Cajolery Of Hers

Cajolery Of Hers

Author: Olivia (F.D.) Grace

Why do you no longer speak to anyone, Grace asked? The best friends were packing together, "You spoke beautifully to people. You spoke with power, too many. "It's not that I don't talk to people," Olivia replied; it is why the ones who spoke become afraid to descend from their level of dignity from who they are? It seems as if no one can stoop down low enough to hear what I have to say. I've come to an understanding, Grace, that sometimes we have to abase ourselves sufficiently to others and listen; it can often be these writings or notes that are all too difficult. But hard to grasp, or maybe it's too obvious for our careful reflection. "Hey, do you like these heels?" Olivia asked.

Absolutely, "how beauteous," said Grace with excitement. But you know Olivia, I've come to reveal that sometimes talking to someone you are unfamiliar with or beneath you are lessons of expectations; because identical results are through teaching girl. As Olivia was trimming her Bonzai tree, I agree, Grace; because "inhaling the words of wisdom, life, meaning and direction are so many of life's simplicity of joy." So true, and on another topic, "try not to forget to bring an elegant dress of yours," said Grace. As Olivia was in her closet debating on which dress, "Duh, who would I be without a satin Givenchy, lavished on my skin." They both laughed.

A walk in the rain with an expensive heart will find anything from sensuality, nature, history, humour, nudity and tastefully done, Olivia thought. A private dancer Olivia was. Everything every man has ever wished for; a savage in satin but known to be a gentleman's lady. All the pleasure would come well in her favour when she was indeed the one at first sight. Since then, her memories had made her laugh about the fever-like symptoms and whether she would ever come to love.

Olivia rose out of bed and told herself and her friend, "the day has come, at last, a perfect autumn day with calm and nippy air." Let us have ourselves a nightingale of a magical tale. Girl, "it sure is a terrific day for a journey through the city in an old fashioned 1960 Mercedes -Benz 190SL." Grace hymned. Grace and Olivia were excited to venture off. Olivia had made reservations to enjoy their getaway at this hotel by the name of 212 degrees, a marvelled mansion. I am told we would embrace a walk in the heart of an arrondissement of Paris, carried by the renaissance of deep burgundy colour, mood and silhouette perspective engaged with senses of "rose, myrrh and vanilla," Olivia said. Well, it sure is time "To relax our bodies and rejuvenate our souls," Grace replied.

Soft tones throughout the hotel, rich red colour for the boudoir, sexy sophisticated and most of all a gentlemen's lounge. "Oh, Lala", Both Grace and Olivia laughed. The indulgence of permission awaits. This room features clean silk window coverings and many variations of the inky dark red throughout malbec tones. As Olivia grabbed her tokens to dismay to luggage service, "I was told a famous architect/artist designed 212's vases and chandeliers with a bare area of dried flowers," said Grace. Olivia's pace began to slow down, and she began to look around at the crystal chandeliers sparkled high; with deep admiration, she sighed, "the darkest secrets of itself," Olivia said softly. Suddenly (there he was), a stir of animation caught Olivia's eye, a gentleman walked into the lobby. Ian, 5'11, is an incubus Architect/Engineer so potent of dark amber and vanilla senses. As Olivia was walking out of the lobby, she saw a white folded envelope on the floor. As she bent down to pick up the envelope, Ian said, "making it hard just to stand and stare."

Olivia squared her shoulders and lifted her head, taking on an air of sophistication, hoping he wasn't as fake as he looked; because he is the perfect dream date. I am Ian, and thank you, as Olivia is practising the indulgence of not devouring every man. You're quite welcome. Perhaps," I may assist you again, sometime," said Olivia. Glancing around, she made sure no one took notice of her gaze and the tremor of nerves in her hand. Instead, he bestowed a genuine smile upon her and said, "are you staying at this hotel tonight?" Yes, I am. "Would you like to go with me to the gentlemen lounge tonight for a glass of wine?" Said Ian. Well, yes, of course, I would be delighted; I had almost forgotten what a night out could do to a person," said Olivia. Whether Olivia danced or not, she was going to enjoy every minute-even without having to dance for someone.

Olivia was no longer starstruck. Grace and Olivia decided to go to town before it was time to meet with Ian. They both have met more prestigious and handsome like beings throughout the day. I never thought "I would feel eager and sparkled to meet this man," said Olivia. Something about his eyes and smile; I've never seen someone extravagant. "Oh please," said Grace, You are known to be the utmost alluring intimate young lady on stage and for "sum only," as she nudged Olivia.

Olivia chortled, however, wouldn't you say, a young lady as I, sure am known for cajolery as a dancer, and my fingers know every sensitive spot on a man's body, as Olivia fiddles her fingers on Graces shoulders lightly. They both giggled. As Olivia began to sway seductively in the room, "sometimes you need to know how to relax men and stimulate men on how to prolong the acceleration of the two." And then, just until you have reached a peak of excitement, a boom emerges within every vessel, making you feel helpless as you move in denial, with a slight hum of luscious lips on your neck," Olivia said. You see, Grace, there is a caution to his wind flute as it has emerged; it is something he has never experienced before. "Wow," said Grace. "What are you, besides desert?" said Grace. Olivia laughed and smiled, and one more thing Grace, some men need an irresistible tease or morning glory satisfaction, as Olivia jumped on Grace playfully.

Both of the girls laughed hysterically, "Nevermind, your a flirty-dirty-thirty animal," said Grace. It would help if you tried it, Grace; all you need is a well oiled or perfumed body. Olivia tossed a delicate oil of hers the smell of vanilla, oris and tonka beans. Two thimbles of oil on her neck and wrists and cleavage and inner thigh, "But you see something so simple for him is knowing that your beauty was ravishing you and his mind," Olivia said softly. Finding a perfect colour for her lips, "sometimes I would cry out loudly and use tender or coarse gutter words, or when the seduction was never predictable.

What time are you leaving this evening asked Grace; around 7:30 tonight said, Olivia. I am wearing this new merlot Va Bien Bustier 523 underneath, with a long sleeve sheer top little black cocktail dress by Oeuvre. And, of course, strappy patent sandals by Gianvito Rossi. Nice, said Grace. Of course, elegance is expensive yet very attractive.

Olivia walked in and again was lavished by the cathedral interior, dark maroon red velvet suede seats, silhouette gentlemen's bar. Minor signs at the table with elegant linens from Jerusalem, and some of the servers were female models dressed in moulin rouge lingerie. Around the room with trays filled with a bottle of new romantic wine, "she believed this drink was the theme of sweetness," Olivia thought to herself.

Hello, Olivia. "You look magnificent this evening," said Ian. As a spiral of blind ecstasy whispered on her neck, "Thank you, any woman would be insane not even to consider a sharp, handsome man like yourself," Olivia said. I ordered a bottle of Chateau Petrus 1947 of merlot. "Would you like a glass?" Asked Ian. Yes, please. I'm glad you've asked me to join you this evening; because this gathering might have been a bit lonely. Said Olivia, trying to contain her excitement, a strange notion considering she didn't want Ian to know she was one of the highest-paid elites. Yet when Ian smiled, she thought of a handsome man in the dark with a suit she didn't know how much longer till he was hers.

Ian reached out, wraps his arms around my waist, and whispers something that is not audible. Yet, he had me unconscious; he heated my blood in a way that should be illegal in public, Olivia thought sensually. As Olivia slithered her lower back in front of him, he had a hard rugged jawline peeking out from underneath as his luscious lips curled into a small smile. Olivia, tilting her head, felt every tingle just to his touch. "Would you like to go to my suite afterwards?" asked Ian. Yes, of course, as she tried to deal with the mind-numbing reaction to his touch on her waist. "Please, take my hand," Ian said. Olivia began to think, as they walked to the suit engaged in one another's irresistible presence and movement, "how I can combust from one man's touch alone, but what I want is for him to be mentally grateful for the rest of his evening."