Silva

My name is Jasmine, but everyone always called me Silva.

I'd started dying my hair when I was sixteen, and three years later, I still loved the look of it.

It made me look young and wild. That's what I wanted to be. I go to the gym and got tattoos as soon as I could, and I keep my hair looking perfectly maintained.

Why though? Why put so much effort into looking like I do?

When people look at me, I want them to think that I look like a porn star. The first thing that enters their thoughts should be, 'Holy smoke, this girl looks like a porn star'.

That's just who I want to be. I want to have that sort of power.

I live with my older sister, Violet, in her uptown apartment in Seattle. It's always raining here, but I like it. She's not around much, since she travels for work as an air hostess, so I mostly have the place to myself. Of course, her husband, Rhett, is here too.

He's an architect and works from home most days. I don't like him much, but he's good company when things get lonely.

I love my life, but there's one thing that always gets to me, and it's money. I always need money. Which begs the question; what should a girl do in the big world when she's short of cash?

I was sitting in the cocktail bar, alone, while waiting for my date to arrive. He was a running a little late but had promised he wasn't standing me up and that he was just caught in traffic. I wanted to believe him, since this man was absolutely smoking, and had the sort of cash supply that I needed.

It's hard to find a rich fella, since you can never be sure if they're a dodgy sort of rich, like drug dealers and pimps, or a comfortable sort of rich, like real estate agents and lawyers. I know which ones are better for you, and I know which ones are more short-term fun.

While I waited, I studied my reflection in the window. Wide, round blue eyes and plump lips, I still had that youthful cheekiness about me. I loved looking like this.

I see him enter across the room, and his eyes scan the faces, looking for me. I wave, winking at him, and his face lights up as he sees me. He looks dashing, in casual clothes that still managed to look expensive.

"Hi," I say, getting up from my seat to greet him.

I reach for his hand to shake it, but he takes mine with both of his and plants a light kiss upon my fingers.

"Why, hello. You must be Jasmine?"

"I am, but please, call me Silva," I say, tilting my head to the side slightly, my chin raised up.

I want him to see my face, to see me. He'll have to want me. And under the bar lights, I must look seductive and illuminated.

"Silva, sure. Like your hair."

I smile wide but can't help but think, obviously, like my hair.

"And you're Matt," I say, trying not to think anymore.

"Yes, I am. Would you like a drink?" he asks, smiling. His teeth are white and perfectly straight, and I can't help but think about how much it would cost to keep them so pristine.

Hopefully a lot.

"I'd love one. Vodka sunrises are my favourites."

"Oh, so you're a vodka girl?" he teases.

"Everyone's a vodka girl at some point in their life, Matty. I just haven't moved past that yet," I joke, waving my hand to dismiss it. I'm alright at holding my liquor so hopefully he doesn't think I'm a lightweight.

"Very true. Have you had the shots here before?" he asks.

"Shots? At dinner time? No I haven't, but if you have then you're very brave."

Matt chuckles.

"Oh no, but I've been here late before, with some friends. The wet pussy shots are to die for."

"What's in them?" I ask, curious.

Was he being cheeky?

"Peace schnapps and vodka, cranberry juice and lime. I'm not usually into fruity stuff, or shots really, but when you're getting ready for a night out it's necessary."

"And if it's early you can actually still taste your drinks," I say, thinking back on my own bad experiences.

"Exactly. And who doesn't like peach schnapps?"

I laugh and sigh. He's so dreamy, with his cute smile and neat hair and kind brown eyes. His jawline is so sharp I could practically cut cheese with it.

I can't wait to get him home.

We order dinner and he tells me about his life. He's a director at an advertising company but is thinking of branching out on his own soon, eventually hoping to be good enough to direct movies.

"I just don't have the confidence in my skill yet, and I'd like my first film to be a good one."

"Why doubt yourself so much?"

"It's not doubt, Silva, it's pride. I've got to be the best."

"I used to think like that, but I can't seem to live up to my sister's expectations, so my own aren't that high."

"What does your sister expect you to be?" he asks me, and he seems genuinely curious.

I stir my drink with my straw, thinking. How much should I tell this man, before I take him home? How much is appropriate?

"I did pretty good in school and I think she thought I'd go to college and keep studying and get a degree and stuff, you know? I just haven't though. I live with her, but she's away most of the time."

"Oh. Why didn't you keep studying?"

"To be completely honest, Matt, it's boring. There isn't anything that tickles my fancy that much that you can study."

"But you've got interests?"

I grimace. My only interest is really just maintaining myself, but I can't say that. He'll think I'm crazy.

"Ever since I was a little girl, I've just wanted to be happy and find my place in the world. If I'm meant to get a degree, I'll find the inspiration and I'll do it. Until then, I'm not worried."

"You've got a lot of faith in the universe," he says, surprised.

"When life has treated me so well, why wouldn't I? I'm out here, on this lovely evening, with a lovely man, having a lovely time. I think it's fair to have some faith in everything."

He seems to like that, so maybe I should try to compliment him some more.

"Well, I'm glad you're having a good time. I am as well. This is really nice."

"Isn't it? I haven't had such a good conversation with someone in such a long time. When I saw you walk in here, I was so excited. I knew immediately you'd be a good talker. Plus, you're gorgeous, so what isn't there to like?" I say, before biting my lip.

Matt blushes a little and looks at me with a soft gaze.

After a while, he says, "So, you just want to be happy, Silva. What makes you happy?"

"I don't know. I'm still trying to figure it all out, you know. I'm only nineteen."

"Oh, really? I thought you could have been older."

"Oh, no. I'm still a baby, aha," I say, in a cooing voice.

"Yes, aren't you. You're the youngest person I've ever been out with," he says.

"Do you go out a lot, Matt?"

"A little. Haven't quite landed on the right girl to stick with, until now."

"Am I the right girl?" I ask seductively, in a low and lusty voice.

I'm trying to work my magic now, channelling my desire through my face and body language. I can feel his eyes dart between my face and my breasts, which look heavy and fit in my red dress. I'd kicked my sweaty, stiff heels off a long time ago, and now gently touch his shoes with my toes, initiating that first touch.

I can smell his beautiful cologne from across the table, and it just makes me want him more. All I can now think about was getting back to my place, or better yet, his, and taking my clothes off, putting on a little show. Surely he must want the same thing?

"You might be. You're better than the others," he says slowly, looking at me curiously.

The waiter interrupts us, and quickly puts the food down on the table.

We eat and chat away, the conversation not reaching that same level of intensity as before. I'm worried that I scared him off a little, until he asks if I'd like to move to a booth seat after dinner, to have a few more drinks before we left. I naturally accepted, and we moved onto the comfy cushioned booth seats. Matt takes the seat next to me instead of beside me this time, and we position ourselves close, our bodies leaning against each other.

Matt's talking quietly into my ear, and I was trying my best to listen but all I could think about was how much I wanted him, now. I ached for his touch between my legs, his beautiful lips on my breasts and his hands all over my body.

Please, Matt, take me home tonight.

"Silva?" he interrupts my daydreaming.

"What? Oh, sorry. I was thinking."

"It's okay," he says, cheery, "What were you thinking about?"

It must have been the alcohol I'd drunk that night, but I suddenly lost all tactfulness or subtly and say simply, "You."

I nuzzled my face into the curve of his neck, and breathed softly on him, hovering my lips above his skin. It raises goose bumps, and he shivers.

"What about me?" he asks, his eyes looking down into mine, mischievous.

I blushed and tried to own it, keeping a humble and sheepish look, and said, "I want you."

Matt can't seem to help but wickedly smile, and nibbles softly on my ear. I put my hand softly on his waist, and he takes my face in his hands, turning it to him. I look him straight in the eyes, and wait for him to make the move.

He kisses me quickly and lightly, our lips parting too soon. I want more.

"Matt," I purr.

We get a taxi to my place, since it was closer and we were dying to get our clothes off. The whole time he was holding onto my thigh, occasionally tracing his finger across the front of my lacey underwear, just to tease me.

When we arrive, I can see that the only light which is on is the one in Jason's, my sister's husband, room. Thankfully she wasn't home to see me work my magic on what was effectively my paycheque. If everything went well tonight, I could be looking at a new phone, or maybe even some jewellery. Fingers crossed, right.

I let us inside, and turn on the lights. The apartment was nice, and a decent size, so hopefully he wasn't disappointed. I go to the kitchen and pour myself a glass of water, drinking it with my eyes on Matt the entire time.

"What's this look, hey?" he asks me, approaching.

He shrugs off his jacket and lays it on the kitchen bench. His arms are muscular and toned, which was promising. I hope he was fit. Guys who weren't fit were usually intimidated by my body.

He puts his hands on my body, and I shiver with delight. My little red dress looks even smaller next to this beautiful, tall man, and I just want to take it off right now.

"What's what look? I'm just looking at you."

"You're undressing me with your eyes," he says.

"Well maybe you should do me a favour then and take the rest of your clothes off," I suggest cheekily.

Matt pulls me close and kisses me, long and hard and sweetly. I'm filled with pure excitement, and press myself to him eagerly.

"Take me, I'm yours," I say, trying to be sweet.

I'm pushed up against the bench, and then he lifts my butt up onto it, caressing my legs. His hands are firm and slide smoothly on my perfect skin. I work my fingers through his hair, the silky softness of it like heaven, while trying to inhale and memorise his smell, his taste, his everything.

"Matt..." I moan, and he just bites my bottom lip in response, preferring to keep my mouth busy than to talk.

He seems to let out an animalistic, raw growl and turns me around, bending me over the bench. He pushes down on my back, and I shiver as my stomach is made flat against the cold surface. His cock comes alive against my ass cheeks, and I squirm in delight.

He lets out a lustful moan as he grabs my booty, and then pulls my dress up. I didn't wear any underwear to dinner, in my classic move, so he's faced with my bare body. He unzips his pants, and begins to play with my pussy, rubbing it perfectly. It makes me moan and I crave the feeling of him inside me, the fullness and pleasure of a man doing what they do best.

"Please," I moan, "Matt...I'm sick of waiting."

"Hold on Princess, I'm not done playing."

He continues to play with me, occasionally stopping to stroke the soft skin of my bum. The way he glides his fingers over my clit, to that sensitive ridge, and then back again, tells me he's an expert at what he's doing. I soon feel the warmth of his tongue, right at my entrance, and he teases it lightly.

Please, God, just fuck me already. I can't bear waiting.

I wave my hips, trying to signal to him that I was ready. I could feel my own moisture beginning to creep down my thighs. All I could think about was his dick, inside me, maybe even big enough to sate my hunger, fill me in a way I couldn't achieve on my own.

I finally feel it. His dick is there, and he's ready. Hands on my hips, he pulls me down on him from behind and I gasp, feeling him inside me suddenly. It was heavenly, and raw. He begins to slowly fuck me, still determined to tease me.

"Matt, are you going to fuck me properly or not," I moan. I was definitely enjoying myself, and he could see that.

"Is that what you want, hey? Are you a bit of a slut for rough sex, huh?" he teases.

I cast a look behind me, and can see the excitement in his eyes. I nod and bite my lip, encouraging.

He thrusts harder, and begins to go faster, pulling me down on him harder and quicker, again and again and again. He grabs a fistful of my hair, and pulls it back, using it to get more of a hold on me. The stinging as he pulls is exciting, and I can feel myself getting close.

I moan, and he asks me, "Do you like that?"

"Yeah Matt, I like it," I groan, as he hits it hard and harder.

He softly rubs my ass cheek, and then spanks it lightly. It makes me moan, and I'm getting so close to cumming that I might squeal. He does it again, harder, and it stings but in a good way. I'm about to cum.

When he saw that I was dissolving, he slowed down, and fucked me slower, playing me like an instrument. "You're mine," he growls, pumping into me.

In that moment I really was all his. I feel the familiar euphoria of orgasm crash over me, and I squirm, my warm skin cooling against the countertop. Matt moans loudly, and I look at his reflection in the window across from us.

His face forms the perfect 'o' as he fills me, and I wriggle with delight as I feel his cum run on my thighs. He pulls out, and smacks his warm cock against my ass, leaving his mark behind. I curiously reach behind and put my fingers in it, and touch the salty slime to my mouth, tasting.

"You're a little filthy," he says, watching me.

I enjoyed being the centre of his attention and the only thing in his gaze. Yes, look at me. Look at what I can do for you.

Matt soon put his clothes back on and left, leaving me alone for the night. I felt good, but sticky, so I hopped in the shower, missing the feeling of Matt's hands. The hot water helped soothe me, but what I really wanted was some more company.

The contemporary apartments that we lived in were beautiful, but not in the slightest way practical. Huge windows lined most of the exterior walls, and the shower's outer wall faced the city, whose lights glittered down below. Sure, those outside could barely see in, but they could see enough.

It was exciting. I knew the people across the alley, who looked over to me on occasion. There was a beautiful boy and his girlfriend directly across from us, and two single guys house sharing in the apartment across and above. Through the tinted, foggy windows, I let them gaze at my mysterious silhouette. In this bougie world we lived in, a little basic mystery never hurt.

So I started on my routine.

I let the hot water run, until the windows were foggy and I'd worked up a sweat. I push my bare ass against the cold glass and bend over, working it against the window as I would a man's crotch, grinding like I had something to prove.

One of my friends, Daisy, had an awesome saying. If you were going to dance, she says, "Do it like a stripper before rent's due." The wisest words she's ever spoken, really.

I can see outwards perfectly, and as I expected, Mr Boyfriend across the street is watching me, his hands in his pants and his mouth agape.

"You like that, huh?" I say to myself, turning my chest to the window. My nipples are pierced, and super sensitive, and immediately harden when I put them against the window.

It wasn't the only thing that was hardening.

I felt a cool rush of air in the room, as the door opens. My sister's husband, Rhett, is standing awkwardly at the door, doing his best to conceal his erection.

"Sorry, sorry," he says, retreating from the room quickly.

I should probably feel embarrassed, but this wasn't the first time that this has happened and Rhett definitely just listened to Matt fuck me on his kitchen. After that, there just aren't many barriers left to break down.

I used to be tempted to fuck him. I've got to admit, I'd thought about it, a lot. About just slinking into his bed one night, letting him hold me the way he must hold my sister, and fucking him the way she couldn't. I couldn't do that, though. The marriage wasn't going to last, sure, but I wasn't going to be the reason that it broke up. I owe my sister that.

I resign myself to a night alone. It was too late to go out again, and I couldn't be bothered to do my makeup for a second time. I just apply my hair colouring, and pamper myself.

You deserve it, Silva. You worked hard today.

I can't help but smile.

I'm on my way to my morning yoga class. I'd just parked my car and was walking towards the class, trying not to shiver. It was cold out, and I was wearing my active wear, so there wasn't much between me and the cold.

I should really correct myself here: it wasn't exactly a class. Not a public one, anyway.

The idea of what was coming made my heart leap into my throat. I loved coming to yoga. My teacher, James, was my favourite person in the world, and I enjoyed every minute of it. He made me giddy like a school girl.

I walk in without knocking on the door. I feel the familiar squishiness of the yoga matt floor under my feet, and can smell the familiar smell of the room; sweat and power. It immediately made me feel relaxed, and once I felt his eyes on me, I pick up on something else in the room.

It smelled like sex.

"You've had someone else here," I say to him, looking around the room.

"Does that upset you?"

"If it upset me, would I be here? I know what you are, James."

He doesn't even look guilty, more so proud of himself. He eyes me hungrily, and I can't help but get excited.

I start to stretch, getting ready for the session. My tight pants fit me perfectly, and I know my ass is to die for in these things. James circles me, looking on approvingly, and locks the door. I don't acknowledge him, just focusing on myself.

I am stretched out like a cat, reaching forwards, when I feel the leather hit my ass cheek, stinging me. I can't help but like it, and wiggle my hips a little, encouraging. James chuckles.

He moves the head of the leather baton along my hips, back and up to my shoulders, before turning it against my chin, making me face him.

"You need to arch your back more, get your stomach flat against the ground and your legs up. I want to see those toes in the air," he says, still circling.

He stops behind me, as I push my flexibility to the limits.

"I want to be able to see everything more. Stretch more..." he says, trailing off.

He caresses my lips with the leather. The head of the baton is rough, raw on the sides and smooth on top, and it tickles as he moves it, the different feelings driving my senses wild.

He pushes down, stretching me slightly, and I can feel his will power stopping him from pushing the leather into me. At this point, I was ready for anything, as long as it was James, and if he wanted to use toys on me I didn't mind.

It was thrilling, him playing with me. In classes before, he'd whipped me, beaten me, but also been gentle and lovely. What he chose to be changed from lesson to lesson and it was always a surprise.