Stages of Love
In a cool gaze, his eyes would slide over me despite my bid for his attention. I would had given it up as a lost cause weeks ago, if it hadn't been for the touch and the almost kiss. He was interested, I knew. As interested as I was in him, I needed to determine.
Joining his elite force hadn't been a problem. Getting myself assigned to the special tasks he commanded posed no difficulties. Keeping him alive had given me hope where it flagged.
His eyes might pass on me, but now I knew the truth. He wanted me.
The club he frequented offered exotic and erotic entertainment. Slipping into the staging area, it wasn't hard to discern the show he watched. It was even easier persuading the young man to take the night off.
Waiting in the darkened room, I thought the pounding of my heart would drown the music. I had to keep drying my palms despite the coolness of the floor underneath me. A whirl sounded, and the curtain that separated him from me slowly drew apart. He waited on the other side. I dried my hands again, and began to move with the music.
Plateau of Arousal
In shadow, I started to sway. He sat not six feet from me; his expression gave the impression that even the exotic - wasn't. As light faded in, he sat forward, his elbows on knees and his hair dusted the floor. I almost stopped to watch him, but put my yoga training to use instead.
The dress I wore bunched up about my hips. The stockings tugged, pulling the garter, and stretched the harness even more. The position I twisted into revealed what I wanted from him. The fact he crawled upon the platform to reach me confirmed what I'd known.
His movement caused the leather and rubber harness to swing and I was suddenly facing the floor. Hands slid up my thighs, pulled on the elastic straps holding my stockings and palmed my butt. I arched back into him as much as my restraints would allow.
Mouth then fingers and hands explored my exposed flesh. In moments, I was begging for more. Along the way, he'd picked up torture as a skill; his very touch teased me to the point of release only to be drawn back. Helpless to contribute, he rode me and brought me home with his shout.
"I never thought," he said, unhooking me from my leather and velvet cage.
"But you dreamed of it," I told him, dropping the restraints to the floor. "I saw it in your eyes." He nodded, a hand cupped possessively on my ass. I tossed hair from my face, and peered out at him. "Just don't expect me to dress up like this every time."
His face was at my neck, and I realized that in heels, I was taller than he but not by much. "No, of course not," he was saying, "I look better in red than you do."