The memories of the days when Ida Mae was still at her peak performance in the bedroom would pop into her mind, and she could relive them at times, and even feel and taste the sensations just like they happened yesterday not years ago.
Ida Mae loved living her days in quiet reflection and the tales of her former glory she would tell to any one who would listen.
No one knew her true age, and she would not even repeat out loud or would even permit others to speculate on her age. She would sit in her room, and would watch the girls pass by in the hallway. Every now and then one of them would stick her head in the doorway and smile and ask her if she wanted anything. As always, she would smile and say, “no girl, you just go take care of your business. I am fine here.”
Her rooms faced the front of the large Victorian house, looking out over the wide expansive lawn. Ida Mae could see who came, and how long they stayed. There were tropical plants all around the room, simulating her childhood home.
The walls were white, not a flat or mat painted white, but a glossy white with sand mixed in for a raised texture. She had insisted that they be painted this way. It made the room sparkle, and even in the evening the room was full of warm light. When the lamps in her room were lit, they would shine upward, and the section of wall that was hit by direct lighting would sparkle like a jewel. In every nook and cranny of the room, tropical birds in cages could be heard singing. Colorful bird songs sometimes joined by Ida Mae drifted even to the floors below.
This now was her world. This room, with its entire memento’s of her past, surrounded her, each having a special meaning in her life. She picked up the paperweight next to her on the table. Inside it were embedded broken bits of coral and seashells and rocks with Venezuela and margarita written on them. This was her most treasured memento, as simple as it was.
She caressed the smooth oval top, and brought it up closer to her face. Sparkly sand and glitter lay at the bottom of the weight. Closing her eyes she could almost hear the surf again and sense the smell of the ocean. Even the voices of her benefactors from long ago bubbled to the top of her mind. Letting go of today, she drifted back to that long ago day when she first laid eyes on him. The man who could be said to have changed her, shaping all she would be unknown to him. At times she still feels like he was braided into her soul like a valentine pretzel.
Lying out on the beach in her scant bathing suit of that day, a shadow blocked her warmth from the sun. Lifting her sunglasses, she looked up into the deepest green eyes she had ever seen. She could not tell how tall he was from her position. She was laying, but she could see that even with the blaze of the sun causing a halo around him, he was dark. Not as dark as her, but certainly a deep bronze.
“You’re blocking my sun, and I am wet from my dip in the ocean, and you’re making me cold,” Ida Mae said in a soft voice. She was shocked at her own voice, which was usually forceful and commanding. Most would say her speech was terse most of the time. She flushed a little, and put her hand up over her eyes to see if she could shade out the halo so she could see his whole face.
He did not move. He just picked up a towel and tried to hand it to her. “Put this over you it will help you keep warm,” he said.
Ida Mae could feel a hot flush of heat building in her. Even her ears were getting hot. Who was this man to tell her to cover her self or to block her sun? “Excuse me sir”, she said her voice dripping venom.
Dropping the towel on top of her, he laughed as he said, “I don’t want other men looking at my woman.” His words took her by surprise.
She sputtered, “your women!” “Who the hell are you, and who do you think you are talking to?”
In a soft voice, he repeated what he said the first time, “I don’t want other men looking at my woman.”
Not expecting him to repeat the offending words again, Ida Mae fell silent. She lowered her hand, and stopped trying to see his face. Her eyes lowered to his legs directly in front of her. They were strong looking, but thin like a runner’s legs would be. Looking lower, she saw his feet were long and thin. Finishing the inspection of what she could see of him from her position, she raised her eyes again upward.
He started to squat down beside her, and, as his body folded, his face came into view. The green eyes that she saw while he was standing were set deep in a magnificent face. He had a square jaw line and a mane of curly brown hair that was highlighted with reddish streaks from the sun. When he opened his mouth to smile at her, she saw a set of pearl like white teeth shining out of this bronze god’s face. He was breath taking, the best-looking man of color she had ever seen.
“I did not mean to upset you little one,” he whispered softly so that no one else around them on the beach could hear him. “It was just that I was overcome by your beauty, and knew I had to have you as my own. Then an over powering feeling of jealousy over came me that other men here might want you too. I am sorry for my boorish approach.” With that he dropped his head contritely so that all she could see was his mass of curls. What Ida Mae did not see when he did this was the wicked grin that he hid by lowering his head or that his eyes, which had been a warm green, turned as cold as emeralds that were still deep in the mines of the earth, never having seen the light of day. This was a man who was accustomed to having his way in life, and even more so with women.
Ida Mae sat quietly looking at him. She was not sure what to say to this man. No man had ever spoken to her like this before. For a moment she could see her mama’s face before her speaking, “Girl, men will try to get into your pants anyway they can. Tell you anything they think will get them there.” She brushed her mama from her mind as fast as she could. Thinking to herself, she never had a real man of her own, not even my father was mine alone.
She put out a hand to touch his curls, but lowered her hand before doing so. Ida Mae did not have a clue as to why she had tried to touch this stranger. The quiet between them was becoming unbearable to her. Ida Mae wanted him to speak or move away from her. She seemed to be able to feel the heat from his body, or was it from the sun that now beamed down on her. Her mouth was growing very dry, and she found it harder and harder to respond to his last comment. After what felt like a lifetime, he just stood up again and did not speak. He just turned and walked away from where she still laid on the beach.
Ida Mae laid where he left her in the sand for only a few moments in total amazement before she jumped up and started gathering up her towels and her beach bag. All the time fuming inside her, her anger growing by the moment, she was almost sprinting behind him trying not to lose sight of him in the crowded beach. When she got within voice range, she slowed down to a fast walk. She needed to gain some control over herself before confronting this crude person. So great was her anger, it never crossed her mind that she might be in danger. Or that what she was feeling was out of proportion with what she was doing.
Pulling back her shoulders so that her small breasts would stick out and tilting her chin upward so that her neck would look longer were some things she had practiced for more hours than she cared to remember in the mirror in her bedroom. She slowed down even more, but kept pace with him. When the crowd thinned, she called out in a voice that was sure and firm even if this was not how she was feeling. “Sir, excuse me sir,” the second sir was said with more force if not louder than the first. He stopped and turned to face her a smile of triumph on his face. In his leaving her there in the sand, he had gained the upper hand. He was sure until she spoke.
Ida Mae did not wait for him to speak. She tried to retrieve whatever dignity she could as soon as she saw his smile. “Sir, it is expected that a gentleman would introduce him self by name to a lady.” She put as much emphasis on the word lady as she could, and still not look like she was begging to be seen as such.
He raised his hand to his head, as if he were wearing a cap he could remove, and leaned forward at the waist towards her, “forgive my rudeness, Miss. My name is Ajani. Now pretty lady.” He too put emphases on the word lady. “May I ask you name?”
It was Ida Mae’s turn to take control. “Pleased to make your acquaintance, but my mother told me not to talk to strange men.” With that she turned, digging her heels into the sand deeply to leave the beach. Her hips swayed as she balanced on them doing a fast retreat. She did not look back over her shoulder. If she had, she would have seen a man who was looking at her with awe struck admiration.
Ajani was used to having his way with women. When he turned on that sparkling smile and flipped his curly sun streaked head of hair, women seemed to melt. They saw him as if he were a boy, and most had an impulse to mother love him, to take care of this boy like man. This had gotten him into more women’s panties than he cared to count
“Touché little one, you win this round,” he said under his breath to himself as he stood watching until she disappeared back into the crowd.
Kneeling down he picked up a small handful of sand that had formed a mound where her heels had dug in. Standing back up with the sand in his hand, he let it sift slowly through his fingers. When he was sure he could no longer see any vestiges of her, he turned and continued down the beach in the direction he had been going, thinking to himself, tomorrow is another day.
Ida Mae walked home slowly, stopping first at the fruit stand picking out over ripe fragrant fruit to go with her cheese for dinner that evening. Her mind was still full of the encounter. Squeezing and pinching the fruits, she started to imagine they had the feel of flesh under her seeking fingers; not just any flesh, but his, the man in her mind. She had not been with him long, but she felt like she even could bring back to memory the scent of him. She was not aware until that moment that he had been emitting a distinct aroma. Ida Mae was unaware and knew nothing of pheromones, but what she did know and understand was that what ever the scent was that came off him was stuck in her memory.
While crossing the road, she stumbled and almost fell. That removed Ajani from her mind for the rest of her walk home and into the early evening.
Later that night, Ida Mae climbed into the large claw bathtub, which was a real luxury since most people in her village did not even having running water. But her mother worked up at the large house and, when they remodeled, the tub had been discarded. Ida Mae’s mother had one of her on again off again male friends bring the tub by mule cart to their cottage.
Ajani came to her mind again as she prepared her bath, taking total control of it when she lowered herself into the warm water. She laid back into the warmth of the water, which she had scented with vanilla oil. It did not cross her mind until this moment that that was the scent of Ajani. Yes this was it, but some how different. Her bath oil seemed to lack the flavor or pungent impact of his. Lying back, she felt her body relax. Closing her eyes, she brought his face up before her. Her breath quickened as the cool air in contrast to the warmth that the rest of her body felt as it laid under the water caused her nipples to harden. There came a warm feeling in her loins, a feeling she could not condescend to relieve yet the control of her hand seemed lost.
Under the water her hand moved in small circles over her stomach. With care she massaged lower and lower down into the warm water. Ripples formed at the surface as the circles grew tighter until the focal point became her Venus mound. The hairs, now silky soft, excited her more. Her fingers crept to the top of the slit. Opening her legs wider, she parted her nether lips with one hand as the other grazed the top of her pearly clitoris.
A small gasp of primal pleasure escaped her lips as she slid lower, so that her nipples were now just under the water. The movement of her hands caused ripples that kept the water in motion over her breasts. Though her breasts were small; the nipples were magnificently large as cherry pits.
Soft moans, low and sweet, came with the repeating of the name, “Ajani”, as she rubbed the now harden pearl between her legs faster and faster. The friction from her hand made her already bath water warmed pearl hotter. Her legs developed a mind of their own, opening wider, so she raised them out of the water and rested them on either side of the tub. The hot water flooded deeper into the now spread wide love channel.
Using both hands, she squeezed her love pearl with one and with the other pinched her ripe sensitive nipple. Ida was headed for a full body throbbing climax. Pressing down hard on her pearl, she made the water look like ocean swells rushing onto the shore on an incoming tide. Water lapped high against the sides of the tub like the sea when it hits a retaining wall. The tub hurricane grew in force until the once contained water splashed up and over the sides onto the floor.
Her body screamed for release. She knew it would be over soon, but she was not ready yet to let go of this daydream. Pushing back up so that the cool air was now the only thing touching her nipples, she put her legs back down so that her hand was locked between her thighs. Breathing hard, eyes still closed, she slowed the motion of her hands.
Ida Mae began to slowly rock her hips against her hand. With her legs pushing down hard, her thigh muscles quivered with the strain. When she could stand this raw pleasure no longer, she synchronized her hand in time with the rocking of her hips.
The climax took her by surprise. One minute she was gasping for air and rubbing with a storm’s fury. The next minute her whole body looked like she was no longer the storm, but a small vessel tossed in a storm. Ida was in a convulsion of climactic eruptions. Her hips arched up so high they came up out of the water. The cold air of the room hit like lighting. Then her hot, young, tight bottom came back down with a splash, sending a spray flying into the air, making it look like the last gasp of a storm spent.
When the trembling stopped in her arms and legs and her breathing slowed down, Ida returned to the task at hand of washing her body and getting out of the tub.
Facing the full-length mirror, another cast off from the house her mother worked in, she inspected her body. Turning to the side, her stomach was flat and her rear high and round. Her legs were long for her short torso. This meant that when she chose clothing, she had to take care in the styles. With a soft sigh, she toweled her self-dry, and then lotioned her whole body down to her toes before going to bed. Ida Mae took extra care in touching her still taunt nipples. They were still so sensitive to touch that the mere grazing of her fingers over them felt like fire or ice, sending shivers up her spine.
The sheets were cool against her nude body as she slipped between them. Sleep was not long in coming. That night her dreams were unsettling and filled with the face of the man she met today on the beach. The morning found her bed a tangled mess, her body wrapped tight in the sheets like a lover’s embrace.
Ida Mae took great care in choosing what she would wear to the beach the next day. She pulled her Afro-style hair up high on her head and tied a bright scarf around the edges. Looking into the mirror, she adjusted the scarf so that her hair looked like a big puffball almost like an ice cream scoop would look on top of a cone.
Picking up her towel and the sandwich, she was off to the beach. In the back of her mind was a hope of seeing him again. This she would not dwell on because she did not want to admit even to her self that this stranger had captivated her.
Ida Mae chose the same area she had been at yesterday just in case he was looking for her today. She spread out her towel and laid down. Most days as soon as she got to the beach, Ida Mae would take a dip in the cool water, but not today. She did not want to mess up her hair yet.
Drifting in a day dream like state, she watched the children playing in the surf. She could hear their laughter and songs, the same songs she had sung as a child. She started humming one of the hand clapping songs along with the children. She did not hear Ajani when he came up to her, and stood this time not blocking the sun.
Her first knowledge that he was there was when she felt something soft land on her skin. Looking down, she saw flower petals not only on her arm but some had landed on her suit and towel. “You do have a sweet voice,” Ajani said as he continued to shower her with the petals. Ida Mae brushed the flowers off herself.
“Good morning, is this a peace offering?” she asked. She began casting around in her mind for something else to say that would be witty. She did not want him to leave, but she did not want him to think she was easy either.
“No, not a peace offering, just a flower for a flower”. Ida Mae laughed at his reply.
“Do girls really fall for a line like that?” she asked. Ajani sat down in the sand beside her, “no they don’t I guess. I need to come up with something new. How about even flowers wilt in your beauty,” he said as he held up the last of the poor flower with the few petals left on the stem.
“Better but not great.”
“I will keep working on it, “ he said with a laugh. “Now pretty lady are you going to tell me your name or not?”
Until that moment she had forgotten he did not know her name. “Of course I will tell you my name now that you have come to me like a gentleman with flowers even if they are raggedy and wilted,” she laughed.
“Well what are you waiting for? What is your name?”
“Ida Mae”, he repeated under his breath as if tasting the sound of it on his lips. “Pleased to make your acquaintance Miss Ida Mae, it is Miss is it not?”
“Yes it is Miss”, she said looking down at her fingers. No ring here she said pointing to the finger where wedding rings are worn.
“Good” was all he said. They grew silent for a few moments, each of them looking out into the sea, caught up in their own thoughts.