The Contest
John looked across the room, longingly, from deep in the confines of his green leather wing chair. Lisi was seated on the camel colored futon, legs crossed, hands folded in her lap, eyes closed in deep meditation. Her eyes. Deep, riches-laden mineshafts leading into the very center of her being. Open, they drew him to her like the lights of a carnival midway draws hormonal teenagers. Closed, they hid mysteries beyond his mortal ken.
“Two trains leave their stations 120 miles apart, and travel, each towards the other.” His voice was a low rumble across the room. “One travels 45 miles per hour, the other travels 22 miles per hour. When do they crash”?
Slowly, nay, languorously, Lisi opened her eyes, ever so slightly. Her delicate, rose tinted lips turned up at the ends, and parted in the middle. Her breathing sped up, just a little.
“One hour and...” Her hesitation hung in the still air of the room. “47 minutes. Yes, in one hour and forty seven minutes they will collide.” Her delicate lids again cover the azure pools.
“And forty six seconds,” he prodded gently.
“Yes, of course, and forty six seconds. I truncated. Those last forty-six seconds were lost in the terrified screams of the conductors.” She shifted in her seat, in response to a vague, but pleasant discomfort she is feeling, deep within her.
John bent over and unlaced his shoes. He slipped them off and placed them together under the chair. Lifting his head he leaned forward, fixing his dark, chocolate eyes on hers. He held Lisi in his gaze, as if he could pin her to the futon with a mere look. She felt the power of his stare, even with her eyes tight shut.
The evening sun glanced through the enormous bay window at the far end of the living room, creating islands of light on the delicate Oriental carpet at their feet.
“A 747 Jumbo Jet with 288 passengers and 17 crewmembers crashes on the mountain where Italy, France and Switzerland all meet”, Lisi’s voice was low, but John hung on every word.. “In which country do they bury the survivors?”
A sly smile worked across John’s face. “ An oldie, but a goody,” he laughed out loud.
“One does NOT bury survivors, my pet.” John rose from his chair.
“No, one would not.” Lisi lifted her head as if she could see him stand through her porcelain lids.
John settled on the futon beside Lisi. She remained in her lotus pose. John inhaled, reveling in the sweet perfume of her body, intoxicated by the scent of her hair, aroused by the subtle tang of sweat. Remaining motionless is more exertion than it would appear at first blush.
He brought his lips close behind her left earlobe. Her straight, long auburn hair was pulled back into a pony tail, held with a single pink elastic. Some rogue hairs had eluded capture and now were teasing his nose, causing him to pause and wiggle it like a bunny in a cabbage patch. He dared not sneeze, dared not risk the moment.
His breath was hot in her ear. Anticipation washed through her body like an electric wave.
“A hunter,” his voice was barely audible above her own heavy breathing, “leaves his camp one morning.”
John’s tongue flicked along her exposed earlobe “He walks ten miles south, turns right and walks seven miles west, turns right yet again and walks ten miles north.” John brushed his fingertips lightly over the raised downy hairs on Lisi’s arm. “At that point he sees a bear tearing his tent apart and shoots it.”
Lisi took a sharp intake of breath, reflexively, at the image of such violence.
“What color is the bear?” John took her lobe between his teeth and bit down.
Lisi arched her back and squirmed in response to John’s ministrations. Her eyes scrunched up as she tried to solve the riddle.
“Brown?” Lisi worked to concentrate against the distraction of John’s ministrations. “Aren’t bears brown?”
John released her ear and laughed gently.
“No, my sweet, not all bears.” He paused for to allow Lisi time to follow his logic. “Polar bears are white and only at the Earth’s poles would two 90 degree right turns allow one to return to one’s starting position. Ergo, my love, this particular bear was white.”
“Ah, silly me.” Lisi slowly raised her arms over her head. John gently slipped her tee shirt up and off, revealing a beautiful black lace bra cupping her ivory breasts.
John paused just a moment to admire her exposed shoulder, creased by the black satin strap, ever so lightly sown with faint freckles. He leaned forward and drew his moist lips across the skin, feeling the goose bumps rise in response to his touch. His tongue reached out and tasted the salt of her body..
“Your turn,” he gently reminded her, breaking into her trance.
“An ant,” she began.
“My uncle’s wife?” he teased.
“No!” her voice was stern, but her smile belied her playfulness. “An ant, of the six legged variety...”
“Oh,” he interrupted yet again, “My aunt is of the six chinned variety.”
“If you do that one more time, you will forfeit this turn,” she was even more stern, and he lowered his eyes in contrition.
“As I was saying...” she paused to allow him to jump in. “An ant is on a sugar cube with sides one inch long. If he starts on one corner, and walks only on the edges, what is the greatest distance he can walk without retracing any part of his path?
John sat back against the futon, creating a picture in his mind. Lisi returned to her lotus position, and closed her eyes, waiting as the ant traveled over every edge of the virtual cube, stopping, going back to the beginning, as he hits a dead end and tries a different path. John’s thought process was clouded by the vision of Lisi in front of him, legs folded, shoulders back, breasts proudly held up. Her nipples were firm beneath the light cloth of her bra, pushing out, taunting him even further.
“Do we have a time limit?” It was her turn to tease him.
He just smiled. “There are 12 edges on a cubes.” he ventured after some time had passed. “Ergo, Robin, the ant could not travel more than 12 inches.” There was a hint of a question in his voice.
Lisi remained inscrutable, her eyes still closed.
“I can’t quite figure out the path, but I am going to guess.” He scanned her face for any trace of a hint, but she was in complete control of herself.
He drew a deep breath, held it a second or two, then, on the exhale, he blurted out “Ten. The ant will travel ten inches without retracing his path.” He looked pleadingly at her.
Lisi had a cruel streak and she took a very long time before she opened her eyes
“Oh, my dear, sweet, gentle John. Sweet, sweet John.” She could be evil when the mood struck.
“Sweet, sweet, dear, sweet John.”
“No, no,” he jumped in excitedly. “Nine, nine inches is the distance.”
“Too late.” she was gleeful in victory. “Nine it is, but too late.”
“Come, come around here.” She gestured in front of her, to the space between her bent knees. “Kneel, knave”
John rose and moved into position. He knelt before her, drinking in her beauty, his eyes moving from her glimmering eyes to her luscious breasts, and back again.
Lisi took each lapel of his shirt in her hands, twisted slightly an with a quick, downward jerk, tore the shirt open, buttons flying like buckshot, and clattering on the hardwood floor beneath them. She released the shirt and ran her hands over his broad, muscled shoulders, pushing back the cotton, exposing more of his chest. She leaned forward as the shirt moved down his tanned arms, until her breasts were brushing John’s face. He moved to kiss one, and she pulled back quickly.
“Naughty, naughty boy.” she chided him. “You can take your shirt off by yourself, if you won’t behave.”
John complied and then sat back on his heels to enjoy his view.
“Let me see, where shall we go from here?” John’s competitive nature was rising to the fore. “Arithmetic, geometry, logic?” A syllogism, perhaps?”
“A syllogism” Lisi clapped her hands in delight. “Oh. please Bre’r Fox, give me a syllogism.”
“Geometry it is, then.” John smiled an devious smile. “A white plastic cube is painted red. Using a saw, make two cuts through the front face of the cube, dividing into three equal rectangles. Make two more cuts through the top and two more through the right side, turning the larger cube into many smaller cubes. Is that clear?”
“Yes, perfectly clear. Take off your pants.”
“Not so fast, my impatient one, that was not the puzzle question. The actual question is, ‘How many of those smaller squares have no red sides?’”
"Posh and tiddle.” Lisi rolled her eyes upward. “Did the ant get trisected, as well?”
“No, there are no trisected insects. The ant moved on to another conundrum.”
“Too bad, I could always use some help, even if only from my mother’s sister.”
Lisi thought a few moments longer. “Seven cubes have no paint on them. The answer is ‘Seven’.”
“No,” John looked smug.
“No?”
“No, there is but one, I fear.”
“The ant stole the other six, then.”
“The ant never returned, there is only one paint-free cube.”
Lisi reached to open the clasp of her bra, nestled in front, between her breasts which seem to pulse with excitement. John raised one finger to signal her to pause.
“No, not yet.” He was firm. “The slacks, first.”
She slowly unfolded her legs and held them straight out, trapping John in the scissors. Placing her hands on the either side of her slight hips, she lifted herself off the futon, and with a nod of her head, told John he would have to finish removing her slacks. John leaned forward and took the zipper grip in his teeth, pulling it down to open the fly. He could taste her rising excitement and he inhaled deeply of her musk. He hooked his thumbs in the waistband and pulled the slacks off of her outstretched legs. Lisi settled back on the futon, in panties and bra, and resumed her lotus repose. John sat back on his heels and moaned under his breath. His excitement was almost painful.
“A pet store owner receives an order of lizards and birds. Being an apprentice eccentric, she decides to count heads and scaly legs, rather than individual animals. She counts thirty heads and seventy legs. How many are birds and how many are lizards? Lisi recited the entire puzzle without opening her eyes. John heard only every other word as he watched her bosom heaving as she spoke.
“Can I use a pencil?”
“To connect the dots?” Lisi grinned wide.” Fear not, my pet, you will be able to use your pencil soon enough.”
“Vous etes tres drole.” John quipped dryly.
“Hmmmm”
John closed his eyes to better concentrate. “Two legs, four legs, seventy legs, thirty heads. And we are assuming no mutants in the collection?”
“Now you are just delaying. Answer, if you can.” Lisi loved to twit him at every turn.
John was growing impatient as his erection strained in his khakis. He knew Lisi had the strength of will to force him to play out the game, and nothing he could say or do would sway her. He also was aware that he would be well rewarded for his perseverance. For now, he had to concentrate on the problem at hand.
“Let me think this through. Um, thirty birds would have sixty legs and thirty lizards would have one hundred and twenty legs.” John rolled his eyes up as he mulled this over.
Lisi lifted her hands to her breasts and cupped them. Slowly, she massaged them through the shear fabric of her bra, pulling and stroking. As her nipples engorged she rolled each one between the thumb and fore finger. Her delicate pink tongue appeared and she swept it over her pouty lips, leaving them moist and glistening..
“You’re not playing fair.” John’s voice was plaintive. Whining, actually.
“Oh?” Lisi paused her kneading. “I can stop, if you insist.” Lisi moved to get up off the futon.
“No, no, no, no” John pleaded.
Lisi settled back in her seat, and once again took a breast in each hand. She resumed her slow, deliberate massage, while fixing John’s eyes in her gaze.
John drew a slow, deep breath, and then exhaled even more slowly. “Twenty-five birds would have fifty legs and five lizards would have twenty legs... cumulatively, therefore... there are twenty-five birds and five lizards for thirty heads and seventy legs.” John relaxed and smiled a smug grin.
“What a clever boy!” Lisi lowered her hands into her lap. “Unless you cheated. Had you heard that puzzle before?”
John just shook his head.
“Then, you shall be rewarded.” Lisi caressed the cups of her bra as she reached for the clasp, slowly easing the hook from the eye. Letting go, she shifted her shoulders, wiggling as the straps slid down her arms. She leaned forward and with one last twist, the unnecessary encumbrance fell behind her. As she straightened up, John feasted on the sight of her naked breasts. Lisi began massaging the strap marks on her shoulders, and then down to the creases under each breast. She lifted each breast in her hand, as if offering them to John. However, he knew that it was not time, not yet.
John took his time planning the next puzzle, gazing lustily at the nearly nude goddess before him.
He was startled back to reality when the mantle clock began striking the hour, in miniature imitation of Big Ben. The clock played those familiar eight notes, then counted to seven. John relished the opportunity to delay further play as he drank in Lisi’s beauty.
Lisi moved her hands slowly down her taut belly, tracing a path past her navel to the waist band of her black silk panties. Her right hand eased under the elastic. John’s eyes were fixed on the silhouette of her long, delicate fingers as they probed beneath the shear fabric. Lisi closed her eyes and rolled her head back in response to her burgeoning excitement. Her fingers pushed deeper, she arched her back, and a slight, nearly imperceptible moan escaped her lips. Withdrawing her hand, she lifted it to her parted lips. Without ever opening her eyes she knew John was watching her moistened fingers. She drew her tongue along the length of her index finger, savoring her own juices.
“I believe, kind sir,” Lisi’s voice was muffled as she sucked on her fingers, “that it is your turn.”
John shook himself out of his reverie. He was forced to close his eyes as he sought the conundrum that would liberate Lisi of her panties. A dozen simple problems were considered and discarded as he tried to arrive at the teaser that would end Lisi’s teasing.
Finally, John leaned forward, placing his hands on the futon, either side of Lisi, careful not to touch her. With his lips dangerously close to her ear, he allowed his tongue to brush the delicate rim of her lobe. Lisi flinched but did not withdraw. Whispering with heavy breath, calculated to slowly drive Lisi mad with passion, John began spinning his tale.
“Two telephone poles, each 100 feet high, are strung with a rope attached to the tops. The rope is 175 feet long and allowed to hang loose. How far apart must the poles be to ensure the rope will not touch the ground?”
Lisi flung herself back and away from John, and flashed her eyes at him angrily.
“Oh, you are a dastard,” she hissed at him. “And foolish too, this is hardly the best time to upset me. I can hardly solve a parabola in my head.”
“Actually, a hanging rope, fixed at two ends forms a catenary.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, catenary, from the Latin for chain. The rope hangs as a chain suspended from two points”
“Latin or Greek?”
“Latin, I am almost sure.”
“But parabola is from Greek?”
“Yes.”
“So, why don’t you like the Greeks?”
“I have no quarrel with the Greeks, and you are just stalling.”.
“Well, I can’t solve a catenary in my head either, so you win, under protest.” Lisi pouted in a way that took John’s arousal to a height it had never reached before. He ached, ached with a throbbing pain that centered radiated outward. He could feel his pulse in his fingertips. on his loins and
Lisi slid her panties off in one graceful motion, as John stripped his remaining clothes. Words were cast aside with the garments, as John and Lisi were reduced to the sighs and moans of animal passion. United as one, their breathing was synchronized, their very hearts beating in unison.
Finally sated they lay still in each other’s arms, breathing deeply and slowly, descending from the heights of ecstasy. Lisi, speaking through her labored breath, grinning her slyest grin, brought her lips to John’s ear and whispered.
“The rope will never touch the ground, even if the poles are right beside each other, the rope will be doubled back on itself and never reach closer than twelve and a half feet from the ground.” Spent by the effort, she flopped her head back down on the futon.
The setting sun bathed the room in a rosy glow, and the lovers appeared to blend into the futon on which they lounged. When their breathing had settled, through the post-coital torpor John spoke.
“Seven men have seven hats...”
Lisi reached over and placed two fingers on his lips.
“Hush”
“Two trains leave their stations 120 miles apart, and travel, each towards the other.” His voice was a low rumble across the room. “One travels 45 miles per hour, the other travels 22 miles per hour. When do they crash”?
Slowly, nay, languorously, Lisi opened her eyes, ever so slightly. Her delicate, rose tinted lips turned up at the ends, and parted in the middle. Her breathing sped up, just a little.
“One hour and...” Her hesitation hung in the still air of the room. “47 minutes. Yes, in one hour and forty seven minutes they will collide.” Her delicate lids again cover the azure pools.
“And forty six seconds,” he prodded gently.
“Yes, of course, and forty six seconds. I truncated. Those last forty-six seconds were lost in the terrified screams of the conductors.” She shifted in her seat, in response to a vague, but pleasant discomfort she is feeling, deep within her.
John bent over and unlaced his shoes. He slipped them off and placed them together under the chair. Lifting his head he leaned forward, fixing his dark, chocolate eyes on hers. He held Lisi in his gaze, as if he could pin her to the futon with a mere look. She felt the power of his stare, even with her eyes tight shut.
The evening sun glanced through the enormous bay window at the far end of the living room, creating islands of light on the delicate Oriental carpet at their feet.
“A 747 Jumbo Jet with 288 passengers and 17 crewmembers crashes on the mountain where Italy, France and Switzerland all meet”, Lisi’s voice was low, but John hung on every word.. “In which country do they bury the survivors?”
A sly smile worked across John’s face. “ An oldie, but a goody,” he laughed out loud.
“One does NOT bury survivors, my pet.” John rose from his chair.
“No, one would not.” Lisi lifted her head as if she could see him stand through her porcelain lids.
John settled on the futon beside Lisi. She remained in her lotus pose. John inhaled, reveling in the sweet perfume of her body, intoxicated by the scent of her hair, aroused by the subtle tang of sweat. Remaining motionless is more exertion than it would appear at first blush.
He brought his lips close behind her left earlobe. Her straight, long auburn hair was pulled back into a pony tail, held with a single pink elastic. Some rogue hairs had eluded capture and now were teasing his nose, causing him to pause and wiggle it like a bunny in a cabbage patch. He dared not sneeze, dared not risk the moment.
His breath was hot in her ear. Anticipation washed through her body like an electric wave.
“A hunter,” his voice was barely audible above her own heavy breathing, “leaves his camp one morning.”
John’s tongue flicked along her exposed earlobe “He walks ten miles south, turns right and walks seven miles west, turns right yet again and walks ten miles north.” John brushed his fingertips lightly over the raised downy hairs on Lisi’s arm. “At that point he sees a bear tearing his tent apart and shoots it.”
Lisi took a sharp intake of breath, reflexively, at the image of such violence.
“What color is the bear?” John took her lobe between his teeth and bit down.
Lisi arched her back and squirmed in response to John’s ministrations. Her eyes scrunched up as she tried to solve the riddle.
“Brown?” Lisi worked to concentrate against the distraction of John’s ministrations. “Aren’t bears brown?”
John released her ear and laughed gently.
“No, my sweet, not all bears.” He paused for to allow Lisi time to follow his logic. “Polar bears are white and only at the Earth’s poles would two 90 degree right turns allow one to return to one’s starting position. Ergo, my love, this particular bear was white.”
“Ah, silly me.” Lisi slowly raised her arms over her head. John gently slipped her tee shirt up and off, revealing a beautiful black lace bra cupping her ivory breasts.
John paused just a moment to admire her exposed shoulder, creased by the black satin strap, ever so lightly sown with faint freckles. He leaned forward and drew his moist lips across the skin, feeling the goose bumps rise in response to his touch. His tongue reached out and tasted the salt of her body..
“Your turn,” he gently reminded her, breaking into her trance.
“An ant,” she began.
“My uncle’s wife?” he teased.
“No!” her voice was stern, but her smile belied her playfulness. “An ant, of the six legged variety...”
“Oh,” he interrupted yet again, “My aunt is of the six chinned variety.”
“If you do that one more time, you will forfeit this turn,” she was even more stern, and he lowered his eyes in contrition.
“As I was saying...” she paused to allow him to jump in. “An ant is on a sugar cube with sides one inch long. If he starts on one corner, and walks only on the edges, what is the greatest distance he can walk without retracing any part of his path?
John sat back against the futon, creating a picture in his mind. Lisi returned to her lotus position, and closed her eyes, waiting as the ant traveled over every edge of the virtual cube, stopping, going back to the beginning, as he hits a dead end and tries a different path. John’s thought process was clouded by the vision of Lisi in front of him, legs folded, shoulders back, breasts proudly held up. Her nipples were firm beneath the light cloth of her bra, pushing out, taunting him even further.
“Do we have a time limit?” It was her turn to tease him.
He just smiled. “There are 12 edges on a cubes.” he ventured after some time had passed. “Ergo, Robin, the ant could not travel more than 12 inches.” There was a hint of a question in his voice.
Lisi remained inscrutable, her eyes still closed.
“I can’t quite figure out the path, but I am going to guess.” He scanned her face for any trace of a hint, but she was in complete control of herself.
He drew a deep breath, held it a second or two, then, on the exhale, he blurted out “Ten. The ant will travel ten inches without retracing his path.” He looked pleadingly at her.
Lisi had a cruel streak and she took a very long time before she opened her eyes
“Oh, my dear, sweet, gentle John. Sweet, sweet John.” She could be evil when the mood struck.
“Sweet, sweet, dear, sweet John.”
“No, no,” he jumped in excitedly. “Nine, nine inches is the distance.”
“Too late.” she was gleeful in victory. “Nine it is, but too late.”
“Come, come around here.” She gestured in front of her, to the space between her bent knees. “Kneel, knave”
John rose and moved into position. He knelt before her, drinking in her beauty, his eyes moving from her glimmering eyes to her luscious breasts, and back again.
Lisi took each lapel of his shirt in her hands, twisted slightly an with a quick, downward jerk, tore the shirt open, buttons flying like buckshot, and clattering on the hardwood floor beneath them. She released the shirt and ran her hands over his broad, muscled shoulders, pushing back the cotton, exposing more of his chest. She leaned forward as the shirt moved down his tanned arms, until her breasts were brushing John’s face. He moved to kiss one, and she pulled back quickly.
“Naughty, naughty boy.” she chided him. “You can take your shirt off by yourself, if you won’t behave.”
John complied and then sat back on his heels to enjoy his view.
“Let me see, where shall we go from here?” John’s competitive nature was rising to the fore. “Arithmetic, geometry, logic?” A syllogism, perhaps?”
“A syllogism” Lisi clapped her hands in delight. “Oh. please Bre’r Fox, give me a syllogism.”
“Geometry it is, then.” John smiled an devious smile. “A white plastic cube is painted red. Using a saw, make two cuts through the front face of the cube, dividing into three equal rectangles. Make two more cuts through the top and two more through the right side, turning the larger cube into many smaller cubes. Is that clear?”
“Yes, perfectly clear. Take off your pants.”
“Not so fast, my impatient one, that was not the puzzle question. The actual question is, ‘How many of those smaller squares have no red sides?’”
"Posh and tiddle.” Lisi rolled her eyes upward. “Did the ant get trisected, as well?”
“No, there are no trisected insects. The ant moved on to another conundrum.”
“Too bad, I could always use some help, even if only from my mother’s sister.”
Lisi thought a few moments longer. “Seven cubes have no paint on them. The answer is ‘Seven’.”
“No,” John looked smug.
“No?”
“No, there is but one, I fear.”
“The ant stole the other six, then.”
“The ant never returned, there is only one paint-free cube.”
Lisi reached to open the clasp of her bra, nestled in front, between her breasts which seem to pulse with excitement. John raised one finger to signal her to pause.
“No, not yet.” He was firm. “The slacks, first.”
She slowly unfolded her legs and held them straight out, trapping John in the scissors. Placing her hands on the either side of her slight hips, she lifted herself off the futon, and with a nod of her head, told John he would have to finish removing her slacks. John leaned forward and took the zipper grip in his teeth, pulling it down to open the fly. He could taste her rising excitement and he inhaled deeply of her musk. He hooked his thumbs in the waistband and pulled the slacks off of her outstretched legs. Lisi settled back on the futon, in panties and bra, and resumed her lotus repose. John sat back on his heels and moaned under his breath. His excitement was almost painful.
“A pet store owner receives an order of lizards and birds. Being an apprentice eccentric, she decides to count heads and scaly legs, rather than individual animals. She counts thirty heads and seventy legs. How many are birds and how many are lizards? Lisi recited the entire puzzle without opening her eyes. John heard only every other word as he watched her bosom heaving as she spoke.
“Can I use a pencil?”
“To connect the dots?” Lisi grinned wide.” Fear not, my pet, you will be able to use your pencil soon enough.”
“Vous etes tres drole.” John quipped dryly.
“Hmmmm”
John closed his eyes to better concentrate. “Two legs, four legs, seventy legs, thirty heads. And we are assuming no mutants in the collection?”
“Now you are just delaying. Answer, if you can.” Lisi loved to twit him at every turn.
John was growing impatient as his erection strained in his khakis. He knew Lisi had the strength of will to force him to play out the game, and nothing he could say or do would sway her. He also was aware that he would be well rewarded for his perseverance. For now, he had to concentrate on the problem at hand.
“Let me think this through. Um, thirty birds would have sixty legs and thirty lizards would have one hundred and twenty legs.” John rolled his eyes up as he mulled this over.
Lisi lifted her hands to her breasts and cupped them. Slowly, she massaged them through the shear fabric of her bra, pulling and stroking. As her nipples engorged she rolled each one between the thumb and fore finger. Her delicate pink tongue appeared and she swept it over her pouty lips, leaving them moist and glistening..
“You’re not playing fair.” John’s voice was plaintive. Whining, actually.
“Oh?” Lisi paused her kneading. “I can stop, if you insist.” Lisi moved to get up off the futon.
“No, no, no, no” John pleaded.
Lisi settled back in her seat, and once again took a breast in each hand. She resumed her slow, deliberate massage, while fixing John’s eyes in her gaze.
John drew a slow, deep breath, and then exhaled even more slowly. “Twenty-five birds would have fifty legs and five lizards would have twenty legs... cumulatively, therefore... there are twenty-five birds and five lizards for thirty heads and seventy legs.” John relaxed and smiled a smug grin.
“What a clever boy!” Lisi lowered her hands into her lap. “Unless you cheated. Had you heard that puzzle before?”
John just shook his head.
“Then, you shall be rewarded.” Lisi caressed the cups of her bra as she reached for the clasp, slowly easing the hook from the eye. Letting go, she shifted her shoulders, wiggling as the straps slid down her arms. She leaned forward and with one last twist, the unnecessary encumbrance fell behind her. As she straightened up, John feasted on the sight of her naked breasts. Lisi began massaging the strap marks on her shoulders, and then down to the creases under each breast. She lifted each breast in her hand, as if offering them to John. However, he knew that it was not time, not yet.
John took his time planning the next puzzle, gazing lustily at the nearly nude goddess before him.
He was startled back to reality when the mantle clock began striking the hour, in miniature imitation of Big Ben. The clock played those familiar eight notes, then counted to seven. John relished the opportunity to delay further play as he drank in Lisi’s beauty.
Lisi moved her hands slowly down her taut belly, tracing a path past her navel to the waist band of her black silk panties. Her right hand eased under the elastic. John’s eyes were fixed on the silhouette of her long, delicate fingers as they probed beneath the shear fabric. Lisi closed her eyes and rolled her head back in response to her burgeoning excitement. Her fingers pushed deeper, she arched her back, and a slight, nearly imperceptible moan escaped her lips. Withdrawing her hand, she lifted it to her parted lips. Without ever opening her eyes she knew John was watching her moistened fingers. She drew her tongue along the length of her index finger, savoring her own juices.
“I believe, kind sir,” Lisi’s voice was muffled as she sucked on her fingers, “that it is your turn.”
John shook himself out of his reverie. He was forced to close his eyes as he sought the conundrum that would liberate Lisi of her panties. A dozen simple problems were considered and discarded as he tried to arrive at the teaser that would end Lisi’s teasing.
Finally, John leaned forward, placing his hands on the futon, either side of Lisi, careful not to touch her. With his lips dangerously close to her ear, he allowed his tongue to brush the delicate rim of her lobe. Lisi flinched but did not withdraw. Whispering with heavy breath, calculated to slowly drive Lisi mad with passion, John began spinning his tale.
“Two telephone poles, each 100 feet high, are strung with a rope attached to the tops. The rope is 175 feet long and allowed to hang loose. How far apart must the poles be to ensure the rope will not touch the ground?”
Lisi flung herself back and away from John, and flashed her eyes at him angrily.
“Oh, you are a dastard,” she hissed at him. “And foolish too, this is hardly the best time to upset me. I can hardly solve a parabola in my head.”
“Actually, a hanging rope, fixed at two ends forms a catenary.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, catenary, from the Latin for chain. The rope hangs as a chain suspended from two points”
“Latin or Greek?”
“Latin, I am almost sure.”
“But parabola is from Greek?”
“Yes.”
“So, why don’t you like the Greeks?”
“I have no quarrel with the Greeks, and you are just stalling.”.
“Well, I can’t solve a catenary in my head either, so you win, under protest.” Lisi pouted in a way that took John’s arousal to a height it had never reached before. He ached, ached with a throbbing pain that centered radiated outward. He could feel his pulse in his fingertips. on his loins and
Lisi slid her panties off in one graceful motion, as John stripped his remaining clothes. Words were cast aside with the garments, as John and Lisi were reduced to the sighs and moans of animal passion. United as one, their breathing was synchronized, their very hearts beating in unison.
Finally sated they lay still in each other’s arms, breathing deeply and slowly, descending from the heights of ecstasy. Lisi, speaking through her labored breath, grinning her slyest grin, brought her lips to John’s ear and whispered.
“The rope will never touch the ground, even if the poles are right beside each other, the rope will be doubled back on itself and never reach closer than twelve and a half feet from the ground.” Spent by the effort, she flopped her head back down on the futon.
The setting sun bathed the room in a rosy glow, and the lovers appeared to blend into the futon on which they lounged. When their breathing had settled, through the post-coital torpor John spoke.
“Seven men have seven hats...”
Lisi reached over and placed two fingers on his lips.
“Hush”
