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Walt Hardester

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Hottie Chronicles...Part 2
By Walt Hardester
Posted: Monday, June 18, 2007
Last edited: Friday, June 29, 2007
This short story is rated "G" by the Author.
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Recent stories by Walt Hardester
· Almost Busted
· Who to Believe?
· She Told Me To Do It
· Five Minutes Of Fame
· Papa There's A Big Fish
· A Steamboat Springs Nightmare
· I Wonder If He Even Realized
           >> View all 67
Second date…
Tonight didn’t work out just as planned. She had to work late.
But I was determined to see her again at the “House on the hill.” Mostly because we had such a nice time last night and she is so pretty, witty, and beguiling.
My motives weren’t exactly as pure as say, an all day Sunday sing with dinner on the grounds. However, being the true Southern lady she is, all I really wanted to do was be near her smell her hair, and that wonderful perfume she wears, and make her feel comfortable with me.

I pondered, “What can I do tonight to make her fall even further under my spell?“

Because of the hour dinner was out. Just then I looked in the corner, and lo and behold there was the answer, my guitar.
Now I’m no Eric Clapton, mind you, but I am a pretty good player, and my singing isn’t all that bad. So off I went, confident in my wooing abilities.

I arrived sometime before sunset. I brought my guitar from the car and sat it on the porch. I didn’t open the case yet, although she did notice it. We sat on her porch swing. She offered me a glass of tea and we chatted about this and that for a while.

The wonderful peacefulness of her country home truly soothed my spirit.
Country porch swings have always held so many good memories for me. Also, some that were not so good, like shelling peas and butterbeans till my fingers were raw.
I had almost forgotten about my guitar when I said, ”Oh, I have something you might enjoy.” I got out the guitar and did a few quick warm ups for my left hand and began with , “Bobby McGee”.

That went well enough, so off I went into a Dylan song. This time I noticed some discrete toe tapping, so at least I knew I wasn’t hurting her ears. I did three or four more songs. Some Buffet, a Simon and Garfunkle, a couple Eagles, and I think I even threw in a John Prine, or two.
Then I said, ”nuff of that,” and put the guitar back in the case.

By this time the sun had gone down and the Skeeters were hungry.
Now during the music there may have been a kiss or two, maybe even a nibbled earlobe. Ain’t saying whose.

Inside the house the rustic atmosphere just oozes comfort and informality. We sat on the couch for a moment side by side, and somehow my shoes just slipped off. Don’t know how that happened, but no matter, so did hers.
She had some very soothing mood music playing on the XM channel of her satellite TV and we got more and more comfortable, moving this way and that so as to snuggle better.

I’m five feet eleven inches tall, and she is five two, so at first, there was a bit of adjustment problem, to get just where we both wanted to be, face to face, which was accomplished in no time flat.
Funny thing is, during this adjustment period, we went from sitting vertical on the couch to somehow horizontal, now how did that happen?

We looked each other in the eyes, then they closed and lips touched. So tender and loving these kisses were. They weren’t just limited to lips but cheeks, foreheads, ears, and ah that beautiful sweet smelling neck of hers.
These blissful moments went on for a good while, and me, trying my damn best to be a true gentleman, sat up, looked at the clock and said, Honey, I’ve got to go.

Stay tuned.......



Reader Reviews for "Hottie Chronicles...Part 2"

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Reviewed by Jennave Coz 6/19/2007
Excellent pen, Love the spirit...Bravo
Reviewed by Richard Orey 6/18/2007
Hey Walt, I'm 74 but ya got me feeling like 44. I know all about her hair my now. I can almost smell it. Mmmmmm. But the eyes, man. The eyes! That's where's it's at. Start with the color, and then tell us what she's looking at. Is there droopy-lid eye contact here before the lips meet? I mean, man, on my last review I begged for details. Nothin's changed. I don't get out much anymore. I need details.

Oh, it's almost nine o'clock. Bedtime. Now, where'd I put my slippers? Oh, yeah, there by my nightshirt.


You left her good, man: unfulfilled and ready for more of dear ol' Walt. I was gonna give ya a few pointers, but ya seem ta be doin' okay on pure instinct. Hound dogs always do.
Reviewed by LadyJtalks LadyJzTalkZone (Reader) 6/18/2007
well.....must be the southern georgia gentlemen thing...oh that's right I forgot I wasn't a southern lady when I lived down south, because surely no gentlemen southern or not ever got up and left after they got me in that stuff...Lady J
Reviewed by Mr. Ed 6/18/2007
"Honey, I’ve got to go."

And just when it was gettin good! But I'll stay tuned, and I think it was those Jimmy Buffet tunes that won her heart!

Reviewed by Tinka Boukes 6/18/2007
Oh this was made me laugh big time....gotta love the "adjustment problem" part!!


Love Tinka

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