Date: Wed, 10 Dec 1997 13:50:00 -0500 From: Catherine Berchtold Subject: Re: INT: Emjay: Sensuous? Who, me? Tink wrote: >Well, then, onwards and upwards, Chris, for in the appeal to the >aesthetic pleasures of the senses, tantalizing and captivating with >graceful beauty and delicate engagements, the grosser indulgences of the >gender biased, while indubitably noisier and damper, are not the finest >arbiters of the sublime stimuli being sought. Hitch up your kilt, and >let's consider the best way to proceed. > >Allow me, then, to recommend to your attention the subtle beginning. >Perhaps silk, a handkerchief trailed artfully across the arm or hand, >barely touching, almost a shiver on the fine hairs of the neck... > >Or the merest trace of incense? No, too powerful... Perhaps a beeswax >candle, lit for mere moments, just allowed to warm, then blown out and >the wick snuffed and trimmed to avoid the bitter smoke. That gentle >perfume wafting through the background... > >Music? perhaps, perhaps... but gentle, soft, a background unheard, >cuddling the two of you in well-known melodies... Inagaddadavida? >Well, no, not right away... > >And conversation, of the finest sort. Listen, listen well, and speak >from your heart of those things that touch you. Do not rush, but breath >slowly and softly, with your eyes watching that face, your body relaxed, >trusting... > >Give of your time...of yourself. > >And I'm sure that if you are sensuous, truly affecting and appealing to >the senses of the other, focusing yourself on making that person happy, >whole, and joyful... > >That beginning will blossom and flourish, into the fullest flowering >of entwined sensuousness for both of you, and yield more sensual fruit >than even Croesus could command or crave... On her way ta the big meetin' room, Daisy Mae run inna some weird fella. He wuz all bent over tryin' ta straighten his stockin's and his be-hind looked jist like a checker board onna count of the skirt he had on. Daisy figger he wuz a female til she talked with him a bit. "Ma'am? Are you gonna be campaignin'?" He looked up with his face as red as a tomato and he wuz breathin' heavy, too. "I beg your pardon?!" Daisy gasped. Then she give him the once over. Hairs wuz pokin' outta the stockin's while the rest wuz squished ta his leg. His satin shirt only had but two buttons on it, sos there wuz this gapin' hole. Kinda look like he tried ta cover the hole with a long silk handkerchief he done wrapped around his neck. For some reason, he had a bunch of grapes clutched inna his hand and one of the fingers wuz red and stickin' straight out. No doubt about it, he wuz a he. "Oh, sorry. My name's Daisy Mae and what might yours be?" "CJ Lewd. I'm running for the Most Sensual award. Are you running?" "Oh, no! No, Mr Lewd, I jist like ta help out. Umm, why you wearin' a dress? And what happened ta your finger?" "I'm wearing a kilt, not a dress and I burnt my finger on a beeswax candle while doing sensual things." Suddenly, he took a deep breath ta slow his breathin down and his body started ta relax. Daisy pointed ta the grapes. "If you's hungry, you can eat lunch in the dining room." "No thanks, ma'am." He held the grapes high. "This is my sensual fruit. Gotta be ready at all times." He grinned. "Now, tell me where the campaigning is taking place." Daisy took a step back from Mr. Lewd. "Through them doors. In the big meetin' room."