A Little Blush Goes a Long Way
Submitted by: Big Little Wolf
Okay, I admit it. I use my assets to full advantage. What woman doesn’t?
Granted, I’m still searching for a lower gravity planet, but in the meantime, all I need is a smart man who appreciates dark features, hot shoes, and… well, a handful. Better make that two!
But my secret weapon in the romance department?
And you know what? It’s not a trick. It’s real. And apparently – even as a woman “of a certain age” as the French would say – that little blush is irresistible to a man.
Oh, not to every man of course. It has to be a gentleman who already enjoys my company. But there’s no question that certain men can make me blush, and do. It might be the result of a compliment, or more likely, a smoldering look that sweeps over me with blatant and fierce sexuality. I must say – I adore it, but I blush.
Another occasion for blushing? There’s that “first time” – the slow undressing – as I unbutton his shirt, or he slowly eases my sweater over my head, revealing fine satiny lingerie. (Yes, I plan ahead.)
I’ve tried to figure out why I still blush, and I’m not sure. After all, I’m confident, and I’m not a kid any longer.
I’ve also tried to understand why it’s so appealing to a man, and on that score, I think I get it. I am a strong woman, with a great deal of life experience. But I am a feminine woman, and I love men who are comfortable with their manliness.
I love to play, to flirt, to soften in the company of a man who knows himself. And I adore our differences, the way we fit and don’t, the way we approach the world from divergent perspectives. The way I melt when touched by the right hands, when whispered to by the right voice, when looked at – and savored – by the right glance that surveys, savors, and surveys again.
And I blush
I feel seen and vulnerable, open and excited. I am responsive, and the blush shows that I am susceptible to this gentleman’s advances. What could be more alluring to a man than a woman who is receptive and responsive – to words, a look, a touch, a scent?
It’s holiday time. I may sit in front of the fire and feel the flush of heat, inhaling the fragrance of oranges and cloves that decorate my mantel. But it isn’t quite the same as the blush that spreads across my cheeks when I’m in the company of a special man, and feel that very special heat. So I will close my eyes and make a Christmas wish. I know what I’d like in my stocking this year.
These days, Big Little Wolf (”Ms. Big”) reflects on life and her Daily Plate of Crazy, where she writes essays on everything – sometimes serious, sometimes fun – whatever strikes her on a given day as interesting, unusual, entertaining, or of concern.
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