Pooner Diaries: Lighter

Birdboy · August 14, 2010

This is a story that I had previously posted a long time ago. It's always been one of my personal favorites. Please enjoy.

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I turned over the item in my hand. At first glance, it looked like a dull stone- it was small, rounded, smooth to the touch, and was a dull yellow color. It was an old cigarette lighter that was from a famous jewellery store in New York, and bore faint engraved printing inside it of an exotic-sounding designer. It had obviously been well used and well loved. There were a few tiny dings and dents in it. The inside of the lid was charred and left sooty marks when touched. The once glorious brass had tarnished and had long since stopped being shiny. The coup de grace was the lid, which no longer stayed closed. It now not only appeared to be a piece of old junk, it was a hazard to anyone who used it or carried it in their pocket or purse. It was in serious need of attention, and a little redemption.

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I started corresponding with her after seeing her ad. It was well written, and I have a certain fondness for smart women. She was an older lady- not old by any means, but older than many other escorts, which would make her just perfect for me. She sounded fascinating- but I held off on seeing her. Not because I wasn't interested, but I sensed a real hesitation on her part. I wasn't sure that she had seen anyone as an escort at all.

I later found that she was considering trying her hand at escorting when she wanted to make a career change, and needed a little extra money to help make that happen.

I finally met her one cool, clear Saturday morning. She let me into her home and I finally saw her face. She was still beautiful. Perhaps beautiful wasn't sufficient to describe her- she was very attractive in a conventional sense but you could clearly see that there was a noble bearing to her.

There was no mistaking the fact that she wasn't a twentysomething. The fine lines on her face attested to a life well lived. I also sensed something more- an apprehension about whether she wanted to embark on this new phase of her life. Perhaps it was this ambivalence that made her choose to appear the way she did. She was dressed plainly, with slightly disarrayed but clean hair. She wore no cosmetic assistance to her handsome features. I felt her shake slightly as I gave her a brief hug hello.

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I started taking the lighter apart. Even though everything was worn looking and discolored, you could tell that it had been finely made with love, care, and craftsmanship. In a matter of minutes, it was a small motley pile of dull brass parts on my table.

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Her robe was made from a luxurious midnight-blue silk. It had an elaborate pattern of ivy leaves woven into it. It had obviously been very expensive once, but had seen better days. I saw that it was a little frayed at the sleeves and hem.

I reached out to stroke her fine blonde hair. With the other hand, I eased the robe off her shoulders. It slipped to the ground with a faint whoosh.

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I pulled out a hammer and punch. The pin hinging the lid off came out easily. Ah, there was the problem- the pin was worn out. Well, I could fix that.

I put the lighter parts in a bowl and got out some cleaner. A few minutes with a toothbrush and I had a bowl of inky liquid and some small brass parts glowing dully back at me.

I found a small piece of stainless steel rod the same size as the pin. I used the hammer to gently tap the rod into the hole. Reaching for a fine-toothed saw, I trimmed the ends of the pin and gently filed the ends of the pin down. A little more.. a little more.. My fingers now passed smoothly over the rounded curves of the lighter. I flicked the lighter lid open, then closed it with an authoritative snap. Perfect.

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I leaned forward to kiss her. I breathed deeply. Meadow flowers.. no, clover flowers. Lovely. I cupped a breast in one hand and reached back to undo her bra with the other. Her eyes fluttered in surprise when she realized that I had undone her bra one-handed.

My first time with her was lovely.

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A little bit of fine sandpaper removed my file marks and a few tiny dings in the lighter's brass case. Let's see- 400 grit, 600 grit, 1000 grit.. the lighter began to gleam. I found some metal polish and a rag and started to polish the case. My fingers and the rag turned black, only serving to highlight the bright glow of the mirror-like sheen on the brass. I saw my distorted reflection in the side of the case.

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As I was buttoning my shirt, I saw a smooth, stone-like object on her night table. "What's this?" I picked it up. It was cool to the touch and felt good in the hand. Like a worry stone.

"Oh, that. It's a cigarette lighter. It was a souvenir of when I was working in New York. I was with some friends and we went into this jewellery store on Fifth Avenue. I carried it for years and I loved to feel its smoothness in my pocket. But it's broken now, and I haven't used it in years. I tried to bring it back to the jeweller to get fixed, but they said that they couldn't."

I turned it over in my hand. "I bet I could do something with this."

"Well, you can if you want. It's just a useless little bauble now. Bring it back if you see me again." I looked up, startled. "You can also just slip it in my mailbox if you like."

"Ok, I will take it. I'm pretty sure that I can fix this, but I'll just give it back if I can't." I lowered my voice. "And I *will* be back."

"Well, I'd like that." I wasn't sure if she was referring more to the lighter or me.

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I saw her several times after that first time. She changed subtly with each successive visit. She became more relaxed with me. She became more confident and bolder every time. Brighter, more animated.

She was already attractive, but I could see that she was taking more effort in her appearance. Her clothes became prettier. Sexier. She seemed a little younger every time. Part of it was the makeup, but there was more. There was a building inner glow to her spirit. She gleamed.

I realized that she was not only someone who could excite me by just thinking about her, but had also become a good friend.

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One day, I remembered that I still had that lighter of hers.

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I put the now-gleaming pieces of the lighter together with a fresh flint. A squirt of lighter fluid, and I reclosed the lighter. I turned the lighter upside down for a moment to soak the wick. I opened the lighter and there was a bright yellow flame at the first flick. A flip of my fingers, and the lid closed with a click.

I smiled. She'll be so happy when I see her next.