Perfect Prescription

Melissa smiled at her strong man, loving the sight of his maleness...his organ. No—why use childish terms? He was a grown man, and she was an adult woman. It was his penis. His cock. His dick. It was what he would use to fuck his woman. It was...

Melissa stopped abruptly and looked at the clock. Was it really true that 30 minutes had elapsed? She was covered with sweat and was breathing heavily—and her genitals were pulsing with energy. Throbbing and alive, she felt that her pussy was almost singing. She rolled over and wished that Richard were there to cuddle her. Maybe even to... No. He was much too much of a gentleman to even contemplate doing that to a lady like her. She drifted off into a dream-filled sleep...

A few days later, she found herself at Parlour 57 waiting for Meredith, her stylist. She thumbed absent-mindedly through the magazines, looking for an idea of how to change her hairstyle. Finally, Meredith invited her back.

"Well?" she asked when Melissa was seated, "What are we doing today?" Melissa looked in the mirror at the young woman, sparking with energy, then at her own frumpy hairdo.

"I want to look...sexy," she blurted out only half-realizing what she had said. As soon as it sank in, though, she couldn't believe that she had said the word "sexy" out loud. Horrified, she waited for her stylist to either laugh or to be shocked at her wantonness.

Neither occurred. Meredith's eyes gleamed as she said, "That will be easy, Melissa, you have a lot to work with." She ran her hands through Melissa's hair, reminding herself of the texture and wave.

"I think you'd be really cute if we go short. Are you ok with that?" she asked. Melissa nodded. "I'd also recommend some highlights and, a little wave—to perk things up and get some texture going," she said, fluffing Melissa's hair. "Multi-dimensional hair for a multi-dimensional woman...a little mystery along with the sizzle," she said lightly. She added, seriously, "That's going to add to the cost, though."

Melissa replied instantly, "I don't care. I just want to look good. I'm tired of this non-descript mop up there."

Meredith just nodded, understanding her feelings perfectly. "You're going to look amazing," she averred.

Two hours later, Melissa looked at herself in the mirror and could not believe what she saw. Feathery bangs, perky and fluffy. A short style, accentuating her face—lighting up her personality, but with a hint of "still waters run deep." It was as though a person she only half-knew had emerged from hiding.

"Well, what do you think?" asked Meredith.

"It's...I'm...I can't believe it. It's wonderful...you are a miracle-worker," stammered Melissa feeling tears welling in her eyes. "I never would have believed that I could look this good." She impulsively reached out and hugged Meredith. When she put on her glasses, Melissa looked like a sexy intellectual. She couldn't believe her eyes. Neither could Meredith.

"You look... Wow." said Meredith softly. "I knew there was a lot to work with but...wow." Their impressions were reinforced when they went up front. Everyone turned to look at Melissa.

"I think I'm going to have to get used to being looked at," Melissa told herself, leaving a huge tip.

By the end of the following morning's massage, Melissa's entire body felt like it was on fire. She ached for the touch of a man. "Hell," she thought as her phone beeped, "I'd settle for being able to touch myself longer."

Now, though, the hairstyle, the make-up and a new wardrobe were beginning to yield dividends. She could tell how much more attention she was getting from men. Instead of making her coffee at home, she now headed to the neighborhood coffee shop, where she could sit outside and smoke while she had coffee.

She had always been ashamed of her "filthy habit." She had taken up smoking in school, trying to be accepted by the cool girls. It had only got her partial acceptance, but she had enjoyed the sensation almost from her first puff, and never even considered quitting—she just carefully managed her indulgence, holding herself to three or four cigarettes a day.

Now, though, she had begun to realize that some men were attracted by the sight of a woman smoking, and she was careful to show herself to best advantage whenever she lit up. This morning, the weather was good, so there were several businessmen sitting outside and enjoying their coffee.

"Showtime," Melissa thought unashamedly, opening her purse with studied indifference and laying her cigarettes and lighter on the table. She knew to leave them there for a bit, so her "target audience" would have time to assemble. Sure enough, after a few seconds, she saw chairs being subtly adjusted to give the occupants the best possible view. She reached out and languidly extracted a cigarette, placing it between her lips and casually lighting it. Like Pavlov's dogs, she saw the boys responding in the expected way. As she finished her cigarette and prepared to leave, she felt powerful and aggressive. Like a lioness ready for the hunt.

When she arrived at work, there was a non-stop barrage of compliments on her hairstyle. Finally, Richard came out of his corner office to see what the fuss was. When he saw Melissa, he just smiled and returned to his office. Shortly after lunch, though, he found Melissa outside, smoking, and walked over to her.

"I didn't want to make a big deal of this in front of everyone," he said smiling, "but your hairdo is beautiful." When Melissa thanked him he continued, "I'd love to have a drink with you after work if you're free."

Melissa thought her heart would explode out of her chest. "I'd like that very much, Richard," she said, smiling back at him.

Richard knew a little, cozy bar not too far from the office, and they walked there after work, settling into a small table in the corner. He got a gin martini, and Melissa ordered her standard Sauvignon Blanc before the conversation got rolling.

"You've come alive in the last couple of weeks, Melissa," Richard said, "I always thought you were—well, a lot more than you seemed to be. But honestly, you have a dazzling personality. You've become the life of the office. It's hard to believe. What happened?"

Melissa took a sip of her wine and considered her answer. "I'm not really sure," she answered truthfully, "but one morning I just realized that I had gotten into a real rut. And I decided that life is too short...so I guess I decided that I'd better start living."

"Well, then," said Richard, offering a toast, "to life." Melissa clinked her glass against his, thinking carefully about her next words. The decision was easy—to live or to continue as a non-entity?

She looked directly into Richard's eyes as she added, "...and to love." She saw a look of raw desire come over him, and she realized that the power she had felt up to now was only the tip of the iceberg. She sensed that she could unleash a volcanic rush of energy that would be awesome in its beauty—or in its destructiveness. It was terrifying and thrilling—like a drug. For now, though, they just talked and the hours seemed to fly by. All too soon Richard had to leave, and he walked her to her car.

"I'm sorry," Melissa said as she dug out her keys, "I feel like I've told you my whole life story. It must have been so boring."

"It was beautiful. Just like you are," Richard assured her. He reached out gave her a hug, adding. "I can't wait to see you again. Would you be interested in having dinner together on Saturday?"

Melissa wrapped her arms around him and hugged back. He felt so solid. "Oh God, yes," she replied. "Bless you for asking." He gave her a quick peck on the lips and they parted, both of them eagerly looking forward to what their next meeting would bring.

When Melissa returned home, she couldn't get Richard out of her mind. She was now into the third week of therapy, and her massages were becoming quite intense events, leaving her somewhat breathless and keyed-up at the end.

The itching had been gone for some time, but she was now in a near-constant state of sexual desire. It seemed silly to exchange an itching vulva for throbbing, perpetually swollen genitals, but she knew that she had changed for the better in many ways.

She made dinner—just a small salad, since she was now watching her weight and working out—then she pretended to watch television for a few minutes. Who was she kidding? All she could think of was her therapy session. She strode purposefully to her bedroom, stripping off her clothes on the way. Grabbing the jar of cream, she tore back the covers and got into bed naked, saying, "Let's fucking do this."

She began according to the instructions, slowly massaging the labia. Within a few moments though, she thought, "Fuck this," and moved up to her mons, rubbing firmly and with a purpose.

As she circled her mons, she thought about Richard and what he would be doing if he were there. She knew that he would have his cock out and be stroking it for her, and she imagined it hovering, erect and swollen, just above her face. She could see his strong hand wrapped around it as he pumped himself. Melissa's fingers swirled and danced around her mons as her hips began to rotate.

"Richard, I want to see you naked," she moaned, not missing a beat with her circling fingers. Her phone buzzed, indicating that massage time was over.

"Motherfucker," Melissa muttered, grabbing her phone and silencing it. Her hand would not stop caressing her mons, and she was in no condition to resist the urges surging through her loins. She continued to think about Richard's naked body as she gazed at her phone.

As she played with herself, she began to Google. First, "naked men." Thousands of images popped up and she browsed, enjoying them as she stimulated herself. Looking at a particularly majestic erection, she felt a surge of energy beginning to radiate outward from her genitals. Her hand became more insistent, circling lower, pressing a bit harder.

"Ohh..." she groaned aloud as she typed in "naked cock." To her surprise another flood of images appeared. She decided to try "big naked cock" and was rewarded with images of mammoth male organs. The surges of energy were coming in waves, boiling up into her nipples and radiating down through her legs. Beyond rationality now, she returned to "big naked cock" and added the word "fucking" after it.

As the images appeared, she groaned "fuck" out loud. She found one image of a huge man skewering a small, young woman. She focused on the united genitalia, imagining Richard and her fused together in that way. Suddenly, she realized that her hand was moving incredibly fast—looking down, she saw that it was almost a blur. She saw her legs shaking and twitching as though in some spastic dance. Then, suddenly, her back arched and her head snapped back as her vision went black.

"I'm having a stroke," Melissa thought as a searing heat exploded through her brain. She tried to talk but couldn't—her body was shaking with uncontrollable convulsions. "I'm dying," she thought as she lost consciousness.

A few minutes later, she awoke, feeling completely relaxed and slightly drowsy.

Carefully taking stock of her body, she realized that she was still alive and everything was intact. She lay very still, scarcely daring to breathe. After a few more minutes, though, she began to feel normal again. She decided to try walking into the bathroom. Her legs were wobbly, but she made it and looked at herself in the mirror. Everything seemed ok. She took a long, hot shower, and that further relaxed and restored her.

After was tucked back in bed, she wondered, "What the hell happened?" She saw her phone lying on the floor where she had dropped it. She picked it up and realized that she needed to delete the incrementing evidence. As she looked at the photo of the couple having sex, it dawned on her.

"Oh my God," she thought, "was that an orgasm?" She had heard that they were supposed to be mind-blowing, but had dismissed all of that talk as hype. She had to grudgingly admit that her first experience was very much like the poetic descriptions, though.

"No wonder women obsess about not having orgasms," she chuckled. "Well, I guess I don't have to worry about that," she mused, "I seem to able to do them just fine." All in all, the thought made her happy. She returned to bed and slept deeply and well until morning.

It seemed as though Saturday would never arrive, but finally it did. Melissa spent all day shopping for the perfect outfit and even scheduled a return trip to Meredith for a styling. She spent a long time with her makeup and dressing, fussing for a long time trying to get everything perfect. At the end of it all, she actually had to scurry around to get ready on time, but she was at the curb right when Richard arrived.

She opened the door of the BMW and said teasingly, "Hi, handsome, looking for a date?" Richard had on some luxurious jeans, a gorgeous Italian sweater and an elegantly casual jacket, and she did a double take. "Wow. You sure clean up well," she said, smiling.

"You do too," he replied, flashing his perfect smile. "You look really nice, Melissa. Really, really nice."

He took her to an Italian place where he was obviously a regular. The waiter brought a bottle of wine as soon as they sat down, asking, "Do you want the usual, sir, or would you care to see the wine list?"

"Let's take a look at the wine list Antonino, this isn't an everyday occasion," Richard replied, gesturing toward Melissa.

"Of course, sir," Antonino replied with a bow. Turning to Melissa, he said, "And welcome, madame, to our house. Please have a beautiful evening." Giving Richard a playful nudge he added, "In spite of the company you have." Melissa grinned. Encouraged, Antonino turned to Richard and teased, "How do you manage to have this "bella ragazza" come to dinner with you? Be honest, Richard, she is your cousin? Your sister, perhaps?"

By now, Melissa was laughing out loud as Richard played along with Antonino's joking. By the time he returned with the wine list they were both laughing playfully. Their waiter had done a magnificent job of starting the evening off with a perfect atmosphere.

Richard was obviously knowledgeable about wine and conferred carefully with Antonino about the wine and dinner selections. Melissa was not a gourmet, so she let Richard order for them. She could tell, though, by the gravity with which the bottle of wine was delivered and opened that it was something special.

As the ruby liquid trilled into the glasses, she was captivated. She followed Richard's lead, swirling, sniffing and then tasting it. The experience was almost overwhelming and she stared at Richard.

"That's unbelievable," she said softly. "It's delicious."

He smiled broadly. "I'm so glad you enjoy it. It's a very special wine for a very special lady." The dinner was the best meal she had ever eaten.

"I'm just sorry that I can't eat any more," she said when Antonino asked her if she wanted anything else. "Antonino, I will remember this meal all my life." For a moment, she thought that he might cry. He looked so moved.

"And I will treasure that compliment, madame," he replied. Then he added to Richard, "She is much too good for you, but I hope that I will see you both here again very soon."

After dinner, Richard suggested a walk along the river and they strolled the few blocks toward the waterfront. When they neared the water, he guided her over to the railing and they listened to the lapping of the waves as they watched boats float past. After a minute, he put his arm around her and pulled her to him. He felt her body become tense as he first touched her, but he quickly sensed that she relaxed as he held her.

Finally, he said softly, "Melissa?"

She looked up at him, "Yes?" Their eyes met, and in that moment she knew what he was going to do. "Oh God," she thought, "My first kiss. I hope I don't screw this up." And then his mouth closed over hers, and Melissa gave herself over to the moment.

She felt as though she were levitating out of her body. Then she felt his tongue swirling around hers and she became light-headed. Between her after-work "therapy" and Richard's deep kiss, Melissa was almost in a state of delirium. She felt like she was a hummingbird—every atom of her body was vibrating as she floated in the air, hovering.

Her knees wobbled a bit, but he held her firmly as their tongues danced together like two sticks being rubbed together to start a fire. As her arms encircled his neck, pulling him deeper into the kiss, Melissa realized that there was a huge pile of kindling stacked up. One spark could ignite a conflagration that would consume them both. She knew that she should be concerned and think rationally about this.

His hands slipped down her back and gently gripped the upper part of her hips, pulling her pelvis more firmly against him. Melissa arched forward, aiding his efforts to grind their bodies together. Another kiss, this one more desperately yearning and urgent.

Yes, she thought, she should think rationally about this. He was a good person...had a good job...seemed... He was now nuzzling his way down her neck. When he began to nibble on her earlobe, the dam burst. Melissa knew that she was going to have sex with Richard come hell or high water, and that she would have to trust to fate that all would be well. She was beyond thinking or caring about anything besides uniting her body with the handsome man who was caressing her.

Richard finally pulled away a bit, breathing hard. "Missy," he whispered, "maybe we should go somewhere a bit more private. What do you think?"

"I think we're going to get arrested unless we do," Melissa answered quickly. Richard chuckled.

"Well, to use an old line...my place or yours?" he quipped.

"Yours. It's closer," she sighed. As they drove, Richard stroked her thigh, further fanning the flames of desire that were beginning to burn brightly. Melissa stopped him.

"Richard, darling, there's one thing I'd like to ask," she said.

"Anything," he said sincerely.

"Could you...don't take this wrong...but could you not call me Missy? My mother used to call me that and I never did like it."

Richard quickly answered, "Sure thing, Melissa. I'm sorry, I just wanted to find a pet name for you." Melissa smiled.

"Well," she said with a gleam in her eye, "I've always liked Lyssa, but never had the guts to use it."

"Why?" asked Richard.

"Lyssa was one of the Greek furies, I think," Melissa explained. "We read about it in school. She was something like the goddess of rage, passion and rabid animals, I think. I always envied that in a way."

Richard smiled. "Well, I hope we can do without the rabies—and probably the rage too, but from my recent experience I'd say that the passion part works. Lyssa it is." As he pulled into his garage he added, "Would the goddess of passion like to come in and get comfortable?"

He led her into a beautifully-furnished townhouse, guiding her into the sitting room, where he took her in his arms and kissed her deeply again. As their tongues resumed their fire-starting dance, she realized that the fire was already burning out of control.

Richard paused from their kissing. "Can I get you something to drink?" he asked, unaware of the state, "maybe you'd like another glass of..."

He looked into her eyes and stopped in mid-sentence. Her face was only inches from his, and her eyes burned with fierce desire.

"The only fluids I'm going to need for the rest of the evening aren't found in bottles," she said in a husky voice. She knew that she was acting like a whore, but she couldn't stop herself. God help her, she was actually enjoying it.

In any case, she had no more chance of resisting these feelings than of stopping a fire-storm. She was being consumed by urges and desires as old as humanity itself.