The street light showed off her light weight jacket that served to cover the racy black blouse she wore whose halter was the only part than wasn’t transparent. It was a new ensemble along with a pink skirt and a pair of knock-off Valentino heels she’d bought only hours before that night’s show and she was wearing for the first time.Throughout the day she kept returning to the sensations it emitted. Its clinginess triggered the memory of his hands on her. The new smell of the fabric mellowed as it pooled with the musk of her exertion; she was as anxious for him to smell her even as just the thought of him down there made her self-conscious.Slims greeting was indifferent, or seemed so, there were no comments about how good she looked, or hugs or even a kiss for that matter.Taylor, not having dated that many men--boys, for the most part--Slim was definitely her first real man, had no way to judge if she was late or had done something to displease him, and hurried inside his apartment. I was immersed in them which sounds almost frightening but was a dream brought to life. It was as if I had a soul foremost to a physical presence mixed together with theirs. I was perhaps merely a spirit. I didn’t understand but I felt completely loved like I belonged.They hovered around and in me, something that had no fathomable dimensions and was entirely not a physical reality. Yet I felt I was conscious and they were, I know, somehow physically present because I sensed I could feel them on me, inside me. It was as if we were swimming or floating in some way, I think, ever so sensually interacting with our bodies, or perhaps it was our spirits. I had no prior experience to hinge this on.All I could sense for sure is that there was an absence of the notion of passing time. It either had stopped, or never was, and it felt very satisfying. I felt absolutely free. Yet my penis felt totally useful, in fact purposeful as never before; perhaps I was a penis.The nymphs took me to heights.
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