tagExhibitionist & VoyeurThe Flower Girl

The Flower Girl

byGinger©

I left my apartment fuming with anger. My live-in girlfriend, Lisa and I had just had another huge fight about her frivolous spending habits. We had only been living together for about six months, but already our relationship had deteriorated into a nasty series of arguments, each one worse than the one before. I was having serious doubts that she and I were going to be able to live under the same roof for much longer.

Today's fight was about an expensive new chair she had bought without even asking my opinion of it first. Money was pretty tight, but Lisa just didn't seem to understand that. It seemed like every day I came home from work to find that she'd been out shopping, buying anything and everything that struck her fancy. I worked upwards of 60 hours a week as a real estate agent trying to make ends meet, and Lisa only worked part time in a boutique. She had plenty of time to shop and blow all our money in short order.

At first, I thought she was just buying stuff to add her personal touch to the apartment, which I had lived in for two years before I ever met her. So I was patient. As the weeks went by and turned into months and her wild spending never slowed, my patience turned into resentment, then into outright anger. Lisa never offered any apology for her expensive buying sprees, instead, she merely stated that she was entitled to buy a "few things" whenever she felt like it. Of all the women in the city, I had managed to bring a spoiled brat into my life.

I left my apartment building and turned left, and just started walking aimlessly. I had to cool off and get my anger in check before I could even think about trying to talk to Lisa again. Underlying my anger was a feeling of hopelessness, a knowledge that the subject had already been talked to death. Lisa was not going to change, and I was not going to be able to accept her penchant for free spending without accountability.

It was such a shame. Things with Lisa and I had started out so great. Lisa was charming and intelligent, and she was also an undeniable beauty. She was tall and lean, with tanned skin and pliant medium-sized breasts. Her chestnut brown hair was silky and shiny, and she wore it in a stylish shoulder-length cut. She had a classically pretty face, with wide dark eyes and high cheekbones.

At first, Lisa was affectionate and a passionate lover. Our arguments over money had quickly dampened the fires, and even as beautiful as she was, I found that my desire for her was quickly slipping away. Being a healthy American male, however, I kept trying to make love to her, hoping that the early heat we shared would return.

But now, she was cold and distant to me and she showed little interest in sex no matter what I tried. The physical frustration caused by lack of sex certainly wasn't helping my state of mind any. It had been almost three weeks since we'd made love, and even then it had been mechanical and unsatisfying.

I walked on and on, oblivious to my surroundings, not seeing the people I passed on the street. My mind worked over my problems with Lisa, and the physical exertion of walking slowly caused my anger to abate with each step.

It was early evening, a warm late-Spring day. After about an hour of continuous walking, I began to get warm, and I stopped to remove the light jacket I had on. I leaned up against a parking meter to rest for a minute, when something caught my eye and engaged my complete attention.

I had stopped in front of a small flower shop, and behind the front plate glass window, a woman was busy setting up a new window display. As she reached up, stretching as high as she could to secure a pink ribbon to the display, her short dress rode up, revealing a flash of thigh and the lacy top band of a pair of tan thigh high stockings. My mind immediately took a photograph of how she looked in that brief moment, and filed it away as an unexpected, pleasant memory.

The woman's back was to me, and in addition to her shapely legs and exquisite lingerie, I could see that she was petite and shapely. She had gorgeous long, flowing auburn hair that caught the sunlight passing through the window, causing her locks to shimmer as if they were on fire. She was wearing a pale yellow short sleeved dress that appeared to have some tiny pattern on it, but from my vantage point I couldn't make out what it was. The dress was formfitting, and gave me a breathtaking view of her marvelous shapely figure. She was also wearing coffee-colored leather sandals with a medium heel.

For a scant few seconds, she stood on her tip-toes, fussing with the ribbon, exposing her creamy thighs encased in her silky stockings. Once the ribbon was fastened to her satisfaction, she moved back to her flat-footed stance. She took a step back from the display, and turned partially towards me, presenting me with her perfect profile. She was striking.

Her body seemed to come directly from one of my youthful wet dreams. Her waist was slim, her legs were long and toned in proportion to her petite size, and her breasts were full and round. Her beautiful brown-red hair was all one length, with the exception of wispy bangs that I was sure framed her face perfectly. From the one-half of her face that I could see, she had fair skin, a perfectly formed, slightly upturned nose, and full, sensuous lips.

She smiled, expressing her satisfaction at the look of the display, and I could see a tiny dimple in the one cheek that was visible to me. In the mere few seconds that I stood there watching, I was awestruck with her loveliness. For what seemed like the first time in so long, my mind was peaceful, devoid of all the arguments I'd had with Lisa. Then, suddenly things got even better.

The beautiful woman in the window glanced outside, and saw me watching her. She smiled at me unselfconsciously, and in a contrived gesture she grasped the hem of her dress and slowly pulled it back down to its proper length. Her eyes met mine through the window, and I could feel the peculiar sensation of the distance between us closing. The expression on her face was both mischievous and pleased, and at that moment I knew that she knew I had been watching her, and she knew that I had seen something that I had enjoyed immensely. Her smile seemed to be an invitation, full of some kind of unspoken promise.

The woman stepped out of the window display area, and with a backward glance and another smile, she disappeared from my sight. For a long minute, I stood frozen in place, trying to decide what, if anything, I should do next. I quickly decided that I had to go in the flower shop and see her up close, maybe even talk to her.

I walked toward the shop, and my eyes were drawn upwards toward the sign proclaiming the name of the store...in a bold red script was the name, "Erica's Bloomers." Very cute, I thought as I opened the door and entered the shop. I was immediately assaulted by the scents of a variety of flowers. I could pick out rose, gardenia, and mums, but there were many others that I couldn't identify in the odiferous melee.

At the moment, the woman wasn't in sight and I appeared to be the only other person in the shop. I made a slow circuit of the store, looking around, waiting for the woman to reappear. In a few seconds, she did. She walked out of an adjoining room at the rear of the shop, carrying a huge, bright flower arrangement.

She saw me and smiled, and in a sweet voice, she said, "I'll be right with you, sir."

She carried the flower arrangement to one of the large refrigerated cases and placed it inside. She then turned to me and said, "How can I help you?" The phrase sounded suggestive, or at least that's how I wanted it to sound.

Up close, the woman was even more attractive. I could now see that her pale yellow dress had tiny pink roses embroidered on it. The dress was quite tight, and I couldn't help but to drop my eyes from her pretty face to her ample breasts. My breath caught in my throat as I imagined what she would look like minus the dress.

I pulled my gaze back up to her face, slightly embarrassed at my shameless staring at her body. She merely smiled placidly at me. Apparently she didn't mind being ogled by strange men. My mind flashed back to when I saw her through the window, and I briefly wondered if the little show she gave me was completely intentional.

Her eyes were the most amazing shade of green. A man could get lost in a pair of eyes like that. Her gaze was so piercing, I felt like she could look past my exterior and actually see what was going on in my mind. Hypnotic eyes, that's what they were.

I realized with a start that I hadn't yet answered her. "I saw you in the window, and suddenly I was inspired to buy some flowers," I said with a grin.

Her smile broadened, and I could see that she had an absolutely adorable dimple in each cheek. "Well, I'll accept that as a compliment. What kind of flowers would you like? We have all kinds."

"Um, well, I really don't know," I stammered.

"Okay," she said with an amused expression on her pretty face, "who are the flowers for? Are they for a special occasion?"

My mind raced to come up with an answer. "They're for my mother, for her birthday," I lied.

"Oh, she'll like that. Women always love flowers," she replied.

"Why is that?" I asked. "Why do women love flowers so much?"

She laughed and said, "I can't speak for all women, but I can tell you why I like them so much."

"Please, do tell," I said, eager to hear more of her clear, sweet voice.

With long, graceful fingers, she plucked a red rose from a vase and raised it to her nose, deeply inhaling the scent. "To me, flowers are completely perfect sensual objects," she replied, her emerald eyes burning into mine.

"They are a feast for the eye, and their scent is pure heaven," she said, leaning casually against the checkout counter as she explained.

God, she was so beautiful. I was powerfully attracted to her, and my cock stirred to life in my pants as I took in the captivating sight of her. I wasn't used to being so strongly affected by someone I'd just met, and the feeling was quite pleasant. I didn't even know her name and there I was standing a few feet away from her with a growing hard-on.

"Also," she continued, "some flowers are a delight to the touch." In a mesmerizing gesture, she stroked her porcelain cheek with the rose. She closed her eyes, and she drew the crimson flower downward over the creamy skin of her throat. She momentarily seemed oblivious to my presence as she moved the rose even lower, caressing the flawless skin of her chest with it.

My heart was pounding hard in my chest as I watched her entrancing demonstration. Ah, to be a rose, I thought.

She opened her eyes again, and in a dreamy voice she said, "Even though this rose has been cut, the petals are so silky and lifelike. Almost like the soft flesh of a woman."

Her reference to the soft skin of a woman made my pulse race. She was either coming onto me, or torturing me. At this point I wasn't sure which.

"Come here," she said softly, gesturing with her hand for me to come closer. I took a few steps forward, stopping directly in front of her.

She reached up with the rose and ran it across my cheek, making me involuntarily shiver. "See what I mean?" she asked.

I nodded and closed my eyes, trying to get the full effect of the sensation. I could easily imagine that the soft flower petals stroking my cheek were actually her fingers. "It does feel wonderful," I admitted.

She pulled the rose away from my face, and I opened my eyes to see her studying me intently. The corners of her lush lips were drawn up into a pleased smile. She was apparently enjoying this little lesson she was giving me.

"Those are the tangible reasons I love flowers. There are many intangible reasons, and those reasons vary from person to person. Those reasons are what flowers symbolize to us, or the memories they bring back," she purred in a low voice.

"I'm not sure I know what you mean," I replied.

"For instance, every time I smell lilacs or honeysuckle, I think of the summer vacations I spent at my grandparents house in the country when I was growing up. Their house was surrounded by lilac bushes and honeysuckle vines, and the scent invariably brings back memories of the times I spent there."

I nodded, understanding what she meant.

"I also often recall how I felt when I received my first bouquet of flowers from a boy," she said with a happy smile. To this day every time I put together a bouquet of daisies, I am reminded of how thrilled I was."

"Then, there are the symbolic things. For instance, how red roses, like this one, often symbolize love or passion. For me personally, flowers symbolize openness and promise. They start out as mere buds, but with proper care they open into full flower, sharing their beauty with the world."

As she continued to speak, I could see subtle changes occurring in her demeanor. She was breathing heavily, and her eyes were trained on me with such an intense forthrightness that my body responded as though she was literally touching me. This situation was so strange, so unexpected, and completely arousing in a way that was totally foreign to me.

"You are as lovely as any flower," I said, knowing as soon as the words passed my lips how lame it sounded. I expected her to laugh at me, but instead her face lit up in a beautiful smile, her green eyes shining with a peculiar kind of joy.

She sat the rose down on the counter and stepped up closer to me, within inches of touching me. She looked up at me and said, "That's the most perfect compliment any man could ever give a woman. Thank you."

I was stunned with what she did next. She raised up on her tip-toes like she'd done while she was in the window, and then she kissed my lips. My head was spinning. This beautiful woman was kissing me, a complete stranger! And it felt so damn good. Without thinking, my arms went around her and I pulled her as close to my body as I could get her.

A tiny sound of pleasure escaped her throat as I drew her in next to me, and her arms came up and locked around my neck. Her warm lips pressed harder against mine, and I could feel her breath coming in quick little gasps. I was overwhelmed with sensation of having her kissing me like this, and I could feel such a strong wave of lust taking control of me.

I began probing her soft lips with the tip of my tongue, and the woman yielded to me instantly, parting her lips and teasing my tongue with hers. It was like I was hit with a lightning bolt, a lightning bolt consisting of electricity combined with pure passion.

My cock was rock hard, and I was sure she could feel it pressing into her belly, even with my pants and her dress between us. Instead of shying away though, she ground her body against mine, causing me to moan into her mouth.

I began caressing the curve of her back with my trembling hands, and her hands moved up to touch my face and run her fingers through my hair. I could feel her trembling against me, shivering with the ferocious need that was swelling and growing inside us both.

Suddenly, she pulled her lips away from mine, and in a breathless whisper she said, "Please do me the favor of locking the front door so we won't be interrupted. I want you all to myself for awhile."

"Of course," I replied with a grin, "but won't your boss get mad at you for locking out the customers?"

"If I had a boss, then they'd probably be pissed. But since this is my store, I can do as I please," she said with a truly wicked grin.

I laughed and stepped away from her. I walked to the front door and twisted the lock, which engaged with a loud clack. I turned back to her, and as she stood waiting for me, I was once again struck with the realization of just how beautiful, and how hot she truly was.

As I walked back towards her, she said in a husky voice, "Now, would you like to see Erica's Bloomers?"

I was a bit confused, unsure of exactly what she meant. "Erica's Bloomers" was the name of her shop. With a moment's though, I answered, "I most definitely would, but only if you're Erica!"

"That I am," she said.

I could scarcely believe my eyes when I saw what Erica did next. Standing in the middle of her shop, in the waning daylight and illuminated by overhead lights, she began taking off her dress.

I stood frozen in place a few feet away and she slowly started undoing the buttons running down the front of her dress. She reached the last button, and with an exaggerated shrug of her shoulders the dress fell away onto the floor. Now she was standing in front of me wearing nothing but a pale yellow lacy bra and string bikinis, the tan stockings, and her sandals.

She beamed broadly at me as I stood there with my mouth hanging open in shock and awe. Her green eyes never left mine as she carefully unhooked her bra from the front and pulled it open for me to see.

"This was my first bloom," she said, pointing to a tiny violet tattooed just above her marvelous left breast. Above her right breast was a little pale pink tulip.

I saw the floral tattoos, but only for a second. Then my eyes were glued to her magnificent tits. They were large and perfectly round, and her large, pale pink nipples were erect and inviting. My erection throbbed almost painfully in my pants.

Next, Erica turned away from me, presenting her exquisitely smooth back to me. On the small of her back was another tattoo, a perfect replica of a magnolia blossom.

Still facing away from me, Erica slid her yellow panties down, showing me the yellow daffodil etched into the round globe of her right ass cheek. I was having a hard time standing still, wanting to go to her, but something told me that she wanted to complete the show first. So I stood there, feeling hot all over, nearly panting with lust for her.

Then oh-so-slowly, she turned back towards me, and I saw it. I knew there had to be a rose, and there it was, just above her smoothly shaved public line. A perfect red rose, tattooed just above her pussy. She smiled at me, tracing the shape of the rose tattoo with her finger. "This one is my favorite," she whispered.

I started to go to her, meaning to take her into my arms, but just before I reached her she held up her hand, stopping me. "I want you to watch me first," she said, "watch me open up in full bloom just like my flowers."

Erica backed up a step, then she daintily hopped up onto the checkout counter, her toned legs dangling over the side facing me. I watched her breathlessly, waiting to see what she had to show me next.

Erica picked up the long-stemmed red rose that she had rubbed against my face, and with excruciating slowness she spread her legs, exposing her pussy to me. I could see that her pussy lips were already swollen with arousal, and I swore I could even see dewdrops of wetness forming there.

My mouth went utterly dry as she began to rub the rose over her delicate pussy lips. I could no longer restrain myself seeing the erotic scene, and I reached down and squeezed my rock hard cock through my pants.

I watched as she reached down and parted her engorged pussy lips with her fingers, and as she trailed the rose between them. It was such an incredible sight, the crimson rose petals sliding between the pale pink folds of her moistened pussy.

I had never even imagined such a thing, but it was the most arousing sight I'd ever seen. I had never heard of a flower fetish before, but here it was, being demonstrated for me in the flesh.

She drew the rose upward over her clit, and I heard the sharp intake of her breath. Then, she raised the rose to her nose and inhaled deeply. I could imagine the combination of scents, the sweetness of the rose and the even sweeter smell of her pussy on the petals.

Then she said to me in a clear, demanding voice, "Now, my friend, I want to the stem you have to offer." She smiled meaningfully at me and her eyes dropped to the obvious bulge in my pants. First, I pulled off my shirt, then I wasted no time in unzipping my pants and shoving them down to the floor along with my briefs.

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byGinger© 2 comments/ 28620 views/ 7 favorites

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