Her own touch

13 Aug

A Faded Romantic's Notebook


She is on her knees.

The room is hushed. Completely still. From somewhere distant there is the sound of a dog barking. Just twice. And further still, the faint peal of church bells.

He sits in an armchair. He is wearing dark blue suit trousers, a striped blue and white cotton shirt, and a deep-red silk tie. His handmade black shoes are polished and shiny.

She is naked.

Except for a leather collar buckled around her elegant throat.

His eyes roam slowly over her body, She can almost feel them as they survey and caress her skin. Contemplating every inch of her. They finally make their way to her face, studying her mouth, her chin, her cheekbones.

Their eyes meet. The electricity crackles across the room.

She waits for instruction.

He says one word.

Her eyelids close for a second. She breathes deeply. Then they open and she returns his…

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Posted by on August 13, 2014 in Uncategorized


2 responses to “Her own touch

  1. hotlilmess

    August 13, 2014 at 1:09 pm




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