Flasher story: Private Dancer

This is certainly not the direction I would have pictured my life racing impetuously toward. I guess my mom's "sickness" as she called it, jaded me a bit. I would watch her get ready for hours, transfixed by the layers of make-up that helped her become someone else. She needed attention, sensuality and mostly to be wanted, deeply wanted, I got that. Dad was always gone on "business trips", even then, I knew what that meant. Mom accepted this as her life and he ruled it for now, but she started twisting herself into another world, one that she did the dominating in.

I was the oldest, just barely in my teens when she started to confide in me, I assumed she couldn't do that with anyone else without being judged. She would share details of the men she "escorted" saying that she was nothing but professional with them, I saw her when she would stumble in, I knew this was not always true.

When she was drunk, she gave me details of steamy late night encounters and I took unabridged notes. The power she harnessed intrigued me. The regulars would buy her bobbles and shiny bits, they also became friends and confidants for her, I met a few of them that she felt could be trusted around me.

One in particular had less than honorable intentions, but I was craving this, I needed to see what passioned secrets could overtake me, his hazel eyes and dark hair only sealed the deal. I met him behind our luxury apartment in a skirt much too tight for my age. He drove up in a black stretch Limo, its dark lines were sexy and strong, as he opened the door, his cologne seduced me.

I stepped into a moment with him that defines me to this day, I was my mother's child now.

I didn't feel embarrassed touching him through his pleated dress slacks, in fact the opposite overtook me, he would call my name, he would wonder where I had gained such skill at this young age.

I heard the partition wall slowly edge down, he started to voice direction to the driver.

"Circle the downtown park", his authoritative voice advised.

"Leave the window down" I whispered, looking right into the eyes of a willing voyeur.

My gentleman looked startled at my request, but did not disagree to the action. He was aware that this would be my game, I would handle the details. Taking him in my hands, feeling the heat in my mouth, the sweet taste on his tip, instantly whet my every desire. He begged me to stop, but I would prove too powerful a force, he let go in my mouth, I would drink in this moment. Him pulsing deeply in my mouth, made my hands wander under my skirt to slowly start my own seduction. Hearing the driver engage in his own fantasy, while peering over the window, elevated the erotic nature even more.

"Taste me now"

He threw me up on the bench seat caressing my legs all the way down while opening them to partake in me. My moans of pleasure sang out as the windows steamed up with our heat, he bit softly and sucked my clit feverishly. He rode my body up to kiss and undress me completely. I felt him again, hard and strong, I wanted him now, I would have him.

The driver groaned and shut the window for his own moment, I giggled at thought of pleasing him without touch.

My seduced man was beautiful, he was staring at me as if I was a prize to be won. His hands were a flurry of activity and I sucked each finger slowly when his hand grazed my cheek. A forceful thrust blew my mind with ecstasy and he kept each a bit stronger than the last until I gripped his ass and held him tightly in place. His bonus release sent me over the top and I clawed the seat to hold on while the waves surged through me.

"What the fuck,,, where in the hell have you been all my life?" he said with a tensed giggle.

Today I stand in control of my sexuality, a highly compensated dancer of the finest caliber, only professional when I WANT to be. Some would be shocked at the unorthodox guidance given by a scorned mother, but I think she saw the same longing in my eyes, the same need for sexual control. She would never want for anything in her 80 years, neither would I do without the finest of possessions. I hold my head high in the path that I have chosen to lead, I wouldn't have it any other way.

Every night I kiss a locket that holds an image of my beautiful mother, I close my eyes and thank her for every dance life offers me.

I'm a flasher!!!!!!

Come play with us!!

Link up HERE

Twisting

I was whispering in your ear, I was telling you that I thought it was unnecessary that you shower this very instance. But you were not concerned with me.

You had melded into a fine business man, suits and ties, matching socks and a huge sense of monetary accomplishment.

Our years of struggling through college had brought us here, to the land of excess, a neighborhood of shallow personalities and luxury sedans. Even I had one now, you took away my El Camino as a surprise, putting a Jag in the shadow it used to occupy. I tried to show my appreciation, but I cried in the shower that night. You loved me. You loved me so much that you must have never really listened to the way I talked about that car, us ALWAYS having THAT car. But still, I remained hopeful for us, hopeful possessions or stature would not change what we had.

Your attention was wavering. I would get on my hands and knees to please you every night if you would have had it, and when I did, I got nothing in return. One time, if I remember correctly, you moved my head over to watch the game seconds after you released yourself on my bared chest.

I wandered to the bedroom and started to pleasure myself...

...and I cursed your name with every pulsing release.

I missed digging through the couch cushions, pulling out every pocket in every coat and finally diving under the mats of that Chevy looking for enough change to make a midnight run to Taco Hell.

Do you remember when the cans in our pantry did not have to line up perfectly? Now you scream at me about the fucking towels not matching. Is that even a subject that SHOULD cause an argument?

But it did, with you in control.

You said I started taking too long in the grocery store, you called and berated me as I stood in the corn aisle one night. When I got home, you pointed out that I had bought the wrong corn and threw the can at me.

"Were you with someone that caused this lapse of intelligence, or are you just THAT stupid?", you quarried.

Tonight I whispered to you, please don't shower yet, let me taste you,,, NOW!

You had been working in the yard because our lawn boy was out of town, far be it from you not to look perfectly in control. Your hands were dirty, sweat caressing your face, I was longing for that man, the one who was impetuous, to be back with me. I had hoped for your once calloused and strong hand to graze my ribcage and push me to the cold tile floor, forcing yourself inside me to the sounds of my pleasured gasps and frantic hands grasping your ass when you moved away to take a breath.

Instead, you push me to the door, laughing at my failed advances. I was a whore because I wanted it dirty, after all, we weren't teenagers anymore.

"Let's shower together then"

"No"

But, I agree with you now, so be it, take your shower.

I won't be there when you get out.

I will be with someone that DOES cause lapses of my intelligence,,,

over and over again.....

It is the smartest thing I could have EVER done.

And maybe,, if you are lucky,,

I'll share her with you...

No..

...Probably not!

Flasher Story

November 22, 1940

Green Mills Jazz Lounge, New Orleans

The drinks I had tonight were a potent mix of the finest of spirits. The ice cubes in my glass, sparkled like diamonds and clinked together as I made a solitary toast, time after time, to me. You hadn't noticed my hand lingering around under the linen table cloth pleasuring myself, lost in the boredom of your lengthy monotoned prose. With each laugh shared in the company of your law firm partners and their cloned lady friends, I glared deep into your eyes knowing, you wouldn't have me for me, you wanted someone else. I would have to change this hunger, curb this passion, to fit into your regimented existence. Maybe as a bottled blonde with pin curled hair and ruby red lips uttering your praises, maybe then you could accept me. Truth is, every time I stepped into my custom 1940 Thunderbird and ran my fingers down the black paint and chromed lines, I knew why I stayed. I was a kept woman, crying out for passion, fulfilling your every sexual whim so that I could wear these gems and buy the things most only dreamt of. A quick blow job in the coat room assured me your benevolence for the night. Your penetrating stare as I shared a story not previously approved by you, cuts me right back down to size again.

I leave the table, feeling lost, but finding him to compensate your lack of care for my satisfaction. A brick alley wall scratches my skin as he dives himself deeper into me and caresses my breasts adoringly. He has no name, only a purpose, keeping me sane through another night that you thought you owned.

A sultry jazz plays in the background as I lick his lips and taste my own sweetness. The combination of his dance like movements and forceful delivery drives me over the edge. Blood runs down my back and stains the fine silk dress you bought for me, but the fur you gave me will hide that from your view. Afterwards, I lay in the ladies lounge, catching my breath, watching the smoke rings caress the ceiling, preparing to walk back to a table of transparent fools.

"Were you cold dear, why do you have your coat?" you questioned, when I returned to your side for the evening.

"Seems I'm always cold these days, love" I say, smiling at the irony.

His guests did not smell the undeniable sweetness of sex that lingered around me, and he thought it was his, just as he thinks I am.

Maybe he's the one who is being kept.

I am a FLASHER!!!

LINK UP HERE TO BE A FLASHER!!

Steam

I stand in a darkened room, unclothed, feeling exposed, robe at my feet. All I hear is the humming of the heater and the stream of a hot shower behind me. The warmth of the air mixes with the moisture and softly falls down from the sky. I am angry at you, you had no right to let people do the things that they have done to you, keeping you captive. You had no business accepting less then the best and expecting to be treated as you have treated others. Your scars remind me of each painful cut, deeper than skin, wider than can ever be measured, still bleeding, refusing to clot. You coddle your heart, hiding it from the light it needs to survive, withholding the energy that might keep it beating strongly, now it weeps and labors to survive.

You question your right to still breathe.

Slowly the mirror fogs until the shape that fueled my anger is hidden.

All that is left is me, lost in the steam again, happy to be hidden once more.

With help from Shakespeare (an experiment)

Oh Juliet, with your soft words and as a vision of light from yonder window, a holder of

Saint-seducing gold,

...you took your Romeo and taught him to touch with light finger tips and saddened eyes, his death quickened by his longing to partake of you and yours in turn follows a brief shedding of a regal gown and cloak.

A pair of star-crossed lovers.

Star-crossed as lovers yes, but you never released the fiery passion that would have made you both pick up and leave the shelter you called home and the ones you called family.

One fire burns out another's burning,
One pain is lessen'd by another's anguish.

Spoiled in riches but not experience, you should have taken Romeo into the tunnel, on the edge of town to became wildly undone together.

For stony limits cannot hold love out,
And what love can do that dares love attempt.

Your hands were to be bound by the strength of his youth and longing, silken hair tangled in the leaves and branches that also scratch deeply into your writhing back.

These violent delights have violent ends.

I should still today have record of the echos of passion heard that night and every other until you escaped the rules and regulations that bound your passion.

For never was a story of more woe

Than this of Juliet and her Romeo.

Let there be found the tales of a couple that loved without restraint and took what primal acts they needed from each other without pause.

O Romeo, Romeo! wherefore art thou Romeo?

......if there is such a man,

for you and I are past our dancing days.

Do not be softened with delusions of love and petal soft touches.

Is love a tender thing? It is too rough,

Too rude, too boisterous, and it pricks like thorn.

I want to feel what lurks in the dark of your sexual imagination. I will feed my desires while catering to yours. Taste my longing in a lip that is bitten from a passioned kiss or rake of a nail on tender skin.

He jests at scars that never felt a wound.

Don't be afraid to take what you want as I will give you all of what you need.



But this all still sounds too romantic and happily ever after for my taste this evening.

A greater power than we can contradict
Hath thwarted our intents.

What are you waiting for?

Come in and close the door.

These violent delights,,

will have the greatest ends.

Questions

Is it feasible to imagine that as you would layer the truths with your lies, you felt sickened? Do you count each minuscule truth as an offset to each inclusive tale you weave? Are you as repulsed at your humanity as I am when I stare at your shadows left meandering around lifeless in my brain? Am I still there in yours, pleading for your love and wondering why it took you so long to notice that I was the one you should have clung on to? Do you feel, even in this time later, the extreme force you impaled me with on the nights you sent me flailing across the room begging for you to stop? I wonder, was that really you, or the remnants of your own pain trying to find balance and control in a weaker being? Why do I still love you? Why do I still at times call for that shadow to emerge because it makes the light brighter somehow? Am I insane to rub the scars you left and think of the laughter we shared? How did you touch me with such passion and not get burned? When will I stop closing my eyes and wondering what your warm calloused hands would feel like once again slipping up my thighs to rest your fingers in the heat of a wanting core? Do I owe you this lustful contemplation and erotic outcry of longing? What did you give me that was more than what you took? Do you know, after I stopped bleeding, I started living again? But what kind of life is this, still lost in the many questions that you owe me an answer for? I beg of you, though I know you are gone, how will you reply to this prose?

Interlude poetry..

You hunger
I feed
you cut
I bleed
You lie
I believe
We burn
You leave
We fight
I bruise
I strengthen
You lose
I hunger
You feed
I cut
You bleed

You touched me there by accident, or was it a clever ploy?
You know this is my weakness, let me become your toy.
I taste your sweet release, as it trickles down your thigh.
You know the way I savor you, as I look you in the eye.
You try and hold me back a bit, not wanting to give in.
I bite your lip and make you bleed, the pleading does begin.
You take me down and own me, to make me scream your name.
You know that I can't take this, and for now, you win the game.

Missing Part 5

We are getting close to the ending, better read up parts 1-4 to make any sense of it..

Enjoy.. I hope it makes you bite someone!!

*winks*

Missing Part 5

He was still next to me when the sun broke through the crack in the curtains. His breathing was calmed now, I didn't move, he was too close for me to risk waking him and losing that wet heat between us. I had never felt like this about another, this time it was more than the ceiling lifting orgasms, more than the lust, it was deeper, it had a pureness, even in these tangled circumstances. It was risky, him still being here, being here at all for that matter, we both had a destination and were not supposed to meet in the middle on this beaten path.

His touch grew alive, his fingers now grazing my leg and up to my chest. He sent me a smile and a chill went through me.

"That's the way to wake up" I whispered.

"I was just thinking the same sappy thing, but you know, I do have to leave."

"Yes" I gave in begrudgingly, "I do".

The moment then stopped, he took my breath in and gave it back fresher, his kiss turned me ravenous again, he countered that nicely with the force of his tongue.

"Do something for me" he asked, controlling the speed of my heartbeat.

"Lay perfectly stilled on top of me for a moment, let me feel your thoughts through your skin".

"There's something between us" We both smiled, knowing it meant two different things.

"What should we do with it?"

I took him all inside, in more ways then one, he tried not to move, I laid in heavenly suspension above him. Soft touches serenaded the air around us, I bit down on the curve of his neck when he made the slightest move inside of me, the closest to rapture I had ever felt. A few slow deep circles and we gave in.

And then he was gone.

I was alone again in myself, wondering where my real loyalties lay. A few moments later, there was a pounding on the door. I ran, thinking he had come back and I could steal one more heated breath, it was not him at the door.

"What the fuck did you just do?" Anger surged through him. "Where is the hard core bitch that had it all worked out? Risking yourself is one thing, you fuck this up and we both go down, this was not the plan, you stupid, stupid bitch!"

I stood naked at the door, exposed to the eyes of reality and anger, shaking.

"I need out, I'm sorry" I muttered, very aware of the absurd simplistic nature of the sentence.

"This isn't a grade school game, you can't just tag out! There is more to be done, you are a main character in this investigation, I suggest we go to the station, NOW!"

I could tell this was not a request, but a demand, I agreed I would meet him there at 3, and hoped that I had some sort of intelligent solution by then.

Tears cut through cheeks sometimes..

..without leaving a mark anywhere..

..except your heart.

I knew things were going to get a little messy from here.

Erotic dreams

This was a dream, I knew it, but somehow I felt the pressure in all of the right spots of reality. Moments lapsed where I was awake, yet not fully conscience, still feeling the heat penetrating to my core, although my hands were idle. I writhed for a bit before falling asleep once more. This cycle continued, I was almost there, almost, but not able to feel that cut, that sting of the breaking point I needed so badly.

Once again I teeter between the reality and a flurried fantasy. I was pleasuring my self in my dream, hard, relentless in taking what was mine. Frantically, self arousing, I thrust my pelvis, muscles tightening, almost to releasing. Stronger, fiercer, faster I ravage and pull at hardened nipples. Quickly I move against the resistance, closer to becoming undone and dropped from this feeling of suspended ecstasy, to breathe normally again.

I would not climax in my dream, instead, I would awaken fully to long for it. My mind had been my lover, skilled, focusing expertly on the task at hand. My desires needed fulfilling, erotic dreams leaving me to my own devices for the time being. A few breaths later, a stifled moan, another moment lapses, I repeat, biting my lip full on in the rapture, tasting blood, smiling, I fall back into deep sleep.

My hand is still hot, fingers resting motionless, yet in position, hungry to serve with the slightest move, awakening me, incredibly aroused once again, in the morning air.

Business Meeting

When he told me he was going to be late, I was a little incensed, the things I could be taking care of, dancing in my mind, loose ends to tie, but I still stood firm and waited, after all, this was business. I sat on a black leather high stool peeling the label off my beer in one piece, dangling a stiletto from fishnet covered toes. I feel cautious tonight, wary to meet like this, short notice, after just one conversation. These days it's risky, you never know who will materialize, or what evil they have planned, what do they know about me? I have always been able to take care of myself, slender and strong, schooled in warfare and martial arts, people should always be wary of me, although they seldom are.

One more drink slips down coldly, he is even later than we had agreed to, maybe something was up. Just as my head wrapped around leaving, he saunters in holding a red rose. His hair looked much darker than it had appeared in pictures, it was tousled precisely, his eyes were strong and focused directly on mine. The stiletto slipped off my toes, pinging against the metal of the bar, I smiled awkwardly at the fumble. His hands felt strong as he caressed my shoulder and apologized for his tardiness, the softness of his touch sent a warmed chill down my spine.

He was a very attractive man, with an aura that seeped sex and the vibe that he indeed could master it. Conversation stuttered at first. He made me nervous, but I could not show that to him.

"You come here often? It seems like a nice place, it was a good suggestion." I voiced softly.

"I have been here a few times, it's always pretty calm here, a nice place to relax with a beautiful woman as yourself."

"But this is business" I ployed.

"Yes, it is" He returned with a smirk, looking at me as if I was his offering.

For a moment I was lost, doing things to him in my mind that would shock even the most promiscuous in nature. I needed to focus, get through this. I felt alive as he hopped on the stool next to mine, a tailored pant leg brushing against me, my body still under inspection. He noticed that my skirt barely covered my fishnet thigh highs. I always felt sexy wearing them like this, no panties, a worthwhile risk. His index finger slowly slipped under them, un-apologetically, brushing in, toying with me. The mood quickly turned lustful, this was just a mere formality, we knew what would be next.

I was glad I read his profile so closely, I could tell instantly I would be attracted to him, but never thought it would be to this extent. I was pleased to know some weaknesses were purely sexual. I looked around to see that there was no attention drawing on us and reached between my legs, feeling my own heat, offering him a finger to taste the sweetness. He accepted greedily, with full contented eye contact, no hidden messages, it was time to go. He offered a place, I countered strongly to where we would actually end up. My boss had given me the keys to a secluded beach loft for the night, a place he used often to "entertain". Our sport cars could not speed to the coast fast enough.

This is where I had to be cautious, I had a blade strapped around my thigh and a gun in my purse, he had come close to finding the blade with wandering hands. I had always carried protection, this city gets dark at night, but I did not want to alarm him. I slipped it off as he was caught by the beauty of the beach front view, the lights of a dock flickering in the distance.

There was no time to talk, clothes fell off on command. My breasts were idolized with his gaze and his lips perfectly suckled them in a way I had never felt before, I ran my hands down his back, burying my head in his hair and taking in all of his scent. He had me immobilized with pleasure, I was used to being in control, but tonight, I would let a stranger own me.

I celebrated with a smile and a shiver of passion when he went down on me, certainly not his first time, certainly aware of a womans weak spots. I tried to play as if I was not impressed, keep a low mysterious key, this was lost quickly under his spell time and time again.

I had to taste him. I begged for him, longing to look up at him, watching his face as I pleasured him in return. He was very thankful indeed, I brought him to the edge and slowed, eager to feel his hot release inside me. The breathing heightened, I gasped at his size and the power he had handled me with. I don't recall ever being at this level of orgasm before, we had fit perfectly, his moans of pleasure I would never forget, it was a shame it would be the last time.

Our breathing returned to normal, I slipped on his crisp white shirt, he pulled on his pants as I ran my fingers up his chest, admiring every muscle. But now it's time for business.

I ran off to the kitchen to return presenting fine wine in tall shimmering crystal stems and a playful smile. He gulped it down easily, I toyed with the thought of another round with him, I always was a bit selfish in that respect. I place one hand behind his head, the other traces his strong jawline. I enjoy one last slow, deep kiss, and with one swift move, his neck is broken, and he falls to the ground at my feet. It still surprises me how weak and trusting men are when presented with sex.

Rather a shame I didn't meet him under different circumstances, not as a marked man, an impetuous rival to the business at hand, danger to the profits of our operation. There is no time for sorrow, this is my job, I do it well, I always had. But,, I do rather enjoy when things get a bit twisted like this, a welcome distraction to the darkness of my task.

I call in to confirm, re-apply the bloodiest of red lip stick and leave with a smile of respect for him, still wearing his shirt and scent on my skin.

Bound and gagged

I'm feeling dark, with no trepidation, some things beg for sin. Will you play victim, lay in stillness or fight back when your breath is captured? I have the answer for every question you ask with wanting eyes, staring me down as if you could tame me.

Like you would want me tamed.

I'll start. As if you had a fucking choice.

You!! On your stomach, hands and feet, bound, vulnerable to the shivers of a soft set of nipples tracing up your spine. A hand full of hair grabbed and pulled back revealing a neck that I hunger for. Grazing that jawbone, slowly traveling to tempt your tongue with another. Catching your gaze, but look away, waste no time on the pleasantries of love. Letting go now, dropping your head back down.

"Roughly?"

Yes roughly! Who the Hell asked you to pipe in? Shall we go over the rules again?

"Should you untie one leg?"

"NO, just loosen it".

A great FUCKING idea, But it wasn't mine. It's NOT happening.

Burrowing under you, slowly, softly but fiercely scratching for leverage, forcing it inside. Your head buried in soft flesh moaning. Now don't dare move.

So hard, so deep, so ready for the slightest motion, that is being controlled by,,uh,,, ME...

"Loosen one leg, please,, just do it."

And now you'll be gagged. Who's game is this? Are you really trying to control it? Do you want to play or talk about it?

Awww,, too bad you can't answer now.

You're on top, yes, but I still run THIS show.

Hips moving slowly, forcibly, steady friction, I'm feeling this, I'm gonna fucking lose it, I'm so wet now, so hot and weak for you. Your moans are fueling me. Harder. PUSH.

Now stop...

Un-gag him Bitch, flip him over, let's both take him down.

"That's the best idea you had ALL night!"

"You should have left him gagged!"

Aw,,, yes,,, but then,,, HE couldn't do THIS with me.. While you're doing that TO me!!!

I ALWAYS HAVE A FUCKING PLAN!

Illusion

A lovers magician, hovering over you, a breath between us.
Still, motionless, peaceful, yet every muscle aches.
No bag of tricks, just slight of hand, playing each card.
Longing, hungry, waiting, for this space to disappear.
You become inpatient, searching for secrets, we become one.
Entwined, interlocked, enveloped, no need for a key.
You belong here, deep inside me, no illusion in reality.
Passion, power, release, all has been revealed.
Take your place, here in my heart, magic at it's finest.

Missing Part 4

(music below post <3)

I lay nude, contemplating my recent short comings. My skin is dampened, sweaty from the mornings sun that is peering in on me. My words were to be perfectly scripted, my actions, meticulously choreographed, but my heart thickened the plot. As I stare at the ceiling, I wonder: where did my strength and resolve go?

I was never a jealous or controlling lover. I was always able to separate my feelings from tainting my insatiable love of sex. I am not able to discern exactly what has jilted my demeanor, but I know I have little control of it. I reach to the side table, fumbling to start my Cd player. As I stretch, the softness of white satin sheets rubs my nipples awakening them. With the purr of jazz playing, the steaminess of the room lingers and my mind wanders to him again, a familiar fantasy unraveling scene by erotic scene. My hands move in auto pilot to fulfill my longing. A relaxing cycle of controlled release, recently felt lost, is returned briefly. A screaming phone interrupts pleasure, I spring erect to answer it.

"Hello"

"How much longer does this go on?" I query weakly.

The voice is coy and careful but he is obviously disturbed by my actions. I listen as he tells me of my errors and firmly "suggests" a different approach. Much to his dismay, I grow agitated and decide to cut short the conversation, a decision I know full well I will regret at a later point in time. I lay back down, tears slowly trailing down my face until I thankfully doze off.

A tapping at the door startles me, I had been asleep for hours, I am not prepared for the visitor I imagined would be standing to greet me. I find an old jersey, pull it over my head, shake out my sweat dampened hair and sprint to the door. Through the peephole I see him pacing methodically with little emotion on his face.

"Come in"

He slides by me silently, I look to his dark eyes, knowing instantly why he is here. The weight of his body knocks me to the foyer wall. My jersey seems to float over my head, dropping to the tile floor. He takes a firm hold on my hair and pulls it back quickly, I gasp as he bites down on my neck and grazes up to my ear.

"You shouldn't be here" I whisper, receiving no response.

"Is this worth the risk?" I ask again, hoping for an answer.

"You are, yes."

No other words are spoken. My legs are lifted up from under neath me as he feasts on every inch of bare flesh while balancing me against the wall. I am frozen in the fear that if I move, my skin might lose contact with his mouth, even a moment would be a great loss.

I am placed gently down on the tile with one swift motion and find him tasting my core. I am trying to hold myself completely still but keep slipping back on the tile, he does not notice, intently pleasuring me again and again. Slowly, I feel the heat of his mouth travel up to my ribcage and focus on my breasts. Little nibbles turn harder and I almost lose rational thought under his wandering touch. He slips off his shirt and I pull him down to taste myself in his kiss.

By this point I need him inside me more than I have ever wanted another. He complies forcefully and there plays a chorus of passionate noises echoing through my home.

Then it becomes eerily still. He softly falls to my side as we try to catch the breath that had been taken away from us in the moment.

There are still no words, none are needed. He would spend the night by my side, making me remember what it felt like to really need someone.

Someone I may never have.

Meeting in her office... (interlude short)

"I don't think you should be coming onto me like this, it's unprofessional and I haven't got the time for such nonsense."

But I never pulled away. Mixed messages and longing, a deadly combination in the game of seduction. I am the one unbuttoning his shirt, I am the one shimmying out of this skirt, I carry all blame. A full window of daylight in front of us, 15 stories up, an office door to the back, locked, with curtains drawn.

He whispers " I am the boss now" as he slips his hand between my legs, pushing them apart deftly.

I submit to him now, his warmth and strength intrigue me. He pushes me to shaking knees, further demonstrating his prowess as hunter. I am quarry, the weak for which the hunter preys upon. I do not struggle, I take him full in my mouth choking at the size, yet still wanting him deeper. One pull of a bobby pin frees my hair from conservative, a switch is hit and I amble on to please him. His waves penetrate, he begs me to stop, who is in charge now I wonder, yet I do as he requests.

I am thrown onto the desk, legs airborne, his mouth hungry to find me, he pushes red lace to the side with his tongue to discover my heat. My head falls back to find his hand grasping my hair and pulling it further back, exposing my neck. He raises up to my eye's level, slowly unbuttoning my crisp white blouse revealing the nude pasties I wear to hide perky nipples, mine are full and erect now. He smiles at me as he tears them off with his mouth and lingers, paying tribute to every part of my breast.

I am exposed, thigh highs and heels my only protection from wandering hands, he looks at me as if I am fine artwork, I return the gesture. I am enchanted with his every move, his next one startles me.

Thrown to the floor and entered roughly, my head pounds against the rough carpet, I am bleeding, but undeterred. Grunting, moaning, the sounds and smell of sex envelop us with it's lure. I don't want this to end, but we both give up the fight, together. Breathing slows as the shaking stops. Sweat rolls down his nose and drips onto my waiting tongue, his taste, like the finest of sweet wine.

He helps me up and feels the back of my head revealing bloody fingers.

"I am sorry".

"You had better fucking NOT be" I counter with little emotion.

"Now pull yourself together and get the fuck out of my office!"

We dress awkwardly never losing eye contact. I place my hair back into confinement as he walks toward the door adjusting himself.

"What do you want for dinner?"

"Kids have soccer practice tonight, I'll pick something up".

Interlude Entertainment...

Subtle nuances of you linger, as you haunt my existence
Your music serenades me, I find new tones with your absence
Replaying lost motions, that once were shared, alone, I scream
Solemn in wait, praying for breath to co-mingle, it's silent here now
Still I finish the chapter, in a book set aside, too wary to continue
The ending, prolific, me alone again crying, no tears there for you
This time, I let go, destroying the transcripts, new ones being painted
The smiles and laughter, the strongest foundation, simple in nature
Storyline building, my dreams play author, who needs happy endings
This end signifies, a beginning journey, eye opening and entrancing
Awaken the hunt, for what lay ahead, and the hand held to get there

Moving in unison while the world stands still
All I hear is your breathing, all I feel is breaths air
There is strength in your longing, raged lust in your eyes
You tell me you love me, I drink in all your lies

Missing Part 3

(As always with this series, the music is very important. Please play and read slow)

The room is cold and empty. I lay on a barren mattress, devoid of feeling. You won. Did you even know you were playing a game? Can't we do something with these pieces? Some of them are still beating, still warm. I see memories in this one, me laughing with my hand on your neck. You, perilously aware that I have fallen. What is that look in your eye? Disdain? Even then?

You created me. You cast me out coldly from the form you designed. You should have cut the edges closer, shaving off any possible chance of free will.

Maybe then you would still be here, to judge my actions.

As I feel your fading pulse on my tongue, I wonder, did you enjoy tasting me? You were ever the experienced lover. I gave you all I had. You took what wasn't offered. In my shadow here, I question, was I devious enough to impress you, the one who has taken so many lives? Your life's fluid rains from my lips onto my hardened nipples, it is softer than you have ever been. I writhe and come to my own release with your blood dripping hot from my fingertips.

Don't wake up, your reality is far worse than this nightmare.


Harsh footsteps rattle thin walls. Wingtips I believe, surrounded by a hem of crisp dress slacks, pleated strongly, meticulously, straight down the middle.

"What is this?" He murmurs, throwing my words down on the table.

"Just words." I whisper coldly.

"I tried to see innocence for you through these words"

"Yet, all I see is guilt."

"Read them again" I moan, as I push myself back, sitting upright in my chair.

He is walking around me now, stiffly, I trace his shape with an obvious longing. This is formal questioning, but they have nothing binding to hold me here. I will walk out flirtatiously, in the same black dress I was brought here in.

I can't do this much longer.

I feel weak for him.

The script is fading in my memory.