The Lloyd Wright Listing

WC 867

The Lloyd Wright Listing

My cell rang. It was Beth…

“Honey we just took a listing….It’s the "Lloyd Wright" Cottage on Silver Lake. It hasn’t been shown in years. Come over and we can go out and take a look.”

I am not a student of architecture but I knew the name Frank Lloyd Wright. The homes he designed and built are today some of the most exclusive real estate in the country. When I drove up in the 1940 Sedan Deluxe, it was evident that Beth was amped.. As I pulled next to the curb she quickly opened the door and settled in. It was a bench seat and she smiled with those languid eyes, sliding over until we were hip to hip. About her shoulders was a long camel hair coat, that buttoned down the front, revealing a glimpse of knee caps and creamy thighs.

“I’ve been wanting to see this property for years,” she said excitedly. “Imagine having a Lloyd Wright Listing…This is as big as it gets.”

“Where did you get it?”

“From Hardin Brothers and Associates…A firm we work with.”

Beth had a map and we drove down a series of circuitous lanes that meandered back through abandoned farms and overgrown forests. At length we rounded a curve and beheld a breathtaking view of the lake and the most quaint and beautiful cottage. It wasn’t really a cottage but rather an extension of the forest and looked like it had been grown rather than built. We sat quietly for a moment in an almost reverent awe.

“Come on,” she urged and headed down the ramp to the glass doors that opened to the sun like a cathedral. We spent the next hour exploring and each room had a breathtaking and natural charm. At length we came to a water feature, a running stream that flowed into a secluded pond. There was a dune of sand back behind it, neglected by time, overtaken by wildflowers. Beth handed me a plastic bag. “It’s a swim suit,” she said grinning. “Put it on while I get changed behind the berm.”

“And what then?”

“You know how you see in the movies, when lovers see one another from afar… How they race to each others arms as if in slow motion?”

“I recall something like that.”

“Then call out when you’re ready and I’ll come running to your arms.”

“And then and then…?”

“We can improvise but I think a dip in the pool and trying out the lawn furniture will be in order." Giggling, she jogged off behind the dike.

I examined the “Swimming Suit.” It was a sling-shot thong, a marble pouch, something no self respecting man would be caught dead in…then again… Stripping down I pulled it on.

“Are you ready?” came a voice from afar.

“Yes my love,” I answered.

Up over the dune came Beth, floating and bouncing in a purple bikini. Her black hair swung unrestrained and in consonance with her movements. Slowly she rose and fell with every step, calling my name….“Frank Frank…”

It was so corny I chuckled to myself but there was an inexplicable, almost tender innocence to what was happening…. “Beth my sweet,“ I answered dramatically trying not to think how this would look to anyone watching. “Come to me…I’ve been waiting…”

We raced to each others arms and I twirled her about as we came together. Embracing I held her tight as she raised up on her tiptoes and pushed her body into mine. Our lips met and her tongue darted through, flirting with mine. Then, joining hands, we ran to the pond and jumped into the warm waters. We were all over each other. I tore off her bottom as she wrestled with the thong. My fingers unsnapped her top and her glorious breasts spilled out into view. As our passions built I raised her up onto the mossy bank and buried my lips in a swirl of curly hairs. My tongue searched finding the flower and kneading the grape. It hung ripe and inviting like a piece of mistletoe. Beth groaned.

“The lounge chair,” she pleaded looking wildly about. “Do me in the lounge chair.”

In a scramble we reached the soft cushions. Her thighs yawned and she groped eagerly. Taking hold, her hand coaxed imploringly into a humid valley of desire.

“Forgive me," I pleaded, (Don’t ask why.)...then with a groan, plunged deep into the yearning folds.

“Dear God!” she cried out arching her back.

Withdrawing, I surged once more as we picked up the rhythm of our intercourse. In and out, up and down, back and forth we moved, mating with a primitive and unrestrained joy. It started slowly, found its stride and gradually quickened as I waited for her to crest. Then she came, muttering obscenities, and I followed close, filling her womb with seeds of hot passion. For awhile we lay silently, neither wanting the moment to end, wallowing in the sweet aftermath of our lovemaking. At length she raised up on an elbow and looked deep into my eyes.

“You are the love of my life,” she said quietly…

“And you are my candle in the darkness.”

WC 867