I sit, lazily, in an overstuffed armchair. The chair faces the fireplace. My back faces the doorway. I am expectant. I bring the cigar to my lips and puff on it gently. I let the slender stream of smoke escape from my lips with a small hiss of air. I shiver, even as the fire crackles before me casting a warm glow across my naked body. As you enter the room you see the smoke rise in an erotic swirl above my head. My hair is shiny clean. Your hand reaches forward eager to touch it. You hold yourself back.
You hear me sigh and a smile crosses your lips. Silently you shut the door behind you. At which point I become aware of your presence is unclear. Is it before I hear the solid click of the lock turning?
I look down at my own hand in surprise. It shakes slightly. I hurriedly place the burning mix of leaves and paper on the ashtray. Slightly fearful I will burn myself. I rest my now clammy hands on my thighs. I attempt to control my breathing, to calm myself.
Your hand rests now on the armrest to my right. I no longer care about my breathing. I am overwhelmed by the heady scent of you. Your aroma, soap and shampoo, or is it your after shave, perhaps even simply deodorant. I sigh with a different feeling now. My eyes close as I allow my sense of smell to rule.
I feel your fingertips cool against my cheek. They move with slow precision along my jaw line. They flicker briefly about my lips, which part and kiss you lightly. You chuckle and my eyes open. I gasp at the intensity of your stare. You look down at my body now and I feel the heat in my cheeks as I shy away from your perusal. You make a light sound with your tongue, a reprimand. I feel your fingers slide to the back of my neck and then you force me to look into your eyes again. I bite my lip, but know better than to turn away.
You smile again and I am at once pleased to have pleased you.
Your other hand moves to cup my breast. The nipple hardens immediately in response. Your thumb brushes against it teasingly before the fingers come around to pinch it hard. I moan. I feel my body respond instantly. The wetness I fear will be obvious and will glisten embarrassingly on the leather chair in which I sit. You pull me forward and I slide easily off the chair and stand before you. I still need to look up to see you. With your one hand still firmly behind my neck you push me down. Silently I obey and kneel before you. I shiver in delight at such strength.
Finally you speak. "You know I dislike smoke little one, I must take it that you deliberately test my will." You do not ask me a question and I am not so untrained as to speak now in the obvious evidence of your displeasure. I keep my gaze lowered, admiring the shiny polished blackness of your boots. You pick up the ashtray and throw it in its' entirety into the fireplace. It shatters. A startling sound, which causes me to jump in fright, followed quickly by the palm of your hand against my cheek. The burn lingers on shockingly even as the momentum causes me to fall to one side.
