There was a picture above Scarlett's bed. It was thickly framed in wood as black as pitch; the glass had a small skim of dust across it that could only be seen when the sunlight was directly on it. This usually only happened at sunrise. The picture inside the frame was small, almost too small for such a heavy and expensive looking frame.
But it wasn't the pictures size that mattered to Scarlett, it was the subject. Or rather, the lack of subject.
It was perfectly black, just like the frame. Only the matting, with its perfectly square corners and double cut layering, was white. Scarlett lay on the bed above the covers. Her hands were set loosely across her stomach, her fingers gently entwined with each other, rising and falling as her lungs worked. Her breath was shallow; so shallow it hardly moved the veil of blond hair that fell down either side of her face and fanned out across the pearl-white pillow tops. She hated fancy bedding. Everything she slept in had to be white.
Her toes began to tingle: it was a very familiar feeling. She felt warmth in her palms, perhaps it was coming from her stomach, perhaps from someplace else. But she couldn't ignore it and it was quickly becoming less like warmth and more like a convection oven on high. For an instant her eyelids fluttered; dark, sultry lashes tickled the smoothness of her cheeks. That instant was all it took.
Slippery, bending waves of energy thrummed through her like a stretched out elastic band being plucked. Every snap carried just a little bit less of the hum and in a moment the thrilling and unexpected energy was gone.
She let out a long breath; heat was in it.
She felt stickiness between her thighs, soaking into the pure white fabric beneath her. Her nipples throbbed with aftershocks, but it wasn't enough. She looked up, tilting her soft chin up until she could see the picture again.
Now she felt imaginary waves washing across her ankles, like a slow tide coming in. She stared harder at the opaque picture until the waves had washed further up her smooth shins, past her knees and began to eddy between her thighs.
It was almost time.
This time her eyes shut for a long time. At least three breaths passed. And then she felt them. Hands on her feet: the thumbs pressing softly against the pads, finding the grove between her bones. They squeezed just hard enough for her to feel them. Scarlett opened her eyes and saw the woman crouching like a jungle cat at the foot of the bed. Her face bore the most perfectly powerful look of seduction Scarlett had ever known.
It was why this woman, this goddess among women, was her favourite.
"You brought me back," Angelina Jolie smiled.
Her pouty, puffy lips moved slowly, every word was a savoury treat. Scarlett loved her lips...lips that could tease a cock into ram-rod readiness in seconds.
She kissed Scarlett's arch.
Scarlett shuttered.
When Angelina came up, her powerful face was drenching with water as if she had just dipped her head in a tropical bath. Her perfectly dark hair thickened and clung to itself, dripping wet drops across the white sheets. As the drops landing however they vanished as if they had never fallen to begin with...it was very odd.
It had taken Scarlett a long time to get used to the invisible, yet completely real water. It never seemed to affect her other than at the very beginning with feeling the waves. With the girls though, she saw its effects. It made their skin and hair wet and pooled and dripped and ran down their necks and breasts.
Sometimes, Scarlett would spend too much effort trying to see it or make it fully appear. Once she had just the right angle to see the arms and legs of a crouching woman bend in two places, like a shadow falling across a curb.
But tonight her fascination with the invisible water would be ignored...nothing mattered while Angelina was here.
She was still kissing Scarlett's feet. Angelina nibbled on the tip of Scarlett's big toe, flashing teeth as white as the pearl in her eyes. Her lips were a dark shade of red, dark like roses just before they go to rot. It was Scarlett's favourite color. She wore it herself, but she thought it looked infinitely better on the coy, expressive lips of her favourite lover.
"I'm glad you came," Scarlett breathed. She lifted her neck to look over her breasts as Angelina dipped her head to stroke her tongue across her heel. Scarlett's lips split in a grin as thousands of Angelina's taste buds raked across her sensitive nerves.
"Don't!" she cried, "That tickles!"
Angelina's eyes lit up with playful seduction. She repeated the stroke and created an even more powerful mixture of torture and pleasure. When Scarlett began to squirm, Angelina came up, lips and nose dripping water. She let out a breath and sucked in a deep one, filling her chest and expanding her ribs. Scarlet watched in pure thrill as Angelina's dark, wet skin moved to show rib and muscle.
She was such a solid woman. Not fat – not skinny either; just built. Or rather, sculpted, Scarlett thought. A custom made sex toy. A perfect angel.
She was topless, her dangling nipples were grazing the top of the invisible water, but she wasn't bottomless. A thin, dark green thong stretched around her hips and dove between the valley of her muscular ass cleavage. The strip of fabric was as narrow as a pencil all around and so tight it seemed glued to her slick skin.
Scarlett's skin prickled as Angelina moved her lips up her shin. Her hands followed the natural, feminine curve of her calves until her fingers rested in another incredibly sensitive area: just behind the knee.
Angelina parted her bee-stung lips and kissed the inside of Scarlett's thigh just as she dragged her nails across the metropolis of nerves.
Scarlett let out a low moan, but didn't dare close her eyes. With every inch that Angelina moved nearer, the more detailed and intricate she became.
Her tattoos began to take form, darkening and decorated her already exquisite skin. More muscles could be seen, the plumpness of her ass and lips and breasts could no longer be denied.
Scarlett wanted to close her thighs and trap Angelina between them forever...but she knew that would be no fun.
Their best sex was the kind they had when they could slide and flip around, grinding and rubbing and caressing as much of each other as possible.
Tonight would be no different.
Scarlett grabbed hold of her lovers wet hair and pulled her up until she could slide her knee up between Angelina's and rub the less sensitive areas of her pussy. Angelina smiled and licked her upper lip with the tip of her tongue. Her smile was so dead-on-promising that Scarlett's heart thudded an extra beat.
Stretched out on top of her, feeling her wet, slippery weight pressing her into the bed, Scarlett finally let her eyes close and savoured the moment.
"That's right," she mumbled, encouraging Angelina to press harder against her throat with those puffy red lips. She could feel the lipstick smear across her pale skin. Her hands were on Angelina's back, exploring the bend and crooks of her shoulder blades. Angelina's breath was hot and ragged, blowing like the exhaust of a two-stroke engine. While she kissed her fair-haired sorceress her fingers slide down between her thighs, touching her own clit for a brief second before coming to a final rest on Scarlett's cloth covered slit.
