She stood alone staring at the dark pane. Not so much looking out onto the rain soaked night, but rather at the tiny rivulets drumming against the pane as each splashed, and then trickled down the glass only to disappear into the weatherworn sill, replaced by another.
It was a lonely rain. The were no searing flashes of lightning to illuminate the night against the darkness, nor were there the rhythmic footfalls of distant, approaching thunder that would preempt the coming of a stronger front. Rather a quiet rain that gave the street below a semblance of a still, dark river. The depths of which she could not begin to ponder. On the corner, the watchful lamppost wore a halo of ghostly gray sodium vapour.
He had always told her, to embrace the rain for it, in itself is the ultimate seduction. Think of the rain as tiny tongues anxiously savouring the taste of your flesh and the sweet fragrance of your hair, he had said. Fingers of a thousand lovers stroking you, caressing you, your face your hair. Cascading in laughing whispers down your dress and playing upon your lips. Your dress clinging to your subtle curves, as wishes wash away your inhibitions.
She began to think about how the rain felt against her skin the last time she was caught in a shower. Wearing a filmy sun-strapped summer dress, the raindrops kissed her face and in quick teasing droplets, chilled her slightly as they danced down her back and over her breasts. And how embarrassed she became when her nipples began to harden against the tightened wet smoothness of her dress and how suddenly revealed she felt through the now slickened material, chasing thoughts of him.
. . .By the time she reached her apartment building, her dress had smoothed against her body like a second skin suggestively hugging her every move. With thoughts of his warm body against hers, she had become so aroused that she almost tore the dress from her body when she entered her apartment. She would have let him, if he were there.
Lying naked upon her bed, erotic daydreams stole her away as subtle tremors of need oiled her fingers. He was watching, she hoped. . . . . . . .
Turning from the window, she stopped before the stare of a full-length dressing mirror and slipped a loose-fitting white night-gown over her shoulders. 'His' gown she had told him. It was a simple button-down sleeveless gown that draped loosely over her shoulders, smoothing softly over her hips to just above her knees. The gown had a certain seductive wear in its simplicity and made her feel quite sensuous, always slipping off her shoulder revealing much of her smooth round breasts; though was lost in the empty shadows of her evenings alone.
As she gazed into the mirror she fantasized that it was his touch that freed the gown, his mouth against her smooth shoulder, tasting her flesh as his arms embraced her. His fingers slipping the gown from her shoulder, caressing teasing sensations down along her arm and entwining her fingers with his. He always kissed her shoulder first, sending goosebumps giggling over her flesh. If she called him, he would come. From the shadows, he would materialize to find her always waiting, willing; his Demi monde.
"Come to me my shadow lover. Come to me tonight." She whispered as her gown slipped free and gathered at her feet, and with a soft, resolving sigh, she laid down on her bed.
Not pulling up the blankets but rather content to lay naked beneath the indigo hued shadows and listen to the rain whisper through the night. With her one arm lazily behind her head and her knees bent up, she eased deeper into the mattress as the somber concerto of a rainy night comforted her. Silently, she let her legs fall open as her hand wandered quietly over her stomach and a low feral moan erased all thoughts of her workday.
"Please, come to me tonight," she whispered, as her fingers tasted the first warm drops of need.
"Please . . .come to me ," she pleaded, her voice trapped in her tight-teeth grimace becoming louder inhalations as spikes of lonely need seared through her body. "Please," she faintly moaned as she drifted deeper.
Beneath the spectral shroud of darkness quiet tremours whispered past her lips as the steady rainfall played a relaxing lullaby that lulled her deeper into a fantasy world of pleasure.
Secret whimpers stole her breath as she slipped her fingers along the silken folds of moistened flesh, as her body ebbed on insatiable tides. Her hips rising to meet the caress of her fingers as she pressed harder yet defying the desire to plunge deeper, her breasts rising on vocal breaths until her body arched of burgeoning pleasure.
Both hands now stealing fingers between her thighs as she opened her thighs painfully wider, her hips raising uncontrollably as though an unseen force had been unleashed upon her and now, in its talons, was devouring her.
Two fingers, then three, a finger of each hand. Betraying fingers opening her sobbing lips as other greedy fingers drank of her wanton wine. Louder, faster, the intensity drove her delirious as she cried out against the torment of her aching breasts. Her head thrashing on the pillow fanned her hair across her face, then away as she struggled vehemently to release the tempest that raged through her.
