She walks in the front door, drops her bag, peels off her tight jacket and kicks off her expensive shoes and sighs, looks around and walks towards the fridge. The wine, her favourite Pinot Gris is just where she told him to put it. In the door so it doesn't get to cold, but cold enough that when she puts it down on the bench to get a glass the bottle starts to perspire in the humid heat.
She sighs, almost in pleasure after her first mouthful of the wine and reaches to her waist, three practiced movements later her tight black skirt is sliding down her thighs to pool around her ankles like liquid shadow. Six more movements and the buttons on her blouse are undone and she shrugs out of the constricting silk. Another mouthful of the wine and she starts to feel more like herself.
The bottle returns to its spot in the fridge and her bra and panties join the rest of her clothing on the floor. Another sip and her glass of wine disappears and she walks towards the large shower in the air-conditioned bathroom.
Her breath catches then she sighs again as the cool air breathes across her naked body. Standing before the full wall mirror she watches as her nipples harden and her hands slip up her firm stomach to her breasts, then she pinches the diamond hard points and moans again. Slowly she rolls the dark buds around between her fingers, remembering how her current lover referred to them as "Hershey's Kisses" last time he had one in her mouth.
The memory of how he had taken her, she had tried to resist, to make him work for it but his voice had crashed through her defences and she had submitted on the floor of her apartment. She had gone from the strong, iron-willed attorney to a horny, penis-starved minx in seconds. Begging him to do unspeakable things to her pliant body.
Her words had urged him on, making him fuck her harder and faster until they had both collapsed in a mess of bodies, sweat and juices from both of them. She had loved it and ever since that night she had struggled to focus at work, the smell of a man's after shave, the feel of carpet on her stockinged feet when she kicked her heels off under her desk between clients... even a knock at her door set her pussy aflame.
Steadying herself against the vanity she reached down between her legs, a week ago, she would have been shocked, even appalled to know she could get as wet as she was now... now it was an everyday occurrence. A guttural moan tore from her throat and she ground her hand against her pussy with the front of the hand basin. Loving the feeling of something pushing against her. Why did he have to be so far away, why had he given her a taste of the forbidden fruit of multiple orgasms and left, for a whole week?
Didn't he know her pussy needed attention? He had opened a door inside her and she didn't know how to close it, she wouldn't even if she knew. Whenever her mind drifted it went to the feeling of being taken on the floor, knees and hands roughly rubbing into the carpet, the hard thrusts against her from behind as he filled her wet pussy.
