The key ring rattles in her palm as she sorts through each one, finally locating the house key. With a sigh of tired relief she slips it into the lock, pushing at the door with one shoulder. She steps inside the warmth of her home, feeling the tension of a long day slowly drip from her shoulders like hot, liquid steel. Delicate fingers unfurl, the black leather bag she carries slipping to the floor to land with a soft thud on thickly piled, hunter green carpet.
A soft moan parts moist lips as her head rolls on the graceful column of her neck, working at the kinks coiling in each muscle. Silent as a cat, she moves through each room, swaying ever so slightly as gloss black heels sink into the carpet. One hand reaches up, dragging the stethoscope from where it rests upon shoulders. Draping it over the couch, she moves on towards the kitchen, heels now clicking a staccato beat on the black marble tile.
As she opens the door to the refrigerator, a sound from above is heard. Her head snaps up, every sense focusing intently, waiting to hear it again, as a tremble moves over honeyed flesh. Shoulders shrug as moments pass with no echoing sounds. Removing a crystal bottle of water her weary steps take her to the smooth oak cabinets, the free hand tugging it open to retrieve a finely etched glass.
Setting the carafe and glass on the counter, she eases a wicked blade from the holder, wrist flicking to send it sliding through a fresh lemon. Her small hand twists the fruit, sending juice and pulp into the bottom of the glass. Filling the glass with cold water she carries it and the carafe back to the refrigerator. Dropping a few cubes of ice in she takes a sip, relishing the cold, tart liquid flowing over her tongue.
Leaving the kitchen with only a soft light to leave a glow, she moves through the house, flicking on small amber globes, wondering how at thirty years of age, she can still be afraid of the dark. Gripping the oak banister, she moves up the curved staircase, drink in hand. One small foot comes out to nudge the bedroom door open, as she wonders silently why it was almost shut. Laying her paranoia at a long days feet, she slips into the chamber, one finger feathering over the wall, to flick at the switch, casting a soft golden light through out.
Slowly, her amber gaze moves about the room, taking in the gleaming armoire, massive four poster bed, the slightly open door leading to the Master bath. For the first time since getting home, a radiant smile lights her bold features, transforming them into something close to lovely, as her eyes stop on one wall made entirely of glass. Stars so bright they appear to be a breath away twinkle beyond the panes.
Setting the glass on a cherry wood vanity, she steps out of the leather pumps. Toes wiggle into the thick burgundy carpet, as fingers flick at each onyx button holding the black blazer closed over lush breasts. Knowing that music will soothe her, she turns to the stereo, fingers pressing against buttons, as the soft whir of cd's moving sounds softly in the chamber. The smooth, dulcet tones of Fleetwood Mac throb as shoulders shrug, the blazer gliding down lightly bronzed skin to land in a heap on the floor.
Gaze fixated on the sapphire night outside the glass, she slowly unzips the back of the severely tailored, black skirt, hips shimmying as it slips down, settling near the discarded blazer. She smiles ferally, knowing the crimson and black silk of her panties, bra, and garters are a stark contrast to the primness of the skirt and blazer she just removed. A lone thought "what they don't know" teases at the edge of her awareness, as she settles upon the cushion of the vanity chair.
She removes the soft band holding the long, bronze coloured curls in braided captivity. As she sifts her fingers through the strands, they start to flow in wild abundance down her shoulders and back. Once more trembles goose bump her flesh, some inner sense whispering that she is being watched. Turning to look over her shoulder, gaze burning into the shadows, catching and holding on the bathroom and closet doors, she waits for the tremors to ease.
Forcefully she pushes the sudden terror aside as she bends at the waist to unhook the black, silk hose from each garter. Nimble fingers roll the hose down over smooth thighs, calves and the delicate curve of ankle. As she stands, fingers curve up to unclasp the tiny clips nestled between deep cleavage, freeing the weight of her breasts. Crimson satin straps fall down to hang haphazardly on her arms, until they fall, resting by her sides, the sheer fabric floating to the floor. Her fingers ease into the silk of French-cut panties, skimming them over flared hips, sweetly rounded bottom, until the scrap of fabric pools on the floor like a smudge of blood. Only a thin gold chain wraps itself around her ankle now, a lone sharks tooth dangling against skin.
A stretch of feline grace arches her back, thrusting breasts forward, ripples of relaxation coursing through each muscle. Deciding to enjoy the solitude of the warm night, she moves to the glass wall, fingers finding the small gold handles by memory. Easing the heavy weight apart, she slips, waif-like, through the narrow opening to stand on the oak deck. Gusts of tropical ocean breeze flow through her hair, sending the curls whipping about her face. Her fingers tangle in the unruly mass, tugging it away from her face, she stands silent, still as stone, listening to the thundering crash of waves far below.
Upturned, coral pink, nipples tighten in the breeze, giving them the appearance of begging for a kiss, a nibble. Her feet are planted in a stubborn stance, tawney eyes glowing in the darkness of a jeweled night, making her look like a Pirate princess, in control of all she considers hers.
Thoughts flow randomly, recalling the hectic day within the Trauma Unit she calls a second home. For the millionth time, she asks herself if practicing medicine is worth it, but already, she knows the answer her heart will give. It was never a choice only a need to serve that guided her.
The sharp click of boots hitting wood is heard, her head whipping towards the ominous sound. Too late, she realizes she is not alone in the darkness as the shape of a man materializes in the deep shadows of the deck. Her breath sucks in, caught in the narrow column of her throat. Her hands come up, fingers clawing at the tightness there, sheer terror robbing her ability to breathe. Clarity slams into her mind with stunning force as thoughts congeal.. the sound she heard above, the bedroom door being almost closed, the sense of being watched. "Oh Lord" whispers between her lips, and for the first time since she bought the home she loves, she damns the wall of glass giving Him access to every moment since she arrived within the chamber.
