The door to his bedroom was closed. He'd planned this. He wanted the vision of the room where she'd spent this evening, and hopefully many more, to appear all at once.
Turning to face her at the door, he pulled her close to him.
"Sandy, I will never be able to tell you what I'm feeling right now. I can honestly say, though, that right now, in this moment, I would not trade places with any man on earth."
"Tom…" her breath was coming in pants.
He interrupted her. "I want you to know that what we do in this bedroom defines us only until we leave it. It changes nothing in the outside world. But in this room, we are lovers eternally bonded to each other, and I would have it no other way. What transpires tonight will remain with us always."
"Tom…"
He had something to say, though, so he didn't let her finish. "I want you to release yourself to the pleasure that will consume you, body and soul. We will always be as one in this room. In here, you need never feel shame of any kind."
"Tom…"
He had more to say, but she sounded impatient.
"Yes?"
"I need you to fuck me right now."
He opened the door to his bedroom. The wooden floors gleamed in the light of the four large candles he'd placed in it. The windows were open; a fresh outdoor breeze blew through. It smelled of rain. The curtains were mostly drawn so they'd have privacy from any nosy neighbors, but at their edges the wind was able to find its way through. The thunderstorm rumbled in the distance.
His king-sized bed was freshly made from the afternoon he'd spent preparing the house; underneath the duvet were freshly washed sheets. The low light from the flickering candles wrought mysterious images across the walls. The rising winds blowing through the large window across the room from the door caused the lighting to dance seductively.
He suddenly reached down and scooped her up into his arms.
"Sandra Wright, as I carry you across this threshold, I bid you to accept me as your lover and eternal partner in pleasure. I promise to have you and to attend to your every need, as long as we both agree to this pact. Do you accept my proposal?"
"I do."
Without another word, Tom carried her to the bed and gently laid her across it. She was light; a weight that he easily and gladly hefted. Her eyes were glued to his throughout the symbolic crossing of a new threshold. He could tell that she understood what his symbolism meant. She was not married to him, but bonded to him just as tightly as her husband, now.
Her knees were bent across the side of the bed and her feet dangled off. His bed sat high on risers, so her feet did not touch the floor. He arose from where he had gently laid her on the mattress, and then slowly sank to his knees on the floor.
He gently took her left foot in his hands and slipped the ankle strap off. After pulling the shoe off and sitting it on the floor under the night stand, he repeated the process with the other foot. Her feet were compelling; he'd always admired that they were toned, yet the skin on her calves and ankles was soft and supple despite the obviously taut muscles underneath. He would pay more attention to her feet on another night; now he had other concerns.
Rising to his feet, he looked down upon her. She was breathing heavily, and flushed with arousal. Her dress had risen up to mid-thigh, and he nearly gasped when he saw that she had worn stockings instead of pantyhose. He could see the lacy elastic upper rings that clung to her thighs, and the thought of her legs wrapped around his waist while wearing them brought him to nearly complete erection.
He bent at the waist across the mattress so that their torsos were together. He could feel her breasts pressing upon him through the fabric of her dress and his shirt. Finally, after years of pining, he was able to look directly into her eyes in the way he'd always wanted: from a distance of less than an inch. She made no move to look away. They paused for a long moment. Her eyes were clear, her face tense with anticipation. He was in control.
This was what he'd dreamt of.
He kissed her. Pressing his lips to hers, he found them to be soft and pliant. She yielded; his tongue slipped into her mouth. She reciprocated with fervor. To his mind, she tasted like a woman that had been trapped for years in a marriage that held no intrigue to her. He imagined that her tongue tasted of unfulfilled passion on the brink of satisfaction. Their tongues entwined passionately. He loved the taste of his boss.
Her tongue danced with his in a tango that had been years in anticipation. Closing his eyes, he savored the moment. He was about to make love to the woman of his dreams.
"Sandy, I want you to raise your arms above your head."
His eyes were less than an inch away from his. Her blue eyes reflected deep longing; passion withheld against her will. She needed this as much as he did. She would do whatever he wanted. Her lips trembled as she murmured her consent.
"Yes, sir," she whispered.
Her arms slid across the duvet cover slowly. Her eyes never left his. Soon, her fingers interlocked, her arms stretched comfortably above her head.
"Don't move until I tell you to."
She nodded, almost imperceptibly. He knew that this woman who had been married for over two decades would know what was coming. He continued to look deep into her eyes for another few seconds. She gazed back at him, with arousal in her visage. More than that, there seemed to be something more than sexual excitement there.
He slid down her body, nibbling on every section of skin that presented itself. Her neck was exposed; he spent a few seconds there. Her skin was soft, pliable. It hearkened back to an animalistic instinct; that this woman would let him suck on her neck while lying so submissively indicated that she trusted him completely.
He decided against putting a hickey on her neck. Although he wanted desperately to mark her as his, he knew that this would cause problems for her upon the inevitable inspection her husband would subject her to. He thought to himself, "Soon…"
The straps on her dress had fallen slack when she'd raised her arms. The tops of her breasts were exposed and heaving. She was panting with anticipation. He planted a kiss on the top of her left breast.
Leaving a trail of saliva across the top of her white dress, he made his way down to her thighs. He started to raise the hem of her dress so that he could taste her womanhood. This was a moment they'd never forget.
Suddenly, a primal instinct arose in him. He stopped before diving into the treasure that was so very close to him. There was something he needed to do, first.
"Sandy, stand up."
A confused look crossed her face. She hesitated, then let her hands fall to her sides. She scooted off the bed, and slowly, stood up.
