A few weeks ago, I went out to my favorite book store. I started perusing the isles and saw many titles by some very familiar authors. Looking to take a break from the usual faire as of late, the Ludlum’s, the Baldacci’s, the Forsythe’s, and other spy, mystery, and crime themes, I wandered around looking for something different. In my travels, I wandered down the pulp fiction isle of the store. Actually there were several isles worth of this genre, isles E, F, G, and B. Not quite sure why the isles weren’t consecutive. Anyway, in scanning shelf after shelf of different authors, I spotted an author by the name of Jodi. No last name. Just Jodi. Is this someone who is so ubiquitous that just a first name would suffice? Maybe, but I had never heard of her before. I picked up one of her novels and noticed a self portrait on the inside cover. There was this lovely creature in a very tight red dress with her lovely womanhood spilling out. She was holding a camera much like an artist holds a brush. I was instantly smitten. Next to her picture was a reference to her background which I quickly paged to. There I found additional photos of this lovely nymph. There was also a brief biography where it mentioned her activities and interests. Items such as her studies to become a certified masseuse, interest in gymnastics, her worldwide travels to such exotic places as Hackensack, and some very personal details concerning her unfulfilled love life.
I returned to the jacket cover and started reading some of the reviews and comments by other literary giants. Names such as Redddoggg10, MidniteRider, and Been2Lky. Interesting. Again only first names. They write about their experiences in meeting this exotic woman. They describe, in varying detail, Jodi putting her ongoing massage training to practical use, trying to hone her already well developed skills. I turned the page and there is a blank page with the exception of an invitation from the publisher to leave comments of your own. So I pulled out my pen, looked around me, and quickly left a positive line or two. I started to leaf through the book when suddenly the preceding pages slipped from my thumb and I found myself back to the page where I had just left my comment. I started to close the book when I suddenly found the letters “PM” followed by “Jodi” under my comments. Under them was just one word – “ *Kiss* “ and followed by a smiley face. I suddenly got a chill running down my spine. Well not exactly running, since there was a lot of resistance from the knots and tautness in my back muscles.
I quickly put the book back on the shelf and went home, thinking about what had just happened. I tossed and turned most of the night before finally falling asleep. When I awoke, I found my self in a strange apartment. There was soft New Age music playing in the background. I was lying naked on a soft bench with a strange loop at the head. Standing over me was the same person whose photo I had seen the day before - Jodi, that fair, nymph-like creature. She softly asked how I like my massages. While rubbing my eyes, wonder what was happening, I mumble something to the effect of “medium”. In the blink of an eye, Jodi was in only her panties. The wonderful womanhood that caught my eye in the bookstore was just inches from me. Jodi asked me to lie on my stomach. She then proceeded to run her hands up and down my back and legs, giving one of the most thorough massages I’ve ever received. Occasionally the hands would go into Wood Nymph mode, fluttering lightly against my body like the butterfly, then back to the tension relief. Jodi found taut muscles I didn’t even know I had. The massage continued with an excellent foot massage. Jodi wrapped up the massage with some great stretching movements.
At this point, we were both quite hungry. I recalled, in reading her profile at the bookstore, Jodi was into tacos. She invited me over to her diner table where we continued to get to know one another. There was some very, very light kissing to prepare our palates. While I prepared the toco shell, Jodi prepared the filling. The taco was happily consumed, but, all too quickly. Then, suddenly, I began to feel funny. The feeling continued to intensify. Much like Christopher Reeve being ripped from Jane Seymour’s arms, I found myself back in my own bed, drenched in sweat wondering how a dream could ever have been as good as it was.
I returned to the jacket cover and started reading some of the reviews and comments by other literary giants. Names such as Redddoggg10, MidniteRider, and Been2Lky. Interesting. Again only first names. They write about their experiences in meeting this exotic woman. They describe, in varying detail, Jodi putting her ongoing massage training to practical use, trying to hone her already well developed skills. I turned the page and there is a blank page with the exception of an invitation from the publisher to leave comments of your own. So I pulled out my pen, looked around me, and quickly left a positive line or two. I started to leaf through the book when suddenly the preceding pages slipped from my thumb and I found myself back to the page where I had just left my comment. I started to close the book when I suddenly found the letters “PM” followed by “Jodi” under my comments. Under them was just one word – “ *Kiss* “ and followed by a smiley face. I suddenly got a chill running down my spine. Well not exactly running, since there was a lot of resistance from the knots and tautness in my back muscles.
I quickly put the book back on the shelf and went home, thinking about what had just happened. I tossed and turned most of the night before finally falling asleep. When I awoke, I found my self in a strange apartment. There was soft New Age music playing in the background. I was lying naked on a soft bench with a strange loop at the head. Standing over me was the same person whose photo I had seen the day before - Jodi, that fair, nymph-like creature. She softly asked how I like my massages. While rubbing my eyes, wonder what was happening, I mumble something to the effect of “medium”. In the blink of an eye, Jodi was in only her panties. The wonderful womanhood that caught my eye in the bookstore was just inches from me. Jodi asked me to lie on my stomach. She then proceeded to run her hands up and down my back and legs, giving one of the most thorough massages I’ve ever received. Occasionally the hands would go into Wood Nymph mode, fluttering lightly against my body like the butterfly, then back to the tension relief. Jodi found taut muscles I didn’t even know I had. The massage continued with an excellent foot massage. Jodi wrapped up the massage with some great stretching movements.
At this point, we were both quite hungry. I recalled, in reading her profile at the bookstore, Jodi was into tacos. She invited me over to her diner table where we continued to get to know one another. There was some very, very light kissing to prepare our palates. While I prepared the toco shell, Jodi prepared the filling. The taco was happily consumed, but, all too quickly. Then, suddenly, I began to feel funny. The feeling continued to intensify. Much like Christopher Reeve being ripped from Jane Seymour’s arms, I found myself back in my own bed, drenched in sweat wondering how a dream could ever have been as good as it was.