Oct. 27,
Mon Belle Fleur:
Act II, Scene I
Gwen: Monsieur, I tink des bodice ez too tight. Could you 'elp me take it off?
I am gazing into her eyes. Her mascara and lust and making them turn a deeper shade of green. Her cheeks are flushed, and some stands of her long, curly blonde hair are sticking to her pouty, bright red lips. God, she looks so hot and sexy. It is taking every bit of my willpower to keep from grabbing her, kissing her passionately and ripping off of her what little clothing she still has on. But the anticipation of what is still to come is driving us. I wonder if her heart is beating as fast as mine.
She's still kneeling, and I turn her so that I can unzip her tight, black bodice. I pull her hair together and tuck it over her shoulder so that her back is bare. My fingers linger over her shoulders, gently rubbing them. She turns her face to look back at me. Her lips part as she approves of my motions, and I stare at the perfect profile of her gorgeous face as my fingers continue to massage down her back. She arches her back like a cat as she turns away and her fabulous blonde hair covers her face as she lets out a sigh.
******
His fingers are dancing over my shoulders and the back of my neck, one of his lovely, sensuous massages. I close my eyes and try to relax, but my body is on fire (my ass certainly still is!), and I let my mind drift off as his fingers work their magic. They move mid-way down my back, and then I feel him slowly start to unzip my bodice. Very slowly, continuing his tease, he moves the zipper down. When it's about half-way he moves closer to me, and I can feel his breath on my back. My body starts to tingle again, and goose bumps are racing across my arms and legs as his lips are so close to my back.
And there it is: a single, lingering kiss right at the top of my spine near the base of my neck. He holds himself there, his lips making small circular motions, and then they start to move down, mimicking the speed and motion as he continues unzipping the bodice. His lips reach one of the straps of my black-lace bustier, and he takes a moment to linger there as he finally finishes removing the bodice. Now that is gone, and I'm keeling on his floor in just a bustier, a tiny skirt, fishnet stockings, a garter belt and a damp thong that really needs adjusting. Or removing.