Soon

The tie in the back comes undone easily. Silver laces, crisscrossed across her back, hold taut for a moment, then slither apart at the realization of their release. It’s just enough that the shimmering fabric slips against her body. The laces slip over her shoulders now, and the fabric eases at the top, catching on her breasts for a moment.

The combination of the silky fabric slowly releasing its hold on her body, and the cool air in the room, gives her gooseflesh, making her nipples hard. Catching the fabric and holding it a moment longer, until gravity wins the battle with her nipples and the heavy fabric slithers over her breasts, exposing them. Still not sliding completely off her body, as the zipper, low at her back holds it tight.

She can feel hands, warm and smooth, slip up under her breasts, cupping them, lifting the weight of them slightly before thumbs come up and catch the nipple. She can see the outline of her body reflected in the window panes; her bare breasts almost as silvery in the reflection as her dress. She closes her eyes, savoring the feeling of fingers on her breasts, keeping the nipples taut, hard, flushed a deep rose color. She can almost feel the heat of his mouth, about to cover them, suck them into his mouth, drawing the soft flesh of her breast in too, consuming her.

She reaches behind her to unzip the back of the dress; the weight of the fabric pulls it down in a rush. Gentle rustling, almost tinkling, as the beads and sequins cascade over each other on their way to the silver puddle at her feet. Feeling a little tipsy and unstable with desire, she steps out of the pool of fabric, wearing only the lacy strip of black panties and the silver heels. The heels make her calves flex and her ass sit tighter. She can see that reflection in the mirror too. He loves that line. Worships those curves. Can’t stop himself from running his hand over them each time they are bared before him.

She braces her hands against the dresser, stepping out of the heels. First the right, then the left. Wiggling her painted toes in the carpet. Some color name she couldn’t remember. It made her think of the bright red shade his hand would leave after a spirited slap on her rear as he pounded her, relentless, to his climax. Or hers, if it came first. Which it often did.

She noticed how cool the air in the room was, again, as she felt it tickle against her damp panties, like the breath of a lover. She closed her eyes, savoring the feeling, until she felt fingers, again, slipping inside her panties. Targeting the hardening bud at the base of the thin strip of hair. Slipping down further, between her wet lips, tracing patterns, opening her gently, then retreating.

Her breathing became ragged. Her body became attuned to the slightest movements, touches, sensations. The hairs on the back of her neck, rising, the sensation of warm breath against her flesh. Fingers still alternating between concentrated pressure on her clit, and gentle exploration of her pussy, spreading the wetness around to the surrounding flesh, inviting more wetness in its wake. Starting to feel the flush in her chest. In her groin. Her hips moving involuntarily against the fingers.

She was silent; only the sound of her breathing. Small gasps. Air forced out between her clenched teeth. He was used to her vocalizing, crying out, moaning . . . now only whispers of air and an occasional sharp intake of breath marked the path of her building ecstasy.

She opened her eyes. Forced herself to look in the mirror. Her own eyes were glazed, wild. Her face flushed, her lips and her nipples the same dark pink. She closed her eyes again. Yes, she could see his face. Eyes burning, dark. Face, concentrating. Jaw clenching. Knowing he was hard; ready to take her in an instant.

Fingers moved furiously now, taking her over that final edge. She felt her body clench, spasm once, then again and again. More rush of wetness. One final gasp, intake of air. And then it all came rushing out, his name the only audible word, followed by a cry and a moan.

Her legs shook. Her shoulders sagged. She caught herself against the dresser, and looked up, one more time. The room was still empty. But his image was still burned in her mind. His name still echoing in her head. His eyes still piercing her heart.

She put a finger to her lip, imagining his on hers. Could taste herself. Just like she could always taste herself on his mouth. She covered her mouth and closed her eyes. Whispered his name again. And one word.

“Soon.”