Two pairs of shoes—including the red heels—a new sundress and a pretty bra and panty set later, I felt much better. Stepping out onto the sidewalk from the cool air-conditioned store, I sighed at the thick humidity. It wasn't unusual for July, but my colorful tank top and bra didn't take long to stick to my sweaty skin.
As I walked toward my car a few blocks away, I felt the jewelry store before I saw it. Yup, felt it. It was a warm, humming feeling, something that seeped into my body and made me feel good all over. Like a hot bath. My nipples tightened and my clit pulsed as if I was reading a hot erotic novel on my e-reader. Surprised at the weird sensation, I looked around. No one else on the sidewalk appeared affected, although it would be a bit odd if everyone on the street became aroused as I was. Maybe I was overheated, but I'd only been outside for thirty seconds. Maybe it was the wine. I should have stopped at one glass earlier, but I didn't feel tipsy or anything.
Couples walked hand in hand, mothers dealt with cranky children, a man with a cane fed a parking meter. No one had stopped on the street like me. It felt like there was a force field all but pulling me toward the jewelry store. I was the only one. "What the hell?" I whispered to myself.
I took two more steps and saw the display of period and costume jewelry in the window. The shop was a throwback to days gone by, something seen in a movie. Gold lettering arched across the glass and read Saunders Jewelry. The door was dark wood, a forest green awning provided some shade to window shoppers. The jewelry on display was all vintage, no modern pieces. Brooches, men's pocket watches, bracelets and rings attractively displayed on velvet the same color as the overhead awning. I didn't remember seeing this shop before, but it had obviously been in this spot a long time.
My heart pumped loudly in my ears and I felt my adrenaline kick in, the quick flash of heat, the butterflies in my stomach. Was I going to faint? I brushed the back of my hand over my sweaty forehead. I was flushed from the hot weather, not lightheaded. I ran a hand over my stomach debating if I was going to throw up. No, this was a good feeling. A strange, wonderful, weird, good feeling. I clamped my legs together to stop my clit from tingling. Okay, no more wine over lunch.
I was about to turn and walk away when I saw it. It was as if my eyes were drawn to it. The ruby ring. At the sight of it, the pleasure struck me like a thunderbolt from the heavens. My nipples hardened to sharp points beneat
h my bra. My pussy clenched and a soft moan escaped my lips. Looking at the ring had just turned me on. A lot. If I weren't on a public street, I might consider touching myself, rubbing my clit. I would come almost instantly.
What the hell was wrong with me?
CHAPTER TWO
Lexy
Menopausal hot flash? Broken clitoris? Had it been too long since I'd been with a real man and not a vibrator? I was completely freaked out. No wine again over lunch? Hell, no wine again… ever.
I had to know why a piece of jewelry could practically bring me to orgasm on sight. Taking a deep breath, I tried to calm my nerves, settle my raging libido. As people passed me, I'm sure I seemed normal, but I wasn't any less turned on. There was only one way to figure out what the hell was going on. After waiting for a woman with a stroller to pass, I cut across the sidewalk and pushed the door open. A little bell above it jingled and the shopkeeper greeted me. Her hair was white and pulled back in a thick bun at the nape of her neck, loose strands sticking up every which way around her wrinkled and lined face. She was a small woman—even smaller than I—and stooped with old age. She made me look like a giraffe.
My state of arousal hadn't changed, and I was beyond mortified. Even with the air conditioning keeping the shop somewhere in the refreshing sixties, I still burned hot all over. Flushed from the roots of my hair to the tips… of my breasts… and my toes. Feverish. Warmth seeped through my veins like heated honey. It was as if I had a man's mouth on my pussy, his tongue flicking at my enlarged clit, the tension building, building until…
Where had that thought come from? I was definitely losing it, but I wanted that ring. Needed it. I placed a hand on one of the displays so I felt grounded. The cool glass felt good beneath my fingers.
"I'd… I'd like to see the ruby ring, please," I all but begged the shopkeeper, my voice breathy. I sounded like a porn star. I ran my thumb over my fingers in a move that showed I was itching to touch it. Now. I needed to hold it.
"Ah," was all the old woman said, eyebrow raised on her wrinkled forehead, as if the one word explained everything. She appeared to be in her eighties, but I wasn't sure with her stooped posture and lined face. The woman wore a straight dark wool skirt that fell just below her knees, a white blouse and a light blue cardigan. I couldn't imagine how the woman could stand such heavy clothes in the July heat. But she was small and frail and the air was cool in the store. Walking slowly to the window display, she brought the ring and handed it to me, the woman's bony fingers brushing my palm in the process.
I gasped at the contact. The ring was clearly an antique, the band thick, worn with age. The blood red stone was set heavily into the gold with intricately carved swirls. It was a large ring, bigger than anything I would usually wear. The gold was hot to the touch, the ruby a color so vivid that it glowed and pulsed, almost scorching my palm. My nipples, already tight, tingled as if they'd been put in clamps. My silk panties became damp. I licked my dry lips and tried to stifle the slight moan that escaped. Just holding the ring felt so good.
"The ring has been waiting for you," the shopkeeper said, her voice raspy with age.
I closed my eyes briefly, giving over to the sensations, the waves of pleasure sweeping over me, tingling my skin. Goose bumps flickered to life.
I'd been waiting to feel like this for a long time. Hot. Bothered. Needy. From a man though, not a ring! From a Viking or a space pirate or a Highlander. Even a stockbroker from Cleveland. If I was to seek pleasure from an inanimate object, it should be from the vibrator in my bedside drawer rather than a ruby ring.
I was losing my mind! How could a ring make me feel this way? I laughed nervously. Embarrassed. "Waiting for me?" I repeated. "That's a pretty good sales pitch."
"It's not a pitch." The saleswoman leaned in as she spoke. Whispered. "You know what I mean."
I noticed the older woman's eyes were rheumy with cataracts, her smile kind.
"I… I don't think so," I stammered and shook my head, trying with difficulty to hide my pleasurable discomfort. I tucked my hair back behind my ear nervously. It wasn't as if I wanted to share with the lady how close to orgasm I was.
The woman cracked a wide smile showing crooked teeth. "There hasn't been someone like you in a long time."
Who? Someone destined for the insane asylum? I placed my hand on my chest. "Someone... like me?"
I squeezed the heavy ring tight in my sweaty palm, felt the heft of it, the need in it. Was I a freak? Was I among a select few who acted strangely—sexually, by holding a ring in my hand? Where the hell was Tracy when I needed her? Would she be acting like a sex-starved lunatic too, or would she drag me away from the store telling me I was banned from lunchtime wine?
"It's your birthday, isn't it?" the woman asked, although I could tell by looking at her eyes she already knew the answer. A sage. Maybe a fortune teller?
Stunned, I could only nod my head. The longer I held the ring, the more I needed fulfillment. Answers. Relief from the pain/pleasure the ring elicited.
"You've been drawn to the ruby ring because it's your birthday. Ruby is your birthstone. You can see your past lives when you touch the ring. His ring."