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.
The space in bed beside her is empty. He is not there.
Lying on her side, she caresses her naked breasts the way he would if he was there.
But it’s not enough.