Fresh Salacity
by Jonathan Quince
Saturday, January 24, 2004 20:10:25
The fresh scent of female essences draws my attention. I consider her from afar, and an alluring prospect she is indeed. No goddess is she, no insuperable paragon of siren danger; she is human and playful, warm and delightful, vivacious and, above all, deliciously female. The glint of playful intentions winks from her eyes as she journeys from one amusement to the next in the merrymaking of her life. Her fresh and carefree attitude is fetching, her svelte yet curvy physique tantalizing; my eye is drawn inexorably to the delectable lines of her body as her gay laughter falls on my ears.
But if I be prudent, I should turn my eyes away and begone: This one has declared herself untouchable to men. Suitors may beg a whispering or a kiss, but they are rebuffed by stolid wall of casual indifference. The man who has all the attributes of perfection, such that he may be desirable to every one of femalekind, is not of this world; and we shall speak not of him. Yet without that mythical sublime power of the universal alpha seductor, what chance have mere mortal men against her armor of disinterest? They had best close their eyes to her beauty, for her very nature rejects them.
She, attuned as she is to the unwavering power of her own femininity, is drawn to her own kind. She holds no animus towards men, but her desires are turned instead to her sisters in flesh and spirit. Her playful dancings, by no fault of her own but the trick appeals of chemical magnetism, draw my attentions and stoke my interests; shall I turn away for mere lack of reciprocation? Nay, say I; prudence be damned! Let me lust for that forbidden my body by Nature’s law.
With a coy and waggish toss of her head, she dances to the fresh music of her own frolicsome cadence. Her blithe flirtations charm all who see her with the sly innocence of a wilderness nymph; with a wink and a smile, she capers and cavorts, linking arms with her girlish coconspirators to prance about in convivial female fraternity. No ill will may scar their path; no jealousy may spoil their affectionate companionship. But the ring is closed, and the gatekeeper bars without sympathy those who bear the seeds of life; I stand sadly by and watch, bemused, unable to join the gaiety for the very pride of my masculine sex.
Each dawn opens for them a new opportunity to partake in the joys of life and each other; evening brings the sultry thrill of orgiastic pleasures. Fresh excitements, magical opportunities: These are the currency of their lives. And smiling at their whimsy, I wink and offer mock salute as I stand by and observe with interest their joyous dalliances.
[Editor’s Note: Yes, I know I’m treating the lessies like a bunch of mythic wood-elves. Never let it be said that this is a "Politically Correct" blog. Realize that before you send me mail. :-) ]
[Update: Ooh, she plays the violin, too! My first and favorite instrument! And the ’cello—I have a minor obsession with female cellists that I have long intended to blog. I am in a frenzy of unrequited desire. —JQ.]