Blow Me A Kiss

Each day on my walk to work, I’d pass a coffee shop and every day, the same woman would blow me a kiss. The first day, I thought it was for someone else. But after the second and third, and eventually the fiftieth, I realised those hushed kisses were meant for me. I’d smile and shake my head as she returned to her life, a new bounce in my step as I returned to mine.

She’d be in the same chair, placed before the picture window at a slight angle. Always in the same pose, one leg crossed over the other, a shoe dangling from her toes. Always doing the same thing, reading a book, pointer finger following along with the words. The only thing that changed was her attire, her hairdo, the colour of her fingernails and if I had taken a moment to notice, the book. 

I’d seen her so often that she had become a part of my dreams, day, and night. What had started as an innocent blowing of a kiss, soon became visions of her on her knees before me, her mouth forming a perfect “O.” Those dreams had me relieving myself in the shower, washing my pleasure down the drain, eager to see her as I went about my day. She captured my attention to such a degree that I’d sit at my desk, midday, with the thought of her ruby red lips gently landing on mine, and I’d feel mine turn up at the corners.

But on Monday, she was not there, and I felt a deep, unexpected sorrow. I had to stop, take a step forward and peer through the paned glass, hands framing my face like a peeping Tom. But it was official, she wasn’t there. Not in another chair, not in a new spot. Simply not there at all.

All-day I thought about her, where she could be, hoping that nothing untoward had happened. Odd, considering I didn’t even know her name. But for as many days as I could remember, she had been there, and now she was not. It was a mystery, and I came to realize she meant something to me. Or to my ego, at least.

Tuesday she was absent too, and once more I stopped to double-check. Like, perhaps the chair in which she usually sat may have been moved to a new location. But no, she was nowhere in sight. The leather chair that faces the street sat vacant, looking forlorn without her cheery presence. Like it too missed her, which was quite preposterous.

Wednesday, I stopped and went inside and ordered a coffee: black, to-go. While I waited, I glanced at each customer, but confirmed my fear. She was not present. I hadn’t slept well at all; my dreams turning to search and rescue missions where she always kept one step out of reach. A hand eternally placed on her chin. But the kiss never making it my way.

Come Thursday, I appeared disheveled and had bags under my eyes. My cock, which usually strained against my shorts in the morning, was also reticent and rather limp. The night’s visions of uncertainty and suspected tragedy keeping him still and hidden away. Again, I looked through the window, and after confirming that she was not there, I hung my head and carried on my way.

The day drug on, the clock above my door ticking away the seconds. Tick, tick, tick. I couldn’t concentrate, couldn’t eat. My appetite had vanished along with the woman who blows me kisses. I sat at my desk, head in my hands, and every few minutes found me emitting a deep sigh. Halfway through the day, I gave up and went home. Whatever I had to do that day would wait until the next. The rest passed as slow as the first half. I drug my feet from room to room, but all that was familiar to me had lost its vibrancy. 

My dreams started with the recurrence of searching for the nameless woman. I waded through muddy waters and dark tree-lined paths. The howl of wolves surrounded me, and I felt frightened as I came to a clearing where a rock circle blocked my way. Inside was the woman I had been searching for all week, asleep on a stone altar. Thinking she must be something akin to sleeping beauty, I fell upon the rock top and placed my lips upon hers. She came awake with a massive gasp and smiled at me before wrapping her hands around my neck, pulling me close to her ruby red lips. Lifting her from her resting place, I lowered us to the grass, her in my lap, head on my shoulder.

That Friday, I awoke with all the energy I’d lacked throughout the week. My cock was back to his usual self too, making a cold shower and a tug necessary before I started my day. I left for work, a bounce in my step, newfound beauty found in the world. As I came upon the coffee shop, I slowed my pace.

Stopping dead center of the floor to ceiling glass, I peered inside and felt my shoulders sag. She was not there. Continuing to stare, I watched the other patrons go on their way like there wasn’t a woman missing, one who had taken claim of my heart. My reflection stared back at me, looking lost and pitiful, and I let out a heavy sigh.

“Are you looking for someone?” A feminine voice asked from beside me. I turned to look and there she was, brighter than a sunny day.

“You!” I replied, a smile splitting my face. She replied simply by blowing me a kiss.

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To see more about Blowing Kisses, hit the bullseye.

For more Fiction like this from MrsK, see Door to Redemption, or Doodle Dream.

Header image found at Canva.com