Sam

This is the story of a woman named Samantha. From a distance, as a by-stander, you would see silky straight shiny hair. Bangs that will never go out of style. High cheek bones, pale skin, and red lipstick that attracts more attention than she may realize. The brilliant smile that frequents her face only slightly counters the intimidation of her sharp attractive features. The kind of woman you could stare at all day hoping to talk with and then find yourself unable to speak when she finally gives you that opportunity. Men and women alike gaze constantly in her direction whenever she is in the room. And she is never ever alone.

What I realize as I look at her is how her looks alone make her unapproachable, untouchable. They cause me instantly to write off ever really knowing her. The jealous parts of my mind make assumptions about the bitch she must be, conditioned by the attention she gets from anyone she wants. And yet, in that smile, I see something that tells me she isn't corrupted by it and that only adds to her allure.

I started bar-tending at a dive in Charleston three years ago. Since moving here, I've worked my way up to a classier bar called 'the Olive'. Somehow I miss the rowdy regulars and the unpretentious crowd even if the money was shitty. But this place has a different set of people to observe.

Many people appear to have it all together. Men especially enjoy giving off that vibe and many a female fall right into the arms of that fake security. There is only a small percentage of the population who seem to have and need more than that. You can see it in a person's face. Working around people I tend to observe and look for this quality, wondering what makes it exist in some and not others. How some seem to be so content with simplicity and almost require it to function, using the poison I serve them to cover the unflattering aspects of life.

I know better than to place her on a pedestal. People are just people. But she has something that I want. Not the good-looks and sexy legs, the grace and finesse and people who love her. It isn't any of those things that I truly crave. It is that confidence. I have seen plenty of attractive people cower when entering a conversation, or overexploit and behave as complete assholes. But she knows what she is, knows how others see her, and lives comfortably in a world she doesn't quite fit into. It's like she has accepted a certain loneliness and has found a way to enjoy as much of the world as she can while share some of what she is.

I must admit, I have used her for my own fantasies. I have mentally taken her into the bedroom, stripped her clothes off, imagining her in lacy black bra and panties. In my fantasies she is always classy, looking over her shoulder with those red lips smiling. I've seen every inch of her tall lean body in my mind. Damn there is something about her that even the simplest images get my heart going, throbbing in the intimate parts of my body. I wonder how many others have used her in this way. But somehow she knows what she gives to the world. God to see her naked and to feel her smooth naked skin against mine. To squeeze and massage, to look into those eyes. To watch her orgasm. That is what always does it for me. Seeing the expressions of that beautiful face reserved only for the expression of pleasure. The deep gasps and wide open eyes, clenched teeth with beautiful noises seeping through them.

I have always been a part of her scenery. There to serve the function of adding a straw to her drink and taking her money. I know my place and watching and observing is most of the enjoyment of my job. I feel lucky to be in the presence of such an inspiring woman and enjoy the moments we've had deep in my imagination.

It surprises me a bit and I smile at the way I am getting to know myself. I am no lesbian. I love my husband and need his dick. I can't imagine life without him. On a primal level there cannot be satisfaction in life without intimacy with my man. But Samantha is all things beautiful in life and shares that beauty with the world. Even in the naked images in my mind she remains classy and respected.

A fantasy so powerful that I almost shy away from it is that of watching my husband with her. The instant juices that begin flowing within me are powerful enough alone to make me feel satisfied. I force my mind to start slow and allow my own sexual tension to build until I am laying close to my husband in bed and can share my images with him. He knows of her already but tonight in my fantasies they will meet.

At first I watch them flirt, seeing her eyes watching him with interest as he tells her stories and captures her attention. Seeing them smile at each other, laugh together, hold eye contact. I cannot stop my imagination as I watch her worship my man with complete trust and desire. To see them remove each other's clothes and feel him gently make love to her, hold her, kiss her. To watch him stroke her hair and smile at her. To watch the intimate inner beauty of that intimacy, that desire. To see the soft light on her skin against my husband's skin. To hear his sounds as he feels her tight clean pussy around him, unable to contain those grunts and sighs. Unable to keep his eyes off her and to see her reciprocate. To see his expressions as he simply can't stop thrusting. As his balls tighten in preparation to come deep inside her. And for him to smile at me and our connection to grow deeper for having experienced her.

Already she is a special part of our lives.