The room was bathed in the soft fawn colors of autumn, but she arrived with all the fresh promises of spring.
She floated into the room, careless and without shame wearing only a thin brown shawl tied loosely around her waist, and a single yellow flower in her hair. Yet it was those small firm breasts that seemed to fill the room and I smiled to see her nipples had hardened in the coolness of the evening and from the heat of her intentions.
She ignored me of course. In her playful way she barely registered my presence as she glided to the dark hard wood table that dominated the space and lifted the champagne bottle from the stainless steel ice bucket.
Two glasses were placed carefully beside each other. She gradually turned her back to me so that from my comfortable leather chair all I could see was her hair tied up high, exposing the perfect contours of her naked frame and the tops of her delicious little cheeks which poked above her shawl like two pale crescent moons rising over some promising and unattainable horizon.
I watched as she lifted the bottle, heard the pop of the cork, and the clink of glass as the bottle's neck kissed the rim of the glasses.
Then she turned to face me, finally acknowledging me as she teased with those wicked, playful eyes. She lifted the bottle to her lips and took a long thirsty swig, never once breaking her gaze. The corner of her lips curled up into a playful grin before the tip of her tongue poked out and lapped atop her lower lip where a little champagne remained.
Still staring at me she stretched her arm behind her placing the bottle carefully on the table. Then with the smallest bite of her lower lip she hooked her thumbs into the shawl and lightly pulled, releasing the fabric which drifted down like a single dry oak leaf caught on a soft morning breeze.
Time slowed down as the shawl danced in the air on its journey to the ground. Finally it came to rest gently at her feet and she stepped away from it, leaning back with her hands on the edge of the table, turning her right leg ever so slightly open.
This was the game she loved and we both knew the rules. I had to remain calm, and in control. Any suggestion of my wanton ambition, apart of course from the growing evidence in my trousers, and she would melt away into the bedroom and return wearing one of her pretty summer dresses.
So instead of launching myself from my seat, throwing her over my shoulder and tossing her onto her back amidst the disheveled assortment of pillows and blankets on our large unmade four poster bed, I battled every instinct and instead told her my desperate story in silence using only my gaze.
My eyes traced their way up along her long naked legs, to her neatly trimmed little muffin, then up across her belly and breasts and finally back to her face.
Outwardly I looked relaxed. My jacket was off, my tie loose, and the top button of my shirt undone. But in truth my heart was pounding and I was bursting out of my trousers.
She looked at the outline of my erection and smiled, reading my face closely, wanting to draw me out further and to turn my obvious lust into rage and torment.
Without looking behind her she picked up a champagne flute, and holding it by the stem stepped lightly towards me, finally bending in close when she was near enough to put the drink in my hand. Then she lightly stroked my cheeks before running her middle finger across my lips. I started to open my mouth a little but she gave a playful shake of her head and withdrew once more to the table.
