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I met a giant ballerina in Rockefeller Center…

Late May 2017. I went to run an errand at Rockefeller Center, a place which has been a part of my life one way or the other since I first came to live in NYC in 1971, and when I turned the corner I saw a giant ballerina…

I had heard it was the artist Jeff Koons’ latest, an inflatable nylon sculpture, but nonetheless I approached cautiously…giantesses have inhabited my imagination for decades, after all, being a lover of so many things “femdom”…

She seemed like a sympathetic giantess, so I came closer…

I could almost swear her eyes swiveled to study me as she looked down…perhaps to give me an order, to send me on some bizarre submissive errand… (click to enlarge and maybe you’ll feel that too…?)

But no, all she wanted me to do was promise to be a good boy. Well, I swore I would, as I went along my way! 😉

 

 
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Posted by on June 2, 2017 in Femmes Fatale, New York City

 

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Can lechery save a life? A brief tale of New York City…

I went out to breakfast this morning, not far from Times Square, and on my way home I was distracted by an Asian girl in her twenties who, despite the gray, chilly weather, was wearing flip-flops. She was walking with a group of friends. Her toenails were polished brightly, and her sturdy tan legs were bare up to the middle of her thighs, where they met the hem of her short black skirt.

This is not exactly what her own feet looked like, but I thought I’d throw in a little eye candy which I found on a site called Very Naughty Feet here. Gauge by your own reactions to their beauty an approximation of what I felt…

Anyway, I decided just to enjoy the view, which took me out of my way for the long city block between Eighth Avenue and Broadway. Although I’ve been recovering from a cold this weekend, and kept blowing my nose into various fragments of Kleenex–and kept telling myself I should really go home and put on a warmer jacket–I managed to savor the sight of the young lady’s strong curvy calves and the backs of her knees. (I find the backs of knees extremely sexy.)

When they neared Broadway the group stopped and tried to get their bearings. They appeared to be tourists, and were deciding in which direction to go next. I walked past them and turned around (with subtlety I hoped) for one last surreptitious gaze upon the young lady’s colorful toes in her sandals. Then I turned away and looked toward the street, waiting for the light to change as I blew my nose yet once again.

The light was with me, yet this being New York in the age of the untrammeled propagation of bicyclists, I looked carefully each way to make sure no rider was zooming in my direction. As I did, I noticed one completely heedless bike rider bearing down the street and headed directly for a dark-haired thirtysomething woman who was walking into the road without seeing him. She was headed directly into his path. The bike rider wasn’t slowing down or adjusting and they were on a course to collide. I yelled out “MISS!” through my Kleenex and she stopped in her tracks, just as the bicyclist zoomed by inches from her face.

She looked at me for a brief moment and gave me an almost embarrassed smile, and then we continued on our individual ways in opposite directions.

Perhaps my lechery in following the Asian flip-flop girl for a block had a healthy side effect besides my own ocular pleasure. Because by taking me out of my way for a block, it enabled me to see that bicyclist, and warn the woman who was headed into his path.

And it’s ironic, given my fascination with Asian females, how both the woman I ogled and the woman I warned were both Asian.

 
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Posted by on September 29, 2012 in New York City, Times Square

 

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Distracted by a gal in high heels and ankle socks…

As a freelance writer I work six days a week, Sunday through Friday. By the end of the week, my brain is somewhat fried, but I persevere when I have deadlines…

I’m working on a research article about 1950s men’s magazines that I want to finish today, so for a change, to get some air first, I went out to have a little breakfast before isolating myself in my Laboratory of Literary Lust. Most days I just have a bagel or roll at home and then start working.

This morning, when I was leaving the midtown McDonald’s where I’d had a plain sausage biscuit, coffee, and read the New York Post, I saw an amazing young woman with an older dame whom I presumed was her mother. I just got that vibe about their relationship (“vibe”–sheesh, does that word ever date me!). Anyway, they looked like tourists. The younger gal was tall, about twenty, wearing blue denim short-shorts as well as frilly ankle socks and high heel pumps with a flower print pattern. I saw the shoes and socks first, then my eyes traveled up her long legs to her attractive face. I held the door open for them and couldn’t help but smile at the blond-tressed babe while her black-haired mother looked on with a puzzled expression. The girl smiled back tentatively at horny ole Uncle Irv, seeming to realize the mesmerizing power of her gams and indulging my moment of lecherous approval before entering the restaurant.

Nice moment, but no wonder I’m having a “hard” time concentrating today…

I tried to find a picture on the Web to give you a visual intimation of what I saw, and this is what I came up with. It’s not the same in details like the skirt or the shoes or even the socks, but it has the innocent yet sexy feeling of it:

"Beauty is momentary in the mind--the fitful tracing of a portal; but in the flesh, it is immortal."--Wallace Stevens

After finding this image, I kept browsing, and found a picture that distracted me even more than the original source of my distraction, that girl at McDonald’s:

Now I'm never going to get anything done...

I’m convinced on some primal level of fantasy that the face of the owner of these feet must be as ravishingly beautiful as her splendid toes…although I know from real life that’s not necessarily the case. But interestingly, the fantasy persists…

I must also note that rapidly taking in the details of the beauties I see on the streets helps me come up with many story ideas. I see somebody beautiful, I memorize or jot down details of her look, and an entire short story can pop into my mind a short time later.

 
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Posted by on July 8, 2011 in Erotica

 

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