face bare and do my best to clean the sweat off my body before changing into my street clothes. I leave my hair in its severe style and slip into a little black dress and black heels. As I’m applying black eyeliner and dark red lipstick, I hope I look as pretty for him off-stage as I do on.
My stomach flutters. It’s silly but I feel like a school girl on her first date. Trevor holds that much power over me. It’s never enough. I never tire of him even if I should.
Nervous yet giddy, I slip on my red cashmere swing coat, pocket my small wallet, pick up my enormous bouquet, and leave. My feet cut through the crowds, sidestepping the shifting, milling make-believe sea of satin, crystal, and sequins. I’m all smiles and waves, begging off one celebration over another. Several dancers gift me a sly smirk. They know the reason for my speed. I must’ve mentioned it a dozen times this week. Not overly descriptive but more of a normal, lovelorn sigh that everyone can interpret as “Oh, I miss my boyfriend. I can’t wait to see him again.”
“Don’t pull a groin muscle, Rebe.”
I laugh and toss off a jaunty salute. What else can I do when I’m so damned eager to do everything short of pulling that particular muscle?
I burst through the back exit, overcome by my eagerness for a moment. The limo is waiting just as expected. I want to run to it, mouth parted in a welcoming smile while I cry tears of joy. Instead, I walk in a sedate fashion. Mustn’t appear unladylike in public. I nod my head politely as Trevor’s driver Mr. Hay gets out and holds the rear door open. I seat myself across from the silent man waiting inside, careful to secure my precious roses beside me.
“Hello, Rebecca.”
His patrician British accent pours over me like liquid silk. It’s the first thing I noticed about him when I first met this strange, wonderful creature two years ago at a local fundraiser. There’s nothing in the world like hearing his voice rasp in my ear as he tells me to “fucking open your legs wider, you little slut.”
Its divinity is only surpassed by the sound of Trevor hissing my name while comes all over my tits.
I think of all this and far more dirtier things as I greet him with a soft “Hello, Trevor.”
His gloved hands are relaxed, one on his lap and the other on the leather seat. The black overcoat is immaculate. I feel my lace panties dampen when I catch sight of his tie. Trevor only wears this color for me. It’s his sole, public concession to his commitment to me. Only a wedding ring could outshine it.
Trevor’s dark hair is perfectly combed back as always. My hungry gaze finds his and I lose my breath for a moment. He’s the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen and I feel it each time I see him like a fist to my gut. I’m breathless.
Truthfully, Trevor’s features might be a tad too refined for some tastes and his skin a shade too pale. I don’t care. He’s perfect to me. I love how his handsomeness is a throwback to a time when men were openly and unashamedly as beautiful as women.
Sometimes I think he’s a little prettier than me.
“I trust you have been well, Rebecca?”
“Yes. Thank you for asking, Trevor.” We are so civilized at the beginning.
Later we will devolve into our primal sides, covered with slick bodily fluids and ravenous for more. I know tonight I’ll tongue his ass while fisting his shaft in my well-oiled hand. He’ll do the same to me as I’m crouched over his face, hands on the wall and mouth open as I pant his name.
For now, we are perfectly well-behaved people.
He looks at me a moment more before shifting his attention towards the brick wall outside the tinted window. Even so, I’m still caught in his grasp. I always think of sapphires when I see his eyes. They shine with a hue too pure to be real yet they are. I wonder if he notices their beauty or are they taken for granted as something expected for the elegant man who, on the surface, has everything?
As if
My stomach flutters. It’s silly but I feel like a school girl on her first date. Trevor holds that much power over me. It’s never enough. I never tire of him even if I should.
Nervous yet giddy, I slip on my red cashmere swing coat, pocket my small wallet, pick up my enormous bouquet, and leave. My feet cut through the crowds, sidestepping the shifting, milling make-believe sea of satin, crystal, and sequins. I’m all smiles and waves, begging off one celebration over another. Several dancers gift me a sly smirk. They know the reason for my speed. I must’ve mentioned it a dozen times this week. Not overly descriptive but more of a normal, lovelorn sigh that everyone can interpret as “Oh, I miss my boyfriend. I can’t wait to see him again.”
“Don’t pull a groin muscle, Rebe.”
I laugh and toss off a jaunty salute. What else can I do when I’m so damned eager to do everything short of pulling that particular muscle?
I burst through the back exit, overcome by my eagerness for a moment. The limo is waiting just as expected. I want to run to it, mouth parted in a welcoming smile while I cry tears of joy. Instead, I walk in a sedate fashion. Mustn’t appear unladylike in public. I nod my head politely as Trevor’s driver Mr. Hay gets out and holds the rear door open. I seat myself across from the silent man waiting inside, careful to secure my precious roses beside me.
“Hello, Rebecca.”
His patrician British accent pours over me like liquid silk. It’s the first thing I noticed about him when I first met this strange, wonderful creature two years ago at a local fundraiser. There’s nothing in the world like hearing his voice rasp in my ear as he tells me to “fucking open your legs wider, you little slut.”
Its divinity is only surpassed by the sound of Trevor hissing my name while comes all over my tits.
I think of all this and far more dirtier things as I greet him with a soft “Hello, Trevor.”
His gloved hands are relaxed, one on his lap and the other on the leather seat. The black overcoat is immaculate. I feel my lace panties dampen when I catch sight of his tie. Trevor only wears this color for me. It’s his sole, public concession to his commitment to me. Only a wedding ring could outshine it.
Trevor’s dark hair is perfectly combed back as always. My hungry gaze finds his and I lose my breath for a moment. He’s the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen and I feel it each time I see him like a fist to my gut. I’m breathless.
Truthfully, Trevor’s features might be a tad too refined for some tastes and his skin a shade too pale. I don’t care. He’s perfect to me. I love how his handsomeness is a throwback to a time when men were openly and unashamedly as beautiful as women.
Sometimes I think he’s a little prettier than me.
“I trust you have been well, Rebecca?”
“Yes. Thank you for asking, Trevor.” We are so civilized at the beginning.
Later we will devolve into our primal sides, covered with slick bodily fluids and ravenous for more. I know tonight I’ll tongue his ass while fisting his shaft in my well-oiled hand. He’ll do the same to me as I’m crouched over his face, hands on the wall and mouth open as I pant his name.
For now, we are perfectly well-behaved people.
He looks at me a moment more before shifting his attention towards the brick wall outside the tinted window. Even so, I’m still caught in his grasp. I always think of sapphires when I see his eyes. They shine with a hue too pure to be real yet they are. I wonder if he notices their beauty or are they taken for granted as something expected for the elegant man who, on the surface, has everything?
As if
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