Adult content. Again. Enjoy.
Leaning over the railing of the red brick balcony, I can see people wandering about on the deck below. The concrete tickles me with the sand coming loose against my arms. Conversations, the smell of alcohol and smoke, and a small bit of longing drift up at me from below. I idly play with a lock of my hair, which falls down over my shoulders as I secretly, silently watch the movements of the people below. I feel a bit like a vouyer as I listen, un-biddem, to people talking. I am a goddess, peeking overfr the edge of heaven; I'm interested- but not enough to go down.
She creeps up behind me, silently stalking me like a cat; just as quietly watching me, as I am watching the people below. Without thinking I lean back against her chest, settling into her as she warps her arms around my waist, hooking her fingers together over the top band of my underwear.
"They're fun to watch, aren't they," she asks me, in the half-gentle, half-mocking tone she always uses when making conversation with me.
"They are. It must be great fun for you, to live above a bar."
"Sometimes." She pulls me closer, back up against her chest, tightening her grip around my waist, as her lips brush my hair away from my shoulders. She smells like allspice, cinnamon and vanilla. Her scent drifts across my back with each of her tender but detached kisses.
As she works across my back I light a cigarette and breathe the smell of nicotine mixed with the smell of her. I let the feeling of the cigarette rush over me, making me light headed. I press my hips against the brick railing, the sandiness working its way through the sheer robe over my shoulders. Her hands shift higher to rest somewhere between my hips and my shoulders, laying on the rail next to my arms.
The feeling is strange, being pressed between the wall and her body- somewhere between the sky and the patio below, where the people are still talking and laughing. They are unaware; unaware of she and I looking down on them, our smoke, our cares, our passions. Held there, completely unnoticed, pinned by her hips and feeling light-headed, all of this makes me feel oddly free.
"Are you ready." She asks, mocking, gentle, curious.
I turn to go inside and take in the giant french foors- wide open and waiting. Inside my feet sink down into the thick white rug. A giant bed is waiting for me, anticipating me, covered in white, pillows and tassles. The warm breeze chases me in, tickling the backs of my calves with silky sheet curtains. They kiss me like tiny butterflies, floating gently off course, whispering to me. Sunlight pours in, giving everything an unearthly glow. It makes me feel unreal. I tell her so.
"I don't feel real. I feel like something else."
Her black eyes roam my body as I slip off my robe. She smiles at me with an odd look in her eyes- somewhere between guarded admiration and envy.
"You're not real. not today love. You are perfection. You are mystery. You are need. Do you believe that?"
"No, not really."
She moves behind her camera in the corner, checking her film and the lenses. "Shall I convince you?"
"Please do so, if you can." I know she can, I think to myself. She could make me feel like time itself if she wished me to.
She leaves the room for a moment, and when she returns she comes quite close to me, and offers me a small glass filled with soft green liquid. I can feel my breath catch as she slips her other arm arounf my waist and strokes my back as I toss back her offering. When I finish I follow a trail of stars behind her hand, which she lowers to a drawer on the bedside table. She sets the glass down and I lick my lips, tasting licorice, sugar and heat.
I breifly close my eyes and inhale, and when I open them I see her dark eyes boring into mine. Her lips begin to pres against me, her tongue slipping into my mouth, and the peices of holding my thoughts together begin to loosen. I sigh, wrapping my arms around her neck, and I close my eyes again- letting the feeling of her tongue tracing over my lips, teeth and mouth take me away.
She leads me to the bed, lifiting my legs, shifting my hair to one side and petting my face. Laying onmy back, I feel her running her long, smooth, too-perfect fingers over my bra, down my stomach, to the top of my thong. I shift my thighs, open my lips and anticipate.
In my ear, she whispers to me, "Hold still now, darling. This, you- are perfect."
I open my eyes again and she's looking at me from behind the camera. I can see, though, the look she gives me. She looks as though she can barely keep from coming back over to me.
The camera clicks.
I think of her mouth and sigh. My back arches slightly. I hear her.
The camera clicks again.
She comes back. I blink, once. Twice. She straddles me, playing with my hair, teasing my neck with the tips of her fingers and her soft, sweet smelling breath. She truns me on my side and kisses my back with those soft, detached kisses she gave me before on the porch. Her jeans and white t-shirt press against my skin. The feeling of her so close makes me crazy.
Inside, I can feel my stomach turning over. I struggle to maintain my composure as I feel my body become wet, warm under her touch. The fluttering feeling in my stomach won't calm, won't stop. My heart races as her hands move up and down my back. I try to focus, turning my face into the blankets, breathing in the scent of them. But she's tehre too, they smell like her- allspice, cinnamon and vanilla.
Just as I feel like I have myself under control she unsnaps the back of my bra and pulls it off. My will snaps, and I am sure that she can hear it echoing around the room. I act without thinking, doing what I had never dared to do before; I flip onto my back and try to trap her with my legs. I reach out for her, but she is fast, so fast. Too quick for me. Gently, she pins my arms above my head, and she slides across my hips again, leaning in to whisper conspiritoraly,
"No, darling, I need you to wait. Can you be my goddess just a bit longer?"
I whimper my assent, more to myself than to her. Turning back on my side, I watch her with a focus I've never know myself to have before.
She's never undressed me before
The camera clicks.
I've never snapped like that.
I've never wanted her more.
I wonder if it will show in the pictures?
I watch her, eyes half lidded, as she removes the roll of film and places it in a container, setting it aside carefully before returning to me.
"You sell a lot of these, then?" I ask quietly.
"More than you know, especially since I started shooting you. Everyone wants to know who you are," she smiles.
"And what do you tell them?"
"That you're a friend of mine." Her eyes roam over my body hungrily. "And when they inquire, I tell them you aren't available."
"Do you," I whisper softly.
"Of course." Before I can ask, she lays down beside me, pulling me tightly against her. "I want you for myself, haven't you noticed?"
Her mouth closes over mine, this time with more passion than I've ever felt from her. No, this time she isn't detached. It feels like flames licking along the top of my lips as she pours herself into me. Her jean-clad leg slides between my bare ones and I can feel myself arching my back into her.
"And if I were to say no," I gasp breathlessly.
"Don't be silly," she says, rolling me beneath her.
I cease to argue. There's no point. I'm hers and she knows it.
Her hands move along my body with a familiarity that should startle me, but then, she's been watching me like this for months. Her fingers touch me softly, gently, like she knows me better than I know myself.
Each touch, each caress, draws a moan from me. My hands flutter up and down her back eagerly, pausing, every moment or so, to touch her face. My head spins as she leans her mouth down to my breasts, her murmurs of delight thrumming through me as she licks up one side, teasing the ridge of my nipple with her tongue before releasing it and sliding the whole of my other nipple into her mouth.
I arch into her again, my legs wrapping around her jeans, my body pressed hard into her chest. I pull her hands down my waist, against my ass as I lick at her neck and beg for her.
"So impatient," she murmurs into my ear.
Quickly, she slides off my thong, slipping her hand inside me.
I discover I was right. Time ceases to exist and she strokes me- gently at first and then more quickly. I forget everything but the feeling of her, inside me, whispering to me of my own perfection. I forget about the heat of the afternoon and the cool of the approaching evening. There is no such thing as temprture, or time, or the rest of the world. I forget about the people below, the patio, the sky and the curtains that conceal us as she moves inside me. Her hands flutter softly over me, inside me, and around me. Her mouth leaves mine, and she licks hers way down my stomach, resting her mouth gently between my legs as I begin to whimper for her in earnest.
For a moment, it seems, I cannot breathe. Ther eis only her and a film of white and silver in front of my eyes as I reach into myself and give to her over and over. Her sighs and whispers mean nothing as she draws me into her. I only think of how the feeling seems to go on forever.
When my vision clears her mouth is over me, kissing me, and I can taste myself on her.
"Perfect," she whispers.
I smile up at her, stretch my back, and curl my legs to my stomach. "Do you want to take a picture of me now?"
"Of course," she says, standing and moving behind her camera. "Bu tthis one is for me."