*I’ve got that damned feeling again. Itchy and hot. Like I might do something a little crazy soon. Hot, dark images of rough sex slither up from the dark part of my brain. Definitely unrelated to the ordinary work on my desk. Disjointed, they’re guiltily savored and pushed aside. But there’s always more. Everywhere I look, there seem to be temptations to resist. They chip away at my resolve. My mind provokes me with the games I could play, if only…. What if I let go?
As I sit gazing at the monitor and editing the website, I drift, watching those kinky images. Visions flood through me of tight jeans and stiletto heels, a rock hard man being teased, punished, and rewarded. My eyes widen, staring down at my laptop, dilating to black circles. My lips part, sucking in a silent hiss of desire. I absently bring up my hand to nip the pad of my thumb. I’m so hungry to play. It’s not like me to not do what I want. The tension eats me up. What if…? I drift away again….*
My victim, you are busy at your computer when I walk in, unannounced, and shut your door behind me.
I flip the belt on my black leather trench and the edges fall apart as my hips sway. I’m wearing tight jeans and black leather boots that come up over the knees of my long legs, silver metal stiletto heels click out each measured step, as I stalk toward my target across the room. Black leather gloves run out from under the sleeves of the coat but end at my hand with a single soft loop around my middle finger. A heavy silver band of links stretches taut around my neck, glinting ominously with power, a small S-shaped serpent charm dangling off-center.
You’re shocked, looking up from your screen, but not too surprised it seems. You stand and put one hand up as if to ward me off. Your mouth opens but nothing comes out. As you stare at me, I hear you mutter, “Ohh, damn.”
I’m hot and tormented, beyond ready to bring things to a head. Even under the bright lights, I’m going to do what I’ve just stopped myself from doing so many times.
As I reach you standing across the room, the window blinds close with a snap of my wrist, but my direct stare never leaves yours, serious, intent, as conflicting expressions sail across your face. Now I reach forward a full arms-length. You stare back at me, fascinated, wanting badly what’s about to happen. How far will you let it go?
…. To be Continued…..