One Night

Sarah slowly opened her eyes, trying not to let the light rush in to quickly. She stretched her arms above her head and let out a silent yawn. The bed was warm and cozy, making it that much harder to get up. Remembering a lunch appointment coming up in a couple of hours, she quietly slipped out of the bed.

Lighting a cigarette, she began to gather her clothing. Pulling the cigarette to her lips she took a long drag and propped it against the side of the ashtray. She pulled on her panties, stopping only long enough to look at herself in the mirror as she exhaled the smoke.

She thought to herself, "Would there be time for a shower?" It would close, but there should be time. She began to pull her stockings on.

He was obsessed with those stockings last night. She saw him eyeing her from across the room, so she shifted ever so slightly just to give him a peek at the black lace clinging to her thigh. He was an easy catch, as they usually are. He had the look...that "I haven't been fucked in ages" look.

She slipped back into her dress, the same clingy black number that she was wearing last night. She loved this dress, as did the many men that had seen her slip out of it.

She quietly slipped into the bathroom as her thoughts danced back to last night. There wasn't anything special about Tim. He wasn't rich, he didn't have model quality looks, and he didn't have a smooth game. This was perfect. He was hardworking and dedicated to his job and looked like he hadn't cut loose in quite some time. As they sat at the bar sipping their drinks he confirmed that he was the perfect candidate. He was a hard working businessman who was just waiting for his big break; the one that would send him soaring up the corporate ladder. As he finished his scotch, they made plans to head back to his apartment to continue their conversation.

They sat on the couch drinking coffee and talking about all kinds of things. She sat in such a way that he could yet again catch just a glimpse of the lace at the top of her stockings. She could tell that he quite enjoyed that peek, and it wasn't his face that gave him away. As the conversation drifted back to his work the tone changed slightly. She could tell that he wasn't happy with where he was in his life. At thirty, he felt that he was just jumping through hoops at his office with no hope of ever going anywhere. She began to ask him about his real passions in life, the things that he loved to do.

He grabbed her hand and led her to the spare bedroom. There propped against the wall were dozens of canvases of all sizes. His work was beautiful. She couldn't understand why he had not fully pursued a career in art. She looked at him with nothing but truthfulness in her eyes. "Why do something day after day that makes you so miserable, when you can be so passionate with your work." She turned to give him a minute to ponder the valid point that she brought up.

She walked over to some canvases propped against the far wall and bent over to get a closer look at them. She knew that he had a perfect view of her backside. There was one painting in particular that really caught her attention. It was nothing more than an abstract piece, full of swirls of color. There was pure passion written all over the piece. There was something quite carnal about the way the lines moved and blended with the surrounding colors. She felt a tingling sensation run throughout her body and settle between her legs.

Footsteps crossed the room as he came over to her. Still bent over, she turned her head towards him and shared her opinions on the piece. He came up from behind and pressed himself against her firmly. She began to describe how the painting made her feel. She described the ecstasy felt from the swirls of color and how the reds stood out so passionately. She felt that same tingling sensation again as he grabbed her hips and pushed against her again. She continued to share her opinion of the painting, feeling him grow harder with her words.

She stood up and spun around so she was facing him. She looked at him deeply and put her hand over his heart. "Don't forget this feeling that you have right now, that passionate feeling for something that you want so badly," she whispered in his ear.

He ran his hands down her sides, grabbing her ass firmly he began to kiss her. The kisses started out slowly, sensually. As the intense feeling of want grew, the kisses became harder, more carnal, more passionate.

He took her hand and led her to the bedroom. He sat on the edge of the bed as she slipped off her panties. She walked over to the chair that was across from the bed, unzipping her dress as she went. The dress slipped off of her and fell to the ground. She was left wearing only her black stockings and heels. She sat on the edge of the chair with her legs crossed and asked him to take off his shirt. As he did she leaned back in the chair.

Next she told him to take off his shoes and socks. While he was doing this she uncrossed her legs fully exposing that which he wanted so badly. She was wet and knew that he could see this. She slid her hand from the armrest of the chair, across her thigh, and down between her legs. His breath quickened as she began to play with herself. Fingers caressing her clit, she told him to take his pants off. He didn't have to be told twice.

Finally something took over in him. He knew what he wanted, it was right in front of him, and he was sitting here jumping through hoops again.

He walked over to her, got down on his knees and buried his head between her legs. The passion had taken over. There were no gentle, timid caresses of the tongue. He had just begun and yet she felt like she was going to explode. It didn't help any when he slipped his finger inside of her. She began rocking her hips against the pressure in a rhythmic motion. The sensations were building up and she couldn't contain herself any longer. She pressed his head firmly into her and arched her back as she began to come. Bolts of lightening shot throughout her body. Her already hard nipples seemed to contract even further. She began to regain control over the convulsions.

Before she had a chance to fully collect herself, he scooped her up and threw her facedown on the bed. Boxers already off, he climbed on top of her and held her arms down. He gently bit at her ears and neck while rubbing against her. He pulled her up onto all fours and began to position himself. To further tease him, she stretched forward and then back giving him a better view of her wet pussy.

He couldn't hold back any longer. Instead of gently working his way inside of her, he thrust in hard and fast. She let out of a cry of pleasure and surprise. She hadn't quite expected him to be so demanding yet so gentle at the same time.

They continued in this entertwined state of bliss for almost an hour before he finally seccumed to the overwhelming sensation of ecstasy that he had been missing for quite some time. He remembered what it was like to feel alive again.

They collapsed together, drunk on the feelings coursing through their bodies. The only words he uttered before falling asleep perfectly summed up the lesson, "Wow."

She came out of the bathroom, still trying not to wake him. She slid out of the room and down the hall to the spare bedroom. Smiling, she picked up the painting that led to last night's realization. Carrying it back to the bedroom she propped it up in the chair. She then slipped on her shoes and found her purse. Carefully leaning over the bed, she gently kissed him on the cheek and whispered in his ear "Don't forget what you felt last night my love."

She quietly let herself out of the apartment. Walking down the hall she wondered if she would still have time for a shower before her lunch date.

Some people would call her a whore, she preferred to be called a muse.