The Victorian Secret

The heat beating down on the sidewalk seemed to exhaust everything including my good mood. It had been a difficult day at the radio station and the walk seemed like a nice idea at the time.

Yet the temperature was another factor I had not counted on as I trudged up the long hill. It seemed as if it had taken me forever to make it to the driveway of Rancho San Rafael.

The white arch across the park entrance gleamed and beckoned me to march the last few uphill steps and through it to its cool shaded trees and flower garden. I heard its call and responded without a word.

Inside the garden I found not a soul accept myself. I could hear the chirping and singing and whistling of the birds.

And a time or two I spotted a rabbit dash for cover surprised by my presence. I thought, “This could be Eden.”

Within minutes I found myself relaxing and able to enjoy the sight of the many different flowers. I heard a rushing sound of falling water and a few seconds later discovered myself standing in front of a pond with cascading ripples running down hill to places unseen.

Here I also found a spot to sit, a park bench in the shade in which to take in the leisurely sounds of the waterfall. I sat there and unwound, realizing the troubles at work were worthless matters to be dealt with later.

As I sat and listened, staring into the pool I caught sight of movement in the corner of my eye. It came from the right.

I turned to look, finding a woman standing not less than twenty feet from where I sat.

She was outfitted in a Victorian style dress. Its satin texture reflecting the sunbeams that slipped through the leaves above and hair was pulled back, weaved with curls in the back.

I couldn’t help notice how dark her hair was; nearly black as midnight.

Yet her eyes sparkled bluer than robin’s eggs. Her skin was a creamy tan with full red lips.

I was speechless.

“Hello,” she said, “My names Rosa.”

She stuck her hand out. I stood up, grasped it and we shook..

Suddenly remembering my manners I responded, “I’m Tom, pleasure to meet you.”

“Are you handy with a camera?” she asked.

I looked at her left hand and saw the “point and shoot” camera for the first time.

“Yes I am,” I answered.

Rosa smiled widely revealing her white teeth, “Could I bother you to take some pictures of me?”

“It would be my pleasure,” I answered a little too quickly.

She handed me the camera.

“It’s all ready to go, jus’ push the little red button on top,” Rosa instructed.

The woman turned and skipped over the rocks in the pond and came to rest in the clearing near the water fall.

Rosa posed and I snapped a picture.

She smiled and said, “Isn’t this fun!”

I had to admit it was and secretly I was thanking my lucky star to be finding myself in the company of such a beautiful woman.

“Do you mind if I do a little cheesecake?” she asked.

“Do whatever you’re planning and I’ll take the picture,” I declared.

Rosa pulled off her top revealing that she was wearing a corset. She posed and I took her picture.

She smiled brightly.

Next she slipped out of her skirt. Under it was a hoop and again she posed.

And again I clicked away.

A few seconds later the hoop dropped straight to the ground and like the blouse and the skirt it was piled up on the bench. She struggled to unfasten the corset but got it just as I offered her my assistance.

“A day late and a dollar short,” I said to myself as she stacked it on top of the growing mound of discarded clothing.

Rosa was in a set of all white pantaloons. She flexed her body that way, then this way, and I flashed each pose, enjoying the antiquated erotic idea of her undies.

Without notice Rosa slowly started unbuttoning the long row of buttons that held the single piece outfit together. She stopped just below her navel.

I  felt my heart pounding wildly as I tried to hold the camera steady for the shot.

From my hip pocket, I pulled a handkerchief and dabbed my forehead. The afternoon’s heat had returned along with my libido, so I found myself sweating without mercy.

When I looked up, my face flushed red as the blood that coursed through his all-American veins. Rosa was standing before me in the clearing in all her wonderful glory wearing only button up high-heel boots and ankle socks with fringe.

I could not help but stare as I felt as if I had entered a dream world or fallen down the rabbits hold.

Slowly, I raised the camera to my eye to take the picture. This gave the beautiful Rosa time to pick a large white daisy with its butter like yellow button, and use it as a prop.

It was something to hold in her hands and to look at.

I placed the tiny dot midway between a spot under her breasts and above her hands, then breathed out and as if firing a rifle, squeezed the button downward, snapping the picture.

Rosa smiled brightly at me as she skipped back across the rocks and towards her clothes.

“Thank you so much,” she chirped as she pulled on the blouse and shirt.

She gathered up the corset and hoop, not wishing to be tortured by them any further. I handed her the camera and she kissed me on the cheek.

“Thank you again,” she said.

Then she turned and disappeared down the trail from which she came.

I sat down on the bench after splashing myself with some water from the pool. I chuckled lightly, as I thought, “Maybe I should have told her there was no film in the camera.”