Two beings hold on to each other as a swirling mass of color and utter confusion appears to try to tear them apart. But they’re stronger than the anarchy; their desire is more brilliant than the colors.
Robert steps up behind me, presses against me. I can feel his strength; I can feel his desire pressing into my back.
I stare at the painting as he unbuttons my blazer. The might of the painting is in the two embracing figures. That’s what matters.
The rest is nothing.
My blazer falls to the floor.
Slowly he turns me around and takes me in. My nipples are hard and strain against the sheer, tight fabric of my top. He traces the outline of my breasts.
“You’re magnificent,” he says.
I slip out of my heels. I have to crane my neck to meet his eyes but I don’t mind. My hand reaches for the button of my pants and with no effort I pull them off. The only part of my suit that I’m wearing now is this scandalously sheer shirt.
“Look at me,” I say quietly.
He steps back, his eyes slowly traveling up my legs, to my panties, to my exposed breasts, to my neck and my lips, and finally my eyes before they reverse their journey on the way down.
“Do you see who I am?” I ask. “Or do you just see what you want?”
I see a flash of understanding as he brings his gaze back up to meet mine. “I see a woman who can be incredibly authoritative and a woman who is exposed. I see that you are as forceful as you are tender, absolutely brilliant, and just a little bit naïve.”
“What else?”
“I see . . . I see that you have the courage to face your fears. You’re a little bit scared right now, aren’t you?”
I answer with only the slightest nod.
“What are you scared of, Kasie?”
I tremble even as I smile. “You tell me.”
“All right.” He takes a step forward and caresses my body with his stare one more time. “You’re scared of the part of yourself you have begun to unleash.”
“Partly.”
“You’re scared of how much you want me. Maybe you’re scared because right now I can do almost anything I want to you without your issuing a single protest because you know that the things I want to do are the things you want to happen.”
I swallow, hard. But I won’t look away from him. He takes another step and runs his hand up my inner thigh until he presses against my panties, only the thinnest fabric between his fingers and my clit. I know this dance now but I still gasp as his fingers begin to move.
“I see who you are, Kasie,” he says. “And it’s the only thing I want to see.”
My legs are shaking and I reach forward and grab his shirt, holding on to him out of both necessity and passion.
“Take me to your bedroom,” I whisper as the shivers take over every part of my body. “I want to make love to you on your flame-colored bed.”
His hand moves away and in a moment I’m up in his arms, being carried like a princess down a discreetly placed flight of stairs. The room he leads me to is massive, easily as big as the living room above us. I see his desk with his computer. I see the expensive chair.
In the center of it all is the bed, which I feel as he lowers me onto it. I feel it against my skin as he removes my panties. But when he takes off his shirt, his jeans, and all the rest . . . well then I can only feel him . . . the pressure of his muscles as they press down on top of me. His lips as they devour my neck. I pull off the sheer top. Every inch of my skin must touch his. The flames are not coming from the bed but from inside me. My hand goes to his erection and I feel my own potency as it twitches in my hand. Every ridge is familiar to me now. I know how to touch it to make him go crazy and I toy with him, enjoying the staccato nature of each breath he takes. But I don’t object when he pulls away, lowering his mouth to my very core. I shake as his tongue plunges deep inside of me, tickling me, making me wetter than I have ever been before. I can’t keep quiet.
Robert steps up behind me, presses against me. I can feel his strength; I can feel his desire pressing into my back.
I stare at the painting as he unbuttons my blazer. The might of the painting is in the two embracing figures. That’s what matters.
The rest is nothing.
My blazer falls to the floor.
Slowly he turns me around and takes me in. My nipples are hard and strain against the sheer, tight fabric of my top. He traces the outline of my breasts.
“You’re magnificent,” he says.
I slip out of my heels. I have to crane my neck to meet his eyes but I don’t mind. My hand reaches for the button of my pants and with no effort I pull them off. The only part of my suit that I’m wearing now is this scandalously sheer shirt.
“Look at me,” I say quietly.
He steps back, his eyes slowly traveling up my legs, to my panties, to my exposed breasts, to my neck and my lips, and finally my eyes before they reverse their journey on the way down.
“Do you see who I am?” I ask. “Or do you just see what you want?”
I see a flash of understanding as he brings his gaze back up to meet mine. “I see a woman who can be incredibly authoritative and a woman who is exposed. I see that you are as forceful as you are tender, absolutely brilliant, and just a little bit naïve.”
“What else?”
“I see . . . I see that you have the courage to face your fears. You’re a little bit scared right now, aren’t you?”
I answer with only the slightest nod.
“What are you scared of, Kasie?”
I tremble even as I smile. “You tell me.”
“All right.” He takes a step forward and caresses my body with his stare one more time. “You’re scared of the part of yourself you have begun to unleash.”
“Partly.”
“You’re scared of how much you want me. Maybe you’re scared because right now I can do almost anything I want to you without your issuing a single protest because you know that the things I want to do are the things you want to happen.”
I swallow, hard. But I won’t look away from him. He takes another step and runs his hand up my inner thigh until he presses against my panties, only the thinnest fabric between his fingers and my clit. I know this dance now but I still gasp as his fingers begin to move.
“I see who you are, Kasie,” he says. “And it’s the only thing I want to see.”
My legs are shaking and I reach forward and grab his shirt, holding on to him out of both necessity and passion.
“Take me to your bedroom,” I whisper as the shivers take over every part of my body. “I want to make love to you on your flame-colored bed.”
His hand moves away and in a moment I’m up in his arms, being carried like a princess down a discreetly placed flight of stairs. The room he leads me to is massive, easily as big as the living room above us. I see his desk with his computer. I see the expensive chair.
In the center of it all is the bed, which I feel as he lowers me onto it. I feel it against my skin as he removes my panties. But when he takes off his shirt, his jeans, and all the rest . . . well then I can only feel him . . . the pressure of his muscles as they press down on top of me. His lips as they devour my neck. I pull off the sheer top. Every inch of my skin must touch his. The flames are not coming from the bed but from inside me. My hand goes to his erection and I feel my own potency as it twitches in my hand. Every ridge is familiar to me now. I know how to touch it to make him go crazy and I toy with him, enjoying the staccato nature of each breath he takes. But I don’t object when he pulls away, lowering his mouth to my very core. I shake as his tongue plunges deep inside of me, tickling me, making me wetter than I have ever been before. I can’t keep quiet.
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