I was trying to come to terms with what had happened with Baltic Babe a few days earlier and feeling lonely on that Sunday night when her email arrived. Her profile on the Happy Humping Ground website had no pictures and her words were feisty. I was intrigued to see where I could push any conversation, to see what I could learn. This outlook, coupled with a growing sense of frustration after months of unsuccessful dating, lead me to not expect much. Her profile said that she was Irish and living in Paddington, London. This is how it started out.
Honest, nice smile, traveller, nearly as witty as myself…..mmmm perhaps!
Hello Mystery Lady
Oh goodie, my own online stalker – I haven’t had one of those in years. 🙂
So you want to play games, heh? Ok. Let’s play.
There are literally thousands of beautiful and pretty women on this site. Welcome to the club.
I’ve let 8 of them meet me. I found them lacking in the personality stakes. So far, your profile is light on personality. I respect the notion of not having someone be with you because of your appearance, but if you want somebody to be with you for who you are, your profile is going to need serious elaboration. 🙂
I’m not photogenic either. It always makes me laugh when I meet a woman for the first time and she makes the gesture that all women make when they fancy a man. All women can’t help but do this. Want to know more?
We are both so much more than a few words on a profile could ever convey.
“Always up for a challenge”? You’ve found one. 🙂
Within minutes she responded and emails started flying backward at forwards at a ferocious speed. It turned out that she wasn’t sitting down the road from me, but was in fact in Iraq. She was working for the United Nations and would be for another 6 months at least.
I was surprised but not disappointed. I couldn’t get my hopes up over someone I didn’t know the look of and whose profile was basic. We swapped witty, barbed comments about life, dating, past relationships and our jobs.
Then she surprised me and asked for more photos of me. I had nothing to lose, so we swapped email addresses and I asked for one photo in return. What I got was a picture of a set of young, brown Caucasian eyes shrouded in a green birqa. They had a naughty glint to them. I decided to call her Irish Eyes. It was nearing midnight for her, so we said goodnight. I didn’t expect to hear from her again.
The next morning there was an email from her waiting for me when I got up. We swapped a few emails then I had to go to work. When I got home there were more emails from her waiting for me. It seemed that she had a fascination with who I worked for, something that I just wouldn’t reveal to her and it drove her crazy not knowing. While I had her attention and favour, I asked about something that had been bothering me.
Question: why is a woman sitting in Iraq, popping back to Ireland for Xmas and then a few days in London, spending time on a dating site for Londoners?
She answered that it was always her dream to live in London, but that took money, so as a detour to raise money, she had taken a job in Iraq. Then I addressed her by her name, which until now she had refused to give. She was alarmed that I knew her name and demanded to know how I knew. It was her email address that told me. I didn’t tell her that I had Googled her in search of photos of her, that might have spooked her totally. Telling her that courtesy of my email address she had my full name too calmed her. Then I plied her with some more soothing small-talk before asking her for a proper picture of herself.
She sent me a picture that showed her to be a truly beautiful brunette. I was stunned, but made no mention of it. A woman like her would be used to men fawning over her which would immediately make me just like other men in her mind, so I decided to experiment and not pay her any compliment because that would evoke a different kind of reaction in her.
We swapped more mindless banter until she said she badly needed a massage. I saw the opportunity and I went for it…
I know how to slowly spread warm massage oil across the back… slowly moving the skin around with my warm hands… gently rubbing the oil in to the skin as I slowly roll my hands over weary shoulder blades… then slide my fingers carefully down along either side of the spine down to the buttocks… then more forcefully push up with my open hands toward the neck… feeling tired, sore muscles give way under my touch….
Shall I continue?….
And the neck, don’t forget…
I know how to slide my oily hands along a woman’s biceps so that she feels pleasure and pain at the same time… I can use the strength in my arms to stretch hers so that little bones crack back in to place…I then grip her wrists and and slide my hands firmly up along her arms towards her shoulders…I gently lean in and blow wayward hairs out of my way… as I caress her taught shoulders, warmly moving her neck muscles…
With my thumb and index finger I roll the muscles in her neck…she makes approving sounds that stem from deep within her… I notice that her breathing has speeded up, but I don’t stop…my hands and fingers engage every little muscle in her neck…they become softer and more supple with my every touch…her body is relaxing and going limp, but her breathing is becoming heavier…I take her right arm and spread it behind her back…her shoulder blade is more pronounced and protrudes…my left hand grips her right wrist…my right hand clasps her right shoulder blade…I slowly, gently, carefully force my fingers under her shoulder blade…I gently massage all that makes contact with my fingers…her body goes totally limp…
To be continued…