|
|
"I have given up the world, some ten years back. That literally means that the outside world has ceased to exist as a place for me to be. A nun? No, I have not become a nun or a hermit. It is just that I have chosen to live my life in my world, on my terms and without social obligations of any sort. I was a young woman, fresh out of university, just having started employment in the city, when my rich parents died in an accident. I knew they were rich, but they did not show off and I was not spoiled. So I never knew how rich they were. I know now. I also know how to let the money make money, with little interference by me.
My choice to withdraw was not based on idealistic grounds. I am selfish and can afford to be so. I am also a material woman. My worldly goods remain very important to me. Let me add that they are quite extensive. I possess an endless estate inland and a large beach property. The sun always shines where I live. My territories are fifty miles apart. Once or twice a week I commute from one property to the other in my fast little Porsche. That is all the travelling I ever do. I cannot avoid it. A helicopter would be better, but control is my game - I cannot fly a chopper.
You would still class me as a hermit? A hermit lives alone, doesn't she? I have a flock of people living with me. I am not talking about servants. Although my people serve me, they are not paid. They are well provided for, however. Before you call them slaves, they are not (in spite of they themselves using that term!) They are free to go and they do leave for errands and so on. They simply can't bring themselves to leaving me. They are addicted - in my words, devoted - in theirs.
A minor trouble is: I am an offender. I do not only refer to my speeding. I offend the rules of decency by exposing myself. I live naked and I travel naked. The word exposure is inappropriate, of course. Ever since I retired I wore not a single thread of clothing. There is therefore no act of exposure. I have no desire to stop along the way and disturb anyone. The road is deserted and there is not a single stop-sign or traffic light that could make me halt. My faithful associates keep my car fueled. But I do tend to zip along between places, which I too acknowledge to be an offence. The police have stopped me once or twice, but know me now and leave me alone. (My periodic bribes are kindly accepted.)
My car is well maintained and reliable, the fuel tank is full. What can happen to me?"
A very pleasant trip on a beautiful day. A break from the daily grind in the office. I am on my way to a new business partner of ours, whom I have not yet visited. I am riding along this forest road, which is quite deserted. The sun is high, but a slight breeze prevents the day from being unbearably hot.
I am half dreaming of Suzy, my girlfriend, and the way she made love to me last night. Well, fucked me is more appropriate. The night was hot, sensuously humid. We lay in bed, the sheets kicked aside. I was half-asleep when she assaulted me. She fucked me hard, the dear animal, the lean and mean, dear, dear animal. She had no mercy on her prey. But I was ready and eager to be devoured. Sweet oblivion ensued. I still feel the imprints of her nails where she clasped my back when she was riding high as I drive along these country roads.
I have not been one for lasting relationships. Before I met Suzy I had a range of one-night stands, extending into months sometimes, but still one-night stands in essence. When I am honest I have not cared about any partner very much. I have been interested in myself and my career. My interest in women has been for the sexual kicks, which I badly need - no question about that. I am no Casanova, but a distant cousin - yes. Those women's interest in me? I wouldn't know. I am entertaining, I guess, and look OK. And I have got a bit of cash.
What is different this time with Suzy? Again, when I am honest, the legs our relationship stand on are her sex and mine. We are exquisitely compatible in that department. We do not live together, but share a good deal of time. At the end of which, as inevitable as delightful: sex. The mere thought gives me a hard-on.
Reveries on a glorious day... Then, past a sharp corner, I almost drive into a white Porsche. The car is parked at the side of the road, half on the road surface. I brake and manage to swerve around it. I am shaken, angry, curious, willing to help. I reverse back towards the car, which mysteriously stands there. Tinted windows preclude a view of the driver, if present. My curiosity has the better of me. I leave my car and walk towards this menacing monster of a car. Anything could happen ...
At the driver's side I bend over and look through the door window. I do not see a thing. I knock on the window. Nothing, for a moment. Then the window opens to a slit and I look into a pair of green, green eyes. A woman, with long red hair, looking back silently. "I barely missed you, you know that? Your position here is dangerous. What is the matter? Can I help?" She lengthily stares at me, as if I am the one in trouble, not she. A mockery. "My position dangerous? If you wish, you could say that. And your position? Are you safe?" Should I really help this uncooperative, well, bitch? But I seem not to be able to release myself from her gaze. "I am stuck here, as you see when you look at left rear tire. Take the jack and the spare wheel from underneath the bonnet and fix my problem. We'll talk again after you are done", and she closes the window.
So there I am, fixing the tire at the roadside, on the road, in this empty land, where nothing stirs, barely a bird is heard, hoping that no fool comes by to crash into me, into us.
No fool comes by. I live to tell. Or be told.
After I have completed the chore, I brush the dust off my hands and look at the car. I do not see her through the tinted windows. And she? Would she have been watching me, the fool, mend her car? Or would she have ignored me as if used to fools and bored by them? Whichever, the minute I am done she starts the engine. The passenger door is thrust open. "Get in", she calls to me.
I should walk and be on my way. Business calls. But I am intrigued, very much so. About to be turned on by this strange woman. Lust calls harder.
I make my way to the other side of the car, this white growling monster, ready to swallow me raw. "Get in and shut the door." Inside - the most astonishing thing - this woman, with the flaming red hair, who does not even look at me - is naked. She roars away and presses me firmly into my seat. We do not speak. I do not dare. I hardly dare look her way. I see the tips of her breasts, bouncing lightly as we ride. I see her red bush. Then, I discern a pattern on her legs, from her feet to her crotch. Irregular black stripes. I have never seen anything like this. Who is this tiger woman, whom I found stranded along the road sitting bare in her car, waiting for help, in a broader sense not requiring help at all and ready to subject her saviour as her servant? Tiger-legs. Mysterious. Frightening...
After a period when the time stood still (ten, twenty minutes?) the car stops at a closed heavy gate. She opens it by remote control, we drive through and the gate closes behind us. A long and winding driveway suddenly opens to a glorious seascape, with a large beachhouse somewhat recessed. It is large and light, consisting mainly of glass. Without a word she gets out of the car and walks towards the stairs leading down. After a moment's hesitation, I follow. What else can I do? I see her figure leading the way, her hair flying in the breeze, her nubile naked body swift - oh, these strange legs with the black stripes reaching her buttocks. She does not ask, nor motion. She assumes I will follow. And I do. I see her enter the front door of the house.
When I enter, she has disappeared already. I try a room - empty. And another, and another. Not a living soul appears to be around. I ascend the stairway with trepidation. What game is she playing? Will she trap me? I open a heavy wooden door. A large room, like a winter garden, with plants reaching the glass ceiling, the light filtered and green. The air is humid, tropical. In the centre, a bed: sitting on the edge, she looks at me with her slant green eyes. She leans backward on her arms. Her proud breasts inviting. Her tiger legs are open. Her cunt, pink lips visible between her red growth, suck me towards her. Still, not a word. My member tells me what to do. I drop my trousers and walk towards her, cock erect. I am within touching distance. This body, luscious, sweating now, screaming to be conquered. Her eyes, in contrast, objective, cool, watching her prey. She suddenly reaches out and pulls me on top of her, her nails like claws burying themselves in my back. I enter her, thrusting my painful loins against her abdomen. Vaguely I feel her nails raking, carving, shredding my back, setting my back on fire, as I thrust, thrust, staring into her clear green eyes, thrust ... I drive myself higher, ever higher, to the height of heights, the sweet other-death.... and I forget myself, lose myself....
I become conscious of a faint buzzing sound first, next of a faint pain in my left hand. I wake slowly, attempt to move, but find that I am not free. I am tied to a hard flat surface (a table, a board, the floor) and my back hurts terribly. When I succeed in opening my eyes, when my dizzy vision clears, I see a heavily tattooed man who is sitting down next to me. He is applying a tattoo on my left hand. I am too far-gone to protest. I must have been drugged, but only realise this later. When he is done, he packs up his gear. Giving me a sympathetic look, he releases the straps that tie my arms and legs to the surface and disappears.
Some time later (how much?) I take the initiative to get up. My back hurts, my hand hurts, my cock hurts. This fierce woman has abused my naked body. I walk through her house, but she is nowhere to be found. Only then I remember that my left hand has been tattooed. "Tiger" it says in large clear script. She has left her signature, so that I will never forget her. I will not.
I find my clothes and get dressed. I sit around for a long, long while. Nothing stirs. Then I walk away from the house towards the gate. My car has been positioned there, at the end of the drive way. I get in and drive to the gate, which opens, and speed away.
Copyright by Vanna Vechian, 1998. Reproduction allowed only for personal use.
Painting Copyright by Erica Chappuis, 1998.
BACK TO VANNA's HOMEPAGE