On my knees in black lace and leather, eyes wide open, I salivate. My tongue almost laps at his tip.
He stares down at me with bedroom eyes. I’ve seen that look before, once or twice, many months apart.
I stare back at him, lure him into my core.
Stay a while, I say without words.
Still on my knees, my mouth warm and moist, I invite the inevitable. I can almost taste his manhood.
I lick my lips. He watches closely, his body tense and rigid.
The connection is there, deep and real.
Also simple and complicated, consistent and predictable, recurring and relentless.
A delicate dance between fantasy and reality.
I feel his hands touch my hair, light and sweet at the back of my head. He needs it, my lips on his cock.
It’s all I need to begin. I use my mouth, not my hands, to end the suspense.
Later, my hands will play a part.
But for now, our seduction continues its torturous game.
*this is a prelude of a more complete flash fiction piece I am working on.