She dips the brush into the small glass pot with delicate precision, immersing the bristles into the viscous varnish before gingerly hovering over her waiting nails, the first drops trickling a sensuous path down the plastic spines and finally free falling to splatter and gloss and transform the untouched purity on the end of her silky feet.

With each stroke, with each coat, her nails deepen and darken, the shallow red morphing into fresh cherry then lustrous ruby and ultimately the decadent scarlet of the wanton seductress never far from her surface, of the femme fatale whose craving for man, dangerous and overwhelming, engulfs her in the dead of night.

As she watches her toes bloom and glisten, she is reminded of her other scarlet place, the one held tight now by the fine ebony mesh bound around her hips, the pillowy mound accented with the shadow of a finely manicured triangle, the tip leading its way to the lips now impossibly smooth, to the petals plump and bright and yet again on fire as his voice, his words, his desire come back to her, working their way into her body, etching themselves into her very flesh.

With that smallest recollection, with that fleeting thought, he is suddenly there in front her, urging her to touch herself, to hook her feet and scarlet toes over the edge of the coffee table and spread herself open beneath the fine panties, to trace the lines of her full labia and the aching clitoris reaching out for his lips, to tease the wetness from her body until the mesh can no longer stand the flood, until the weave of the fabric gives out and her lust runs hotly down the insides of her thighs, her fingers circling, her palm then rubbing as he sits between her fair legs and begins to drink her in, kissing and licking through the black mesh, rasping his tongue across the material, pressing it into her cleft, into her cunt, drawing out her craving, her need to have him shred the fabric and bare her sex to the cool air, to the flat of his tongue, to have his mouth, his lips, his kiss against her naked flesh, to sate his desire to taste her, to hear her arousal, to have her hot sex pressed against his mouth until he can’t breathe without tasting her, without inhaling her, until his beard is literally sodden with her lust, until he feels orgasm after orgasm ripple then roar through her slight trembling frame, until his own visibly throbbing and oozing glans can take the torture no longer, until the promise of her mouth, her body, her oiled velvet heat opening up to him, utterly and completely, is too much to bear.

Leave the words behind
For they merely tear us asunder
Give instead your body, your flesh
Grant me the depths of your desire
Forget the limits, the boundaries
Cast the sobering day aside
Come to me, drink me in
Bring on the night

When he speaks, from near and from afar, when he speaks into her fair skin in the dark, when he speaks into the trembling flesh pressed into the cool stucco of the wall, when he speaks the unutterable desire surging, coursing, burning inside her, when he speaks to the passions that render her own soft voice mute, when he speaks her name, the syllables released, caressed by his breath, when he speaks, when he confesses, when his deep and accented rumble admits his body yearns for her touch, his lips for her kiss, his cock for her cunt, when he speaks the words she holds close, she holds dear, when he speaks of her, when he speaks to her, when he speaks this woman is his.

I’ve barely been able to order my thoughts all day; my desire for you is so overwhelming. My mind and body are reeling, swimming, drowning in the possibilities, in the vision of you tearing and shredding the clothes from my body and taking me from behind, possessing me with every ounce of your control, with every ounce of your abandon, fucking me like a beast seizing, conquering its prey, your will and restraint, your refinement and sophistication at last utterly stripped away.

But I fear that my tiredness and this wretch of a day now have me feeling soft and sensual once more. Would you mind if we indulge that sensuality?

Would you mind if we shed our clothes with an aching slowness, our hands releasing the buttons, the binds, the fabrics and ties, the laces and silks and the finery, our fingers and lips caressing, kissing, devouring each newly revealed piece of skin until we’re finally naked and bare? Would you mind if we climbed between the crisp cotton sheets, our bodies finding one another, our bodies instantly, unconsciously drawn together, my legs wrapped around your waist, my hands on your nape, my mouth reaching up for another kiss? Would you mind if I ran my hand through the dark wiry curls on your chest, if I traced the hollow of your hip, if I wound my delicate fingers around your hard and leaking glans to roll back your foreskin, to trace your cockhead with my thumb, to stroke you, to hear your breath rasp, to part my pink glistening folds with your shaft? Would you mind if I slid my hungry sex along that throbbing thickness, if I tease my clitoris until I come loud and hard as you hover above me, watching my face and body intently? Would you mind if I took you in hand and placed you at my portal, feeding every inch of your thick cock into my most intimate flesh, my sweet cunt enveloping, clamping around you, my body prematurely on the brink? Would you mind fucking me, making love to me slowly, slowly, oh so slowly, allowing me to commit to memory every nuance and pulse and thrust and groan? Would you mind coming inside me to satisfy the dizzying craving that courses through me each day and each night, to satisfy the need for your violent rain, for your scorching seed?

And when we’re sated, when we’re spent and breathless and our bodies call us to rest, would you mind if we wound ourselves together once again and listened to the wind and the rain?

I want you. I want you.

No, I need you.

I need you here in this room, in my bed, between the sheets that caress my own nakedness.
I need your sweat, your come, our libations to stain their lily whiteness, to leave that indelible and remarkable trace.

I need your cock, thick and hard and glistening, shining my lips, skidding across my tongue, sinking into the tightness, embraced by my velvet heat. I need your mouth, your lips, I need your kiss.

I need these walls to hear the deep timbre of your voice, your wanton words. I need these walls to record your sigh, your gasp, your groan. I need the bricks, the mortar to drink in your unique musk, your addictive scent. I need you soaked into the very fabric of this feminine space, onto my fair skin, into my aching flesh.

I need you. I need this. I need all of this and so much more. But more than anything, I need this place to remember, to release your essence once you’re gone. I need the reminders, these erotic and sultry mementos to relive our passion once I’m alone.

I woke alone, naked beneath the crisp, cotton whiteness, the birds chirping, sun shining, my body reaching, reaching out for that absent other, for him, for the sweetness of his touch.

I woke with this yearning, as I invariably do each and every day, with the longing for that sleepy, somewhat dreamy caress, for the sensual intimacy unique to the breaking of a brand new day, for the coming together of my soft feminine slightness and his warm, imposing strength, for his fingers, for your fingers, your fingers trailing the line of my neck, for your palm resting lightly against my face, for your tips teasing at the lobe, weaving through the curls at my nape, for the lips brushing the very trail your digits had forged only moments before, for your kiss, profound and searching, for my body opening to yours, for my leg hooked over your muscular thigh, for your glans, hard and thick and burnished sliding through the plump, bright, glistening folds, for your shaft, pulsing, hungry nudging at my needy portal, for your hand on my curves, on my hip, for mine on your chest, your shoulders, around your neck, for the moment of our meeting, for that resistance, for that acceptance, for that give, for that take, for that pure and perfecting and violating bliss, for your flesh buried so deep I know not where I begin or where you end, for the crest, for the peak, for my come on your cock, for your come splashing against my walls, for the come I need to feel, to be woman, to be alive, to be complete.

And now the morning has faded and the darkness is here and the summer storm is raging and with it appears the vampiric lust that taunts me in the night, that need for your carnality, for the beast who rises with a look, with a breathtaking ease, for the wolf at one with the thundering skies, with the lightning and its violent platinum whip, for the one who will patiently stalk me as I enter the room dressed in this diaphanous ebony finery, in the accoutrements of femininity you love so very well, in the laces, silks and satins you will tug and tear and shred to have me exposed to your needs, to have me as you want me once again, to truly possess this fair and burning flesh, to fuck me, to fuck me hard, to fuck me from behind bent over the frame of the bed, to fuck me, to fuck me hard and fast to the limit, to the edge, to fuck this tight little cunt like the crashing world outside will end, to fuck me until I whimper, until I cry, until I scream, until you groan, until you roar, until my juices and your seed blister their way into our skin, into our flesh, into our very souls.

There’s nothing now, nothing but the night, nothing but you and me, nothing but us two, nothing but the longing to feel your kiss, your breath hot and heavy against my skin, nothing but the yearning to have you caress my curves through this silk, nothing but the need to have you ease up this gossamer veil, to have you bare my body to your gaze, to have you reveal my fairness to the light, to have you slip your hand between my thighs, to have your fingers trace this arousal flowing free, to have your fingers slide into the velvet of my fire, to have you take me, to have your hot hard flesh join me, to have the desire that will always complete me.

And as I float away
On this platinum sea
To that distant plane
My otherworldly reverie
It’s always you
Hand outstretched
Waiting there for me

If I could have you, if I could have you hold me, embrace me, enfold me, if I could have your gaze lingering upon me, if I could have you caress and trace and know me, if I could have the aching lightness of your touch, of your tips, your fingers, the tenderness of your rough palms, if I could have your lips whispering, whispering, whispering my name, whispering and moaning, singing into this here trembling flesh, the flesh and skin and bones of the woman sensual, of the woman bountiful, if I could have you right now, if I could have all of you without thought for the cruel tomorrow, without consideration of any other than the two of us in this moonlit room, if I could have you close to me, your body fused to me, your hot hard perfecting flesh buried deep inside me, if I could have you lose yourself in me, find yourself with me, be at one, be free, be distinct with me, if I could have you, if I could have you, this moment, this time, this life would be absolute, complete.

At the day’s dark end, at its quietly lit beginning,
all I crave, all I truly desire is passion, love, the one to embrace,
the man to behold, his body to caress, skin to kiss, lips to trace, this soul to know.