Isabel's Phone

MasterMike0117 · 12-28-2008, 02:39 PM

This is a story thats been floating in my mind for a while, and I've decided to start writing it. It is nowhere near completely planned out, so it will likely go on for quite a while, potentially forever, though my guess is that I will run out of ideas or motivation and close it up before then, but it means that I can respond to the desires of my audience, so any critiques or requests are appreciated.

I did decide to place it in the mature section, just because it will probably be on the gray line, and I figured better safe than sorry.

This first part is only an introduction, chapter 2 should be coming soon:

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Chapter 1: Isabel

Isabel is a lovely creature. Petite, delicate, and lovely. She is quite short, but just enough to be cute, not enough to be extreme or unattractive, likewise she is slender and fit, with smooth skin that entices you to run your hands over it. Her curves, while somewhat small, seem perfectly in proportion, assuming you do not like women with obscenely large breasts or huge butts. No, with Isabell her curves are smooth, with perky breasts just on the small side, but large enough, certainly on her frame. Her ass is likewise a smooth bubble, curving out from her back, crowning beautiful legs that she doesn't show off nearly often enough. Her legs are amazingly toned, as most of her time is spent swimming. Her hair is long, slightly wavy, and light brown, bordering on dirty blond, which she often ties back or braids. Her face is rarely adorned with make up, yet is still lovely, the best part of which is their the pair stunning blue eyes or the small mouth with her exquisitely kissable lips, those two features separated only by her button nose.

Often she is seen wearing a swimsuit, sadly a conservative one-piece, for she works as a lifeguard and swim-instructor at the local YMCA. The rest of the time she dresses simply, not having the money to afford the expensive fancy clothes. Still, she manages to easily pull together outfits that flatter her figure and turn heads.

Today she is just coming home from working the late shift one Thursday evening, tired, but grateful that she'll be off from work early the next day, to get an early start on her weekend. Her hair is still slightly wet, in a loose pony tail, leaving a damp spot on the back of her sweater. On previous days this winter, the cold has frozen her hair when she left if she did not dry it properly, but the past few days have been warm enough.

She walks to the fridge, taking out a diet coke and quickly scanning over the other contents, noting that soon she will need to go out and buy groceries. Then, deciding against taking anything else, she sits down on her couch to relax with her TV for a little while before going to bed.

As she flips through the channels, her cell phone rings. She puts her soda down on the table by the couch and looks at the screen which reads, “Restricted Number”. Since she only gives out her cell phone to friends and family, whose numbers are all stored in the phone, unknown numbers are either someone selling something, or someone who will leave a message. She mutes the ringer and goes back to her TV.

A minute later the main telephone in her apartment rings, the one on which her landlord or employers call her, and therefore cannot be as easily screened. Putting down her soda once again, and muting the TV, she walks over to the phone and picks it up,

“Hello?”

“You didn't answer your cell phone,” The caller answered, “from now on I expect you to always answer your cell, no matter who it is, understand?”

“What? Who is this?” Isabel asked. She did not recognize the voice, nor did she receive an answer, as the caller quickly hung up. As she hung up her own phone, nervous and a little scared, her mind raced with questions. She stood there a moment, wondering what to do, and jumped in surprise when her cell phone rang again.

“Okay, who the hell are you?” She asked as she picked up, assuming “Restricted Number” was the same caller as before.

“tut tut, hardly a polite way to answer the phone,” The same voice replied, “Why don't you have a seat, we need to have a talk.”

12-28-2008, 02:39 PM	#1
MasterMike0117 Junior Member Join Date: Mar 2008 Posts: 28	Isabel's Phone This is a story thats been floating in my mind for a while, and I've decided to start writing it. It is nowhere near completely planned out, so it will likely go on for quite a while, potentially forever, though my guess is that I will run out of ideas or motivation and close it up before then, but it means that I can respond to the desires of my audience, so any critiques or requests are appreciated. I did decide to place it in the mature section, just because it will probably be on the gray line, and I figured better safe than sorry. This first part is only an introduction, chapter 2 should be coming soon: ---------------------------------------- Chapter 1: Isabel Isabel is a lovely creature. Petite, delicate, and lovely. She is quite short, but just enough to be cute, not enough to be extreme or unattractive, likewise she is slender and fit, with smooth skin that entices you to run your hands over it. Her curves, while somewhat small, seem perfectly in proportion, assuming you do not like women with obscenely large breasts or huge butts. No, with Isabell her curves are smooth, with perky breasts just on the small side, but large enough, certainly on her frame. Her ass is likewise a smooth bubble, curving out from her back, crowning beautiful legs that she doesn't show off nearly often enough. Her legs are amazingly toned, as most of her time is spent swimming. Her hair is long, slightly wavy, and light brown, bordering on dirty blond, which she often ties back or braids. Her face is rarely adorned with make up, yet is still lovely, the best part of which is their the pair stunning blue eyes or the small mouth with her exquisitely kissable lips, those two features separated only by her button nose. Often she is seen wearing a swimsuit, sadly a conservative one-piece, for she works as a lifeguard and swim-instructor at the local YMCA. The rest of the time she dresses simply, not having the money to afford the expensive fancy clothes. Still, she manages to easily pull together outfits that flatter her figure and turn heads. Today she is just coming home from working the late shift one Thursday evening, tired, but grateful that she'll be off from work early the next day, to get an early start on her weekend. Her hair is still slightly wet, in a loose pony tail, leaving a damp spot on the back of her sweater. On previous days this winter, the cold has frozen her hair when she left if she did not dry it properly, but the past few days have been warm enough. She walks to the fridge, taking out a diet coke and quickly scanning over the other contents, noting that soon she will need to go out and buy groceries. Then, deciding against taking anything else, she sits down on her couch to relax with her TV for a little while before going to bed. As she flips through the channels, her cell phone rings. She puts her soda down on the table by the couch and looks at the screen which reads, “Restricted Number”. Since she only gives out her cell phone to friends and family, whose numbers are all stored in the phone, unknown numbers are either someone selling something, or someone who will leave a message. She mutes the ringer and goes back to her TV. A minute later the main telephone in her apartment rings, the one on which her landlord or employers call her, and therefore cannot be as easily screened. Putting down her soda once again, and muting the TV, she walks over to the phone and picks it up, “Hello?” “You didn't answer your cell phone,” The caller answered, “from now on I expect you to always answer your cell, no matter who it is, understand?” “What? Who is this?” Isabel asked. She did not recognize the voice, nor did she receive an answer, as the caller quickly hung up. As she hung up her own phone, nervous and a little scared, her mind raced with questions. She stood there a moment, wondering what to do, and jumped in surprise when her cell phone rang again. “Okay, who the hell are you?” She asked as she picked up, assuming “Restricted Number” was the same caller as before. “tut tut, hardly a polite way to answer the phone,” The same voice replied, “Why don't you have a seat, we need to have a talk.”