Posts Tagged ‘hips’

[Another post ported over from Livejournal, originally written a couple years ago, seemed to fit my blog’s theme pretty well ūüôā ]

There’s been a distinct and depressing lack of eye-candy in my life of late.

My first real job out of college was working full-time as a dispatcher for the campus police (incidentally, it’s what I did part-time while attending). Lots of eye candy to chew on between the students, the cute and perky security guards that checked in with us, and several cute and perky fellow dispatchers.

I left that job to work for Circuit City. The corporate offices of the retail giant had a plethora of cute and perky, with the addition of a smaller but not insignificant quantity of more seasoned management level women who oozed confidence and ambition, raising their C&Pness to downright sexiness. Riding in the elevators there was pure sensoral bliss with a luscious mix of perfume combining with the pleasant visuals. One lady I miss seeing in particular was Sasha, a woman my age who managed a dozen or so visual artists and who dripped Mediterranean sultriness with every swaying step. A bit aloof but always out and about in the halls or in meetings, she was the perfect eye-candy and often had the added bonus of trailing several hot visual artists in her venusean wake.

Economic woes nailed Circuit City hard some years back and I got caught up in a mass of layoffs. I ended up at my current employer, making more money and being much more satisfied with my work than I ever was at Circuit City (where I always felt underappreciated and underutilized). Still, after I got over my anger at being axed from Circuit City, I found myself missing working there.

Well, not really missing the work. Missing the eye candy.

See, the company I work for now is a manufacturing company. Where Circuit City was chock full of female friendly Advertising, Graphic Design and Marketing jobs,¬†my current employer is¬†chock full of engineers. Engineers who delight in making, testing and analyzing blenders, toasters, irons, coffee makers… not exactly sexy work. So nearly all my co-workers are guys. That’s not to say there aren’t some attractive women around, but they are outnumbered by orders of magnitude.¬† Passing in the hall, sitting in all the cubes, attending all the meetings are male engineers. Upstairs is our Marketing division and there *are* several very attractive ladies who work up there, but our jobs don’t have us crossing paths much and I guess we work different hours because I almost never pass them in the halls coming on or leaving work.

Sigh. My visual sweet tooth has been severely neglected.

Thank god for Billie Jean.

Fridays I will sometimes treat myself to lunch out. Just me and a good book and some tasty meal. One day I’d grown tired of most of the restaurants around here, so I ended up driving down Broad Street some distance to Nick’s Roman Terrace. Nick’s is a great Greek/Italian joint that I have ordered take-out from before. They’ve got awesome rolls and their pasta dishes are tasty and generous. Combine with reasonable prices and you got a winner.

One day I strolled in the place for a sit-down and this lovely young woman comes up, flashed a pretty smile and led me to my seat. She ends up being my waitress too, and her pleasant disposition combined with good looks and fine service had me leaving an hour later with a smile on my face.

Not surprisingly, the next Friday I found myself heading back up to Nick’s. Sure enough, my waitress was there again and I got seated at her table. Week 3 she recognizes me and greets me with “Hi Hon. How are you? Unsweetened tea, right?”

Sigh. You had me with “Hon.”

Somewhere along the line I catch her name, Billie Jean. How interesting– I’d always found the name a bit stodgy despite Michael Jackson’s attempt at sexifying the name back in the day. But this little lady turned that name into a velvet roll of the tongue.

After several months of Friday lunches with Billie Jean, I was totally smitten.

Suffer me the privilege of recounting the whys and wherefores of Billie Jean’s allure…

First and foremost, she had¬†that aura of approachability and down to earth-iness that makes it easy to strike up a conversation with her. Blessed with a great smile, and a voice that’s slightly deep and with a tinge of some sort of accent that’s impossible for me to place– like she’s the daughter of at least one immigrant. Perhaps she’s related to the Greeks that run the place?¬† She had¬†smooth milky-white skin and auburn hair she wore in a bun but looked to be long enough to come past her shoulders. She wore a tiny diamond nose ring and a had medium-sized tattoo on her lower back (right at that sexy spot where the narrow waist yields ground to the luxurious slope of the butt) which gives her that art-girl aura that I find drop-dead sexy. She was¬†tall, somewhere between 5′ 10″ and 6′, with a graceful neck and long shapely legs. She’s got wide hips, a shapely ample butt and a slight “potbelly.”

Remember in Pulp Fiction where Bruce Willis’ girlfriend talks about wishing she had a potbelly? Billy Jean has one that she typically reveals (along with that sexy back tattoo) with short shirts that tend to ride up a bit when she hurries from table to table. It’s not a large belly, but rather than the chiseled six-pack abs or even convex stomach that many models and celebrity women seem to sport, hers is pleasantly rounded and smooth, offering up her adorable belly button on a plush pale pillow.

Her breasts sit high and proud and luscious; the last I saw her she was wearing a white shirt see-though enough that I could tell she wore one of those broad-cloth bras that bosomy women wear to keep their goods in check. She’s got a woman’s body, someone whom you could imagine wrestling with, rolling around and having good time with without worrying about breaking in half. Most of the “sexy” women offered up by Hollywood today look like sickly little girls with boobs that look large simply because they’re perched atop too-thin bodies with boy-hips. How can you find someone sexy who looks fragile? Fuck the waif look– gimme Marilyn Monroe curves!

Ah, Billie Jean– your boyfriend is a lucky man. I assume you must have one since if no one is enjoying that body physically and interacting with your¬†lovely personality¬†longer than a lunch then that’s a real tragedy. I have to hope the world isn’t that cruel.

Thank you for bringing regular Eye Candy back into my life. You are a full-flavored pleasure.

Got any fun eye-candy stories to share?  Let me know in the comments!

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[A followup of sorts to …She Would Have Curves]

I find this song insanely sexy…

So come on, get higher, loosen my lips
Faith and desire in the swing of your hips
Just throw me down hard
And drown me in love

The wonderful thing about songs is how they can summon powerful emotions, thoughts, and memories to flood your mind.¬† “Come On Get Higher” does that for me, and flushes powerful erotic thoughts through my brain cells.¬† Faith and desire in the swing of your hips… so much fantastic subtext in the choice of those words.¬† Faith indicates your trust in me, desire makes me feel wanted and needed, the swing of your hips is the motion of love, the invitation to the intimate.

I love the focus on a woman’s hips in this song.¬† So much focus in our culture is on a woman’s breasts, or her ass, or her mouth — all wonderful parts of a female body worthy of attention and fantasy, but a woman’s hips are incredibly sexy and too often go uncelebrated.

So come on, get higher, loosen my lips
Faith and desire in the swing of your hips
Just throw me down hard
And drown me in love

The chorus evokes powerful memories, flashes of past lovers… passionate kisses, the motion of her hips pushing against me, pushing me down and climbing on top, letting me reach up and hold on to her hips as I drink in the wonder of her above me.¬† There’s something about having your hands on a woman’s hips and realizing that’s life’s cradle there between your hands– sex, love, procreation, pleasure, home.

It takes me back to 7th grade, just stepping into my teens, flushed and confused by the hormonal assault of puberty.¬† Most of the girls had begun their transformation into womanhood a year before, but I’d only just begun to really get interested in what was happening to them.¬† All those curves that had sprung up across their bodies were distracting, mind-boggling, confusing, frightening… irresistible.¬† It was an insane mixture of desire and terror, a burning need to touch yet too frightened to touch.

I was in a “Talented and Gifted” class for us oddballs whose creative minds needed a constructive outlet so we could actually focus on academics in the regular classes, and the TAG class was much looser and casual in structure.¬† We even had a lounge area where we could sit on some cushions and hang out while we did various creative exercises.¬† One friend named Teri would sit with me, lean on me, give me shoulder rubs in the lounge area, and she had many more distracting, mind-boggling, confusing, frightening and irresistible curves than she had the year before.¬† Every time her body touched mine it would send electric jolts through my nervous system, short-circuiting my brain and cutting my IQ in half.¬† Somehow she still found me charming.

The first school dance my Mom managed to convince me to go.¬† I was petrified.¬† Teri was going to be there, and I so wanted to see her… and I was so terrified to see her.¬† She was gorgeous in her dress, a vision of womanhood smiling at my geeky, awkward self.¬† Somehow I mustered the courage to ask her to slow dance and was stunned when she said yes.¬† Hand in hand we walked out to the dance floor, she put her arms around my neck, pressed against me, and I found my hands on a woman’s hips for the very first time.¬† And realizing for the first time the promised land that lay in the curves between the palms of my hands.¬† The promise of sex, love, procreation, pleasure, home in the swing of your hips.

So come on, get higher, loosen my lips
Faith and desire in the swing of your hips
Just throw me down hard
And drown me in love

Things never went further than that slow dance with Teri, and yet I’ll never forget how she felt beneath my hands, a blueprint for each woman I was privileged to feel in that way in the years afterwards, pressed against me, hands on her hips.

The banner to this blog was chosen because I wanted an artistic and sexy photo of a woman’s hips to give me focus on what I wanted to write about ūüôā

So tell me– do you think women’s hips are underappreciated?¬† Let me know in the comments!

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