A Lot on the Mind

A Smuthunter Story

I think what a lot of Americans don’t understand about us, being Canadians I mean, is that we’re not so different from them, but we are just different enough. It’s especially true here in Montreal, the city being in Quebec and so many of us preferring to speak Québécois (which is also what we call ourselves) since being French Canadian is different than being English speaking Canadian. Our fellow countrymen tend to think of us as more rude than your average Canadian; it simply isn’t true, though some of us do have a chip on the shoulder about some of these superficial differences.

The simple truth is, we’re a big city here in Montreal, we deal with big city life, but unlike our neighbors to the south our culture came about a bit differently, so French influences or not, we’re generally more patient, and even out larger cities are still what most Americans would think of as “small” or smaller. Even with our French roots here, we’re still not as blunt, or impatient, and I don’t say that to be cruel mind you, as Americans can be. But being Canadian doesn’t make you a saint either. We’re still just people.

It was late in the afternoon on this last Saturday when I found myself stumbling into being a bit short with one of my neighbors. You see, I’d had a very long week in the office, longer days and shorter nights, and it being a hard dark winter those long days weren’t very bright or cheery. It should come as no surprise that I was short on everything from patience, to time, to sleep.

I should tell you now that most people would accuse me of being too polite and too nice. People would say that most of the time I am on the verge of being walked all over, that as my neighbor frequently says, I am nice even by Canadian standards.

You see my neighbor Kendra, she is an American who has moved here for work, hardly speaks a touch of French, and is here seemingly right out of college. She is perhaps half my age, but being polite and modest, I’ve never asked her exact age you see.

She is also very American, both in her attitudes and in her appearance. It is hard not to notice her, as she walks with a certain confidence and grace that accentuates her outsized character, and it is hard not to find that charming most of the time.

She is a blonde, but not a natural one, you can tell by her golden brown eyebrows more than her roots, as she in vain but in a modest sort of way and must treat them regularly. She has very soft brown eyes that make her sweetness seem almost like a warm kind of dullness, and she has an almost cliché American body and image of physical attractiveness, all full of curving hips, a narrow waist, and a very pronounced chest, which she does not flaunt, but like her personality you cannot miss it.

We both live in the suburbs and not the city proper, at least not the urban centers of the city if not proper suburbs, and I was coming home from spending the first half of my day off running errands, and having to go into the office for a brief and unplanned follow up meeting, when she called out to me from her driveway.

She called out to me in French, practicing saying hello, and for whatever reason, no that isn’t true, for all the reasons I’ve already explained, her sweet, and energetic vibe struck me as impatient and imposing, She was going to ask me for help with something, or beg me to assist her with some nuance of living in a foreign place that did not cater specifically to the entitlement that Americans so frequently see to have, at least that was what was in my mind, when I too curtly told her I was far too busy today to chat.

When she tried to force her question out on me, one last time to explain it, or to beg more attention of me and tell me how quick it would be, I told her I was sorry, though I was not, and really had to be going.

She scowled at me, and I wondered if perhaps she was not used to people saying no to her, especially men saying no to her at all. Before I could try again to make it inside without conversation, she did manage to say it was very important, but I told her whatever it was surely she and the internet could handle it.

Having known first hand what she defined as ‘important’, and it never being so, I assumed it was simply her trying to serve even more of her charms to me when I had no patience for even a taste of them.

I muttered the French equivalent of “my god is she pushy” to myself as I went inside and then proceeded to go about my day. Which was nothing more than eating lunch, taking a nap, and perhaps watching a movie on Netflix that evening.

As I lay on my couch, having just finished napping in my living room, there was a wrap at my door. I was feeling a bit more myself after having a modest lunch, and I was not surprised to see Kendra when I opened the door.

I was surprised however, to see how she was dressed. A cynical part of me thought she must really not have responded well to my saying “no” to her and had now come over to lay on even more of that charm of hers. She was wearing black leggings and a thin grey sweater with a surprisingly deep V-neck, and even though she was only coming from across the driveway it hardly seemed warm enough for that short visit.

That was why, regardless of anything else, I said, “Won’t you please come in” as soon as I saw who it was.

Her hair was down over her shoulders and when she stepped in, she did rub her arms a little, “I just came by to see how you were doing, and to say I’m sorry about earlier.”

Kendra did, on occasion, have a habit of speaking too quickly, but she also tended to speak almost too slowly as well.

“You know,” she pulled her hair back off her shoulder and looked into my eyes, “I really appreciate how great you are to me, and you’re so nice that I could tell you’re probably just super stressed out and have too much on your mind don’t you?”

I told her that was true and gave a little chuckle too. One of the nice things about having her as a neighbor was the practice I got speaking English. Some of my work requires it, but it is never casual or truly conversational, so it is nice to have that practice with her.

“I know what you mean. We’re doing a lot of big stuff ay my job this week too, and it’s so hard to focus sometimes when you’re that stressed out right? I mean, focused on yourself, especially when you’re so nice aren’t you, and you always seem like you’re so ready to focus on other people’s needs don’t you?”

Again, it was true, but I didn’t want to admit it. I also didn’t want to admit that my eyes were being drawn down into her cleavage, which had somehow become fully on display with a few shifts of her shoulders and a little tug to her sweater.

“It’s good to think of other people though, even when you do focus on yourself, you can do both you know, isn’t that right?”

The slowness of her words, the smooth, almost deliberate pace of her speech, and the fact it didn’t seem like everything she was saying made perfect sense to me or to her, or if she knew exactly what she was trying to say, combined with those soft deep eyes of hers made it seem like it was better to let Kendra talk herself out and then just move on.

So, I just nodded along, and she smiled and laughed a little. But, I was thinking about my week while I listened to her so maybe she was on to something.

“You’re doing it right now aren’t you? You’ve had a long week, and you’ve been relaxing and I’m sure you can remember how warm and inviting,” her eyes shifted down slightly then her hand moved to her collar and I found myself looking into her deep milky white cleavage again “your couch is and how nice and quiet everything was, but you’re still standing up when you want to sit down, and you’re still listening to me when maybe you’d like to just rest and relax and let go of everything now don’t you?”

She sounded sympathetic, and the way her words rolled on so slowly with that easy rounded out American accent reminded me of how genuinely nice she was, “You’d rather sit down, isn’t that right?”

She smiled and when she said down it seemed like her hand was moving in a downward motion in front of her cleavage, her fingers almost moving in a circle with her thoughts. People do that when they talk though, their body language and their words all connect, and it seemed especially obvious with her, as she truly was one of the most direct people I’ve ever met.

Not stupid, or slow, but innocent and matter of fact, very much what you think of when you think of an American girl, someone without an overabundance of guile, or in her case, even a need for it.

But when she said down I was not thinking of sinking into my couch as much as sinking into her cleavage, which my eyes seemed to automatically do. Then, as I regained my composure I realized I did want to sit back down, but I didn’t think that was polite. But then again, staring at my neighbor’s breasts wasn’t polite either, and I found myself at a loss for words and for actions.

“Sit down, it’s okay.” She rolled her words with that same slowness, and it almost seemed like she was being patient with me, and maybe she was. I could feel my mind slowing, or more accurately not picking up speed, and everything about her, from her voice to her body language seemed to tell me that was okay.

“That’s so much better isn’t it? And since I know you really do need to relax, I can leave if you’d rather not see me right now, I just want to make sure you’re okay.” She seemed to fidget with her sweater, as though to leave, but it only drew my focus to something I’d been doing my best not to focus on.

It being cold, her nipples were prominent even under her sweater, and the question of if I’d rather admire her, albeit in my own modest way, or be alone was enough to make me find a reason to ask her to stay.

So, I said it was nice to catch up with her and she could stay if she didn’t have any other pressing matters, then I asked her what she’d wanted help with earlier.

“Oh nothing really, I saw something at work that made me think of you, and it’s so nice of you to ask, but it’s important for you to take some things off your mind, not add to them, when you’re relaxing you know.”

She sat next to me, well she more leaned on the arm of the couch next to me, “If I can simplify some things in my head when I’m stressed out from work, and we’ve also had a really long week, I find that even when I’m with other people, focused on them, it’s easier for me to be in the moment when I let go of other things, and it’s so cold outside, but it’s so warm in here, I’m glad I didn’t bring a jacket.”

She took off her sweater and I was surprised to see that she wasn’t wearing a bra under her pale rose tank top. She hadn’t been my neighbor for that long, not since the fall had set in, so I’d never seen her in so little, or so revealed, and there was something irresistible about the slowness of her movements, the way everything she did seemed as round as her words, and my eyes came to her pert nipples despite all efforts to the contrary.

“Sometimes I just like to turn inwards a little, just to focus on my breathing and, you know, it’s easy to take a deep centering breath isn’t it? Breathing in and out, so focused on the steady rise and fall of my breath, feeling it starting to relax me more in this easy physical way, while I still listen to other people, still see what’s happening, quieting that inner voice as you focus on what’s in front of you.”

She was moving her hand up and down with her breathing, and she was taking very deep breaths that were making her chest rise and fall. I’d grown quiet for some reason, feeling the slowness and the stillness of my exhausted mind following suit and finding some peace in just breathing.

I didn’t even feel as awkward about watching her chest anymore, staring now at her nipples as well as the curve of her breasts, which were now barely concealed in all honesty and even larger than I’d thought. They rose and fell in the same softness and slowness as everything else she did.

For a moment I laughed a little to myself when I realized I was indeed relaxing, and how absurdly oblivious or unconcerned she must be about the show she was giving me. I did manage to keep a fair pattern of eye contact with her, and those soft brown eyes were just as simple, and I do hate to say that, as they always seemed to be. More so, there seemed to be genuine care in them too.

Of course, even in her softness, and even in what must be a truly accidental patience, I could feel her force of personality, her American-ness, as though perhaps she didn’t realize she was asking questions she would only accept one answer to.

But, regardless, as I found myself watching her chest rise and fall, I started to feel a deeper sense of calm spreading through me. Every time her hand moved up, I found myself looking into her eyes again, and every time her hand moved down my eyes became newly affixed to the depth of her cleavage and the points of her nipples.

“You’re relaxing and feeling so much calmer now aren’t you?”

Her hand stopped and she shifted position slightly, as thought all she wanted was for me to look down her top.

“It’s a good feeling isn’t it? It’s so easy to feel this way when you let go, and I’m glad I can help you to let go of so much. There’s nothing else on your mind now, just me, and it feels right doesn’t it?”

It did, and looking down into her cleavage as she sat above me, I felt a sort of pressing sensation downward from her, her posture seemed to overshadow me and I wanted to lie back and let it.

I felt this tug, a natural inclination as one would have when asked any question, and it felt as though she’d been nice enough to give me the answer. Still, my thoughts having never quite caught up to being wholly awake or in another’s company, I didn’t answer before she spoke again.

“That’s right, there’s nothing to think about now, you don’t even need to focus on your breathing now, you can just feel peaceful, just feel free to let go of whatever else crosses your mind, and if you’d like to feel more relaxed right now, I can show you something that will help you.”

Her words continued to roll along and I found myself sinking backward more and more, down into a reclining position against the other arm of the couch, my body seeming to grow heavier with her every word.

When she said she could show me something, her tone was just as pleasant and without any sort of innuendo, and her fingertips started to play along the deep neckline of her tank top. I watched the whites of her French tipped nails dance back and forth as she once again didn’t seem to need to either wait for or hear my answer. As strange as that sounds, it was a relief. I could neither sort out my own thoughts, nor could I move past thinking about her breasts.

When she pulled her top down, showing me her naked breasts, I felt the need to say something. I didn’t want to protest, but I wanted to be decent, and this seemed inappropriate, but her words were faster than mine.

“Now there’s only one thing on your mind isn’t there? There’s nothing else, no distractions.” She stood up and walked to stand above me, dangling her breasts above my eyes.

“Look at them, see only them as they swing back and forth, just like breathing in and out, watch them swing slowly, back and forth, every swing taking one more thing off of your mind, working on the hidden thoughts you may have, the deep distractions that you may have pretended to let go of. Now that you can see them, you can realize my tops were just like the layers of your thoughts, now we’re both bare and exposed, naked and open. Watch them swing until your mind is naked and round for me, naked and warm, naked and soft for my breasts.”

I was searching for an answer, but the more I tried to look inward for my voice, for anything to say at all to her, the more undeniable the effect of her words and her breasts were having on me. I was losing track of what I was trying to say, and after a few warm and wonderful seconds I could only watch, and it felt wonderful to feel so vacant.

“That’s it, just watch them swing, and the more you watch them the easier it becomes to let go of even more now. Your only responsibility now is to yourself, and that means relaxing and sinking into the stillness, feeling the deep release of giving up any need for anything else, simply watching them swing, back and forth, back and forth.”

As Kendra’s heavy breasts swung in front of my eyes eventually my world became not just the roundness of her breasts and her words, but the darker skin of her large areolas and the point of her nipples, nipples that led my eyes back and forth almost as though by invisible strings.

“Your eyes can relax now too, letting go of their need to follow, because you will see my breasts in your mind as they close. Your eyes are so tired now, just as tired and in need of letting go as your mind. Let go and close your eyes for me, sink into the darkness now.”

Kendra cupped her breasts in her hands as she said this and my eyes did close.

“Tell me, feeling nothing but honesty and acceptance, you feel very relaxed now don’t you? A simple yes will do.”

Now I could find my words but I answered “Oui” instead of the English “yes”.

“That’s good, you’re so relaxed that you’re answering with words that make the most sense to you. You can continue to answer this way, this is all about what is easiest for you and best for you.”

My world had become a grey fog, filled only with the images of her swinging breasts in my mind, but hearing her say this, the sound of her voice so full of approval and patience, so full of understanding, took me to another level of release.

There is, when you speak multiple languages, sometimes a slight delay, a bit of extra work that goes into what you say, and now, knowing somehow that one simple word would be answer enough, it offset that little apprehension.

We spoke for a time, of what I do not know, but gradually my eyes opened and the world came into focus again. Or should I say Kendra’s breasts came into focus. I was still reclined, and her breasts will still just inches above my face swinging back and forth lulling my eyes into following them again.

“Doesn’t this feel wonderful?” She asked in the same slow and measured tone.

This time when I answered, it was in English, “Yes.”

“I’m so glad I could help you a little like this, but this is only going to be temporary. If you want to feel this way all the time, you can come with me to meet my boss, she’s my friend, and she can help you more than I can.”

With every word those round beautiful breasts held more of not just my vision, but my thoughts as well. It was hard not to want to feel this way, it was too hard not to want to, and I said yes, yes I would like to be helped.

When I did, she stood up, tucked her breasts away, put on her sweater, then gave me a kiss on the cheek and said she would be right back, and that I was to simply let go of time until she returned.

Those words brushed across my entire body like the warmth of the sun on a cloudy day, and then, as though I were walking in a dream, I found myself in her car. As we drove she told me to let everything I saw come and go, out of sight and out of mind, and it became impossible for me to stay awake, or remain aware of where we were going.

Eventually we drove up to the front door of a large mansion out on the far edges of the city, I do not know where or in what direction, but when we arrived, Kendra took my head and walked me from her car, then through the front doors, and into a library in one of the wings of the ground floor.

All the while she would tell me that I could let go of time, and everything I saw would pass out of sight and out of mind. As we drove, when she had stopped at red lights she would turn to me, lead my attention down to her cleavage, then tell me how this was all for my benefit. It felt nice to know she cared about me and wanted to help me.

In this dream state of though a part of me was curious about how and why everything had come to be, but something would catch my eye and those mysterious thoughts would leave me when I turned my head or took another few steps.

Kendra pulled a book on one of the shelves, and too my surprise even in my state, a secret panel on the wall slid away to reveal an elevator. I was stunned out of my dreamy state, shook my head, and asked her what was happening.

With the same soft and even tone, Kendra cupped her breasts over her thin sweater and started to rub them, “The most important things are always hidden away aren’t they? The best way I was able to help you was hidden, just like this, and you did enjoy seeing everything exposed.”

Then, she stepped into the elevator, pulled on the neckline of her sweater, and asked me if I still wanted to be helped.

“Oui,” strangely I was not expecting to answer that way, but when I did, I felt a deeper compulsion to want to join her, and to let her help me.

Down the elevator went, and Kendra stood by me, asking me if I noticed anything strange about the elevator. The numbers were growing smaller, but before I could ask her or say anything, she asked me to watch them, to focus on them growing smaller as we sank down.

As I have said, something about her voice, so American and so innocent, yet still so forceful made it hard to deny her, and it was doubly so in this state of mind.

In no time, we had descended down, I do not remember how far, as again Kendra asked me, or should I say reminded me, that what I saw was out of sight and out of mind. By the time we stepped out of the elevator I was again in a dream, where things seemed far away, and little else other than Kendra’s voice, and her hand on mine, leading the way seemed to matter.

Finally, we found ourselves in an office. It looked and felt like one a lawyer or a renowned scholar would have. There was a desk of dark wood, comfortable leather chairs, and a bookshelf adorned with titles my mind did not absorb. There was also a gorgeous black woman with long dark hair sitting behind desk.

Kendra let go of my hand, “This is my boss Celeste, and she is going to help you in a more lasting and meaningful way than I can,” then kissed me on the cheek again before walking out and leaving me alone with this other woman.

She, Celeste, was taller than Kendra, more statuesque with sharper facial features and eyes that were just as keen as Kendra’s were soft. She was wearing a short-sleeved white button down blouse and a long black skirt, and despite myself I was staring like a young man would into her incredible cleavage.

That was the only similarity between the two women, and truly Celeste’s were even larger.

As I stared at her, still nearly lost in a walking dream, she greeted me in perfect French.

“Kendra tells me that you’re a good friend to her, and that you’ve had a tough week at work. She tells me you perhaps have some issues with stress, and that she was able to help you temporarily, but you deserve more effective, and more last help coping with the burdens of your job. You enjoyed her help, and you would like me to help you more, wouldn’t you?”

As she spoke, she stood, and one by one unfastened the buttons of her blouse. She was, unlike Kendra, wearing a bra. It was simple and white, and by the time she finished walking around her desk to stand in front of me, I am sure I was drooling.

“I hope you don’t think it rude that I pick up where she has left off. Kendra is a sweet girl with wonderful instincts, and she believes as I do, that here we must always take care of our own. You would like to be taken care of wouldn’t you? To be one of ours, so we can help ease the weight of responsibility, and the weight of all the stress in your life?”

Perhaps it was because I did not know this woman. Perhaps it was because I had just taken a secret elevator down into a mysterious underground office, perhaps I was simply coming to, I do not know, but as she spoke I found my vision and my mind clearing.

“What is this place?” I did my best as well to look around, but for whatever reason, perhaps nothing more complicated than how lovely they were, my eyes remained fixed on Celeste’s breasts, especially as she had started to rub them and squeeze them.

“It is a secret place where important work is done. And don’t you think your happiness is important? It is important to Kendra, so it is important to me too, and shouldn’t it also be important to you? And if it is, and I know it must be, why not let go and let me help you. Let go of whatever may come across your mind, and focus on your breathing for me.”

Then, as I had witnessed once before, she started to breathe in and out very deep and very slow, and started to move her hand up and down. It only took three breaths before my shoulders had slumped and the voice inside my head that had once again woken was silenced.

Watching me as I started to lose whatever worrisome tension had come into my mind and body, Celeste again began to massage her breasts. ‘There now, you’re doing such a wonderful job of helping yourself now, letting me help you in this way. And there is another way you can help yourself now too, a secret way that is all about secrets.”

Her areolas, like Kendra’s were also large, and her nipples were slightly wider too, and like Kendra, she also had French tipped nails. My eyes traced those fingernails as they started to trance circles around those nipples, moving outward and inward.

“I will tell you a secret about the eyes. The eyes lead us always, we use our eyes more than any other sense, the eyes define our worlds, and I am sure what you see now, can define our world so very easily. Watching where your eyes lead you, and if you can lead the eyes, as I am leading yours, you can lead the mind and the life, and there, you can find secrets. And of course, watching my fingers now, tracing these little circles, spiraling around and round, I will find the secret of your stress, and I will tell you, because it is a secret to you as well.”

I’d become enthralled with the motion of her fingers, and the way her nipples had become so erect and pert, and once again it was like my eyes were bound to them by invisible bonds.

“Our sweet Kendra could not help you, because you keep your secrets in our language, not hers. We respect the work you do, but it is creating problems for you, making you tired, anxious, unhappy, and you are happy now, with me, and when you are with her. To be with us, happy with us, you must tell us more about what you do, and you can tell me now, trusting the sight of my secrets, showing you how I know what you must do.”

It didn’t make sense in any rational way, but she had led me so easily into the realm of walking dreams that by a dreamer’s logic her words did ring true. So, without a thought, I told Celeste about my work, the secret business, the partnerships, and connections, and the more I spoke the more vigorously she played with her breasts, massaging them, as though my words were being rung out of them and not my own lips.

I had no business saying what I said, and were any of my superiors to know, I would be fired, but like so much else that had been on my mind earlier in the day, it was all gone. Even now I do not know the precise details of my words, but I know I spoke freely.

“It feels good to let go of your secrets doesn’t it?”

I nodded.

“Now that you know where you secrets are hidden and can be found, it will be easy for you to share them with Kendra. It will be easy for you every Friday to invite her over and to tell her everything about your workweek. And if ever anything comes up that weighs heavily on you, creating pressure, creating stress, you will tell her immediately. And you will have no trouble sharing with her in English now that these secrets of your mind and your eyes have been unlocked.”

I suppose I blinked, or shook my head, or showed some signs of awareness beyond what was needed, because Celeste, who had been leaning on her desk as she had been addressing me, stood over me and brought those heavy breasts closer to my face.

As they started to swing back and forth in front of my eyes, she continued to speak, “You will do this because you need to take care of yourself, this is for you own good, and it feels good. You will do this to help yourself, and to help our sweet Kendra to be a success, she is here to work with you and help you, and it is in your nature to help her isn’t it?”

The gentle roll and bounce of her breasts just above my eyes, the way she seemed to nearly tower over me was even more powerful than the sensation I felt when Kendra had done so. Perhaps it was my neighbor’s words, the way she deferred to her boss, the way she declared the woman’s capacities and prowess, regardless, I felt it, and it felt right to agree. It felt necessary to, and more so, I truly wanted to.

As her breasts swung back and forth in front of my eyes a sense of loyalty rose in me, not to my work, but to my friend and my neighbor. There was an implied promise lost in the softness of Celeste’s chest, that if I didn’t cooperate, if I didn’t follow, and do what was best for me, it would be bad for Kendra too, and even more than my own need to continue to relax this way, to feel this free, I did need to help her.

After a time, she told me to let time disappear, and when she did I fell away into a dreamless sleep, only to wake at home, feeling wonderful and refreshed.

The rest of my weekend was peaceful, and though work on Monday was chaotic it was easy to manage everything that came my way. Then Friday came around and I thought it would be nice to spend some time with my neighbor, and to talk and to practice my English more.

You have to understand that by Monday the events of my Saturday had become lost to me, buried away, like dreaming of a dream, but from that Friday onward, whenever Kendra would visit and I would see her cleavage, she would put me back into that waking dream.