BLUSH by R.C. -A good story

[Ray N. Velez]

DISCLAIMER :
READ NO FURTHER IF YOU ARE UNDER THE AGE OF 18
OR
IF YOU ARE OFFENDED BY GRAPHIC DESCRIPTIONS OF SEXUAL ACTIVITY.
All characters, situations, and locations are purely fictional.
Archiving and reposting permitted ONLY if the COMPLETE,
UNALTERED FILE, INCLUDING THIS DISCLAIMER, is included.
Written 09/96 by RC. Comments and suggestions welcomed.

"Blush"

"May I help you?"

Damn. When you want to talk to someone, there's no one around. When
you just want to look, they're all over you.

I glanced up. There she was, an attractive woman in her fifties,
dressed smartly, as they always were, her makeup and hair just perfect, as
they always were. Sighing, I tried escape plan "A".

"No, thank you, I'm just looking around."

She smiled, a dazzling, mega-watt smile.

"I'd be happy to show you some shades that I'm sure would look just
stunning on your soft skin."

I blinked, caught totally off guard. I felt my face flushing, and
grinned as I realized that I didn't really need to buy any blush anyway. I
did it quite easily, quite naturally.

"Um...Thank you. I mean, no thanks, I'm just...looking..." My voice
faltered. Her smile, to my surprise, seemed genuine, not the painted-on smile
that most of them wore. I looked at her, looked away, back at her, and down
at the wide array of makeup in the case. She didn't say a word, she just
kept watching me, wearing that smile. Shit. I sighed, admitting defeat.

"Well...OK...What suggestions do you have?"

Had I known what was about to happen, I would never have phrased my
question in that way.

Her eyes widened for a split second, and she looked surprised. She
quickly regained her composure and asked me to sit on one of those stool
things on my side of the counter. I did, grinning angrily at myself for
allowing her to waste my time like this.

She reached under the counter and removed one small container. She
set it on the counter, opened it, and removed the brush.

"What do you think of this one?", she asked quietly.

I had noticed before that her voice seemed quite low, not deep like a
mans, just - low, throaty. Powerful, kind of. And she had just a trace of an
accent that I couldn't place. I looked at the color thoughtfully, and shook
my head.

"I don't know. It looks a bit too dark."

She nodded.

"I agree. Completely. Let's try something else."

She put that one away and found another.

"How about this one?"

I grinned a little bit, upset that I might actually like this one.
I might have to spend some money, I thought.

"Well, yeah, that looks OK in the container, but they always look
different on me."

"I think you'll find the color remains quite constant. Your skin is
perfect for this color, it will enhance your natural color greatly."

Yeah, my color. I'm still blushing like crazy. What was it about
this woman's voice?

"Would you like to try some on?", she asked softly.

I nodded.

"We'll do this like they say to do with things you use on fabrics.
We'll try it in an unobtrusive place and if you like it, we'll try it for
real. How does that sound?"

I nodded again, my eyes on the small, soft brush she was gently
moving back and forth in the small container.

"Look here", she almost whispered, as she slowly moved the brush from
the container to my right wrist.

I watched as she began to gently move the makeup brush back and forth
on my wrist, up and down, up and down. Just two or three inches at a time,
always towards my elbow, towards my hand, never side to side. For some reason
I was acutely aware of the softness of the brush, the contact of it against
my skin. I felt an odd tingle go through me, and I trembled a bit.

Her smile was now just a gentle, comforting smile. I glanced up at
her, but she quietly asked me to look back down at my wrist. I did, as she
continued moving the brush slowly up and down, up and down. I followed it
with my eyes as she spoke again.

"Yes, I think this will work quite well for you. I think that as you
watch, you will begin to see the pretty shades appearing on your smooth,
soft, skin. As you watch the brush moving, you will soon notice the pretty
color becoming more noticeable, more appealing. As you relax and watch the
brush gently stroke your skin, you will notice the pretty color deepening,
deeper and deeper, deeper and deeper."

I blinked. There was a faint buzzing in my ears, but I didn't really
wonder why. I was watching the brush, my wrist, waiting for the color to
appear.

"Yes, deeper and deeper. You must watch closely, intently, and the
color will soon appear for you. Such a pretty color, such soft, smooth skin.
You watch the brush closely, seeing it move back and forth, back and forth,
enjoying the softness of the brush against the softness of your pretty flesh.
So comfortable, so enjoyable. And you watch closely, waiting for the color
to appear."

I stared, fascinated, at my wrist, at the soft brush caressing my
skin. The color. I wanted to much to see what the color looked like.

"There. Can you see it yet? Can you see the color beginning to appear
on your wrist, as the brush gently moves back and forth, back and forth? If
you can see the faint trace of color now, just relax and nod your head, just
once, very easily and comfortably."

Yes. I could see it. A hint of pink on my wrist. I nodded.

"Good, very good, dear. Very good indeed." Her eyes, rather that
looking for color on my wrist, were fixed intently upon my face. But I did
not notice this, my awareness focused entirely on my wrist.

"And as the brush moves back and forth, back and forth, you will
begin to notice the color deepening, becoming more noticeable, more appealing
with each soft, gentle stroke of the brush."

She was right, I noticed slowly. The color was becoming more
noticeable. The faint pink tinge was now a bright pink glow.

I felt myself smiling.

"Yes, dear, you are so happy now, seeing the pretty color, watching
closely as it becomes more appealing, more and more noticeable. Deeper and
deeper. Deeper and deeper."

"And now, dear, you may even notice that the color changes. With
each beat of your heart, your pulse causes the color to change. Pink, white,
pink, white, with each beat of your heart. Each beat of your heart causes
the pretty color to change, from pink to white, white to pink, pink to white,
white to pink, deeper and deeper and deeper."

Yes. I could see it. Pink, white, pink, white. Deeper and deeper.
This was so - wonderful. Such pretty colors. This was wonderful.

I was so completely comfortable, so relaxed, that I didn't even
realize it. I just sat there, gaping at my wrist, at the pretty colors as
they changed from pink to white to pink to white. I didn't seem to care about
anything else in the world.

I dimly realized that the brush was moving a bit farther up my arm
now. Her voice was still there, but it was hard to make out her words. My
eyes followed the brush, fascinated by the trail of alternating pink and
white color it left behind on my arm. I was looking down now, almost, as the
brush moved from my skin of my arm to the fabric of my dress. I watched as
the brush moved up my dress, could not see if as I felt it move lightly
across my neck, felt it's softness on my face, and then it was resting
lightly on my nose, right between my eyes. It drifted upwards, my eyes
straining to follow. Then it was gone.

"Close your eyes and drift now, dear."

I felt a very vague sense of puzzlement, of wonder.

Then I felt nothing.

"Maybe next time."

She smiled at me. I blinked and shook my head. She was putting the
makeup containers away. Slowly, I grinned.

Ha. Some saleslady. I hadn't bought anything after all.

"Thanks for your time", I said brightly, as I walked away, feeling
very refreshed for some reason.

That night, I cleaned up after dinner and settled down to watch TV.
I stirred, troubled by some thought that just wouldn't become clear. There
was something I had forgotten, something I was supposed to do. I glanced at
the clock. Quarter to eight. Hmm.

Still without really knowing why, I got up and turned the TV off. I
went to where I kept my liquor and poured two mixed drinks, not very strong.
I set them down in the living room on the table next to the love seat. I
then went to my stereo and puzzled as I selected something romantic that I
hadn't played in years. I went into my bedroom, undressed, and put on a soft,
silk evening gown. A warm, happy glow came over me, a delightful feeling of
anticipation that I could not explain, nor did I want to to lose.

I went back out in the living room, feeling very sexy and very
puzzled. Was I flashing back to when I was dating? Was I going nuts? What in
the world am I doing like this?

The clock struck eight. I paused, tensing. I knew, deep down, that
something was going to happen, the answer to all this was about to reveal
itself to me.

The doorbell rang.

Slowly, as if in a dream, I opened the door.

She was there.

The blush lady.

Gone was her dazzling smile.

But she was smiling. Gently. Tenderly. Lovingly.

Her voice was just as soft and comforting as it had been before.

"Good evening, dear. Are you quite sure about this?"

I paused. Sure about what?

And then it came to me. I looked at my body, barely concealed by the
soft silk robe. I heard the romantic music playing softly in the background.
I remember the drinks I had poured. For us.

Deep inside me, something flared to life.

A sudden calm came over me, and for some reason I felt a slight
tingle on my right wrist, like a distant, pleasant, memory.

I nodded.

"I'm sure."

She came in and closed the door.

I did not resist as her lips met mine.

*** THE END ***