She returned from lunch prepared for an afternoon of hard work. As Lauren sat down at her desk to review the new manuscripts, she noticed the envelope sitting square in the middle of the blotter. Her name written in calligraphy and the word “Personal” on the lower right hand corner hinted at the sender’s identity….
It was not a good time to open the letter. There were immediate editorial and publication deadlines. Too many people would be wandering into her office through the afternoon. Yes, she could close her door for immediate temporary privacy. Better to let the anticipation build she thought. She propped the envelope up against her computer monitor and went to work.
Through the day she found herself looking down at it, wondering what awaited within the tight folds. She smirked and went back to work. Occasionally she would glimpse down to confirm it was still there, look at her watch in anticipation, her eagerness slowly overtaking self discipline and patience. She had to keep reminding herself that 5:30 PM was just around the corner.
Alas, the moment arrived. Most had left the office. She closed the door, just to ensure anyone who was lingering would not interrupt her. Reaching for the envelope, the telephone rang. “Dam it,” she thought concerned it was a west coast client calling her after hours ignorant of her east coast time. She dutifully answered the call. “Lauren,” her said with a smile to her voice, masking her impatience and annoyance.
She fondled the envelope as they spoke. The sharp edges and corners playing on her fingertips, drawing the better of her attention as she twirled it around in contemplation. The conversation was lasting longer than expected. She ended it as soon as possible.
Lauren appreciated the sender’s dedication and efforts- from the hours spent writing, the small tasks of personalizing the envelope and delivering it, the attention paid to the detail of waiting for her to go for lunch so it could be left a waiting surprise when she returned. All carefully premeditated acts for her benefit. With great care she broke the seal holding the flap and a flowery scent emerged. She removed the contents, unfolded the paper and read:
“Standing on the train station platform scanning the crowd, I search for you coming out of one of the cars. It is frigid tonight but I am oblivious to the cold as I anticipate your arrival. I spy you walking towards me, your luggage in tow, your eyes darting back and forth looking for me. Then our eyes meet from afar, a smile breaks across your face and your hair bounces as you heighten your pace relieved that we found each other in this foreign place.
A long slow warm kiss in the cold precedes any conversation.We stash ourselves away in a taxicab and traverse Quebec head to our hotel retreat. We should not be doing this- we have obligations to others. We have been fortunate nobody has suspected. We sit in boring meetings and glance at each other across the conference table as others prattle on, Our eyes catch and we must look away to avoid arousing suspicions for fear the lust in our eyes will betray us. Prior liaisons have consisting of sporadic clandestine moments of gaziosmanpaşa escort gentle kisses and nothing more, moments intermittently separated by weeks and months at a time. We are deprived by circumstance. Finally, now, many miles from home, we are together.
You lean back against me, huddling from the cold, and wisps of your subtle perfume coax my attention. Your legs cross and the lower part of the long wool overcoat parts, revealing a stocking clad knee and black boots. I want to touch you, feel the warmth of your skin. We are both cocooned in layers of clothing and it is near impossible… I lust your touch and cannot stop thinking of your exposed knee.
The ride is short. We sit in silence, jubilant that the moment is finally upon us, each wondering what it will be like. Bounding from the cab, our cases rolling behind us, we enter the hotel to register. I wonder if our desires are discernible. The desk clerk senses our polite impatience. She must suspect something. A bell hop guides us to our room. He is fleet of foot and quick to leave us alone. He must know too.
Our coats come off and not a word is spoken. The moment speaks for us.We embrace, tilt our heads and finally kiss in the first moment of pure privacy. Our hands roam, quenching our thirst for prolonged physical contact free of the pressures of constrained time. Slowly they wander- fingers softly graze cheeks, stroke behind ears and run through hair- tactile confirmation that this is all finally real. It is a deeply passionate kiss, the kind which slowly builds from sweet gentle exploration to deep breaths, dancing tongues then gnashing teeth. And then it is broken, not because we are done but because we need to catch our breath and start over again, slowly building it up from one level heightening to the next, reveling in the heat of forbidden lust about to turn into a burning flame.
I feel your tender feminine form as we press together, your arms over my big shoulders and around my neck, hands playing where they chose to roam. I grab your ass, caress its fine shape and bring you closer. You sigh as you are pulled into me. My hands fumble to release the buttons holding the skirt to your waist. As I succeed, it falls to the floor. You unknott my tie, slowly pull it through the shirt collar and then remove the suit jacket from my shoulders. It drops to the ground behind me. Slowly you unbutton my shirt, drizzling kisses on my chest until the garment is removed.
I unbutton your blouse and am pleasantly surprised that you wear a translucent green teddy. “Nice,” I quip as I wrap my arms around you and kiss your soft lips appreciating your effort to entice me.
“Just being practical, its so cold outside,” you respond, your lips next to mine, “don’t read anything into it.”
“Liar,” I reply.
You smirk confident in your tease, “Maybe,” you reply as you bring our lips together.
My hands roam across your silk covered body and explore your feminine form, knowing the only remaining barrier to our joinder is the silky thin fabric encasing you. I entice your nipples through the lingerie as you unbuckle my belt and remove haymana escort my pants. I kick off my shoes and somehow manage to remove the socks.
My hand cups your sex and gently massages it through a delicate silk. A subtle moan releases from between your lips as my finger presses the fabric covering the hidden bushy furrow. I harden at the sound. You slip a hand into my boxers and touch me. I moan in return.
I back you up against the bed. You break our embrace and sit on the edge, holding up one booted foot. I reluctantly remove the boot and then the other before leaning forward and pursuing you as you scoot back onto the bed away from my advance. As you do, I immediately want to pounce on you, spread your thighs and taste you, have your luscious taste coat my tongue and the bouquet fill my senses as I devour you. I defer- there will be time for carnal passion later. For now I want to engage you in the age old game of ‘cat and mouse’.
I climb onto the bed and our bodies drape across one another until we come to rest, you on top and me below, we kissing again. Your silk covered sex rests on mine and you rock your hips side to side teasing me as a tan colored thigh high stocking clad leg slowly runs up and down the length of my leg in a sultry tease. I feel your lips spreading as the furrow rests on my hardened length. I reach down and release the snaps holding the garment closed and then pull it up over your hips so your fiery orange bush finally rests against me and I feel your parted damp slit pressing against my eager naked form.
We have put this off for all too long. No words are necessary. Actions are statement to express our desires. My hips rise to press into you. You respond in kind, our sexes grinding in a slow dance, teasing each other as we patiently work to our unspoken goal. My hands ply your ass and hold you tight. You kiss me in a gentle tantalizing way. I notice your breathing quickening. You sit up, lift your hips and take my sex in your hand, guiding my swollen head to your soft flesh. I’ve dreamed of this very moment time and again, replaying it in my mind on many lonely nights away from you.
You lower your hips, careful to gracefully impale yourself in the most pleasing manner. When your lips finally clutch at my wide base you sit up and bring your thighs and knees together. I reach out to take your hand and give you balance. You accept the gesture. Rocking back and forth, you reach a steady cadence as my head rests nestled deep within you. I take my hands to your knees to part them and touch you- I need to see you.
“No,” you quietly reply.
“Please,” I ask.
You shake your head in disagreement, deferring explanation, and then throw it back and close your eyes, concentrating on the feelings welling within. This is not the time for modesty I think to myself. I wonder why you refuse me but do not pursue the issue.
My free hand grabs your ankle as you continue slowly move back and forth atop of me. Your other hand caresses and teases a veiled nipple and you sigh. I feel your heat building as your lips moisten.
“Get up,” I say and you rise. I move so my back is ankara escort against the headboard.
“Turn around,” I ask. You oblige my request and you impale yourself, your thighs straddling my body, knees on the bed. I wrap one arm around your midsection and the other cups a breast, the fingers toying the nipple. I drizzle sweet kisses on the back of your neck, “I want to please you so much,” I confess.
You lean your head back onto my shoulder and exhale hard, your wavy orange hair dangles across my shoulder as you rest against me. I pull the straps of the teddy over your shoulder to reveal your small pert sexy breasts. You touch yourself, pinching the tips, teasing them up. My fingers slide between your lips and I run them across your swollen petals. You moan at my touch. I bring my other hand to your mouth and you suckle my finger in the gentlest seductive loving way, guiding it in and out- all I can think of is how incredible it will feel when you taste me.
Delicately I strum your folds, patient with the pace and soft of touch as they glide through swollen flesh. I feel your moistness and know you are getting close. You raise your hips a bit and lower them. I bring both forearms to where your hips and thighs meet. Now both hands work your precious erogenous zone- one parts your outer folds while the other teases the slick inner ones. You raise your hips again and I press my forearms down, holding you fast. I intend to tease you with the slow searing passion of a patient lover. You perceive my intentions and affirm they are correct, bringing both of your hands atop mine in warm embrace.
I open my eyes and in the seductive dim light of the room catch a full view of us in the mirror across from the bed. Your eyes closed in deep concentration, my fingers playfully toy with your flower, gliding up and down the edges of your soft wet lips as I hold you down, moving back and forth across the vertical ridges and gently tapping at them. I revel in your image and how we press together so well.
Your body begins to tense. I heighten my pace a bit. You moan as I manipulate you as if no one else has ever been this pleasing. Your back arches and chest pushes up and out as you contort to fight the welling climax. You begin to shudder as you lose control of your tingling body. I close my eyes and furiously run my fingers through your engorged folds. You seize. I feel the flash of your release. I press your hips down and hold you on me as you fight to rise. You quip and the sound of your passioned cry sets me off. “Oh yes,” I gasp from between clenched teeth as my balls tighten and I push up, streaming my viscous seed deep within you as we enjoy each other for the first time, our frustrations finally released.
And that is how it ends, the two of us in erotic bliss. That is how it could be….”
Lauren sat still, paralyzed by the intensity of the story, her thighs quivering and wanting for human touch. She picked up her PDA and for a moment contemplating calling him. Then she thought better of a call and with discretion tapped out an innocuous text to her sender, just in case somebody else picked it up:
“This is your best writing to date. Your portfolio of work is much richer for it. Write more….”
Putting down the device, she wondered if she would receive a response. She knew the waiting would keep her excited. She needed to get home, it was that time. She needed an answer, she needed relief…. she needed more little secrets…