This is a dirty little story I�ve written. It is the direct result of ideas bounced around me at Tristan�s lecture last week and a very supportive Canadian who thinks that I have a natural talent at these things. Out I check my voice mail at a red light on the walk to the subway. The white running man sign appears just as your voice replays �Tonight we�re going out.� �Going out� I groan to myself as I board the subway. I�m so tired. With our rehearsal schedule we rarely have enough time together to eat dinner in front of the TV before one of us passes out. And you usually just want quiet and a bath after a long day of dancing and I am more than happy to rub your feet. �Out� I grumble to myself. �You�re late,� you say as I enter the apartment. �I have run your bath. Hurry. I don�t want to miss it.� You close the door as I undress and mutter to myself. I hate these long days of no sun. I leave early for the studio and return late. You do the same. You knock on the door as soon as I am breast deep in bubbles and oil. I notice that you are wearing the red lace. You smooth the seamed silk stockings up your legs and into place. Those are my favourite. I smile thinking of the way you tasted as I tried you on in the fitting room at that little boutique before I purchased them for you. Under the bubbles my hands find their way down my body as your hands find their way to the last snap on the garters. I spread my legs allowing more warmth to flow and You�ve already finished your eyes. You never do much with them. They are breathtaking as they are, deep brown and large with full lashes. �Where are we�� You glide over and drain the tub. Your recently manicured nails shine in the light. You�ve told me that you like the way that colour looks raked across my skin. I�ve told you that I like the way it looks clutching the sheets. You hand me a fluffy white towel and lend me your hand to help me out of the tub. The cooler air makes my skin tingle and I close my eyes and enjoy the contrast. I can feel your eyes on me and I pretend that they are your hands and �I know you like to air dry, but we haven�t got time for that. Give me the towel.� �Stop that.� I straighten up and you slowly dry my back, trailing lightly down the back of my legs then up the front of them. You are such a red gorgeous sight kneeling down there flowering like a rose and the softness of the towel is exceeded only by the softness of your skin. I have such candy-cane cravings with you between my legs. You take infinite care in catching every drop of moisture there in your toweled hand. �Okay, use this while I put on my shoes and then come out and get dressed. And hurry up, we�re going�� You have left the door open and I am aware of that as I begin to oil. First my shoulders and arms. Then my back and belly. Then my breasts, slowly, lovingly� they are small but they are well loved. Then my ass, and finally my legs. The first time you used oil on me I nearly died from pleasure. You used more than your hands to rub it into every hiding place on my body until we both glowed. You re-enter the bathroom as I slide my hands all of the way up my legs and turn to face you. I am as smooth as you are red. As you lead me out of the bathroom with my desire swirling around me like your dress I glance at the clock. It�s late. �Baby, where are we going?� �Out. Here.� You hand me my white dress. The one you like. Silk with slits entirely up the sides. �Let me� you say as you start to lace up the sides of the bodice. The dress reminds us both of my corset and you lace me tight. The strength of your fingers sends shivers through me. �Sit,� you say pulling the leather ottoman toward me, �But don�t ruin your dress.� �Spread.� You have my black lace garter belt and seamed silk stockings ready. I watch the flash and fade of red polish and black lace as you ease the garters into position. And you are so delicate under silk as you smooth the stockings. �Not quite,� you say as you bury your head under my skirt and adjust a deliciously deviant strap; and then I feel your fingers lacquered slick slide into my secret. You slowly ease out an face me. Your fingers are covered in strawberries and cream. �Stand up,� you say bringing your fingers to your mouth. �Come here. Let me see you.� I take a crisp white step into your eyes and you are a lava flowing towards me. Your dress swirling around us both as you pull me into you. Your fingers part my lips and I can taste us and you kiss me. �I thought we were going out,� I say as you push me onto the bed. And straddling me you say, �I can�t take you anywhere.� . How Rude! - Wednesday, Sept. 22, 2004 - 12:16 PM One small step but no giant leap. - Tuesday, Sept. 30, 2003 - 11:17 AM Where's George? - Thursday, Sept. 25, 2003 - 12:48 PM |
a Nifty design
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