This is my very first try at erotica. Please leave comments and feedback so I can improve my stories.
This is the first part. A bit of a slow build, the mind-control aspect will become clearer as the story unfolds.
Enjoy!
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From Bar to Boarding
Fiona sat at the bar, sipping her frozen cosmo. Sure, it was only 11 AM, but she was on holiday. Boy, did she deserve a break.
While she ran her slender fingers through her chocolate-coloured locks, she caught her reflection in the bar's mirror. Her almost black eyes looked back at her, standing out in a face that was just a touch too pale. She blew a mock kiss at herself and then smirked. That was the most action she had gotten in months. Another reason for the spontaneous get-away.
"All passengers for flight DIX-314, please proceed to board."
Checking her phone - of course, there were no new messages - Fiona left her drink standing and slid off the bar stool. Two steps away, she decided, what the hell, and turned on her deep red espadrilles, making her summer dress twirl enticingly.
'Bummer, no one's except the bartender,' she thought to herself. It really was time for a good night again. As much as she enjoyed her own hand, there was something about being at the mercy of another person...
Fiona shook her head clear and downed the rest of her drink, after all. The bartender, a freakishly thin guy that looked way too young to be there, stared at her. She winked, ran a hand down her side as if to straighten the dress and strode away. Well aware of his gaze following her, she used the big windows to look back unnoticed. Sure enough, he seemed to be adjusting his slacks. With a little head rush, Fiona giggled, nearly missed a step and immediately scolded herself for starting the vacation before she had even left town.
By the time she had made her way to the gate, she was feeling pretty sure on her feet again. Unfortunately, she was feeling pretty sorry for herself again, too. It seemed that just a few minutes without distractions were enough for her to reminisce about what she had lost.
"What he had lost, dammit!" she muttered under her breath. 'Stupid bastard. Couldn't have gone off with anyone else. No, it had to be my supposedly best friend. Bitch. Stupid cunt. I hope they're miserable together!'
She pulled herself together. This had been months ago. Fiona had tried to bury herself in her work. It had worked to some extent. She still found herself missing his touch when she was lying in bed at night, the silk sheets smooth against her naked skin.
Arsehole that he was, he had always known what to do to her. The way he would surprise her in the hallway, sneaking his hand under her shirt, up her back and around to the front. How his slightly callused fingers made her skin tingle with lust. His favourite move (hers, too) was to grab her perky little boobs with both hands, grinding himself into her ass.
Running his hands roughly down the front, he'd stop just before he reached her aching centre of passion, grab her wrists and pull them back. It made her arch her back and brought her neck into the ideal position to nibble on. With goosebumps cascading down her body, he'd spin her around, pin her against the wall and kiss her hard. Every time his tongue overpowered hers, she would melt into little puddles of desire, moaning her approval in the throaty way that drove him wild. The worst / best piece of it was that he'd stop right then, walk away chuckling and leave her, shaking and cursing him and pushing her own hands in between ...
"Ouch!"
Before she knew what had happened, she found herself on the floor, handbag contents strewn around her, looking up at what she presumed to be Aphrodite herself. The goddess-in-human-form started apologising profusely, extending her hand to help Fiona up.