January 18th, 2010-The Columbian Girl

January 18th, 2010

So Tango finds himself at the mall to pick out a replacement pair of shades and to see if “He’s Just Not That into you” is in stock at the local DVD shoppe. 

 

 When suddenly, from the corner of his eyes, Tango sees a stunning brunette with skin of caramel and the hips of a belly dancer, without the big belly of course.

She is standing outside of Victoria’s expensive ladies underwear store, holding a bag and chatting away on her cellular phone.  A sweet smile adorns her thin but pillowy lips.  She is wearing a dark dress and matching heels, her long hair stopping just above her ample buttocks.

Tango makes his move, slow but deliberate in her direction and our eyes meet for a soft second before she purposely looks away.  It is okay my friend for Tango is used to this.  It is the nervousness of being confronted with Tango all at once.  As I step closer, her perfume falls into my nostrils and I breathe her and at once Tango is knowing her.  She looks at me again and now there is but a mere two feet between us.

Her eyes are maple brown, soft and full.  She looks at me as if to speak, but Tango must speak first.

“Hello Madame, would it be possible to have your name?”

“Excuse me?” she said with irritation in her eyes.  “I’m on the phone.  What do you want?”

“Forgive me for the intrusion.  Is that a boyfriend?  A lover perhaps?”

“None of your business!  How rude.”

“Please forgive my interruption.  You are correct, this is awkward for you.  I should have waited for you to end your call, but it is not often I see such beauty in a common place such as this.”

“Oh my God, I think he’s trying to come on to me.” she said into her phone.  I looked into her eyes with my hands inside my pockets, pulling my slacks tightly against my groin, so that she could witness my magnificent package.  Her eyes found their target and Tango knew what she was thinking.

“Call him back.  He will understand.”

She hesitated, eyes still fixed to the magic space.  Tango reached over and took the phone from her hand.  “Hello my friend.  She will call you later, but not tonight. She has plans for tonight.  Uh huh.   Okay.  No I cannot do that, but this is fine, Tango will tell her.  Goodbye my friend.”

“Tango?” she said.

“Yes.  Please, I did not catch your name.”

“Morissa.”

“Morissa.  How fitting to have a name as adorable as the nipples that are now peaking through your outfit.”

She looked down embrassed but Tango assured her these things are inevitable.  I looked at her bag and extended my hand.  “May I?”

She handed me the bag and I laid eyes on the lace thong and matching bra.  Tango smiled and she bit her lip.

“Would it be possible, to see these things on you, later tonight, before I rip them off with my teeth?  I asked.  “Afterwards we can drink Tequila and Coca Cola without the Coca Cola, yes?”

“Wow, I can’t believe I’m agreeing to do this with a complete stranger but I feel as though—”

“You’ve known me all your life?  You have, but you did not know that you knew until this moment.  For in this moment you are reborn, as a lover of Tango.”

I placed her fingers in my mouth and tasted the sweetness of her fingers and toxicity of her nail polish.  Her knees buckled from orgasm.  The first of many to come.

“What is that scent you are wearing?  It’s so mesmerizing.”

“Tango does not buy cologne.  He makes it, in his home.  What you are smelling is a mixture of chipotle sauce and my own sweat.  I call it, Essence of Tango.”

She was in Tango’s hands now.  I very carefully placed my hand against her bottom and leaned in for a kiss.  She swallowed her chewing gum and accepted Tango’s tongue.  After several seconds of this embrace, Tango knew that she regularly brushed and flossed.  Tango was pleased.

“Shall we go?” I asked.  “Tango knows a great place for good conversation and exquisite wine.  I have already made reservations because there is usually a line to get in.”

“Okay.  Where are we going?”

“My bedroom.” 

That night Tango sampled her pleasures many times over as we listened to the rain outside my balcony, our bodies intertwined on the floor like maggots fighting over a rotted carcass.  After pausing to watch sportscenter, Tango fed her oranges, carefully licking the juice from the corner of her beautiful mouth, savoring the scent of our citrus sex.

As she lay with her head in my lap, watching the Drew Barrymore movie, Tango stroked her long hair with his fingers.  She farted, silent but deadly and asked forgiveness, but Tango assured her that these things are inevitable.  Soon she drifted to sleep, on a pillow of my genitals.

Tango learned two things from this night so he would advise you to take note.  Underwear is tough to bite through without using a knife to make a starter point, and never serve a woman beans as part of dinner.

Overall, Tango was pleased my friend.

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