Dahlia is a Lovely Flower Ch. 01

If you are under 18 years of age, kindly leave and do not read any further. All individuals in my tales, both real and fictitious, are themselves, over the age of 18 years old.

* * *

Our story begins, not in some beautiful west coast botanical garden, as the title might suggest, but in the coffee lounge of the hotel where the beautiful Violet is employed as a member of the housekeeping staff. Those of you who follow St. John Smythe and have read "The Deflowering Of Violet" series will know exactly who I am speaking with regards to.

It's a gorgeous morning and the sky is a brilliant deep cerulean blue. There are two sparrows singing their sweet songs of territorial warfare as we sip strong cappuccinos and enjoy the warmth of the sun. Violet is on her coffee break.

"I have a request from someone who would like to meet you," she says to me.

I look at her and wait for her to continue, half dreading where her simple comment may lead. It had been a couple of years since her and I took our acquaintance status to another level and I provided guidance for her becoming a more open-minded liberal. You would be correct in assuming that we are now, what folks refer to as... friends with benefits.

"A certain lady would like to make your acquaintance and I think you should listen to what she has to say," she continued.

"Business or pleasure?" I countered with.

"I'm not saying. Just take my word for it, St. John, you'll like what she has to say."

I sat looking at her, not sure what to make of what she just told me. She wouldn't make eye contact with me.

"Violet, why the mystery? Again I countered.

"St. John... you need to be less controlling and open to new experiences a bit more!"

Was she kidding? Me? More open minded? Ha! Now she really had my curiosity aroused. 'Defensive and reluctant to expound... a bad combination,' I thought to myself.

"What's this mystery lady's name?"

She sat looking at me before she answered.

"Dahlia."

"Like the flower?" I asked.

She just smiled. "Like the flower."

* * *

It was a few days later that I sat waiting to be picked up in the front of the hotel. I was enjoying another fine morning. I looked at my watch and as I did, the car I was told to watch for pulled up to the curb under the portico and tooted its horn. Behind the wheel was a well dressed Asian woman. Hard to say her age, but my best guess was early forties. A good looking woman, though. Long, jet black hair and a thin red and white scarf tied over her head supposedly to protect her mane from the wind. The

convertible she drove was a classic. Big, dark sunglasses with rhinestones all around the frame and arms, hid her eyes, but there was no mistaking her visible features. She was very attractive too.

I stood and approached the passenger side door.

"Dahlia?" I inquired.

"St. John, I presume?" she asked with her best attempt at a British accent. My ancestry is

British, but I was born in this country.

She had a big smile and I liked her right from that first moment. I got in the car knowing only that we were going to have lunch together at someplace only she knew. Still, a little too much mystery for me. She was an aggressive driver and she pulled away from the hotel and into traffic with a cloud of dust and a squeal of agitated tires.

She talked as she drove. I listened and tried to size her up. I had nothing to make me think this was just about pleasure, but if her intent was business... I didn't have a clue what this could all be about. I don't do business and Violet knew that.

She drove and she talked. She'd taken us off the main street towards the downtown and we were

driving through a beautiful part of the city that was well known for money, stately homes and big trees. When we could see through the last two, there was a gorgeous view of the ocean. The drive wound its way past the notorious nude beach, the museum of anthropology and another spendy neighbourhood that was long on vogue and short on savings. Paper millionaires who had all of their money "tied up", if you know what I mean.

It was a pleasant enough drive and eventually Dahlia pulled into an empty parking stall at a well known restaurant that overlooked the bay and the ships that sat at anchor. We had finally made our way to my favourite big park in the city... the one that I quite enjoy taking ladies to for a little fucking in the great outdoors! Dense forest, quiet trails and few roads... with lots of privacy.

The maitre d' knew Dahlia and showed us to a nice table in the conservatory with a beautiful view of the ocean. I still was completely in the dark as to why I was even here, despite nearly an hour of

driving, and listening to my lunch date talk on and on. I took the large, leather-bound menu I was handed and read the specials of the day.

Dahlia, herself, was engrossed in the menu. As I picked up my water glass to take a drink, Dahlia dropped the bomb.

* * *

"You know of course, that my daughter is married," she said in a completely matter of fact way, still looking at her lunch choices.

I sputtered, narrowly avoiding choking on the water.

"Who is your daughter?" I spoke in a squeaky voice as I tried to recover from my near

drowning.

'Jesus Christ!' I thought to myself at the same time. Had Violet set me up with some kind of a wacko here? She'd had all kinds of time while we drove here to broach what she obviously had intended for this to be about all along!

"Violet of course," she replied taking a sip of her own water.

I had tried to get that information from Violet a couple of years ago and she just dodged the question and refused to answer me. "Pass and no," was what she said when I asked if she was married or had a boyfriend. I couldn't believe what this woman was saying. Violet and I had shared a bed on and off for 2 years and... she supposedly had a husband? No way!

I had composed myself and now sat looking rather sternly across the table at this woman who had just delivered this news.

"Your Violet's mother?"

"Uh huh," was all she said as she smiled at me.

"And you're saying that Violet is married?"

"Technically... yes."

"Why technically?" I asked with a suspicious tone.

"Well now... that's what this little meeting is all about and why you are here, Mr. Smythe."

She was enjoying having one up on me as she sat there smiling. I was not happy with this news I'd just had dropped in my lap and more so, was not very pleased with the way that Violet had opted to tell me this. Especially after my having asked prior and she, just putting me off!

"There's no reason to look so serious," Dahlia added.

I didn't answer, but continued just looking directly across the table at her. I think I was more confused than anything else. It obviously hadn't made any difference, whatsoever, with Violet, judging by all the things I had introduced her to and the time we had spent together, but it just didn't add up. Why keep being married a secret; it didn't matter to me, obviously? I bed all kinds of married ladies. And why spring her mother on me like this? Although, her mother was very attractive. The most confusing part of all this was, however, the fact that if Violet was married, where was this husband and why did she live with her parents? I don't pretend to really understand all the workings of the Asian cultures, but this just looked like a jumbled mess to me.

"Please don't take this the wrong way, Dahlia," I began, "but this comes across as very odd to me."

"Odd?" she said. "In what way?"

Was she kidding?

"Odd. Odd that I meet you in this way. Odd that I have been quite close to Violet for over 2 years and she chooses to share this now--like this. I apologize, but I consider this odd."

"Well, St. John..." She was back to using my first name again. "Don't blame Violet, this was my idea, not hers."

We were interrupted by the waiter and as such, was a good thing. It served to reset the conversation and lower the tone a bit.

"Okay..." I began. "So Violet has a husband. Is there something more I should know here?"

"Yes. There is..."

Dahlia went on to tell me that both her own husband, as well as Violet's had been detained by the

government in there home country and neither had been in contact with them in just over 5 years. She and Violet lived in the large house by themselves and quite contrary to the customs of their culture... sought the company of men who could address their needs. My attitude softened as I listened.

She went on to say that money was not a concern for her, but she wanted Violet to know the value of hard work and being responsible... that was why Violet worked at the hotel.

"Violet will never have to worry about money, as long as she is responsible and makes good decisions. For now, though, she has to earn her way."

The story now made sense. Violet refusing to answer my question regarding being married and why she worked at the hotel, but lived in the very fashionable neighbourhood of Inverness. It all came together.

"You have made Violet a more confident and happier young woman, St. John and I..."

She trailed off and didn't finish her sentence. Before I could say anything, our lunch arrived.

* * *

The conservatory was quiet in spite of it being the lunch hour. The view out the many windows was gorgeous and the clear, blue sky melted into the ocean at the horizon. We were perched on the edge of a precipice with nothing but the restaurant's flower gardens between us and the tranquil Pacific down

below. Neither of us spoke as we enjoyed our lunch.

"You have an interesting hobby, St. John," Dahlia said as she dabbed the corners of her mouth with the linen napkin. Her knife and fork placed specifically at the 6 o'clock position on her plate. 'Nice touch,' I thought to myself.

"What are you referring to?" I countered with. She broke into a wide smile.

"Your hobby of helping young women find their stride... so to speak."

I looked at her, contemplating what I should say in response to that.

As we looked at each other, I felt something brush my pant leg. I didn't betray the fact and neither did she.

"Violet thinks the world of you, you know. And not just because of the sex. She likes you, the man."

"And I think the world of her too, but Violet has many things keeping her busy... in a social sense," I added.

"And you are married too, I understand?"

"I am," I said.

"Interesting and somewhat complicated I would imagine."

"Isn't every marriage?" I proposed.

Again my pant leg moved, but this time she let her foot linger for just a fleeting moment longer. It was like the cat teasing the mouse with a distracting flip of its tail.

"You encourage women to be sluts, St. John. Some might find that quite tasteless."

"Some do," I conceded. "Do you?" She didn't answer me at first.

"Some conversations take a little longer to get started, but once they begin... who can say where they might go?" she finally said quietly.

As she made this statement, she placed her bare foot unapologetically against my shin and held it there.

"Do you find me attractive?" she swerved and followed my question with her own.

"Would you like it if I did?" She slowly rubbed my shin with her foot.

"Do you play bridge, St. John? Not many do these days."

"I do, but competent partners are hard to find."

Dahlia moved her foot from my shin and slid it between my thighs, resting her toes squarely on my crotch.

"I could be your partner?" she said half asking, half telling me.

I didn't respond, but instead, just sat there looking directly at her, sending her subliminal thoughts. Naughty, subliminal thoughts.

Gently, she rubbed the sole of her foot over my cock. There was no doubt that she was checking me out; probably trying to verify stories I'm sure Violet told her. I didn't mind. It was feeling very nice.

"You haven't answered my question," I said.

She sat there just looking at me. She was now pressing more firmly with her toes.

"I don't mind... if you don't mind," she finally said.

"If I don't mind what?"

"If you don't mind a lady that's a little older... and maybe a little more set in her ways?"

I smiled at her, "You're not old and I'd bet we could show each other a few new tricks."

She howled with laughter and slapped the table so hard the dishes rattled, which brought the waiter

running.

"Everything okay here folks?" he asked.

Dahlia just said, "Check please!" and rubbed her foot into my crouch just a little bit firmer still.

As he rushed away, I took Dahlia's foot into my hands and began to massage it.

"You have beautiful feet. It speaks volumes," I said.

"Violet told me you'd like my feet."

"Violet knows me well."

She did have beautifully cared for feet. That smooth and that soft doesn't happen by accident. It takes real effort and commitment. Besides their being pleasant to stroke and rub, her toes were a nice length with smooth joints and tastefully painted nails. As I've stated elsewhere, I only socialize with ladies who covet a slutty sense of adventure and... only if they know how to take care of their feet. Call me weird.

I pressed my thumbs into her sole and ran them along it from her heel up to the base of her toes. I smiled to myself as I saw her eyelids flutter and her head tilt back ever so slightly. I worked my thumbs into the arch of her foot and then on to her toes. She gave me a pleasing little sigh to say just how much she was enjoying my reciprocation.

"So far, everything Violet has told me about you has been true. I'm only sorry it took me so loooong to get the courage to meet you," she said dreamily.

Dahlia's long, black hair was tied into a lose ponytail with a red ribbon. It hung over her right shoulder and completely covered her right breast as it cascaded down to her waist. What it didn't cover was the nice cleavage she was showing in the V of her light summer dress. I learned my lesson trying to guess

Violet's dimensions, but for now let's just say she looked to be covering about a 32D set of titties.

She was a little on the tall side for an Asian woman... I'd guess about 5'6". And the mules she was wearing gave her another couple or three inches. Her frame was shapely and it wouldn't surprise me if she had spent a number of years wearing a waist cincher of some description. It was that tiny in

appearance. And her weight? I never care. Big, Tall, Short, Small... I don't care, I love them all! Think of all the incredible memories you might have missed by being so picky! Ha ha.

I'll just say that she had a gorgeous figure and you can think whatever you like.

Those of you that know me, know that I was as turned on from massaging her lovely foot as she was from receiving the attention. If only I could have gotten her toes in my mouth...

* * *

The afternoon sun was warm and we took a stroll through the beds of summer flowers that were in all of their glory right then. She was feeling turned on and so was I, but I still had more to find out about her before anything more pleasurable was going to happen between us. I was going to give her a couple of little tests and find out a little more about her before our afternoon ended...

As we strolled, we talked. Her and I were much closer in age than Violet and I are, so the conversation was easy and it flowed smoothly. Her injections of teasing and overt flirting here and there made me smile as I pondered what I should try next with her. Had I found another butterfly?

"So why exactly did you want to meet me? Just curiosity?" I asked.

"Curiosity--of course, but I have my own things I wanted to talk to you about too. Violet speaks so highly of you and..." she didn't finish her sentence.

First test. When she stopped what she was saying, I put my hand on the bare skin just below the nape of her neck. Her dress was low cut in a semicircle off of her shoulders in the back. I felt the sharp little breath she took in as I touched her. She kept bringing up what Violet thought about me, but I didn't know if she really knew what I had introduced her daughter to... although her foot in my crotch should have given me some idea. Duh.

"I don't think you invited me to lunch just to tell me about yours and Violet's husbands or that Violet really liked me? Your lovely foot has already told me lots of things about you, Dahlia."

I took my hand away and planned to make her earn the next touch I was going to give her.

"Do you have someone you enjoy fucking?" I asked.

She didn't answer, but she did take my hand and put it around her waist. She was indeed different from her younger daughter, or most Caucasian women her own age. I smiled to myself. She was going to be fun to hunt down and devour. Old school... meet, New School.

"I'm not without my vices, St. John... or my needs. I was a faithful wife when all of this began,

but I am still a young woman and..."

"And you have needs?" I finished her sentence for her.

"I am not as old school as you may think... I know what you do with Violet and where you take her and... that is too much for me, I think, but..."

We were by ourselves in the garden and out of view of any of the diners lingering in the restaurant. As we walked, I slid my hand down onto the curve of her ass and just left it there. She didn't resist so I slowly made a circle around her curvy cheek with my palm. This was test number 2.

"But?"

She turned and swatted my shoulder as she laughed out loud, then ran ahead of me down the path.

'Jesus!' was all I could think as she ran off.

Apparently I was the one that was being a bit prudish in my assessment of her. My mind was filled with dirty thoughts, but I was more... conservative, in how I was picturing her. This would never do and I made the decision right there to stop looking at her as anything other than the woman she was. A

woman who was looking for a good hard fucking!

* * *

She jogged right back to the car and when I caught up to her she was still laughing and threw me the keys.

"You drive!" she said as she slid into the passenger seat still laughing.

I honestly didn't know what had gotten into her, but as I backed out of the stall and turned onto the park drive, she threw her arms up in the air and screeched like she was on a roller coaster! 'Crazy!' was all I could think.

In my experience, Caucasian women are the wildest and the Asian ladies... the slowest to slide out of their clothes. BUT... Violet and Dahlia may just have been, the pair that changed some of that thinking for me.

* * *

I knew exactly where I was going in the park and because it was only one way traffic, it was a bit of a drive to get to my favourite place. Dahlia sat beside me and started running her fingers through my hair.

"You're not bad looking for a guy your age, you know," she said with a giggle.

I didn't say anything.

"Why do you like women's feet?"

"Why do you like having yours touched and played with?" I asked in return.

"Because it FEELS goooood!" she teases.

"Well... it feels good to touch nice feet like yours," I shot back. "And... I like how yours smell."

Blunt, but honest. A good base to build upon. The gentleman in me was literally falling away now.

She swivelled in her seat and slipped her mules off. Before saying another word, she put her feet on my arm and on my cheek.

"Watch the road," she commanded. "I want to tease you."

I did watch the road as she moved her foot from my cheek and covered my nose.

"Smell good?" she quipped.

"Very good! A little of you, a little bit like leather and... a little of your favourite soap."

"How about now? What do you taste"

She moved her foot from over my nose and put her toes on my lips. Without taking my eyes from the winding road, I open my mouth and sucked on two of her fleshy little digits.