Shopping with Adam, by Xena

I’m shopping in Beverly Hills, on Rodeo Drive, dressed in a black, body-skimming linen sundress, bangles and necklace, large black framed sunglasses, sunhat, strappy black sandals and a fresh pedicure with black onyx polish – a little shine and sparkle to add depth to the colour.  But, my lipstick is red – Lancôme’s “Stiletto”.

Just as I step out of Tiffany’s, there’s Adam – silk shirt, linen jacket with sleeves pushed up and tight jeans – of course!  “Princess!  You look great!”  Adam moistens his lips and kisses me on both cheeks twice (European style) – arms around my waist.  His movements are so smooth and graceful; he doesn’t even move my hat as he bends down.
“Do you have some time to come and see a jacket I’m looking at for the concert?”  “Of course!”  Who could pass up shopping with Adam!?  He extends his arm and I take it, feeling the texture of the exquisite linen jacket with my fingers and rub it a little, for good luck.

Moments later we’re standing in a beautiful leather store that has that musky fragrance of leather, warm from men’s bodies, the aroma sets off something in my mind and I shudder to get my bearings.  People are fussing over Adam; he greets them with that hypnotic grin, those twinkly aquamarine eyes and hugs all around.  I feel proud to be with him and stand a little straighter.

Adam slides a lipstick red jacket from a hanger and shows it to me – “feel this” – my hand slips across the surface and it feels like the softest skin of a baby’s cheek and responds to the slightest pressure.  He moves behind me and carefully slides the sleeves up over my arms, lifting the shoulders and slowly smoothing them down, brushing my hair over the collar.  In the mirror, I can see him looking down at me.  I feel his breath on my neck – “you look sooo hot, I have to buy it for you”.  There’s no resisting, I can barely stand and just smile.

He winks and smiles at me in the mirror, turns me around and slides his hands from my neck, across my shoulders and down my arms to my hands and asks if I love it.  (The jacket or the feel of his hands touching my body?) “Love it!”
Adam is starving and we decide to go for lunch.  I take his hand and lead him down a leafy passage so narrow; he has to put his arm around me.

The path ends at a small café where we find a secluded table.  I take a seat on the banquette, expecting the beautiful darling will sit across from me, but as Adam takes off his jacket, he drapes it over the chair, then he slides in next to me.  The sleeve of his black silk shirt brushes against my bare arm as he reaches over to take off my hat and glasses.  I recognize the shirt as the one he’s wearing on the cover of Rolling Stone, unbuttoned and with those delectable jeans we love to see, silver buckle making the jeans bunch up a little.  I have to lean on the cool marble of the table to steady myself.

“Your feet must be hot from shopping – here, let me take off your sandals”.  Now I have to remember to breathe.  He bends down and lifts my foot to place it on his thigh, right where the butterfly sat on these jeans.  My sandal slides off and I wiggle my toes, leaning back on the banquet as Adam gently massages my foot in his lap.  Smooth, cool hands and with gentle strokes, I feel great from head to toe.
While he’s massaging my ankle, then up my calf, he starts to hum and then sing “If I can’t have you”, I sit up and he puts his hands over mine, looks right through me with his intense, blue eyes and continues “…I don’t want nobody baby…”.

I think I passed out, but came back when the waiter showed up.  Adam was busy making plans – “how about going dancing tonight!”

I’ll be humming “Play that Funky Music” for the rest of the day.