I'm already in the shower when you get home. Dropping your stuff in the hall and your jacket on the chair you wander into the bathroom and lean casually against the doorframe. I'm washing my hair in the shower, visible through the glass shower door, surrounded by clouds of steam. My hands raised as I rinse the shampoo out of my hair, in profile to you, the curve of my breasts, nipples erect under the running water, down the length of my body water cascades across my hip and down the length of my legs.
You lean there smiling at the sight of me. It's been another long day and you'd like nothing more than to be having a lazy night in, but you promised you'd attend the formal company dinner with me, so you resign yourself to the fact that it'll be hours before you get my naked body on your bed.
You whistle long and low and my eyes open in surprise as I spot you watching me. I giggle helplessly as I struggle to keep the soap out of my eyes. I turn off the water and open the door as you walk across the room holding out the large white fluffy towel for me, wrapping it round me as I stand on tiptoes to kiss you. "Hi," I whisper against your lips as I indulge myself in a slow lazy kiss, rediscovering your mouth, your tongue, you... it's been hours since I saw you and, as always when I kiss you, a zillion butterflies dance inside my stomach.
You pull me against you, and I protest: " I'm all wet."
"You will be," you growl back at me, mouth against my damp shoulder.
I giggle and pull away from you. "Go get showered," I tell you, "or we'll be late and my boss will be mad if we are."
You sigh exaggeratedly and I slap your arse as you walk away from me, and then run for the bedroom knowing full well what sort of retribution that would get me! Looking at your watch you realise we really are short of time, so instead of following me as your first instinct prompted to get your hands on the body I just flaunted at you from the shower, you head for a shower yourself.
By the time you get back into the bedroom I'm nowhere to be seen.
Your DJ is hanging on the wardrobe, and you sigh again. This is NOT your idea of fun. You'd far rather stay home and play with me, but a promise is a promise. You get dressed.
Going downstairs I'm still nowhere to be seen, so you open a bottle of wine that’s in the fridge, pour two glasses and carry them towards the lounge.
I'm coming down the stairs and you're halted in your tracks. My blonde hair is pinned up on top of my head in a mass of curls, tendrils curling down at the sides and at the neck, diamonds in my ears. The dress is midnight blue, velvet, high neck, long sleeves, fitted to every curve of my figure; it looks like a second skin. Brushing against my ankles as I come down the stairs, tiny, strappy silver sandals on my feet. I smile at the look on your face as you stand back to let me walk in front of you into the lounge.
Looking back over my shoulder I smile at the look on your face. The dress is perfectly demure from the front, not even a hint of skin. The back is a different matter, the back of the dress starts at the curve of my arse, my back bare except for several strands of what looks like diamonds criss-crossing the back to keep it on. Every inch of my back is bare from my neck to below my hips.
I walk into the room with a gentle sway to my hips, the dress rustling. I turn round to face you. "Do you like it," I ask.
"Bloody hell," you say, "how does that stay up, err on, err bloody hell..."
I giggle at the look on your face. It IS a dress to die for, well it should be, and it cost a fortune too. And I wanted you to love it too.
"I could have gone for something more blatant," I tell you, "all low cut and breasts... but I liked this better. It's kinda subtle don’t you think?"
You still have a stunned expression on your face as you hand me my glass of wine. I smile. That was the plan, after all.
Finishing our drinks, the intercom goes to announce that the taxi is here. Walking to the door, your hand brushes against my spine and a tremor of delight climbs my spine. I want to purr and rub myself against your hand but there's time for that later.
I'm almost at the door, hand reaching to unlatch it, when you reach round me and place one hand flat against the door preventing me from opening it. Pressing against my back, forcing me up against the door, you kiss my neck, grumbling against my skin: "Let's not go. Let's stay home and play?"
"Not a hope. You promised," I tell you.
More grumbling as you kiss my neck again, but you move away from me. And follow me downstairs to the cab.
Getting into the cab, you tell the driver our destination and settle back into the seat. The streets are deserted and I lean against you, my hand entwined in yours resting against your thigh. I stroke the back of my hand against your leg, and hear you sigh when it brushes against your erection.
Untangling my hand, I turn my hand over and palm down stroke the outline of your erection, dragging my nails against the fabric surrounding your cock. I can feel it jerk every time my nails reach the head and I can see the taxi driver glancing in the mirror every now and again, but its dim inside the cab and I'm confident he cant see me.
You on the other hand are beginning to fidget in your seat, uncomfortable as your erection hardens under my touch. You sigh and I smile. I cross my legs and the velvet falls away from one thigh as you realise the reason I can walk in the dress is that there is a thigh-length split in one side. You catch a glimpse of a lace-topped stocking and a pale gold thigh.
'"What are you wearing under that," you ask me?
I turn to face you and smile lazily, eyes alight with mischief. "'Nothing," I say.
You swallow hard at the thought. I lean over and kiss you and the taxi pulls to a stop. We've arrived.
| Part 2 |
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(page last updated: 19/06/05)
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