AUTHOR’S NOTE: Please note that the woman featured in this story isn’t Deidre Pagnanelli. While she may resemble Ms. Pagnanelli and there are photos of her prominently displayed throughout this post, “Deidre” is NOT Deidre Pagnanelli. Personally, I think it’s a little creepy to write an erotic story about a real person whom I’ve never met without their consent. I’d rather create my own character who isn’t real instead of using an actual person whose friends and family may accidentally stumble upon this post. But for the sake of your imagination, the character of “Deidre” does indeed look exactly like the gorgeous Ms. Pagnanelli. Is she actually Ms. Pagnanelli? No, she is not. She’s a fictional character borne from my imagination.
On a freezing cold winter afternoon, an oppressive snowstorm attacks a quaint small town in the middle of nowhere.
It’s 4 p.m. in the middle of December. Ominous dark clouds, strong gusts of wind and massive piles of snow create a glum atmosphere Max has never experienced before. He doesn’t mind snow, but this is something else entirely.
Max could not remember the name of this town. He also couldn’t recall why he was here or what business he had to stay here any longer than he absolutely had to. All he knows is that he’s stuck until this terrible blizzard comes to an end.
This could take forever…
Max is staying at an old-fashioned bed and breakfast establishment in the heart of town. Cuddling up close to the fireplace with a warm wool blanket and a mystery novel, Max is surprised at how calm and peaceful he is at the moment. A city slicker at heart, these small towns in the middle of the wilderness (at least, it seems like the wilderness to him) bore him to death. There’s absolutely nothing to do.
No movie theatre. No good restaurants. No decent bars. No friends to hang out with and do stuff. Nothing of the sort.
Well, this stinks. There’s got to be something to do to pass the time! According to the local weather reports, the snowstorm could last two to three days. Does this mean Max has to be exiled here for the entire weekend? You got to be kidding!
Unfortunately, no. This is no joke. Max decides he needs to get something decent to eat. The food at the bed and breakfast is alright, but after a few meals it gets old really fast. Max heard a rumor there’s a quality grocery store at the southern end of town. Maybe that’ll be worth checking out.
Max puts on a heavy coat, boots, gloves and beanie and courageously heads outside. The snow continues to fall, but at a much lighter pace than earlier before. Max thinks he can handle this. It’s only a short walk down the street. What could possibly go wrong?
Fifteen minutes later, Max is stumbling down Main Street in the dark. Gee, how did it get so black all of a sudden?
Unsure if he’s going in the right direction, Max sees a sign posted on a street lamp saying:
Road closed ahead. Try alternate route.
Great! An alternate route; in the dark, in an unfamiliar town, during a snowstorm – just to get to a stupid grocery store? Max considers turning around, but his stomach tells him otherwise. Max reluctantly follows the arrow pointing to the “alternate route” and says a short prayer to himself before proceeding.
Five minutes goes by and Max is thoroughly convinced he made a mistake taking this so-called “alternative route.” Unable to see anything, faltering around the slick pavement like a drunkard and freezing so badly his knees are shaking; Max realizes he needs to turn around before it’s too late.
“Lord have mercy,” Max mutters under his breath. Max can see his breath clearly but cannot concentrate on that because his face hurts from the blistering cold. If he doesn’t get inside soon, guaranteed he’s going to get a bad case of frostbite.
Looking down at the ground, Max isn’t sure if he’s still on the pavement or if he’s drifted off onto the grass. The thick sheets of snow make it impossible to tell for sure. The streetlights have disappeared. There isn’t a house or building anywhere in sight. Where the hell is he?
“I need to turn around. Now. While I still have the chance,” Max tells himself.
Max does turn around but sees nothing but darkness. He keeps trudging through the snow and suddenly gets the idea of taking out his cell phone to use as a flashlight. As he reaches for his pocket, a tree branch hits him in the forehead.
“Ow!” A sharp pain shoots through his entire head. Where the hell did that tree come from?
Then, a second low hanging tree branch strikes him, this time directly in the face. Max stops and holds his nose. He feels warm blood trickling down his chin. Max swears to himself and proceeds to continue walking. He should have stayed indoors! How stupid could he possibly be–
As if the rug had been pulled out from under him, Max starts to fall down a steep hill. Tumbling, tumbling and tumbling to the ground. Nonstop. Rocks knock into him on his way down. A small bush scrapes against his thigh, cutting him open. He wants to scream, but the intense pain and his uncontrollable anger prevent any sound from coming out. He’s out of breath. His entire body aches. And he is powerless to stop this freefall.
Finally, he stops rolling. Max reaches the foot of the hill and collapses. Defeated, Max struggles to look around to see where he is. His vision is blurred. It hurts everywhere. Where did this bad luck come from? What did he do to deserve this?
In the distance – or maybe it was closer than he thought – Max sees a dim light. Was it a house? Was someone inside? Where is he? Is he still in the same town or did he stumble onto the neighboring county?
As Max ponders these questions, he blacks out. Silence. Nothingness. Sleep.
An hour later, Max wakes up in a bed. He feels groggy. His head hurts. Max reaches up to touch his forehead and feels a bandage attached to his skin. What happened? Is he dead? Is this Heaven?
Then he looks up. And sees her.
Wow. Maybe he is in Heaven.
Standing before him is the most gorgeous woman Max has ever laid eyes on. Tall, toned, shapely and as gorgeous as a supermodel, Max is sure he’s never seen a woman quite like her. If this is what the afterlife is like, then perhaps death isn’t so bad after all!
“How are you feeling?” this beautiful angel asks him.
“Oh. I’m okay. Still sore. Did you rescue me?”
“Yes, I did. I heard screaming outside and immediately checked it out. When I saw you lying there in the snow, I thought you were dead. It didn’t seem like you were breathing.” Miraculously, Max’s throbbing headache goes away. He studies her carefully. She is wearing grey sweatpants, white athletic socks and a beet red tank top that generously shows off her large, muscular arms. Max definitely has never encountered a woman with muscles that big before. He always thought bodybuilding women were gross and ugly looking. This perfect angel shatters all those perceptions to a million pieces.
Her hair is long, dark brown and carelessly flows across her back. Her dark eyes could pierce your soul. Max couldn’t quite figure out how old she is, but early 40s seems like a prudent estimate. Maybe she’s younger. Or older. Either way, she’s the most beautiful creature he’s ever seen in person.
“Thanks for rescuing me. I passed out after I stopped rolling. I’d probably still be out there if it weren’t for you.”
“You’re welcome. Come to think of it, if you were still out there you’d probably freeze to death. I’m glad I came when I did.” She walks over to the kitchen and takes a kettle of boiling water off the stove. Max is so enamored by her beauty that he failed to hear the kettle whistling. She pours some of the hot water into a mug and places a bag of Earl Gray inside it. The woman returns and hands the mug to Max. He graciously accepts her offering.
“Thank you for this. I owe you everything.” He takes a sip. The sensation of the hot liquid entering his body warms his soul.
“What’s your name?” She sits down on a chair next to the bed.
“My name is Max. What’s yours?”
“Deidre.” Deidre? What a pretty name.
“Deidre? What a pretty name.”
Whoa. Did he just say that out loud? Oh my God…
“Thank you. It is a pretty name.” She giggles and smiles at him, acknowledging his awkwardness. Max and Deidre proceed to have a lengthy discussion about why they are both in this God-forsaken snow-covered town. As it turns out, Deidre is a professional fitness model and dietary coach who was supposed to be in this town for a photoshoot. Unfortunately for her, Deidre’s photographer had to cancel at the last moment because he found an alternate gig in the Bahamas.
“The Bahamas! Can you believe it? I’d much rather be there than here!” Deidre says, laughing smugly. Max laughs too, trying hard to picture her in a bikini. She probably looks amazing wearing one!
Max now remembers why he’s here. He’s a freelance writer on assignment from a small travel magazine to write about the ski slopes. Since Max doesn’t ski and couldn’t care less about winter sports, he didn’t feel too enthusiastic about the project. This probably explains why he also couldn’t remember why he was in this town in the first place.
“You’re a writer? You should write a story about me for your magazine instead!” Deidre jokes.
“I could. Although, they probably want to hear more about skiing instead of your personal life. Unless you have a really interesting personal life…” Max is impressed at how well he incorporated that into the conversation. Now he has an excuse to learn more about her!
Deidre, as sweet as can be, gladly explains to Max who she is.
In addition to being a fitness model and dietary coach, Deidre Veneziano is a prominent columnist for several health and wellness publications. She travels across the world giving pep talks, plugging her products and offering her nutritional expertise at college campuses, business seminars and industry conventions. Years ago, before she became a wildly successful entrepreneur, she was an amateur bodybuilder.
Ms. Veneziano pulls up a few photos on her phone from her competitive days and shows them to Max.
Holy mackerel! She looks even more stunning! At the tender age of 19 she’d already won several lower level figure and bodybuilding competitions and won a few more prestigious ones in her 20s and 30s. She’s recently divorced (who’s the idiot who willingly left her?) and is the mother of four children.
Wait. WHAT????????? She’s the mother of FOUR kids? You have got to be kidding!
Whoa. Hot damn. With a body like hers, Max never would’ve guessed!
Then it was his turn to share his life story. Max grew up in a stuffy upper middle class Asian American family. He was expected from birth to be a doctor, a musician or a scientist. When he decided on becoming a writer instead, his parents unenthusiastically went along with it. He went to a prominent university, had his heart broken toward the end of his senior year (his fiancée cheated on him with his roommate. They’re now married and have two kids) and graduated near the top of his class. Unfortunately, a bad economy made journalism jobs impossible to find. So freelance work (or, as he refers to it, “whoring yourself out for a letter of recommendation”) was his only reliable source of income. That and working the graveyard shift at a storage lot. Max isn’t too thrilled with that job and dreams of the day that he can quit.
During his speech Deidre frequently nods her head and interjects to point out where he and she are similar. Both are victims of cheating lovers. Both are stuck in this God-forsaken town. Neither of them wants to be here…but they both love getting to know each other!
Every moment he spends with her, Max feels more secure. It’s like they’ve known each other for years, not hours. He highly doubts the positive feelings are mutual, but it’s always nice to dream. The pain has finally gone away. He still has a nasty cut on his leg, but Deidre did a fantastic job of bandaging it up. After talking for hours (but what seemed like mere minutes to him), Deidre decides it’s time to get ready for bed. She offers Max a place to sleep for the night. Max graciously accepts her cordial invitation.
It’s nearing 10:30 p.m. Deidre says she has a flight to catch tomorrow afternoon, weather permitting. The cabin belongs to a friend of her photographer who’s on vacation in Europe. Deidre takes a shower in the upstairs master bedroom. Max, despite his injuries and bandages, takes an awkward bath in the main level washroom. The warm water cascading against his skin feels so good!
11 p.m. The wind stops howling. The snow dies down. A full moon lights up the night sky. The mood is romantic in a surreal way.
Max puts on a comfortable pair of fleece pajamas that belong to the owner of the cabin. As he prepares to hop into bed, he hears someone crying from upstairs.
Sobs. Not loud sobs, but sounds of sadness and heartbreak nevertheless. Concerned, Max walks up the stairs to inspect what’s happening. Why would Deidre be crying? Is she watching a movie or something?
Politely, Max knocks on her door.
“Come in,” Deidre struggles to answer.
Quietly as a church mouse, he opens the door and peers inside. As expected, Deidre is curled up on her bed with tears streaming down her beautiful face. Max immediately comes in to comfort her. He hugs her. Her warm body stirs a tingling sensation through his soul. After a few moments, her sobbing subsides and she sits up.
“Thank you. I don’t know what came over me, but…having you here made me think.”
“Think about what?”
“I was thinking about my life. Thinking about my ex-husband. Thinking about why he would do that to me. Why he would tear apart our family. Our beautiful family. My kids are with him now. Because I’m always traveling, the judge said he would have custody over the kids even though he was the one who ended the marriage. I fought and fought, but I couldn’t win.”
This is serious stuff. Max tries to process it all. He cannot.
“I can’t imagine what your children must be going through, Deidre. That sounds awful.” Max finds a box of tissues on the nightstand and hands one to Deidre. She blows her nose and tosses the tissue into a nearby waste basket.
“I started to hate men after that. Actually, I started to hate people after that. When my photographer ditched me in the middle of nowhere…that was the final straw. I was ready to have a nervous breakdown. Then…then…”
“Then you came along. You’re different. You’re kind. You listen. You have a compassionate heart. You know what it’s like to have your heart savagely broken. You can identify with my suffering.” Max finally notices Deidre isn’t wearing makeup. He can clearly see the crow’s feet around her eyes and age lines streaking across her face. But she’s still the most gorgeous woman he’s ever seen. Age has done nothing to fade her beauty.
A long silence. Max and Deidre can hear the snow start to fall again outside the window. Its melodic resonance nearly hypnotizes them.
Finally, she breaks the quietness.
“Max, I have something to ask you.”
“Go ahead. Ask me anything, Deidre.”
She turns to face him. She stares intently into his eyes. Then, she leans over and kisses him. She doesn’t hold back. Max is surprised at first, but goes along with it. He kisses her back. They embrace. They remain in each other’s arms for what seems like an eternity. They both want it to last an eternity.
Eventually, she breaks off their embrace. She looks at him once again, but this time her eyes communicate warmness and tenderness instead of seriousness.
“I want to make love to you,” she whispers into his ear.
Time stops. But Max doesn’t shy away from the moment. Instead, he chooses to stab the moment in the heart.
“No, Deidre,” he starts, fiercely pushing her onto her back. She gasps out of pleasant surprise. Max playfully wrestles with her and kisses her again. This time, on top and in a clear position of dominance, he’s the one who stares through her eyes and into her soul.
“I’m going to make love to you.”
Continued in part two…
4 thoughts on “The Erotic Dreams of Max Shimura: Episode Three – Deidre (part one of two)”
Here’s an interesting explanations from trainer in my email. I won’t name names.
Anonymous: For many years, I wonder how do some female bodybuilders get so big and muscular if they don’t have much testosterone and they don’t use steroid. I’m sure some do use steroids. But I’m amazed that some manage to get so muscular despite they have low level of testosterone and they don’t use steroid. How? I’m interested in reading your explanation.
Trainer: When not on steroids, it’s 3 factors…
1. some women just have naturally a bit a more “T” than other women and better body structure.
2. they train harder
3. they eat better.
It’s a LOT of hard work to look like that and some women can develop a fair bit of muscle naturally, just like some men can more than other men.
Anonymous: What do you mean better body structure?
Trainer: Better joint leverage (for strength), and a mesomorph body type with more type 2 muscle fibers.
Anonymous: You mentioned they train harder. You meant they train for many years, right?
Trainer: Yep, it takes a lot of training.
You may check “Trial of the Black Widow” on amazon.com and Lateisha Jandreau on youtube.com.
I just had webcam chat with one of fbb. I asked her if she can defend herself in case if a group of people want to fight her. She replied that she is capable of defending her and in most cases people leave her. She told me being muscular is very intimidating to some people so they back off. I told her the reason people leave her alone is she is very muscular and big. I left the webcam immediately and I realize women have rights to be very big and muscular if they want to defend themselves in case people want to fight them.
Thanks man for this story,is so beauty to read something about my female muscle worship,you are wonderfyl,Thanks!!!