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Better Late – 16

July 28, 2014 Leave a comment

“I must buy some soft, beautiful lingerie soon,” Shaynah said aloud to the empty room. Another crash of thunder shook the windows and reminded Shaynah that she’d best get going if she was to meet David Goodman at the mainland marina as they had arranged. He was to take her out to the island in his boat. Shaynah was filled with trepidation about this, and wondered if it really was a good idea to proceed, in view of the inclement weather. She again scolded herself for that thought. She asked herself how she could live there, if she was even hesitant to go for a visit because it was raining. She stepped into the shower enclosure and lathered herself all over including her head. She picked up the safety razor that was beside the shower mirror and looked at the soft fuzz of hair that covered her smooth, beautifully rounded, unblemished skull. She asked herself why she should continue to shave her head as the religion required of married women. She was a widow now, and she wanted her own hair. She put the razor down and finished her shower.

Shaynah wore the closest thing she had to casual or country wear. It was a coarse brown and beige tweed dress with matching short jacket and a high-neck checked shirt under the jacket. Her shoes were brown with low heels. She knew she would not look like she belonged in the rural environment, but it was the closest she could come to what was called for. The swept up style of the wig was a good choice. A bit casual in appearance, it emphasised her very long, graceful neck. It was a new sensation for Shaynah to be thinking about how people other than those in the cult would perceive her appearance. It was ironic, she thought, that her concerns within the family and congregation were that she should look sufficiently demure for the devoted in the community, and her concerns in the secular world were that she should appear attractive. Attractive for what purpose, Shaynah had yet to admit to herself.

She entered the garage through the interior door and slipped behind the wheel of her SUV. A touch of the remote on her dashboard and the wide garage door slid quietly up and out of the way. Shaynah started the car and backed out into the torrential downpour.

“I must be out of my mind,” she said aloud as she backed out onto the road and pulled away smoothly to take a closer look at the island home, the remote way of life, and to be truthful, to take a closer look at David Goodman. Shaynah blushed, even though she was unable to make a mental picture of what she might blush about. Obviously she knew about sex and procreation, but she was totally ignorant of sex and love and passion. She reasoned that anything powerful enough to demand the severe controls imposed by the Hassidic laws must be something very desirable. That ignorance, the gap of understanding within her was the motivating force that pushed her on toward her irresistible destiny. She saw the lashing, wind-driven rain as a potential deterrent. She recognised in the cracking lightning and long, rumbling thunder that which could be read as the wrath of God. Again, her determination surged. Free at last, after decades with the homely, stupid, lazy Itzhak, Shaynah shed the mantle of devout conformity like a yoke of lead from her shoulders. With Itzhak’s death, so too had died the odious requirement that she shave her head and wear wigs, homely dresses, and clunky shoes. She could even cook some meals that are not kosher, and put some imagination into her cooking.

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Better Late – 15

July 18, 2014 Leave a comment

She lay back to catch her breath and giggled aloud at the wonderful afterglow that left her whole body tingling. She tried to imagine what it would be like if David Goodman was really touching her. What would his touch be like, she wondered. Where would he touch her, she wondered. Shaynah Levy turned off the water jets and rose from the tub to towel herself dry. While she dried her smooth alabaster skin, she watched the mirror. Shaynah was keenly aware that she had never before in her 44 years felt this way. She wondered if she had ever felt anything, apart from adoration of her children. She realised that she was becoming a new woman. Did she want a new experience the black prostitute had asked. Shaynah Levy’s decision was made. She did want an new experience, and would contact David Goodman and make an appointment to visit his property with an eye toward making the purchase.

Chapter Two

It crossed Shaynah’s mind that there was a force working to prevent her moves toward a sectarian life when she woke to a lashing rainstorm. Even in her state-of-the-art SUV, a four-hour drive north into the midst of Great-Lakes country would not be fun in this weather. She defied the idea of calling David Goodman to postpone her visit. She told herself that she was just making excuses and leaving herself an escape route from her intended adventure. With redoubled determination, Shaynah Levy strode to her en suite bathroom and shed her night gown in front of the large mirrored wall. She had always removed her night-clothes carefully, gathering the fullness of the ecru linen fabric in her hands to lift the garment up and over her head. It was her habit then to hang it on a silver hook that was placed close to the shower enclosure for that purpose. It had been placed there so a demure wife could quickly cover herself while stepping out of the shower stall and avoid revealing her nakedness to her husband and children.

The morning Shaynah was to go to visit the remote island home that she coveted was the morning her rebellion and life-altering decisions went into high gear. On this morning she did not gather the heavy linen to lift it off over her head. Instead, she unfastened several more snaps on the closure that ran from her long, slender throat to between her bulging breasts. Impulsively she pulled the neck opening wide and down over her shoulders and admired herself from a variety of angles, turning this way and that, imagining what it would be like to go to a function in an off-the-shoulder gown with some of her substantial cleavage exposed. She looked at her head, the small fuzz of hair on her shaved head ready for another removal. She had already decided to wear her most fashionable wig – streaked blonde swept up into a swirl at the top. She would shave her scalp clean again, so the wig would be more comfortable.

Shaynah Levy pulled the neckline of her night gown down under her breasts and admired her reflection. Her breasts bobbed and quivered as she stepped one way and another, inspecting herself. She concluded that she had nothing to be ashamed of in the way of natural attributes, and wondered that she had lived in this world for forty-four years and never once experienced any natural stimulation. A peal of thunder snapped Shaynah’s mind back to her immediate reality. Shaynah dropped her night gown to the tiled floor and stepped out of it. She looked at herself in the mirror, observed the firmness of her mature body and the creamy pale flesh and looked down at the coarse night gown, crumpled on the floor.

Better Late – 14

July 6, 2014 Leave a comment

When the large, oval tub was filled with warm, soothing water, Shaynah stepped into it. She turned and looked at her reflection in the mirrored wall across the tiled Jacuzzi room. She had begun to look at herself, even inspect herself, since Itzhak had died. She realised that she was taking inventory… looking at herself as a secular man might look at her, wondering if he would like what he saw.

Her breasts were large, and her nipples also larger than most. After bearing and nourishing 3 children, it was to be expected that the pendulous breasts would not be as erect as they once were. But there was something inviting about the mature size and texture of them Shaynah reasoned with no logic behind the opinion. Rather it was a wish or a hope. She went through similar analyses of her face – beautiful, her legs – slender, her behind – a bit too soft, but still round, her waist – thicker than it used to be, but still not bad, and her hips – just a touch on the heavy side, but not shamefully so.

Fairly satisfied, but with a commitment to herself that she would improve her physical condition, Shaynah immersed herself in the seething water. She lay back and thought about her plans. She would change her diet, and she would join a health club. She sometimes saw the women in an upstairs health club that overlooked the busy street where Shaynah shopped for kosher goods. They worked out, lifted weights, or ran on treadmills. Some were not younger than Shaynah, and a few looked older. The older women were as active as the younger women she saw through the huge glass wall of the club, sweating happily in their brief outfits, some with plump white towels around their necks to mop their beaded brows.

Eyes closed, Shaynah Levy sent her mind into the future. She conjured images of life alone on an island. The more she thought about it, the more she saw all the reasons why it would be a disaster. She knew nothing of the skills that would be required for… for anything. She’d never been in a boat, she’d never seen a generator work, she’d never experienced any of the things that would be essential to life alone on a northern island.

Shaynah dozed in the bubbling tub. Fantasies trickled through her confused mind, of life on the island with a companion. She led her mind through a series of possibilities for company and support in her new life. She knew her daughter’s family would not join her, and both sons also had young families. She thought about paid servants, a maid and perhaps a handyman who could drive boats. In her drowsy fantasy, these alternative images faded away, leaving before her mind’s eye the only company she really wished to have. David Goodman’s hard body and tanned skin filled her imagination. Deep in her fantasy, Shaynah twisted and curled her body in the bubbling jets of warm water until one of the pulsing flows reached between her thighs and stimulated her clitoris.

In her vision, David was somehow bringing the excitement into her body. Her naïve mind was unable to place their figures in positions and actions that would bring these feelings to her. Suddenly, Shaynah was wracked with convulsions. She woke from her reverie with a feeling of confused panic. Within seconds, she realised what had happened. Her imaginings combined with the flow of warm water over her vagina to bring her to orgasm.