First Kiss

The air felt different.  The dust danced in the air.  The world itself had tilted at a different angle.  Joan cried herself to sleep in her best friend's arms and  when she woke everything changed.  

They spent the day as they intended, painting side by side in Kristen's studio.  Joan wasn't looking at the juxtaposition of light and shadow.  She was looking at the full slope of her bottom lip.  The swell of her breast.  Her sultry gaze.  A hundred things she hadn't noticed before.  She shook her head.  It wasn't like anything had happened the night before.  There was no kiss.  There was no touch, no guilty confession.  All there was was vulnerability and connection.  It was enough.  Today the world was different.

Shadows deepened as their natural light be3gan to fade.  They were winding down.  Joan chuckled as Kristen scratched her cheek and spread yet another streak of acrylic across her face.  Kristen smiled at the rare laughter and rubbed her nose.  Joan looked at her own hands, finding them covered with more paint than her canvas.  She suddenly wondered what it would be like to see her handprint on Kristen's stomach.  A blush rose to her face.  Kristen put down her brush and walked across the wooden floor, nearing her nervous friend.

"It's OK," she said.  "It's different for me too."

With a self-assured fingertip, Kristen brushed Joan's golden hair from her face.  Each breathed the other's breath and the two felt everything change again. Align. One second.  Two seconds.  Three seconds stretched between their parted lips.

It wasn't a jolt of electricity.  It wasn't a shock.  Kristen's lips brushed over hers with the delicacy of a feather.  It was a flow, a rush, a warmth over her mouth.  It was clarity.  It was the answer to questions she'd never dared ask aloud.

A hand brushed a smooth cheek.  Arms entangled.  A tongue flickered along the swell of a lip.  It sought out it's partner.  Paint smudged on pale skin and Joan wondered of handprints again, .  A smile tugged at the corners of Kristen's mouth.

"I feel it," she said.  "All of it."

And everything changed for the better.

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Thank you, Advizor, for the encouragement this week. I truly needed it.  

Echo

I remember

when everything I bared to you

was precious:

          my want, 

          my pussy; 

          my soul

You were the salvation in my darkness,

the one who finally gave...

But now take is all you have

and I have nothing left to give

but a pair of red heels

and a broken string of

tomorrows.

----------------------------

I really loved this picture and wanted to write something sexy and hot.  I'm sorry to say that when I began writing, this is what I found instead.

Just Once

She waited in the hallway, her old battered raincoat skirting the tops of her knees.  She checked her watch.  If this didn't take long, she might be able to fit in a second "date" tonight.  She rapped on the door again.  It opened before the third knock.  Water dripped on his open collar.

"Sorry," he said with a grin. "I didn't expect you to be so prompt.  I was in the shower."

She brushed aside her irritation.  Just because she was a prostitute didn't make her rude.  She was still a good girl.  She raised an eyebrow, but swallowed any comment.  Frankly, she was surprised.  This wasn't the kid of guy that usually called for a date.  Tall.  Dark.  Incredibly handsome.  Bare feet peeked out beneath we'll-tailored slacks.  An open dress shirt gave her a glimpse at an excellent physique.  She found herself curious about why this guy was paying for it.  His smile broadened as though he read her mind.  She walked through the door into an immaculate apartment.

"What should I call you," he asked.

"Rebecca," she answered, immediately taken aback.  She never gave her real name.

"Rebecca."  He tried it out, as if he didn't doubt her at all.  The way he said it poured over her like honey.  Her body responded in a way she didn't think possible anymore.  "I'm Jim, Rebecca.  May I take your coat?"

He had specified what she was to wear.  There was no illusion, yet, she was unashamed.

"Yes, please.  Thank you, Jim."

He slipped it from her bare shoulders and watched it slide past her slender waist.  His eyes traced the curve of her full hips and caressed her lush, bare ass.  She stood in his entryway in nothing but her garters, stockings, and heels and he devoured every inch of her perfect alabaster skin.  She heard his bare feet pad over to hang her coat by the door.

"Follow me, Rebecca."

Her name poured over her again.  She rarely heard it anymore, except for a few close friends at the agency.  Certainly not from a man's lips.  He led her to the doorway of a bedroom, then stopped.

"Crawl.  I want to watch you crawl to the bed."

She tossed her hair indignantly over her shoulder.

"I won't crawl for anyone."

A single finger traced the sweep of her spine.  The full curve of her ass.  He popped her sharply, getting her attention with a quick rush of moisture between her thighs.

"You'll crawl for me and you'll like it."

Something about his voice made her want to obey.  She rationalized.  He was paying her.  It wasn't the strangest request she'd had.  She looked back over her shoulder at him and then sank to her knees.

He watched.  See didn't crawl so much as prowl.  He watched the sway of her perfect ass.  The glint of moisture on her bare pussy lips.  Her full breasts hanging between her sculpted arms.  She reached the bed and raised herself up, dragging her body over the edge.

"Did that please you... Jim?"

He heard it in his head.  The inflection.  The reverence.  The eagerness.

"Say what you wanted to say," he whispered.

She drew a shaky breath and spoke again.

"Did that please you...Sir?"

She heard a sharp exhalation behind her.

"Very much, Rebecca.  Very much."

She listened to him shed his clothes.  She stared forward, afraid to watch as his shirt dropped to the floor.  His slacks followed.

"Take off your watch, Rebecca.  You have nowhere else to be tonight, do you?"

The words "Nowhere but with you" left her lips before she could stop them.  He took her watch and laid it on the nightstand, returning to run his hand through her luscious curls.  She moaned and rested her head in his palm.  A fingertip beneath her chin turned her to face him, his hard cock brushing her lips.  She peered up beneath dark lashes, taking his tip on her tongue.  Now it was him that moaned.

"Good girl, Rebecca.  Good girl."

She smiled at his praise, remembering how much she liked this game.  The give.  The take. The surrender.  It has been so long.  and now this, with him...

He slid deep into her mouth and she moaned around him, trembling on her knees.  This isn't what she was used to anymore, but he gave her everything.  The love and devotion she'd forgotten.  The reverence and respect she'd sacrificed.  A perfect moment of need and fulfilled desire.

He pulled from her lips and bent her over the bed.  She heard a rustle and tear of a foil packet and wondered, if he was hers, what it would feel like to fuck him flesh to flesh. He slid into her with another whisper of her name and for one strange, perfect moment, she remembered the word home.