already loosened his belt-buckle. She pulled up right behind him, unbuttoning his shirt and playing with his chest-hair. He seemed to acknowledge her advances with grunts, although she couldn't be sure. Janice pressed her face next to his and whispered, "Okay, baby."

Her own shapely breasts pressed against Dorian's back as she slid her arms southward, until she found the enormous bulge she was looking for. "Mmmmmmmmm," Dorian responded. She caressed his swollen penis with both hands through the fabric of his expensive chinos. "You like that, baby?" she asked, knowingly.

She unfastened his pants and slipped down the zipper in a satisfying "zhiiiiip" and then pushed the encumbering material down delicately, removing his organ as if it were a lost-buried treasure. Its size and girth actually frightened her—bigger than she remembered—as did its subtle pulsing as blood rushed toward the region. "God," he said as she cupped his testicles with her left hand and began stroking his shaft with her right. No need for lubrication—the glistening perspiration from the two of them was enough to glide her soft fingers along its length.

"God, you're beautiful," Dorian moaned. "So goddamn beautiful." He was feeling it now. "Ohhhhh, yes. YES. I've got what you need. Yeahhhh. YEAHHHHHHHH. Oh GOD! Here it is, baby!"

Janice stopped short. She was jealous.

"What the FUCK are you doing!"

"Dorian, I—"

"Keep going, you slut!" He turned around as she backed away. "You can't stop now!"

Torn between physical stimulation and visual excitement, Dorian looked confused. Impetuously, he decided to finish the job himself. He had hands, goddamn it. Like a drunkard, he swiveled his body back towards the telescope, ready to resume. Only this time, the lights were off. She was gone.

An unintelligible sound escaped his lips, something between a gurgle and an expletive. Clearly, he had run amok. His eyes searched madly for the culprit. There. The woman who made him miss his most precious opportunity. "You," he said with his white-capped teeth gritted in a snarl. Janice smiled.

She turned willingly and bent herself over his custom-leather sofa, and accepted the ensuing ferocity.

* **

That night, as Dorian slept soundly, Janice crept over to the telescope. In vain she scanned the mysterious woman's apartment. The woman had really turned her on, she had to admit, in a way that even Dorian hadn't. Even now, the image of a perfectly-created woman dusting in the buff was puddling her panties. As if the menial household chore she'd witnessed was the most pleasurable thing the world to do. Janice had held onto the image as Dorian made love like a Monk casting off his sacred vows. But the image didn't easily fade. And so now she did what came natural. She slid herself onto the couch and began rubbing the nub of her clitoris, taking great care not to make any noise, lest she wake the sleeping beast. It was incredible.

* **

Only, too brief. "Moved away," Dorian said a week later. Janice had come by to check on him. Her worries for Dorian had now doubled. He had destroyed his telescope, and various bits of paper littered the floor everywhere they stepped. Plus, he hadn't bathed in awhile. "The doorman called security," he said. "But I talked to one of the residents. He said her name was Miriam."

"Honey, really, look at yourself."

"Said she went to overseas. Didn't know why. Said she was foreign. I bet she was from the Amazon."

"Otherworldly, actually."

He imagined the Amazon yet again. "Yeah."

"I know you're hurting now, but you know, maybe this is a good thing."

"Good?" He tried to imagine anything good coming out of an unrequited love of the most dynamic proportions. It was difficult to do.

"Well, yeah. I mean...well...have you ever thought about what you might do if you actually went to her? If you can't control yourself now behind a couple of curtains and windows, what kind of lover would you be?"

"Hmmm." He considered the repercussions. "Good point," Dorian said, like a human. And then he smiled.