Time seemed frozen for a moment as he watched, her lips clenched shut; then she pulled it slowly from her mouth, her lips following its contour. Her face was lit with the fleeting pleasure. Not quite satisfied, she moved again to place it back into her mouth. He saw her tongue for an all too brief second. Her lips enclosed it once again. She pulled it from her mouth, savoring the taste, leaving her moisture behind. She always tried to make it last, to relish the moments when it filled her mouth. He knew all to well what was coming, though. She licked at it for a moment, as if to tease, but then she slid it into her eager mouth once more. Crack. Her teeth bit through the crunchy chocolate coating to the vanilla ice cream inside.
It always seemed she called him on those same nights she allowed herself the ice cream. He focused on her lips as she devoured the remnants of the Dove bar. The subdued lipstick remaining from her day at the office. An occasional appearance by her tongue, retrieving the errant ice cream from her lips into her mouth. She sat there for some time after the ice cream was gone. He watched her. He inhaled her. This was why he was here.
She rose from the chair and made her way to her bedroom, with him following her every movement. His eyes captured her ass, working beneath her skirt as she raised one foot behind her, removing her heels, then did the same for the other. She thoughtlessly undid the buttons on the front of her skirt as she turned on the light in her bathroom. She began drawing her bath, then turned to face him. His eyes followed her hands as she pulled the skirt downward, over her hips, bending down enough so that she could step out of it. Her hands made quick work of her pantyhose, in a fashion that made him think she resented them. She then undid the buttons of her blouse from the top down. Her eyes were lowered, watching her hands, as if she were enjoying this as much as he. She walked back into the bedroom as the last button was undone, and she took off the blouse, letting it slide to the floor. Before he could blink she had undone the clasp on her bra, and it too followed the blouse down. Her breasts responding to her motion, his eyes responding to her breasts. Not only his eyes.
She stood there motionless, looking at herself in the mirror. He watched her gaze travel down the mirror from her hair to her breasts to her navel and then her panties. She slid her hands underneath the band and began removing them. From his vantage behind her the slight bend afforded him a small look at the sweetness between her legs. She was teasing him, he knew this. That knowledge did not stop his erection, but it did fire the rage within him. Too many nights had started like this. She brushed past him and into the bathroom, stepping into the warm bath waters, and took her place in her aquatic sanctuary. He waited.
He stood close behind her as she sat in front of the computer; her scent was strong now. She was fresh from her bathing, her hair still slightly damp, her skin covered only by new panties and her robe. The aroma of the bath oils lingered on her, but it was her building desire that he inhaled again and again. It was here, in front of this cold piece of hardware, that the feelings had grown strong. She strengthened herself from a glass of wine. She explored. Another drink and she freely roamed her dark fantasy world. As the night wore on, the robe became looser. Her hands stoked the heat from between her legs.
He stood there behind her, gaining strength from her desires, smelling them on her. Inhaling them as if she had splashed them on her body from a pretty, colored bottle on her dresser. She was openly taunting him now, safe in her world. Her hands where his should be. Her nipples erect, the robe no longer hiding them from him, her quickening breaths thrusting them upward, as if to say, "Take me." He put his head in his hands, his fingers pressing hard into his skull. "She called me here. She called me here," he muttered. The moan that escaped her lips shattered his concentration and in an undeniable rage he reached out for her hair. His fingers closed on her curls ... and then nothing. They passed right through, and he looked at his fist, grasping nothing. Furious he reached for her shoulder, meaning to twist her around to face him. He reached right through her. Her increasing moaning was a mock to him, her there halfway in her world ... halfway in his. Tonight was not the night.
He was there waiting for her. She turned on the light in her bedroom as she entered, her dress and jewelry evidence of a night out. She returned alone, and this had obviously disappointed her. He could smell this. That was why he was here. Increasingly these past few months she had called him, walking to the edge, only to deny him. He was not happy. He watched her as she positioned herself in front of her dresser, bending her head first to one side then the other as she removed her earrings. She loosened her blouse from her skirt, undid a couple of buttons but did not remove her clothing. Her disappointment was particularly heavy tonight, and bittersweet to his taste. Her aroma spoke of sex, though it was from her torrid thoughts and nothing more.
He followed her down the stairs as she went to the kitchen and filled a glass with wine. She paused there for a moment, motionless, eyes fixed on the glass, but not really seeing it. He smelled the desire grow in her. She sighed heavily, then turned and made her way back up the stairs. She put the glass down next to the monitor and reached down to turn the computer on.
