Satin and Patent

It was our compromise to be together. He sat half naked in bed, wearing only a t-shirt, flipping pages of the report, making notes. I grew restless of my presentation and set it aside; I needed to get my things ready for an early morning departure. I tried not to think to hard about it; his scent still lingered in the room, in the sheets, on my skin. Tomorrow it would be gone, except in my memory. I kissed his cheek as he read, then hopped off the bed.

The room had a chill; I slipped the little pink satin chemise over my head. He glanced up for a moment and smiled, then looked back down at the papers in his lap. I tidied up the room, packed up a few things, laid out others for the morning. I gathered laundry in a bag; realizing we wouldn’t be going out again, I decided to throw the pink panties I was wearing into the bag as well.

I pulled out my shoes, to set beside my clothes for tomorrow; the darling little brown patent leather sling-back, peep toe pumps. I slipped them on again - I never tired of how delicate they made my feet look or how great the angle of the heels made my legs look.

“Want to see my new shoes?” I asked, bending over to pick up some more of our scattered clothes.

“Come here.” It was a command. Soft and gentle, but firm, like all of his. I walked to the end of the bed. “Are you wearing panties?” he asked. I shook my head from side to side.  A grin flickered across his lips, then disappeared. “Come here and show me your shoes.”

I walked all the way around to his side of the bed where he could see. “Those are so sexy, baby.” His voice lowered, a huskiness to it. “Come here. Turn around."

I walked over, and stood beside him. I turned slowly, my back to him. He lifted the edge of the chemise, running his hand over my ass. “Turn around,” he said quietly, pulling my hips. I turned to face him. “Show me the shoes,” he commanded, not letting go of me, slipping one finger between my legs. I stood on one foot, and pulled my other foot up to my side, trying to keep my legs from trembling while he teased my wetness.

He let go of me long enough to push aside the papers in a neat stack. Then he reached for me again, his hands sliding under the hem of the chemise, caressing my ass. “Come here,” he said, pulling me toward the bed. I reached down to slip off the shoes, but he stopped me. “No. Leave them on.”

I crawled on the bed, straddling him. Placing a knee on either side of him, my shoes turned carefully outward so as not to scrape him with the heels. He raised the hem of my chemise, looking up into my eyes, then held my hips, settling me over top of him. I felt him slip easily inside of me. He paused, savoring the connection again, one that never seemed to lose its intensity. “What do you call this,” he asked, stroking the pink satin covering my breasts, making my nipples rise under his fingers.

“A chemise,” I breathed.

“You look beautiful in this chemise,” he murmured.

He reached down to stroke my legs, touch my shoes. I leaned down to kiss him, and he let the edges of the chemise drop, draping our hips where they joined. He pulled at the neck, sliding it over my shoulders, letting it drop around my waist, exposing my breasts to his view. The satin puddled across my hips, covering him as well, resting lightly on my heels at his side. He grabbed my feet again, holding my heels as he stroked.

The movement came natural again, like it had the first time, and every time. And the reaction came naturally too, like it had the first time, and every time. And when it was over, I lay exhausted on his chest, breathing hard, sweating, everything hot to the touch. Except for a cool pool of satin, and brown patent leather.