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Pacing back and forth in trepidation, I ponder the events of the past few hours. Blinded by costuming, a chance recognition based on a familiar touch. It had been nearly two years since our last tryst. A time that neither of us had managed to forget. My costume lays before me on a chest, feathered mask on top of flowing gown, the colors garish in the candlelit room.
He walks briskly in, and sits at the foot of the simple bed. I stay at arm's length, finding myself almost in awe of his presence. It has been too long.
"What are you doing all the way over there?" he mocks.
"And where would you like me?" my voice is husky.
He reaches out and slides a hand around my waist, pulling me to him. "Right here."
I look down at him and he tilts his head up and meets my lips. I kiss him deeply, drinking him in, his scent, the feel of his hands, his lips, his skin. I break from his embrace and push him back on the bed, unbuttoning his breeches and pressing my face into the V between his thighs. I plant kisses all along the edge of his small clothes, slowly sliding them down to reveal his manhood. I run my tongue along the shaft, before taking him in my mouth.
He pulls off his breeches altogether, and I sit down on the floor and take his right foot in my hands, and run my thumbs along the arch of his foot, massaging the muscles before lightly sucking on each toe in turn. He looks amazed and asks, ?Whatever did I do to deserve such treatment?? I only smile and continue my task on his other foot.
I slowly get up on the bed with him, letting my breasts drift across his thighs and manhood as I kiss his hips, his navel, his nipples. I take his hands and massage them too as I straddle him and rock back and forth gently? I am memorizing every feature, every line, every sigh.
He wraps his arms around my hips and pulls me over his chest. He begins to slowly rub his hand over my cleft. My body is all atingle. I moan with pleasure. "Soft and gentle," he whispers to me. The sound of his voice is too much and I cry out in ecstasy. Never before have I known the pleasure of a man?s hand.
He positions me at the edge of the bed and slides himself easily into me. I feel gorged, like I am going to burst. He thrusts into me, and I am lost in bliss. ?Wait,? he pants. ?We must pause, we must do this right.? He dislodges himself from me. I can?t help myself, I cover his face with kisses in the interim. After a brief pause, he resumes. The passion overwhelms me. He stands with his knees bent and I am wrapped around him, bouncing up and down in rhythm with his desire. Suddenly he falls down to the bed, onto his back. I land on top of him, still joined at the center. I get a firm grip on the edge of the mattress, behind his head. I pull with my arms and use all my body weight to sit back down upon him. I thrust against him with abandon. I watch his face as the sensations build inside me. I can feel the pleasure exuding from his body into mine. His body tenses and he moans and I ? I scream as I explode, I throw back my arms and arch my back and gasp for breath.
I collapse on top of him.
I prop myself up and look at him in wonderment. ?Wow,? I breathe.
I show him to the door. He turns to me and kisses my forehead softly before he makes one last minor adjustment to the placement of his mask. ?It was better than I remembered,? he whispers as he closes the door behind him.
I find myself counting heartbeats before I regain enough composure to hold up my mask and rejoin the Ball.
�2000 McEwan all rights reserved.