The Corner of H & L (11)

The five minutes were just enough to pull the blinds, to tug the sheets straight and kick a few odd things under the bed, to find those candles from last New Year’s and light a few of them in strategic places around the room, to turn off the overhead light. Oh – I saw my deodorant and gave myself a quick misting, then gave the room a long one just for good measure. I probably still had a minute or so, so I glanced around and-

Her gloves lifted my undershirt and slipped beneath to grip the skin at the bottom of my back. I stood still as stone. I hadn’t heard her come in, but no I could hear and feel her breath in my ear, on the back of my neck – it was warm. Her hands slid up the muscles on either side of my spine, up to my shoulders, raising the shirt as they went. The gloves were surprisingly warm, too, and soft, so soft, like the skin inside a woman’s thigh. I shivered beneath her touch.

She reached around in front of me to untuck my shirt, and her hand pushed deeper, into my trousers but not my shorts, to find the bulge there and massage it back to attention. She had to lean down to do it, against my bare back, and I felt a collage of materials – the slick, sticky leather of her jacket – the dull press of her bodice – the slightly silky, slightly scratchy rub of nylon and lace – but most of all, the heat of her bare flesh against mine. I hadn’t thought my back was so sensitive, but I could make out the flattened curves of her breasts.

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Cheating Life – 11.4

I stood again, slipped off the sandals, and walked down to the bed. While Jane’s was a huge four-poster with intricately cast head- and foot-boards, Claire’s was equally large but lower to the ground, with tiered mattresses and a cushioned bench perimeter. A white fur rug, far too big to be the real skin of any one animal, stretched out in each direction from the bed. This was a bed designed for rolling off of. I perched on the edge of the bed and watched the doors.

A moment later, she emerged. Flinging the doors wide, she threw her arms out to each side, crossed one leg over the other, and said, “Ta-da!” She was… I wasn’t sure.

She wore a tall top hat with a sequin band and a bright red swallow-tailed tuxedo coat. Beneath the coat was a deep-necked tuxedo halter-top, a shiny red cummerbund, and black satin briefs. Stockings, tall showgirl heels, and a bowtie choker completed the outfit. She clutched a bullwhip in her white-gloved hands.

Beneath the ringmaster getup, she was a beauty of the exotic type, with skin the color of caramel, short black hair in loose curls, deeply dark eyes, and deeply red lips.

She completed her pose and began strutting toward me, one foot in front of the other like a runway model. She tapped the loops of her whip in the palm of her free hand. “Tut, tut, my dear, you’re rather eager to get started. I didn’t tell you to get on the bed yet – I told you to sit at the foot.”

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