Category Archives: meme

Sticky Note No. 6

I was waiting on the subway platform, looked down on the tracks and instead of a rat…there was a woman’s single wedge. I curled over–carefully–to take a picture. I knew it was going to be a sticky, but not how it would manifest. The pen I wrote with was choppy at best, but I always type it out for you so…

The tattoo said “Monster.” She could not believe that someone would have a tattoo that telling if it was true. Looking at her wedge on the subway tracks, she herself wedged against the filthy column and him her thoughts were readjusted. Her bare foot on his shoe, so she did not have to step on the even filthier platform. Her hand on his bare chest not out of affection, but necessity to balance. She’d dared him to, he did. Disbelief filled her but secretly, she liked that he’d put her in that precarious position. A game like adolescents would play, but they were not. Her desire rose…

photo by f dot leonora

A Darker Flame: Now What?

Now what exactly! When Chris of Stranded in Toronto said he needed a prompt for his deliciously named erotica meme A Darker Flame.…well I could not leave him stranded, could I?! I came up with this prompt, so that means I had to write a story…gulp!
Let me tell you this meme is amazing, and I am going to be a return customer! Getting to this point was half the fun! Below is what I came up with…

Adora embraced herself on the sand. She arrived on the island with three things as she was instructed, while she waited for Elijah to meet her after his conference. She had been with him in Chile for a few days, but he suggested she might like time alone to write.
Her notebook, a fountain pen and a book of Pablo Neruda poems she bought in Santiago were all she had. She bought the book of poems after she had visited La Chaschona, the home Neruda had named after Mathilde his wife. The wife he had written the passionate poems in her possession about.
Inside the bungalow she took off all of her clothes except for her corset which she bought in a Chilean store. Even without Elijah there, she was in a mood. Between her legs wound with desire she could not ignore. Absently, she caressed her notebook and the Neruda poems.
She was alone, but she felt surrounded by the spirits of literary icons like Neruda and Anaïs Nin. Adora was a huge diarist like Nin. She shared everything with Elijah, but the journal was hers. The things she did not, and could not share with him.
The wound pulse between her legs demanded attention. She ran her hand over the hollow of her neck, trickling her fingers to the softness that was her breasts pushed to the top of her corset. Her breasts were smooth, and she enjoyed playing with them.
Then she heard movement in the house.
The house belonged to Didier, Elijah’s boss who was letting let her stay there for the few days. But there was obviously someone in the house. She put her petticoat back on, thinking maybe it was housekeeping since the house was impeccably clean.
When she turned the corner barefoot, she gasped at the Didier who she recognized from behind.
She was very familiar with him from various angles.
“You’re not supposed to be here,” she stated bluntly without finesse.
“What are you supposed to be? Madonna circa her Like a Virgin period?”
Adora had to admit, she was channeling that look in her lacy white corset and petticoat.
“Elijah told me you wouldn’t be here.”
Didier looked her up and down in the lingering way he did that she hated herself for liking. He always looked at her like that, and it always made her tight as if knots of rope for tug of war were being pulled between her legs.
“Because I told him I would not be here.”
“But why?”
He walked toward her, and she tried to pretend like it did not affect her.
Elijah had a close relationship with Didier. And from the moment that she met him…that was when she began to have journal entries she could not share with Elijah.
“I wanted you here by yourself.”
Adora rubbed her eyes, sure she was dreaming. Didier whose name meant to be desired, was saying he wanted her there by herself. She could not believe this was happening.
Because she had dreamed it.
“Why do you want me alone?” She put her arms behind her back moving back toward the wall.
“I want you, and I know I shouldn’t so if I have you…if I have you I will not think about it anymore.”
“But I do not want you.”
He paused in front of her, and she stopped breathing.
“If it happens here in the house on this island, it is almost like it didn’t happen.”
Adora’s breath returned as she pressed herself against the wall. He followed her, and placed his hands on either side of her.
“But I do not want you.”
Both times the lie was weak, but she wanted to believe it.
“From the time I met you, I have not been able to see Elijah the same because he is with you.”
Looking into his eyes was a bad idea, she softened as she looked up at him.
“I’m with Elijah.” she reiterated.
His hands on her hips, he traced her shape through the corset.
“You are trying to act like when we kissed at the ball it was nothing.”
Her body even softer, she closed her eyes and swallowed when he took hold of her arms and pressed her to him.
Adora really thought she wanted time alone, but time alone would have been to write about Didier. To write about the kiss at the company ball, where Elijah left her with Didier to work.
Where she kissed Didier, then ran away pulling her gown up and acting like Cinderella. But instead of a pumpkin, she turned into a ball of desire.
Being with him right now scared her. She’d wanted to be with Didier on this empty island in her dreams, and now she was terrified.
Always the good girl, she had never been with a man simply because she wanted him. Especially if she was with someone else. She always dressed sex with love. Barely dressed now, she very much wanted Didier.
Stepping out of her petticoat, she pressed her breasts even more to his chest.
She did not want to talk anymore.
This kiss was not an accident, it was all encompassing her mouth sucking all the warmth from his.
“Take off everything except the corset, I like the way your breasts spill from the top.
Adora obeyed him, undressed except for the lacy corset.
He placed his hand over her bare triangle, his fingers played with her moisture.
“Let’s go outside.”
He took her hand, pulled a sheet from the bed and they slipped through the sliding doors. Didier spread the sheet over the sand, and got on his back.
“Show me what you want.”
Looking down at him, he looked so vulnerable. Adora saw her breasts push up all the more with the rapid beating of her heart. She sprawled over him, showed him what she wanted with his warm, hard body. Exploring different parts of him, she watched his face to tell what he liked and what he did not like.
She liked him touching her breasts, and that tiny spot between her legs where she would have to make a decision where she wanted him to enter her.
The sound of her racing heart and grunting anchored her as she made her decision. She had never been on top before, and every moment of it felt like a dream she was not waking up from.
Getting him in her and sliding completely down his shaft, her heart raced so that she was not sure if it was in her chest, or between her legs.
“I knew I would find you here!”
Elijah stood at the sliding doors. Adora was startled, but at the same time she was almost about to come.
“I knew I would find you here,” Elijah bellowed again with a revolver pointed.
Adora could not let Didier slip out of her, but she was frozen with fear and unable to absorb the desire that the etymology of his name demanded…

Darker flames can be found here:

photo via wikipedia

Wicked Wednesday #113 –Past, Present, Future

Even with Oscar’s hand in hers. Even though they were the only people in the forest. Even though they had made love against the only tree in the forest, Severine did not feel like she was with Oscar. Her past with men–not only Rafe–had disenchanted her.
Everyone needed her body like breath or blood in the beginning, and she loved sex so it was beautiful. Her libido was indefatigable. Sex always worked well, because that was how she interpreted love. Words meant little to her. If the song went it is in his kiss, for her it was in the way a man made love to her. She’d read that in The Mandarins by Simone de Beauvoir, Anne in the novel said you never really knew what a man was like until you were in bed with him.
With Severine it always felt like she made love in a forest, being the only two people in that time and space. But then at some point she and the man she was with got lost like Hansel and Gretel, with nothing at all to lead them back where they had started.
She held Oscar’s hand tightly presently as she thought about past lovers. She had the advantage in this moment, because she was the one doing the navigating in the forest. He followed her, because she was the one who had gotten them here. Most places they went she knew how to navigate better than he did, well at least the far-flung locations like this.
Except Shanghai. Oscar knew a lot about Shanghai, even though he did not tell her much about his time there. She did not ask him a lot, because previously she was unlike Anne in The Mandarins. Her behavior was more like Paula clinging to Henri in the beginning of the book, wanting to believe so much in everything. Even what was not there anymore.
But she was in control presently, of their movement through the forest and her emotions. Oscar’s warm hand in hers, if she put his fingers to her mouth she would taste herself. Yet still she did not feel close enough to him. Or maybe she was afraid to feel close to him…
If serendipity had not taken flight in her life like a grand papillon, if she had not met Oscar randomly in her favorite cafe…She had had no intention of suggesting or starting anything on the plane, because she was still in love with Rafe she had believed. She told Oscar that in the cafe.
He told her about the woman who had haunted him currently. All of their ghosts were put on the table next to their grande cafes, explored like tarot cards. Soft kisses followed only that day, tender and rough lovemaking later. Usually it was a little bit of both tender and rough when they made love. She liked rough because she needed to feel what was being done to her strongly.
They would be in New York tomorrow, and their future would be determined in a much more defined way. The ghosts they placed on the table in Paris were there and even though they had not talked about it, they would know what their future held after that.
Severine was not afraid this time of facing the truth in love. She pulled Oscar’s hand to her mouth, slowly sucked his fingers so she could taste herself on the platter of him.
“Can you taste yourself?”
His words jarred her, but she kissed his hand, dragged her tongue along a vein and nodded.
He stiffened. Severine knew she was no longer in control. The sun filled her eyes, and their tongues filled each other’s mouths.
On the flight going to New York, Severine wanted to flaunt that she was with Oscar, especially for Eleanora’s benefit. But she did not want to give her the leverage to taunt her with it. She was taunted enough with him there, looking at him made her think of forests and lovemaking.
And not getting lost.
They had made love in a plethora of destinations, because of her job as a flight attendant. She ached to slip into the bathroom like they did in the past on prior flights. It was always his impetus. Him looking restless in his seat, tie undone and his hands moving over the wave of his shirt where the buttons were. She went along willingly, staggering her arrival into the tiny bathroom that made peeing a nightmare but created a delicious tightness for making love. Her ass on the sink, and her legs pistoning about him.
Presently she just ran through her mental picture book of them..
What was them?
She walked down the aisle by Oscar, and sudden turbulence and a little extra landed her on his lap. He was hard. Eleanora stared at her, but for a moment she could not resist looking in his eyes and thinking about their future.
“I’m sorry!” she announced for the entire first class.
He caressed her ass just barely.
“No problem.”
With a slight long caress with her backside over his thighs, she imagined giving a lap dance. She felt him get that much harder, and she sashayed away. Not looking back at him, but thinking about tomorrow in New York, and of ghosts.

More Wicked Wednesday here:

photo of the ouija board by norman rockwell taken by f dot leonora

Polished

From the first when Charlie of Sex Blog (Of Sorts) fame suggested this meme, I loved it because it was girly and clever (like she always is). Sadl, there were stipulations that would have made it difficult for me to participate. I was over the moon when she revised the rules and I could be a part, but apparently it is now a contest! Gosh, if I do not win, I just hope she tells me what her favorite anthology is and…OMG Kristina Lloyd has sweetened the deal with a copy of Undone?! Okay, here is my “entry!”

Shirley swore as she pointed her leg to apply nail polish to the run that had started high up on her thigh. She was pissed about the run, but swore because the only bottle of polish she had that could be used was cherry blossom…with her black from head-to-toe outfit. Even her bra and thong were midnight-colored. But she had no choice they were going out for her boss’s birthday, and she had to look perfect.

She had never fucked her boss, but her close rapport with Arthur made the entire company think they had and she did not correct them. In lieu of an actual love life, it was nice that people thought she was fucking him. And it meant no one asked her any questions, so she did not have to answer anything.

Especially to her boss’ smug boss Oliver, who insinuated out loud about their relationship. For him, she had to look especially good.

Everything went as planned, even her run cooperated. Gins and tonics flowing like a river, who would have noticed anything awry anyway?

Shirley was back at her desk, even though everyone else had left for the day. Her close rapport with Arthur was because she worked like a fiend.

“No wonder Art is so in love with you, your blood is the color of cotton candy!”

A quick glance over her shoulder, and she saw him. Instead of being mortified that Oliver saw her cherry blossom nail polish fix, she turned around and fished through her drawer for the dried out bottle of cotton candy polish she had.

“This,” she stood up full of indignation and thrust in his face “is cotton candy!”

With that, she pulled down her black dress and grabbed her bag.

Oliver did not move.

“So what color is smeared on your ass then?”

He startled her, but she hid it.

“Cherry blossom.”

“You are tough as nails for someone who is nailing her boss.”

“I am not fucking Art!”

“Really?” he scoffed.

“No, I’m not, but if all of you want to believe it I could care less!”

“Then why,” He looked at her with amazement and confusion. “do you make it seem like you are?”

Looking in Oliver’s eyes was something she had always avoided. Their intensity quieted her bravado.

This was a question she didn’t want to answer.

“I don’t care what anyone thinks about me!”

Oliver would not move, and she wanted to get past him. Shirley felt sweat bead on her temples, she wanted to go before she started sweating profusely. A drop of sweat started its trickle down her face, Oliver wiped it away…

“You’re hot…”

She could have gotten him out of her way, but her two gin and tonics gave her a lazy buzz. But she knew what she was doing, and she was damn hot.

For him.

She knew that was why she really hid behind Art, so she could keep herself af arm’s length. Her smart mouth had got the better of her, admitting she had been misleading trying to spite Oliver.

Now what was she going to do?

He followed another bead of sweat down her cheek with his finger, used the dampness to ease his way down her cheek and into the hollow of her neck. Moisture beaded along another part of her body with his touch.

“Yeah,” she answered as if there had not been an involved delay in the conversation. “I’ve been running around all day…”

He didn’t answer. She recognized the fixed look in his eyes, the tightness of his lips and the way his cheeks sucked in as he looked at her…Only she believed it was an illusion, her emotions playing a Harry Houdini on her. Shirley moved as if she was shackled in chains and breaking free.

“Shirley.”

She turned right around, and dropped her bag but did not try to pick it up.

Looked at him.

“I know I never gave you much of a reason to like me, but I have behaved badly with you…” His shoulders were squared, his head bowed.

She rushed to him to let him know it was okay. When he looked up, his face was a breath away from hers. His kiss was expected and not. She proceeded to comfort him as she had intended within it, her hands caressing his face and hair. But his mouth quickly made her caresses rougher, transformed by her previously latent desire. He grabbed her ass where the nail polish was. Afraid he would get it all over his fingers, she tensed biting his lip before remembering the polish was not wet anymore.

But she was.

photo by f dot leonora

Wicked Wednesday #112 — Last Tree In The Forest…

Not quite sure how they got there, but the woman grabbed my trunk so I noticed her right away. Her long dark hair covered everything but her broad smile, which even I had difficulty being immune to. The man with her had no chance.
It did not look like he wanted a chance.
I wanted to know what they were saying but they spoke in whispers, her hair covered their mouths so I could not even read their lips.
I am huge–almost kissing the clouds—so visually they were a lot smaller than me. But they were not small, what was going on between them was not small at all. When she swung her hair away from their faces, their kiss was deep. His hand grabbed the hair she flung away, pulling her closer to him. She was lured willingly, and she grabbed my trunk again to lure him to her.
To me.
Maybe she wanted me to be part of it. This had not happened in a long time. When there were more of us, it was a frequent occurrence. Sometimes it was like an orgy out here, especially at night. But now it was just me–and now them. It looked like I was going to be part of it, which excited and intimidated me at the same time.
She pasted her back against my trunk, I am very hard obviously but she did not seem daunted. Pressing herself against me again and again, in her response to him pressing against her. The stimulation was almost too much for me, but I was frozen in place as I had been for all my life.
He kissed her until she turned her mouth, ragged and gasping for breath. He held her face, and kissed her again until he was breathless.
Together they panted, looking at each other with wide smiles. His fingers caressed the curves and the opening of her lips, his finger entering her mouth. She closed her eyes, held his finger fast and pounded her palms against my trunk like a fierce drum.
He removed his finger slowly, and her lips followed it for a bit. They pressed against each other again, with the famine I had seen before when I was not alone here. People used to flock here for trysts, and we were more than obliging. We contained them, their secrets and let them do what they wanted. We were the ultimate voyeurs.
Now I was alone, but this couple found me. They made me alive again with their hungry bodies. With their hungry emotion. It was hard for me to date their relationship, but the man mirrored the kind of longing I had felt for some time now. As if instead of filling her, she was filling him. She looked felicitous in that not so secret way women do when they are completely fulfilled.
Their frenzy could not be hidden, their eyes darted about so that I knew they liked the being out in the open but away from prying eyes. Well except mine, as they pressed against my trunk. I could not see the parts that the others so easily revealed in the past, but the arrangement of their bodies made it clear they were doing it.
The woman began pounding my trunk harder, a litany of exclamations that was not the usual language. I had not heard this language before. I have been in the same place all my life, so I only knew the one language they emitted when they came here in couples or more.
The man’s litany was completely familiar to me, before it became guttural. They reached the height of their pleasure and then stopped.
I stopped too.
They were in a rush. Since they had not even taken off their clothes, her palms left my trunk as she raced him to button up and zip. It was a draw, as he took her hand and kissed it. Then he kissed her mouth. It was not a goodbye kiss I suspected.
For her.
But for me, I would be left alone. The last tree in this vast forest with only memories of the other trees and lovers who had sought us. I watched them until they were dots and then…gone…

More Wicked Wednesday here:

photo by f dot leonora

Wicked Wednesday #111 – Masturbation Fodder

Eliza rubbed the piece of raw marinated steak between her hands. Rubbing the steak was like masturbating. The constant rubbing shook her breasts, her nipples jumped against the silk of her slip, which made her so tight between her legs she would have stopped to touch herself if she had not been touching raw meat.

Everything was masturbation fodder for her these days. Everything made her want to rub herself.

She had recovered from the car accident, but had not recovered her sex life. Cooking made her happy, she did a lot of things now to make to make herself happy.

She was living with Rafe again, and they were devoted to each other as they had been before, but they had not made love. Their mutual dabbling outside their relationship was something they had to consider. Neither of them was happy about what had happened, but they had planned to make a life together and that was not something they planned on breaking.

She felt like she had felt when she was in Shanghai, and her lust for Oscar had driven her barefoot in a cab to his hotel to get to him.

Oscar.

Her thoughts drifted to thoughts of Oscar which made her cry as if she had been chopping onions. She rubbed the steak again, the spices spread over her palms, wrists and inside her fingernails. It was the spices there that touched the tips of her fingers that made her entire body tingle. She quickly washed her hands which were remained redolent of sage, that wafted up her nose when she grabbed her breast and rubbed her nipple with her index finger. Her hand slid down over and under her slip, and she was just about to ease the tightness between her legs…

“What are you doing?”

Eliza dropped her hand to her thigh, turning back to Rafe sheepishly.

When she turned away from him, she felt him move behind her. He had not been that close to her in such a long time, his finger on her was like striking a match against its box.

His hand was on her breast, but it did not smell of sage. He smelled of sandalwood and bergamot. She leaned against him, unsure if it was of her own volition or simply for the depth of her lust. Her hand was on the top of her thigh, his hand covered hers.

“I missed you…”

He put his hand about her neck, and she gasped even though he was nowhere near choking her. She tilted her head so that he could kiss her neck.

“I missed you,” she admitted shyly as if she felt she was being unfaithful, when she was with the man she was engaged to.

Rafe kissed her neck, cheek, temple and just the very corner of her mouth, his hand still on her breast. Her slip fell down about her ankles, and she did not step out of it but spread her legs as far as it would allow her. She leaned into him even more, she wanted it from behind. There was no intimacy lacking even though they were not facing each other. The sound of his zipper made her so tight, she closed her eyes trying to bare it.

He put his hands on her shoulders after he kissed both of them, and entered her. His style was always animal, he made her feel like he was marking her. This time especially he was, he really was. His thrusts pressed her against the sink and she gripped the steak in response, tenderizing it with her fists.

Then Rafe was tender, kissing every inch of her body. Eliza quivered with the sensation of his lips, wishing she was a writer because she was sure there was a clever metaphor here. Rafe inside her while she fondled a steak.

Steak would now be legitimate masturbation fodder for her..

More masturbation fodder, I mean, Wicked Wednesday here:

photo via Google Images

Wicked Wednesday #110 – Online Chatting

Oscar had never really been one for online communication. He had probably believed the trend would end. It did not,
and now he was extremely interested in it. It was the only way he really communicated with Eliza, and now Severine.
Severine was just a friend for now, but they were attracted to each other. Yet as they chatted in person, and online they were both too hung up on their current involvements.
Though Oscar remembered the taste of her lips like wine that was still on his lips and he forgot, until he inevitably licked his lips. The sweet liquory stickiness revived on his tongue. He almost could have with her, but in the middle he noted how distinctly she did not smell like Eliza.
Additionally, Severine murmured to him in French how she was thinking about her ex or current?
They slept together chastely that same night. Severine discussed how her lover wanted her, and his other woman. Oscar could easily see how the man could want both. Now that he had not fucked her, it was all he could think about. He got excited when her name popped up in e-mail or texts.
She had just texted him that she was entering the cafe where they were meeting. Without her really making an effort, her walk was sex in Roger Viviers. The transparency of her black dress secretly revealed parts of her that without showing too much, whet his appetite for much more of her.
She stopped in front of him, and they kissed twice on each cheek.
A slow Jacques Brel song played in the cafe, and he watched her fingers tap to the beat when she sat down.
“I’m sorry about the other night, I wanted to say that in person even though we have been chatting online. I’m sorry…”
She looked down, and he touched her hand.
“About what?”
“I’m sorry I told you all that about the man I’ve been with. And I am sorry I did not let you…”
She continued to look down.
He traced the vein on the inside of her wrist, her skin was hot and damp there. Their lips touched almost at the same time. His arms about her revealed the rest of her was hot and damp as well. He kissed her with more and more urgency. More than he was usually comfortable with in public.
Severine was warm and moist in his hotel bed. Soft and delicately perfumed with herself, since he had never smelled a fragrance like hers.
“Now, I am not sorry,” she said leaning on her elbow and looking warmly at him.
He caressed her cheek with his thumb, and pushed her hair out of her face. Kissed her as his answer.
This beautiful woman in his hotel bed, like how he had been with Eliza in Paris not long ago. Eliza was doing well after her accident, he had chatted online with her earlier that day.
Severine was not a replacement, her soft sweet arms about him joining them. Their kisses were even sweeter than before.
Now he knew how big the human heart could be…

More Wicked Wednesday here:

Wicked Wednesday #109 — Shame

Severine tried her hardest not to shame Rafe for leading her on. She was as much to blame as he was in this case, she realized as she closed the door to the aircraft. The sound resounded like closing the door on Rafe, though it was clear that they were going to see each other again at some point.

She took a deep breath, and turned back to her colleagues putting on the smile she had as a model and in the small acting roles she had. An extra special smile since she was working with Eleanora, who had tried to shame her by saying she only did “beautiful” jobs. Even finding a vintage French magazine she was on the cover of, announcing she was beautiful like it was something to be ashamed of. Yet Eleanora herself was beautiful, and a struggling actress.

Walking down the aisle with an extra sashay. She noticed a man in a suit he wore so well, and blushed as if she was looking at him naked. Making sure to serve him when she and Eleanora pushed the dinner cart, she introduced and bid herself at his service. For the entire flight she sat alert and perched like an owl, ready to serve him in first class where he barely fiddled with the amenities.

When they were landing at Charles De Gaulle, Severine was distracted for the first time from him by a glimpse of the Eiffel Tower.

Home.

She had not been in Paris in a long time.

The man said goodbye in heavy American-accented French as he walked past her off the plane. His scent warm and clean like nothing she had smelled on a man before.

It startled her days later, when she recognized his scent and long body in her favorite cafe. She was even more startled when his eyes lingered with recognition.

“Flight 2127…” she murmured in English.

“Severine.”

Severine smiled when he said her name, sure he remembered her name because of the beauty that Eleanora shamed her for.

“You remember me?”

“You were very nice.”

She searched his fingers for a ring with her eyes.

“It’s my job to make sure every passenger has a good flight.”

“Well you were extra nice, you made me smile.”

“I am glad…I don’t know your name?”
“Oscar, my name is Oscar.”

“Nice to meet you Oscar.”

More Wicked Wednesday here:

photo by f dot leonora

Wicked Wednesday #108 — Flight Attendant

Severine looked stern as she walked through the terminal. She had not put up her hair, so it tumbled wildly long like a demi-cape behind her. Her impossibly high stilettos were more than possible for the long-limbed former dancer, model and current flight attendant.
When she saw him, her stern expression softened. She put her bag down, and stood in front of him.
“Your hair looks wild,” he remarked.
Obediently, she reached to sweep it up. He stopped her hands over her head, pulling her to him with her hands in his.
“I like it like that.”
There was a suggestion of a smile on Rafe’s lips, as he watched Severine search for cues from him. He thought of her long hair spilled across his bed, the way it tangled about her and the things that he had done to her.
Severine was not like Eliza. It was nice with Severine because he could tell her what was going on, and he knew that she would be fine with it. He could tell her he would not see her anymore, and she would not get emotional.
He let her hands go. Touching her made him want her: the softness of her flawless English with a French accent, and the filthy things that she said to him in French.
He put his hand at the small of her back, and led her to an intimate corner of the airport bar. He knew she was already wet and ready for him, and he was quite ready for her but he was not going to scratch that itch.
The slap she delivered him when he told her about Eliza made him raise his hand to strike her, simply because he was so startled. But he caught himself.
“I only see you occasionally when we are able to meet up, you are always flying…how could that be serious?”
“I thought that we were not together because of my job. I always wanted more Rafe, I always wanted to be with you…”
He had not meant to hurt her, but her dark eyes were moist even though he knew that she was not going to cry in front of him.
She looked down at her drink and took a sip. He loved having afternoon cocktails with her. Her kisses when she greeted him were usually of champagne she had had in the first class section of the plane, but she liked prosecco mixed with amaretto with him.
“So why are you still sitting here?” Her eyes retreated as she took another sip. He ran his hands through her hair, knocking over her amaretto and prosecco.
Severine gasped as the drink spilled on her lap. Rafe kissed her, and ran his hand up her leg to the dampest spot of her lap so she gasped even more.
Afraid he was going to fuck her at the table, he signaled for the check with his free hand.
Tangled hair about her body, Rafe looked at Severine in her airport hotel room moments later.
“A goodbye fuck?” she questioned rolling onto her side. “Adieu,” she whispered leaning to kiss him. He tugged a section of her hair, kissed her and pulled her to him. Using her hair, he climbed on top of her with his fingers between her legs.
“You are always wet aren’t you?” he breathed, then licked along her ear. “Aren’t you?”
With little preamble he entered her. Inside her, he remembered saying to Eliza if she was having sex with someone she was in love.
Inside of Severine was a feeling he could not describe…Sex with her was extremely good, when he was with her she was perfect. Just perfect.
She clung to him after, he breathed out strands of her hair. He had underestimated her feelings for him,
and apparently his own lying in the Venus Flytrap of her hair, soft skin and French perfume. Severine emitted a sweet French song of words that was not the usual filth she titillated him with, but something else.
Something else that did not need a translation…

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Wicked Wednesday #107 — YKINMK

“So this woman is a collector of my photographs, and she came on to me at her house party. Everything seemed fine, and then she showed me a chair she had that looked like a woman. She told me that she would love for me to replicate the chair for her,” Fiona smirked. “I am as kinky as the next girl, but I am not going to pretend to be a chair!”
Eliza smiled at Fiona. Fiona was telling her the story both to distract her, and let her know she was not going to stand in her way with Rafe. Rafe was not as injured as her. In fact, he was able to leave the hospital in a few days. But she had been there longer. Rafe seeing her injured had been lovely to her as well. He was still angry, but he would sit and hold her hand. His being there spoke loudly of their relationship, his hand a warmth she needed.
Her physical injuries she would recover completely from, but she was broken in a lot of places.
She had a private room, and that was nice for the moans she emitted without wanting to. It was awful at night when she was left alone to rest. Her wet eyes would stare out of the window, succumbing to her pain.
“You need your rest Eliza,” Fiona said after she finished her story which detailed the kinky things she had done with the collector.
Fiona placed a soft kiss on her forehead, and Eliza closed her eyes so Fiona would not see them water.
When Fiona walked out, she closed her eyes tighter to will sleep and escape her pain.
The shuffle of feet on the floor startled her, because the nurse had already taken her vitals while Fiona was there.
The hand on her face made her start, and in the dim room, she saw him.
She wanted to jump into his arms, but his hands moved down her neck and shoulder softly.
“Hello beautiful,” Oscar caressed her face.
“I am not beautiful,” she groaned.
He put his fingers to her mouth.
“You are my beautiful,” he said.
She was happy Fiona had helped her into a nightgown of her own, and that she had nice cleavage in this one that was deep-blush colored.
“You are beautiful…”
He sat beside her.
“I snuck in after Fiona left because I did not want anyone to see me and…”
Eliza nodded, knowing.
“I read in Shanghai about the accident. I saw your name, and I had to get here and make sure you were going to be okay.”
“I will be, just a lot of broken bones and rehab, but I will be.”
“I knew you would be for me. Eliza…”
He took her hand and kissed it over and over. When he stopped his kisses, her pain resumed which had been suspended in the moments before.
“I haven’t stopped thinking about you.” she said quietly as if words too loud would cause her more pain. “I almost told Rafe about you before the accident…”
Oscar’s eyes widened, Eliza confessed everything.
“I could not lie, when he asked me if I loved you and then the crash happened.”
She closed her eyes tightly. The pain ruminated with the memory, and she ushered it away from her more fervently than a bull in Pamplona.
Seeing him made her realize how much she loved him, which was easy to forget when he was not with her. Being with Rafe made her feel the loyalty and faith that she had felt when she agreed to marry him.
“I love you,” she said simply not wanting to address her conflict of emotion. Love was supposed to be it, the thing everyone aspired to and when you had it you were supposed to be set.
But she wasn’t.
Love had crashed into her like the car that left her broken, but nothing would heal exactly the way it had been.
“I am back in New York now. When I said I had to come back, they said I was coming back anyway, so I could stay to nurse my loved one.”
Eliza needed him to love her. She squeezed his hand as tight as she could, his heat went through her like currents. Her desire for him was not lust, but for all of him body and mind.
She did not know how to let him go.