It had been exactly twenty-nine days, six hours and fifteen minutes since we had spent the evening alone. Each day, each hour pulled my consciousness to distraction and haunted me. Each minute made me want his touch more.
And then, suddenly, it was time.
He had told me before he left a month ago, that I would be receiving a letter in three days with my "orders". And in three days, the red envelope came. It looked like any other letter or birthday card, but this had his touch. The way he formed his letters was so graceful, holding the letter I could almost picture his hand holding the pen, putting to paper the beautiful torture his mind created.
My beautiful butterfly;
In 27 days, at ten minutes until midnight, I will see you again. Go to the tower on the hill, park your car in the last spot in the parking lot. Wear a red skirt and a black silk top. Wear no panties and your sheer black bra. Wear no shoes, and stand underneath the arch. I will find you there.
Until we meet next,
D.
That letter spent nights under my pillow, in my pocket. Five short sentences was my fuel for twenty-seven days. And then I was here. Twenty-Nine days, Six hours and sixteen minutes since I had seen him last. I resisted pacing to warm up: the fall nights got cold quickly, and I felt my nipples press against the sheer fabric of my bra. My teeth nibbled at my lower lip as I looked out over the city. It was so peaceful up here, and so... open. We could be caught, if someone else got it into their head to wander into the park this late in the season. The image of his arms around me, his body buried in mine, daring, in the open sent a flood of excitement over my bare pussy. The heat I had been looking for by pacing raced through my blood with a simple thought. The shudder that touched my core had little to do with the crisp wind, and everything to do with my anticipation.
Two more minutes. I could barely breathe and didn't know if that had something to do with the tightness of my breasts against my shirt and bra, or the electricity I felt all around my skin. The road leading up to the park was silent. No hint of a car, Slowly I closed my eyes, then reopened them. He would not be late. He was never late.
One more minute. even though I knew he would not be late, I still felt a familiar fear in the back of my mind. He had forgotten about me. He had found another girl, one more then I was, more than I could ever be. He was not coming, and the street was still dark.
It was then I felt it. Somehow I had missed his steps on the concrete behind me. But there was no mistaking his warm body. Who knew, in truth, how long he had been watching my pacing. But his right arm slid around my waist, securing my arms at my sides, and the other hand slid up, covering my mouth. His flesh was rough against the silk of my top and the satin of my skin. He was solid behind my back, and I could feel every inch of him behind me, pressing against me. His mouth drew closer to my neck and I felt him whisper "Did you miss me, Butterfly?"
There was no verbal reply. I knew I couldn't give one even if I wanted to - but the shudder gave me away, and my eyes half closed. His breath was warm on my neck, teasing down the line of my collar, making my nipples harden further. I squeezed my thighs together, feeling my wetness grow with every passing second he stood behind me, holding me in his impossibly possessive grip.
I felt his lips press against my flesh where his breath just passed and it was all I could do to keep my feet. Pressing some of my weight back against him as his mouth moved down my neck, across the line of my collar. His arm that held my waist slid up, so his hand could slowly pop the buttons of my blouse, one after the other, until it was open to my waist, exposing my flesh to the chill breeze. The callused palm of his hand brushed over the goose bumps that formed on my stomach and raised to cup my full breasts.
The motion of my hips was reactionary, pressing back into him again as his hand teased my nipples through the sheer fabric. The hand that held my mouth closed slid down my neck, pausing there to squeeze me back into his lips that had found the sweet spot where my shoulder met my neck. I couldn't stop the low moan that escaped my lips when I felt his teeth threaten the flesh there.
His hand continued down from my neck to my other breast, both hands slinking inside of my bra to free the flesh there, baring my nipples to the cold air. They ached painfully from desire and from the night, but neither stopped my eager moans that continued to rise from the back of my throat. With each sound, I felt his body behind mine press harder against me, until I could feel the definition of his cock in his pants settle against the line of my ass.
