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I Took Her Inside

She Thanked Me a Lot

By Patrick M. OhanaPublished 3 years ago 14 min read
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Photo by Oksana Taran on Unsplash

This story is hard to tell. I may need to skip some parts. Don’t worry! It won’t be the sex. It was too good to be left out. But before I start, just to set the mood, I want you to read the following haiku. You don’t have to. I left enough space to allow you to skip it. If I can skip some parts, so can you. Yet it’s only seventeen syllables long. Even a prick may be longer.

She helped me fold her

soaking-wet I-love-you sheets

I asked to conserve

I wanted to keep the sheets as a souvenir but she made me wash them. But that comes later. Let’s start by how I met her. It was just before COVID-19 became the talk of 2020. We were already lucky there. If not, being at home nonstop, I would never have met her. I was returning from some food-related shopping. Some call it shopping for groceries. I don’t like the word groceries. It sounds gross. It’s just me, of course. Go figure. There is, however, a valid reason. I always buy something else that’s not necessarily eaten. Peppermint, for example. For those that already know me, peppermint is my second love, and when there’s no woman, she becomes my first. There’s also cannabis. Some call it God’s plant, assuming there is one. The plant is a sure thing. I love her every day as well. We have a mixed threesome: two plants and a prick. Of course, a woman is superior. She also soothes my suffering. Woman Superior. That’s another story too.

As I was typing, I was returning from some shopping when I noticed her, a nicely dressed beautiful woman stopping cars and asking for change. I stopped before being asked. Why don’t you come inside, I told her. I just bought some good food. I’ll cook for both of us while you take a peppermint bath. I only live a block away. I promise to behave.

Smiling, she replied: “I don’t know what to say. I only wanted some change. I’ve hit a snag in my life and I just need some help.”

I surmised as much, I said. I’m here to help. Come inside. I promise that you won’t regret it. Do I look dangerous?

“Oh, honey, you look decent. Cute too. What’s going to happen after my bath and dinner?” she asked.

That’s a fair question. I’ll probably try to kiss you but only if you want to. I’m a decent guy. I don’t bite unless it’s your ass. I can’t help it.

“Oh, you’re a keeper. I don’t want to fall in love with you or anything like that.”

I’ll do my best to help you with that too. I could rub myself with peppermint. She loves it. I mean, I love it. You would already smell of peppermint from your bath. And peppermint is jealous, and thus she won’t let you fall in love with me. Different peppermint whiffs don’t mix well. We may only kiss hello and goodbye.

“I’m Cristel,” she said as soon as she entered inside.

I’m M, I replied.

“M?”

It’s short for Maurice.

“I like them both. M it is. I’m pleased to meet you,” Cristel said.

Can I kiss you in case the peppermints decide to be real?

“Oh, you won’t have to rub yourself with peppermint. I already like your smell.”

I kissed her. She gave me her tongue. I took it as far as she let me. I think that I was already smitten. She tasted like peppermint. She saw it in my eyes.

“Yes. I like peppermint too. It’s the only reason I’m here with you. Any man, like you, who loves peppermint the way you say you do has to be good, in bed too,” Cristel said, barely smiling.

I think that my heart skipped a beat. Or was it everything? She’s the one who picked me up. I would have given her my car. This is, by the way, what I love most about women. You need one. You see one. And within a moment you can be smitten, even in love. Any creature that carries such power should be in power. Women should rule the world of men. I love you, Woman! We can meet later. I’ve been waiting for a while. All that passed through my head in a few seconds.

“Are you okay? You look a bit pale,” Cristel asked, a bit pale herself.

I’m fine. I just didn’t think that one could fall in love in a car.

“Oh, you’re smooth. But it doesn’t fit the profile of a peppermint lover. Are you saying that you’re in love with me?”

I was only being poetic. I type a lot. They call it writing.

“Oh, I’ve never been with a writer before. Unless I count Johnny who once published an ad.”

And you’re funny too. It’s the other way around. You’re the one trying to make me fall in love with you.

“Oh, smooth again. How do you like your peppermint?” Cristel asked.

Any way she likes it. She’s in my bath and I prefer showers. I take her for any body ache. She soothes me from the inside. I even wrote her a poem. (I’ll leave you a link below. You can always skip it. If you like it, I could give you a link to one I wrote to cannabis.)

“Oh, I believe you again. You’re my man.”

My heart skipped to a different beat. I should have recorded it for posterity. I mean, what she said next.

“So, you can cook too. How do you make love?”

I make sure that the woman is king. I’m just lucky to be there.

“I want you now.”

Oh, I do too. We’re about a minute away from a comfy bed and all the peppermint you can kiss.

“Okay, my man. Take me inside your world.”

I was stunned. I knew that I was already lost. But it felt like a good one. Like a win. She helped me with the bags, though we could have taken a cart. There was no need to give time any more space. I kissed her again in the elevator. She ran her right hand over my pants. Oh, it was awake. Little M wasn’t sleeping. The ultimate goal of life was near: to make love, or fuck, or both. The broth is better both ways. You get to fuck and love or love and fuck. The other two are limited in one way or another. It’s simple math. I mean, logic. Philosophy too. English, oh yeah. It works in French as well (Tu peux baiser et aimer ou aimer et baiser). In all languages probably. Shakespeare is also here and there, in my other lesser words. I was suddenly thinking of my heart. It skips for not very much and now it’s going to skip a lot.

As soon as the bags were put inside, we kissed again. I want to feed you first, I said between kisses. Before you feed me your self, I added after another long wet kiss. Food is overrated, love is the real nourishment, I must have thought. But she was famished. I was used to not eating for about sixteen hours per the ketogenic way, but I could eat her. There’s nothing more keto than that, than her at that esteemed moment.

“M, my man! As much as I want to go all the way, I need to eat something first.”

I know, my dear Cristel. Before or after the peppermint bath?

“Oh, I forgot about her. I’ll take the bath first.”

I’ll prepare your meal while you let her caress your skin.

“I feel as if I’m in a dream.”

It’s probably the best compliment I’ve ever received, my dear Cristel.

“I doubt that a lot. You’re too smooth. I must be number nine.”

You’ve just referred to John Lennon and thus you’re number one.

“I have to kiss you for that,” she replied and kissed me until she couldn’t breathe.

I was ready to die. Is there a better death than one that occurs during a kiss? The kiss of death? I would call it the best kiss. Bliss’ kiss. Some of you may think that death during sex would be better. I disagree wholeheartedly. We already die at the end of it and thus it can’t be better during. I’m cheating, of course. But it’s worth it, for me at any rate. I was again thinking of my heart. I don’t have any heart-related issues, but I feel that I will have some sometime or after she leaves.

I prepared her peppermint bath. The apartment smelled like a nice tisane. She allowed me a glimpse of her breasts at which point I put my right hand against my heart. You’d think I was about to propose to her or to love. I only held it before the coming skip. Yep, it did. My heart skipped a beat. She smiled at me. I smiled back and closed the door behind me as a meal had to be prepared for my love.

I prepared a nutritious meal for two, though I was only thinking of her. What would she like more, an endive salad or a romaine? sautéed mushrooms with garlic or with red onion? a green olive omelette or a homemade pizza on coconut wraps? A peppermint extract drink or whatever else there is? I wasn’t sure but I made what I thought she’d love.

When she came out, it was my heart again. She saw it and smiled.

“I love peppermint. We love you too.”

Is she going to join us there too? I replied looking at the bedroom, though from her angle she could think that I meant the sofa. I love the word sofa. It’s so inviting.

“She could. Do you use peppermint condoms?”

She stings down there. I even tried the leaves. I wanted to make love to her. But you can’t make love to a plant. She makes love to you. I digress. This was only meant for you, the reader.

To Cristel I said: I could. I’ll have to find out. We could have a peppermint tisane. I also have the one with cannabis. We could have a foursome. You’ll decide who goes with whom.

“You’re funny, it smells good, and I’m so hungry.”

Please, take a seat. I could watch you eat. It’ll be better than any meal.

“I’m really hungry and it smells so good. It also looks like art. You worked for me a lot.”

I would betray you and peppermint if I didn’t say that I did it all for me too. Cannabis doesn’t care. She knows that she’s God’s plant.

“You are too sweet. I will eat fast.”

Please, don’t, dear Cristel! I need you in form, thinking and feeling all your love, not your body in disarray or asking for more fare.

“Come on! You’ll eat something too.”

How could I refuse? We ate and talked. I guess that’s what most of us do before any real love. It’s a ritual. A good one, of course. It helps erect a relationship. And what is a relationship if not some kind of erection! I put in. She puts out. In and out. Like a door that won’t shut until it’s lubricated enough from both sides.

“You didn’t ask me anything about my stopping cars for change,” Cristel said at one point during the meal.

I figured that you had a good reason, I replied.

“You are too kind.”

It’s impossible to be too kind. One can only be not kind enough.

“I’m almost done but I can stop and eat something later.”

No, my dear! Please finish eating. By watching you I’m also learning how to eat you in the best way. (Yep! I actually said it.)

“If you’re trying to seduce me, don’t worry a bit, I’m all yours.”

Thank you, my dear Cristel! I love to say your name. It’s an unusual name, befitting some princess or duchess. Cristel! But I gather that it has something to do with Christ.

“I remember that it means a follower of Christ or ice. I’m sure that my parents meant the former but I surely prefer ice.”

But there’s nothing icy about you, I replied, taking one of her hands into mine. Even your hands are warm. Can I touch your feet?

“As I said, I’m all yours.”

Your feet feel warm as well. Where’s the ice? It can’t be hiding in your heart.

“What do you do? Are you a writer of some kind?”

I am but it’s not as lucrative as it may sound. A writer’s life can be mostly solitary, though many can entertain a family in midst of their words. Luckily, I don’t depend on it to live. I write medical research reports to pay the recurring bills.

“I lost my job some months ago but the story sucks. I am, however, an interior decorator. Well, I was. That story sucks too. I prefer yours.”

I’m sorry that life wasn’t warmer to you. I think that I see the ice. But it’s around you, not in you, where I only see warmth and light.

“What more should I do? I told you that I’m all yours. Have you done this before? Do you seduce them all?”

There aren’t that many. You could count them all on one hand and you won’t need all the fingers. I guess that I have many more, but they are all fictitious. I make them up in my stories. I may call one Cristel, if you don’t mind, of course.

“I don’t! I don’t! Do you have an idea about her character?”

Oh, I don’t know yet. I have to imagine her unless I use you instead. I could base her on you.

“Please, do! You’ll learn more about her as you get to know me. Are we going to bed?”

I love those words, I replied and took off the robe that she came out with after her bath. I would carry you to bed but my back won’t allow anything like that. I can only lead you. It’s not that far. You can actually see it from here. You’ll have to excuse me, but when I’m excited by a woman, I tend to make jokes. Luckily some of them are good.

“I love you. I can’t believe that I just said it.”

It’s OK. I can pretend that you didn’t, but it’s going to be hard. Very hard.

“I see that it already is,” Cristel replied, rubbing my visible erection with one of her hands.

You’re too kind. Little M is going mad since he only lives on touch, while I can use all the senses. I embraced her from behind, gently caressing her breasts before admitting to myself, if not to her, that my heart skipped again.

“Make love to me,” Cristel said.

Oh, I’ve been at it from the start. I want to eat you first and only then when I’m done, will I make love to you again.

Please, stand by! I have to stop typing for some time. I need to be inside.

...

I’m back. Memories of Cristel abound. Both in my head and my heart. Do we exaggerate with the heart when all along it’s the brain? That wonderful slab of good smart fat. Methinks I digress too much. You would too if Cristel was on your mind.

We did what lovers do. I ate everything she had to offer, but my heart, of course, skipped and skipped. I gather that some love is like skipping a rope. She gave me everything I could desire but I didn’t ask for much. Her lips against mine. My lips all over her skin. My tongue inside every orifice and fold. My fingers moving to her inner music. Luckily, it was jazz. I couldn’t do it to country or rap. I stand corrected. Some of their tunes could set the mood, especially if we can see the Moon.

As I typed at the beginning, I wanted to keep the sheets as a souvenir but she made me wash them.

“I’m here, my dear M. We’ll make love on all your sheets. You can even buy more if we run out before the wash is done.”

You are unique, my love. I’m really glad that you needed some change.

“I didn’t get a chance to ask you for change but you gave me yourself instead,” Cristel said and closed her eyes.

I noticed a tear rolling down her cheek. I quickly swallowed it, kissing her eyes. But then I saw her nipples standing erect, asking me to reciprocate. There was no need to ask. Little M was standing proud, though leaning to one side, honing on her pussy. I finally said it. The most beautiful word of the English language. I’m sure that Shakespeare would agree. Pussy!

...

fiction
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About the Creator

Patrick M. Ohana

A medical writer who reads and writes fiction and some nonfiction, although the latter may appear at times like the former. All my stories (over 2,200 pieces) are/will be available on/via Shakespeare's Shoes.

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