this blog entry contains sexual content. if you are offended by such things, hit the back button now: you'll be happier. this is a stand-alone piece.



“what? i can’t hear you,” i yell as you turn away, your dark hair whirling in time with your hips. the beat is a continuous roll of thunder out here—somehow appropriate given the storm raging outside.

you spin back, causing your chestnut mane to dance the other way. “i said, let’s move to the bar, i can’t hear you, either,” you shout in response, that familiar fire dancing in your eyes as you reach out to me.

i take your hand and lead you off the dance floor to the back corner, away from the speakers. the dancing has us both wound up and thirsty.

and hungry—i cannot help thinking of the way you move on the floor, or the quizzical glances from the other women on the floor wondering what i’m doing with you—but plenty of time for that later.

in the corner, it’s easier to hear yet i remain silent, marveling for the umpteenth time at the fact that we’re here, together—it’s been a long time.

you grin, noticing my silence. “what, nothing to say?” it’s playful, innocent, and the perfect set-up.

“well, to be honest i’m just kinda enjoying being with you right now.”

you glance downwards and your grin bursts into a smile. “yes, so i see!”

“what can i say? you seem to have a knack for inspiring that reaction, you know…”

you sit up straight so that the front of your dress is pulled more tightly across the front, the fabric straining a little more now. “are you saying you like what you see?” but that isn’t what causes me to choke on my drink.

no, what causes that is your stockinged foot caressing the inside of my thigh under the table.

i only barely manage to stifle my groan. “OK, that’s not playing fair!”

then you flash that impish grin again. “playing fair is for playgrounds!”

“o really? well, two can play at that,” and so saying, i lean in close as if to whisper, but instead run my teeth along your jaw below the ear, then down in a lazy, mazy motion. your hands slam to the seat, the veins as taut as the cords of your neck.

you take a few moments to regain control. “you, sir, are in for an interesting evening,” you finally manage to say. and other than the darkening of your eyes, there’s no outward sign of your true meaning behind those words.

my only response is to grin insouciantly. “why, i can’t begin to imagine what you mean by that!”



the door slams behind us in our haste, capping off our half-walk, half-run back to the hotel through the rain. any other time i would worry about disturbing other guests. but right now, i don’t care.

by the time i turn to face you, we’re both out of our wet shoes and coats when you throw me on the bed. “i’ve been waiting for this moment for a long time,” i murmur almost to myself.

pouncing on me, your smile is predatory. “me, too.” the fire i noticed in your eyes earlier has erupted into an all-consuming conflagration.

our fingers are busy: yours with my shirt buttons, mine with the zipper in the back of your dress, although i stop halfway. next i find the hooks of the silky fabric under the dress and deftly undo them. you pause only long enough to shrug free of the black jacquard, so that finally, your paired peaks of desire are free. reflexively, you arch your back, glad to be free of the fabric prison.

with that, it’s my turn to pounce as my moth eagerly seeks out the already-firm, darkened nub. i run my teeth along the creamy skin before nibbling, then lapping.

you were undoing my belt and pants, but you stop immediately. my fingers rake at your back, tracing trails of lust as they go.

i feel your hands at my shoulders, pushing my head back, so i stop. as i do, i happen to glance at the window, looking out on the city, and an idea starts to form. i look back at you and growl, “i wanted to take this slowly, but i can’t slow down.”

your eyes, almost-ebony now, give me all the answer i need.

i roll us over so that i’m on top and hop off the bed to shed the rest of my clothes. gesturing towards you, i help you off the bed too and back you up against the wall, taking care to position your feet only slightly apart.

although the front of your dress is hanging down, the skirt of it is still in place. i push it up as i kneel before you, pulling down the matching black jacquard beneath it as i go.

it’s always a special thrill for me to catch the scent of your musk. i crush my face to the trimmed patch i find there. i pause only long enough for you to step out of your bikini bottoms, then start in on the tongue lashing.

my tongue is whirling, spinning, stroking, probing…always just around the center of your desire, never on it. i hear rather than see your hands slam against the wall, and i know they’re curled in mute testimony to how much you’re enjoying my ministrations.

but i can only tease for so long, can only deny your desire for so long, so i reach up with one hand and easily slide four fingers into you, as i continue my oral torture of you.

i am rewarded with a gasp, a cry so loud that it sears my very soul to hear it.

and just as i can only deny your desire for so long, my own desire has its limits as well.

so with only a little regret, i pull back so i can look at you. your expression is exquisite: almost perfectly mingled anticipation and relief.

my hand withdraws and i rise. your eyes snap open at that and at first i can see that you’re about to protest, but after a moment, you understand why i stopped.

with a firm hand i guide you towards the window. this idea has played in our imaginations enough times that you know what’s next.

placing your hands on the low window sill, you get on your hands and knees, and i almost laugh when you wiggle your delightful bottom at me. i would, if it weren’t for the fact that i love the way you move it.

one hand is on your hips now as i take you from behind, the way i have wanted ever since i first saw you today. i slip into the center of your heat easily so i slow down, the better to savor it the sweetness of it.

ah, how i love the way you rise to meet my thrusts, love the sight of your dress still around you and the way it frames your hips. greedily, my eyes drink in the sight of you before me, my ears thrilling to the sound of us panting, moaning, gasping…

yes, there is a great storm raging outside, as there has been most of the evening.

but it’s just a mild summer squall, compared to the storm of us.



finis