17
Jan

Letter to the fantasy column

Heres an original spoof on porn letters.

I am an avid reader of the fantasy column and I had always hoped that
I had an experience of my own that I could share with the fellow perverts.
I am glad to say that my dream came true recently. Last month, I was on
my way to Seattle to attend a computer conference when my plane got delayed
indefinitely at Chicagos OHare airport. I was in the horns of a dilemma:
I could either call home and talk to my wife about watering the plants I had
hitherto kept secretly under our bed or I could call my girlfriend and make
plans for the weekend. Neither prospect was very appealing. Finally, I decided
to buy a copy of IQ Pervert and spend my time reading the fantasy column.

I had just read the fantasy of an author, whose name and address had been
withheld, when I found myself grunting uncontrollably, much to my own
embarrassment. Reading the fantasy column? a husky voice enquired, and I
found that I had been sitting next to a nerdish blonde all along without
noticing. She, however, noticed my embarrassment and removed the shawl which
she had spread across her lap and revealed her own copy of IQ Pervert lying
underneath. On the cover were a couple of Russians, stripped to their waist
and playing chess. My embarrassment turned to delight at the prospect of
having something going with a fellow pervert, not to mention a hot nerd.

We started talking about this and that and suddenly we found ourselves
discussing the contents of the fantasy column. Did you read the one by the
young exec who fantasizes about reading Proust with his bosss wife when the
boss is away on business? she asked. You just caught me reading it, I
replied with a sly grin. As the conversation went on, I found myself turned
on like never before. The blonde must have sensed it, for she suddenly
stood up and removed her winter jacket to reveal a Harvard Poetry Club
sweat shirt. She sat down and when she looked at me, the invitation in her
eyes was unmistakable. The sight of her perfectly shaped Harvard emblem made
me perspire and my heart started pounding in anticipation. Is there some
place in the airport with a smaller population density where we can go and
talk Byron? I said with a wink and the blonde took the cue.

She took me to the dimly-lit airport restaurant and as we waited for our
cocktails, she leaned towards me and started reciting Yeats in a husky voice.
Soon I was flushing and when she stopped to catch her breath, I was growling,
Dont stop, baby, keep going. But then she was in total control. Shed tease
me with a few verses and just when I thought I couldnt take it anymore, shed
stop and let me deflate and start all over again. It was crazy. I had
never been out with a nerd before who could handle Yeats so adroitly.

But this was just the beginning. As soon as we finished our respective
cocktails, she took out a paperback edition of Liz Browning from
her purse and in a caressing voice, started on a random verse. This
time, the pleasure was too much for me to handle and I was sweating
profusely, not to mention the guttural noise of appreciation I was producing.
A couple of senior citizens sitting in the table next to us were clearly
disgusted that people would actually do Browning in broad day light in a
public place, but I was past caring. When she was done with Liz, I put my
hand under the table, took out my own small paperback from my briefcase
and whispered, Have you ever done Fitzgerald in a restaurant? She was
clearly taken aback. Im not kinky, you know, she said and I was worried
that I had crossed a line somewhere. But the smile was soon back in her eyes
and to my ultimate joy, she did two whole pages, in a slow rhythm. Just as
she was finishing up, a couple of college co-eds walked in and were about
to sit next to us. But when they saw me, the blonde and my copy of IQ Pervert
on the table, they moved over to another table with knowing smiles. We were
done soon after that and just as we were leaving the restaurant, I heard my
flight being announced. I had just enough time to go to the washroom,
straighten my tie and board my plane and in my hurry, I forgot to ask
the nerdish blonde her name. Maybe Ill see her in a ski resort in Colorado
next winter. Meanwhile, I am always going to be carrying an issue of
IQ Pervert with me, in case I meet another pervert unexpectedly.

(Name and address withheld)

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