Sil Scarf

This is one hotel that you have never been to. The letter you received was hand written, and the script unrecognizable. Why you are here you still don't know. The lobby is huge and full of people. You feel as if everyone knows why you're there. Why are you here?

The elevator elegant and all glass, moves up slowly and silently. The open glass back was providing an expansive view of the old hotel. The quiet little beep repeats as each floor is passed. Why are you doing this? This is not your style.

The note, along with a single red rose, delivered by hand to your office. Embossed in gold on the envelope was your name. A wax seal closed the flap. The writing on the seal to difficult to read. You turned and flipped it several times, trying to figure out its contents. Once open, inside was an invitation. You remember your hands trembling as you read the card. Where had this come from?

What was it that had made you come so far, drop your defenses to this level? Looking back the card was more of a summons than an invitation. You had even thrown it away, then retrieved it. Something about it commanded your response. And you had complied.

The elevator door opening signaled the 19th floor. Your finger reached for the first floor button. Instead your hand dropped to your side, you exited. Legs wobbly in the high heels that you never wore anymore, but were requested in the note. Each step down the long hall reminded you of the underwear, still lying on your bed, again by request. Your nipples strained at the silk blouse, breasts swaying slightly with each step. The silk of the blouse soft and smooth. Feeling so good.

A turn to the left, room numbers 1926, 1927, the numbers rising. Breathing coming quicker. Rooms passing slowly. 1928, 1929,1930, two more to go. You stopped at the door 1932. A note in the same script attached to the door. Telling, no imploring you to enter. You knock. Looking up and down the hall for some excuse to leave. No one answered. Your hand quivers as you reach for the brass knob. Quietly the door swings open. The entire room surrounded by glass. The view of the city breathe taking. Deeper you move into the room.

The champagne bucket standing there, alone in the center of the room. Single glass alongside. Another note the same handwriting. You reach for the bottle and pour a full glass. Sipping you read the next note. You know inside that you can't do this. You turn to leave. Another sip of the cool bubbly wine tasting sweet and tingly. You hesitate, reread the note. Another drink long and hard, draining the glass.

There is a scarf on the couch, per the note. Folded, length wise, a long thin line. You touch the scarf, fingers moving slowly over the fabric. Silk you would guess. Taking it into your hands, you turn it over and over. Laying it back on the couch you turn again to leave. Then back, and then to leave. What's happening to you? Breathing rapid, heart pounding you return to the couch and the scarf. Retrieving it, holding the length in both hands, you raise it up. You feel the fabric on the bridge of your nose. Your fingers tremble as the knot pulls tight behind your head. Your view obscured. Vision lost. You stand hands at your side. Knees shaking mind running wild. Hearing acute. You stand per the note. Clearing your throat, your speak, voice quaking. "I am here."

Fear running rampant in your mind. Head turning, trying to hear. No sound, how long had you been standing there? Your hear the soft breathing of another. Your hands start to rise. Your need to see greater than ever.

A male voice "Please leave it, or I will have to leave. You are free, you came here on your own, and may leave at anytime."

Your hands gradually moving back to your side. That voice, a strange one, one that you had never heard before. Soft, gentle, commanding. You want to move toward it. But you stand. A warm breath on your bare neck. Your skin trembles body tingling. Your head turns, exposing more of the soft pale flesh of your neck. Your breathing faster knees shaking as you stand, inwardly proud that you are there.

A whisper in your ear soft and commanding. You remove the coat as requested. You feel him moving around you. You feel his eyes upon you. Your nipples press hard against the fabric. You know he is standing there before you. Watching you. Your back arches. Pressing the fabric of the blouse tighter against your body. Why?

Something soft, slick moves across your neck. It feels so good. You skin calling out for more. A stronger touch. It moves away. Then again across the exposed flesh above your breasts. Your body moves into the touch. Breasts swelling, trying to grasp more of the touch. Your head falls back, the caresses continue. Your hands move out to grasp.

"No," whispered.

A murmured command soft and demanding. You feel the distance from him now. Your hands move to the top button on the blouse. You hesitate again. Fear and longing. The button opens. The cool air across the newly exposed flesh. Nipples growing. Mind flooded with thoughts. The next button and the taught fabric opens across your body. Two more buttons and you stand blouse open before the unseen. You pull the blouse pulled from the waist of the skirt. A shrug and you feel it pass your legs on the way to the floor.

Standing there. Not a sound, save for your own breathing and pounding of your heart. The object moving across you again. Your neck craving more and more. Another command and your hands move to your breasts. You feel their familiar weight. You caress yourself gently. You enjoy the growing heat within. Fingers twisting nipples. Your own touch so soft. Your hands move over your upper body. Slowly, savoring the silky smoothness.

You know you are being watched and you don't care. You need this, a deep need. Your hands are moving constantly more bold. Caresses firmer. You lean forward to feel the full import of the soft flesh in your hands. More and more you stroke the fullness. The sides the underneath, the hardness of the nipple. Never have you felt this. Never has your own touch been so electric. Never have you been this way in front of another. You feel his stare.

Hands moving lower. You press the skirt against you. Touching the material against the full flowering of your sex. You rock gently against your probing fingers. The skirt soft and cool against you feels wonderful. The touch of your fingers stronger more intense. Your hips undulating. A moan escapes your lips. Hands, not yours, slide the side zipper of the skirt gently down. Inch by inch, slowly you feel the waistband open. You no longer care your desire too great.

Body covered only by the wobbling heels. Hands again at your side as requested. Your feel, no sense him moving around you, circling. Legs parted slightly, you detect the scent of you in the air. Again you sense the circling movement. Another slight breathe near your ear, and another command. Legs parting, opening more. Your body completely exposed. Your hands moving again over your body. Your fingers are drawn to your need. You move to touch, but are stopped. Your wetness is felt at the top of your warm thighs. Your hips moving to their own rhythm. Your body is performing an ancient dance. Your hands again to your breasts. Needing, squeezing, stroking, touching you harder firmer.

A Warm breath between your legs. Your scent now fills the air. Your hands working faster. Your heat and desire growing without limits. Your leg jumps at the gentle touch upon your calf, imploring movement. You open more. The caress gentle, from behind, moves slowly upward. A hand firmly between your shoulders bids you to lean forward. You feel his presence behind you. His breath upon your thighs. His hand moves higher.

You bend slightly at the knee. Moving down toward the touch. Hips rocking, your body is longing, for the touch upon you. His breath closer, higher. Your wetness flowing. His fingers moving in the moisture. Completely bare, your lust demanding release. His hands upon you, another moan escapes. How could he know the way to touch? Your senses concentrated on your need.

His fingers moving slowly, your hips pressing against them. Need like fire building. Your hands moving on your breasts, his between your legs. You bend more, offering more. The touch bolder, probing. Fingers moving over your lips. Clit trembling. Another stroke, and a firmer touch. Clit surrounded by fingers. Stroking gently. Fingers penetrating deeper driving your too new levels. Hips pressing back harder. Fingers pulling and twisting nipples. The flame was burning higher.

Your hands captured in his, pulling down. Your fingers replacing his, your touch stronger. His hands upon your shoulders, gently forcing you down. You kneel still touching. Back arched against your fingers. The familiar sound, a belt opening. Movement of a zipper captured in your ear. You feel the heat of him on your lips. Fingers clutching at yourself. He moves closer and you open to accept. Your lips close tightly around him. His fingers on your nipples. The swollen ridge of him passes your wet lips. Your tongue plays with the intruder. You hear a new sound, the sound of his pleasure.

You lean into him further. The taste driving your fingers faster, deeper you probe your own depths. Deeper he passes into you. Your tongue swirling around him. He is deep now, your not sure if you can take all of him. He moves away. Slowly moving from your mouth. In again, the fullness in your mouth greater, deeper. You want this like never before.

Your hips grinding against your fingers. He, another stroke into your wanton mouth. How much can you take? You want more. Another stroke, your finger upon your clit, a moan escapes from you, driving him deeper. His fingers locked in your hair. Pulling you closer. Your throat opens and you take him fully. Your fingers deep, you are ready. He pulls back you try to follow, but he holds you away.

The tip of him on your lips, down to your chin. His hands lifting you. Standing you are turned. Bending forward you feel the back of the couch at your waist. Fingers still move on yourself. Your flesh opening for him. Slowly he enters. A small shudder passes through your body. Building, building. You feel him moving into you. Your legs open wide to accept. Deeper he moves, faster your fingers move over your wet swollen clit. Deeper, he is filling you completely. The movement reversed. You feel the emptiness begin. Fully he withdraws. You cry out for more. "Oh GOD, fuck me."

Again he moves into you. Little by little you are filled again, this time you cannot control, you thrust back against him greedily taking all. Never so full you reach out and grasp the tight sack, and pull it against your clit. Your hips move against him. Rocking, pleading you call out. He withdraws, penetrates, withdraws, and penetrates. You call out with each stroke "fuck me." Your fingers helping, touching where you come together. Never faster, but each stroke firmer than the last, he moves in you.

Your need is too strong. You call out. He strokes deeper and harder than before. Your hands clench your breasts. Your sounds fill the room. Your body inside clutches at the intruder. Your body trembles. Every muscle tightens. Your whole being is centered. The feelings continue. Your cries fill the air. The release is so tremendous. This is a new level. Your wetness flowing down your thighs. You feel him begin to swell more, deep within you. His explosion takes you even higher. He pulls back and then deep again. His hands pull your hips tight against him. He grinds hard, and is spent. You fall forward over the back of the couch. Expended, exhausted, thrilled. Desire and lust sated. You feel him changing within you. The fullness evaporating. His hands gone, he withdraws completely.

Your breathing slows. Heart returns to almost normal. The flushes of pleasure still upon you. The room is quiet. Too quiet. Your hands move to the blindfold, and loosen the knot. The scarf falls on the floor and your vision returns slowly. You look around the room, standing fully. The chamber empty. Save for a single rose on the couch, and an empty second glass on the floor.

Dazed you dress. Searching the room you find nothing. Sitting on the couch you pour another glass of champagne. Your mind wanders back to the events of a few moments ago. Finally you rise. You move across the room, the sound of the door clicking closed behind you.