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She was so sick and tired of being “just one of the guys”. Charlie wasn’t even quite sure how that had happened. Somewhere between her sophomore year and graduation from Georgia Tech, she had fallen into an easy camaderie with her fellow engineering students. That, in itself wasn’t bad; it conveniently kept flirtation to a minimum when she really was more interested in getting guys into the concrete canoe than her personal one. Oh, like many college students, she had gone to her share of drunken frat parties; and she had snuck the occasional guy back to her dorm room, where they engaged in quiet, but very satisfying sex until the wee hours. But she really had attended college seeking a B.S., not an Mrs. And she was smart enough not to fall into the trap of confusing lust with love. So here it was, four years later, and she was sitting on the couch in her apartment, holding the letter in her hand. Actually, it wasn’t even a real letter; it was a computer-generated card that was imprinted with her name and social security number across the upper left , her name and address in the center, and across the bottom, “Principles And Practice of Engineering 85 PASS”. Her hand shook as she read it over and over. I passed! … Yes! She was grinning from ear to ear, and she thought about the sick joke they used to wryly repeat while in college: “Two weeks ago I couldn’t even spel enginer, now I are won.” She stood, and crossing to the wine rack, stooped down and took the bottle of Cliquot Grande Dame from the bottom shelf. Handling it gingerly, as if it were as valuable as a bottle of 61 Mouton Rothschild, she gently placed it on its side in the refrigerator, and glanced at her watch. She mentally added two hours to the time, and thought to herself, Okay. The celebration will begin no earlier than 8:15 this evening. She had bought that bottle of wine on a whim. The price had been more than she could afford, but when she sat for the exam last April, she knew that if she passed, it would be a once-in-a-lifetime achievement, and well worth celebrating with some really good bubbly; not her usual fare of eighteen dollar prosecco. Knowing she had at least two hours to kill, while the wine chilled, she decided to go visit that new little boutique that had opened, around the corner from her apartment. It had been open for three months, now, and she had been meaning to stop in, just to see what they had, but had just been too busy. It seemed to her that all she had done for the past six months was eat, sleep, work, eat, sleep, Ankara escort work, eat, sleep, work until it had all run together and just become one big blur. She loved her job; designing storm water management structures, especially wetlands and rain gardens was genuinely fun. She felt she had the best of both worlds; she could design all the plantings, but didn’t have to actually put them in, or look after them. But today was Friday; the weekend lay ahead of her. Tomorrow would be the first Saturday in she couldn’t remember how long, that she didn’t have to go into the office. Quickly changing out of her office clothing, she grabbed a pair of jeans and a tee shirt, and threw them on. A pair of black Maryjane flats completed her outfit. She took a lipstick from her purse, and quickly touched up her lips, as she passed the hall mirror, and then she was out the door. It was a cool day, for mid August, and she had a spring in her step as she rounded the corner heading toward the little shopping area. Presently, she reached the door of the shop, and went in. A bell tinkled over the door as she opened it, and again, as she pushed it closed behind herself. Standing for a moment, to allow her eyes to adjust to the dim lighting indoors, she was struck by the smell of sandalwood, mingled with the musty smell of old things, and a closed building. “May I help you?” She was startled to hear a high, thin voice, and turned to her right to see a thin, little man, maybe 5’4”tall, dressed entirely in ecru linen. It was an odd cut; oriental, she thought at first, but then realized it was a traditional Indian garb. “Well, I saw last week that you had opened a store, and just thought I’d just stop in and see what it was all about.”: “You are here because you need something,” was the reply. “You need a new direction in your life.” “What?” “A new direction. You have just passed a milestone, and now you need new direction.” “why…How..I mean, how did you know….you don’t know me or….”Charlie suddenly stopped talking. She realized she was babbling, and not making any sense, much less speaking in complete sentences. “I know many things,” the little man cryptically said. “I have seen the walrus and I have seen the carpenter, and I helped Alice escape from the red queen.” Charlie almost laughed, until she realized he was quite serious. The thought suddenly struck her that maybe he really had seen and done those things. Then she said to herself, No. That is a story, and a good one, but just Ankara escort bayan a story, by Lewis Carroll. “Was the red queen as awful as she was made out to be?” she heard herself asking. She quickly put her hand over her mouth, as if suddenly realizing she had said something terribly gauche. He mind was in a whirl. Why ever would I ask such a silly question, she thought. “Much worse,” was the serious reply, “but that is not why you have been sent to me.” “Sent…?” Charlie started to ask, but he went on, “You need to learn the ways of men. That is your new direction.” “it is?” “This lotion. Use this lotion with THIS!” and he thrust forth a large phallus. Charlie examined it, as he held it out in his hand. It seemed to be made of ivory. It shone with that glowing warmth of old ivory, that has been well-handled. Yet, when she tentatively reached out her finger to touch it, it was soft and yielding, like real skin. She felt a slight electric tingle, and snatched her finger back, as if she had been burned. She had seen sex toys before, and even owned one or two, but this one was special. It is…different, she thought to herself. “How much?” she heard herself asking. “Oh, the price is very high. This is rare and valuable. For anyone else who came in through that door,” and he nodded his head over his shoulder, “several thousand dollars.” “OH, I can’t…” she started to say, but he went on. “One dollar. But you have to buy the lube that goes with it, that’s fifty cents.” “One dollar? But you just told me it is valuable! Why should you sell it to me for only one dollar?” Charlie was suspicious now; her every hackle was straight up, and the warning signals were jolting her clean to her toes. “Because a contract is not valid without consideration,” was the reply. “A cont…OH, now wait. I don’t THINK so. I am not entering into any kind of contract, especially not THAT kind of contract,” here she looked at the phallus, “and if you think I am, you are sadly mistak..” She might have gone on, but he interrupted her once again. “The terms of the contract are that you shall return this in one year, unless you meet another young lady who needs it as you do. Should that occur, you will convey it to her under the same terms. You will find that lubricating vial will always remain at the same level, no matter how much you use. BUT,” here he paused and raised one finger for emphasis, then went on, ”use it sparingly; it has great powers. Just a drop or two will provide all Escort Ankara the lubrication you need. Take it, and go home, and celebrate your new direction.” He placed the phallus in her hand, and pressed the vial into the other. Then, with both hands in the small of her back, he gently, but insistently, pushed her toward the door. Shoving the phallus up under her arm, she fumbled in her purse for a dollar bill. “Just drop it on the floor. I can pick it up. You must go now, before it is too late.” The bell tinkled as she opened the door. She heard it tinkle again, as she pulled the door closed behind herself. She still had the phallus tucked into her armpit, and walked home quickly, hoping that no one would see what she was hiding. After all, she thought, it would be hard to explain walking around in public, carrying a phallus. She giggled to herself, thinking maybe I should have thought difficult, instead of hard. When she got into the house, she set it down on the dining room table, and was surprised to hear it click, like ivory striking wood, when she set it down. She picked it up again, and it felt as soft as before. She set it down again, and it clicked again, just like ivory, just as before. She picked up the sugar spoon then, and tapped it lightly against the tip, right on top of the little slit. It was hard, just like ivory, and the silver spoon rang slightly. Curiouser and curiouser, said Alice, she thought to herself, and giggled again. She touched it again with her finger, and it was soft, and felt like skin. She suddenly realized it was warm, too, just like a living penis. She felt herself beginning to engorge, thinking about how it might feel. Turning to her kitchen cabinets, she got out one of her best champagne flutes. It was Reidel, and perfectly shaped for champagne, a house warming gift from her best girlfriend, Elaine. OH my God, Elaine! She thought. Elaine has just GOT to see this new cock. No, cock isn’t the right word. All of the slang words for an erect penis suddenly flooded into her mind, Johnson, Willie, Cock, Pole, Wanker, Dong, dick. And suddenly she knew she would never be able to think of this as anything but a dick. Her dick. Her very own dick. She kept saying it over and over to herself, emphasizing first one syllable, then the other, then neither, MY dick! my DICK! my dick! IT became a sing-sing in her head., as she uncorked the champagne, and poured herself a glass. She stood in the middle of the living room, and raised her glass to the heavens, “Well, here’s to the brand new engifuckingneer,” she toasted, and took a sip. Holding the flute in one hand, she picked up the phallus in her other. It felt warm and soft in her hand, and she could feel herself becoming aroused, just from the feel of it. She walked down the hallway to the bedroom, and went in.
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