Sunlight stabbed at her eyes, and the strident bleeping of her alarm clock woke her up. She smacked the irritating device off, and sat up, wincing a bit. She still felt sore, her body responding to movement painfully. She blearily stumbled from bed and walked unsteadily into her tiny bathroom, not bothering to face herself in the mirror. Turning the shower on full blast, she waited for it to warm up; she felt icy cold, for some reason, but she couldn't quite remember why she would feel cold, or sore. Memories scattered through her sleep-deprived brain, and she shook her head quickly, and stepped under the hot water.
She sudsed up her shower pouf, the calming scent of lavender wafting up from the rich lather to her nose. She slowly moved it in circles over her arms, then her neck, enjoying the feeling of silky soap mixed with the netting of the pouf. She closed her eyes, and rubbed it down between her breasts, and then over them, her nipples starting to tingle and pucker against the light touch. She sighed, and rubbed her other hand gently over the swell of her belly, caressing up between her ribs and then up against the fullness of her breast, squeezing it softly. She moved the pouf down, lower, swirling it against her dripping flesh, feeling her body tighten in anticipation of more... Then her eyes snapped open, and she looked down at her breasts, nipples tight and hard, and her sex was full and open, as if anticipating a touch or... She quickly finished her shower, ignoring the fullness of her breasts, and drying off fast, hoping to cool down.
Wiping the condensation off of the mirror, she looked closely at herself, and a cold shiver raced down her spine. She was pale, her already fair skin now porcelain, and delicate dark shadows circled her eyes. With a strange sense of dread and eagerness, she lifted her red hair off of her neck, looking for a mark of some sort; what, she didn't know, but she was sure that there was something that had to do with her neck. But nothing showed under the glow of fluorescent lights overhead.
The rest of the day passed in a fog; she was grateful it was the end of the week, because she was so tired, wore out. Nothing could wake her up fully: coffee, sugar, walking about quickly during her breaks. When five o'clock finally rolled around, she gratefully headed for her car, and the short commute home. Traffic wasn't bad, for once, and she made it home in time to catch the phone ringing. She chatted for a while with her friend and agreed, somewhat surprisingly, to go out with her tonight. "There's a new club that I'm DYING to try; they've just opened a week ago, and I managed to get VIP invites," her friend gushed. She agreed again, and replaced the receiver, her tiredness strangely gone.
She freshened up, and checked her closet for something suitable for this evening. She was drawn to a slinky, shimmery dress she had bought on a whim awhile back. The black material felt sexy, naughty, and absolutely right for this evening. She placed it on the bed, and then, again going on some kind of instinct, she found a pair of black silk stockings, tucked forgotten in a dresser drawer, along with a tiny black thong, matching bra and garter belt for the stockings. She found her best black heels, way in the back of her closets, as if they were waiting for her to find them. She slowly put each garment on, reveling in how feminine she felt in each piece as it was put on. When she was dressed, she looked at herself in the mirror: tumbled red locks curled over one shoulder, looking tousled and sexy, while her subtle makeup made her blue eyes stand out, like blue sapphires against milk white flesh. She smiled slightly at the woman in the mirror, and felt confident, beautiful, more alive than she ever had. With another smile, broader this time, she left her apartment for the nightlife.
A thumping beat could be felt when they walked up to the club, a rhythmic pounding that set the hips to moving and gyrating. They were quickly escorted inside when her friend showed the passes, and the heated darkness enclosed them. The music, muffled on the outside, blasted into them, and the scent of bodies in motion wafted over them in a hot, steamy rush. Her friend pulled her towards the bar, chattering on about the drinks, and if she would find someone to go home with, how awesome the music was, blah blah blah, and she wanted her to just shut up for one second, because she could feel something, or was it someone.... She looked around in the dim smoky light, feeling like someone, and not just the usual gawking from the well-dressed young studs hanging around watching her. She could see no one, but she could feel his eyes (how did she know that it was a him??) still on her, almost palpable in its intensity.
She danced, feeling oddly detached, as if she were waiting for something (someone) to join her in this crowd of moving, sweating bodies, gyrating in sexually suggestive ways against each other. Then, she felt a body, hard and hot, sliding up and down behind her, strong hands gripping her waist possessively. She gasped when she felt hot breath right by her ear, his tongue licking lightly at the tender lobe. "Meet me by the lounge in 5 minutes," his deep smoky voice whispered in her ear, and then he was gone, as if he had never been there.
She wove through the crowd, forgetting her friend, forgetting everything but that voice, silky smooth and undeniable. She couldn't deny that voice, and her body was responding in very distracting ways. She could feel the plumpness of her sex, the dampness soaking into her panties, and her nipples rubbing against the lace of her bra. She reached the darkened area near the VIP lounge, looking about anxiously, when she felt him behind her again, his hands gripping hers behind her back quickly and firmly. He pushed her forward gently, his body heat burning her through the flimsy black dress that seemed to not cover her at all. The man at the door opened the door without a word, and she was hustled inside.
