Red Velvet Pillows

by Laura Feister

I was searching for a moment in time when passing fancies didn't pass. I believe it was yesterday, or maybe last month. I recall the misty rain and the sweet smell of jasmine. She was there, my passing fancy. The one I wish had stayed. The room was filled with feathery light and red velvet pillows. The wine she was sipping fashioned her cheeks into roses and her eyes into virgin lagoons of blue.

The alley was grey, they always seem to be grey, though. I was blue and she was hot. Short cut-off denims and a child's t-shirt barely covered her slender form. I had to stop and stare. She demanded it. As I watched, she swung around to face me. My heart quivered, like the strings of a violin painfully stretched to create the one moaning chord that makes you weep. Her eyes traveled over my whole being. Then as quickly as she had turned to face me, she turned again and continued down the alley. I knew I would see her again.

It was two weeks. Long and hard, day and night I was living for our next encounter. It was she who found me, of course. I knew she would. I just didn't think she would be in my apartment when it happened. She was sitting on the windowsill smoking like Bacall in a classic black and white film. A single candle flickered in the breeze. She was amazing. Curves to curves she was delicious.

"So, tell me, that is, enlighten me to the fantasy that brought me here. I've been watching you slink around the city since our day in the alley."

I was mesmerized. She was gorgeous.

"Speak little one, I'm very interested."

So was I.

"The basic parts of the fantasy consist of you and me and a bed, a counter, a shower."

"I see. Any talking involved?" Her eyes gleamed with anticipation as her tongue licked the corner of her mouth. I watched her, nearly sliding out of my clothes at the thoughts entering my mind.

"I was hoping it would come between orgasms in short breathless bursts."

She slowly crushed her cigarette on the windowsill and slipped into my personal zone. I was delighted. She reached out her hand and traced my lips with her finger. I thought about the taste of her skin. The whole scenario was painfully beautiful. Just as the unbearable moment of anticipation was upon me, she walked away.

"How about some music."

I looked at her, more exactly gaped at her as she walked toward the stereo. I reached out to the wall for support. She had slammed my equilibrium. I was reeling and watching as she slid in a sweet song.

"I hope you like this song," she said, not really listening for any response.

I walked over to the couch and sat on the arm. I was across the room from her, but no better off. She turned her eyes to me. I was imagining what each inch of flesh would look like free of fabric. I had to get up. I approached the scene and gently gathered her in my arms. Musk of the East emanated from her skin. I had to kiss her. Her mouth touched mine softly, leaving a trace of moisture on my lips.

"I see the want in your eyes. I saw it that day in the alley. To tell you the truth, I was hoping to inspire that look before you even saw me. You see, I've been watching your sweet ways for at least three weeks now." I was shocked and excited. I could only look at her, speechless. "Now that I've told you my intentions, I should show you my meaning."

She usurped any control I had over the situation. Her hands moved to my waist and grabbed my t-shirt without hesitation. She pulled it over my head and quickly tossed it aside. I attempted the same, but she gently forced me to the couch with the smooth motion of the flamenco. I was nearly flat on my back, and savoring each moment. She finished undressing me with the patience of a seductress.

My toes were first, each experienced the warmth of her mouth sucking and licking. Passion, fueled by the longing anticipation of her, heightened each of my senses. She gradually worked her way up the inside of my leg, flicking her tongue to arouse every inch of flesh. By the time she reached the top of my leg her tongue was sending Richter Scale aftershocks through my thighs, to my calves, escaping out the bottom of my feet. I was truly enchanted.

She did not stop, but continued over my stomach kissing and biting each rib. Without disturbing the rhythm of her dance she circled my breasts with the tip of her tongue. I was heaving and sweating with every tiny nip her teeth made as my breasts became engorged with bliss.

In a sudden moment, though, I realized she had stopped and was staring into my eyes. As I stared back at her, I wondered if she actually had kissed the length of my body, or if I had somehow imagined the whole thing. She slowly pulled our eyes down to my waist. Her mouth opened slightly as a low growl escaped from her throat. I gasped for breath as her tongue discovered the highly sensitive clit of a woman at the peak of lust. Before the mind can grasp the intensity of an orgasm, the body is overcome with rhapsody spoken in the purest language; no other language is truer. I screamed.

"Hello, my young lover," she whispered. "Do you have a name or should I just call you screamer."

"Actually, most people call me Angel."

"I bet they do. You taste like an angel to me." My face immediately turned two shades of red. For all my bold fantasies, I was too shy to refute her brazenness. I was completely hers. "Angel, why don't you show me your bedroom and all the possibilities available."

We stood together and I led her to my room. The room was small, but the bed was big. I sat down next to the wooden crates I used as a night stand and lit a few candles. A pack of cigarettes and a book of matches were the only other objects on the night stand. I grabbed a cigarette, struck a match, and lit the smoke. In the short time it took me to do this, she was peering about the room, almost looking for something.

"May I ask the name of my seductress," I said appreciating the memory of her legs, now hidden by the loose pants hanging on her hips. From the top of her hips to the top of her bellybutton, her skin lay exposed and glowing with sweat.

"My name is Grace."

"So, are you my prize for ten years of Catholic school and eighteen years of Sunday Mass?" I smiled and offered her the cigarette.

"I would love to be the prize of a sweet angel like you. Should I unwrap myself and show you what you've earned for all those years of Catholic purity?" She handed back the cigarette and stood at the foot of the bed.

"If you don't, I will."

She moved with the fluid motion of a cat stretching after a long, sunlit nap. Her shirt came off first. She followed my eyes as I watched her unhook the bra and slide it past her shoulders. I slid my hand between my legs, feeling the poignant throb of our next encounter. She noticed my hand as she continued undressing, letting her jeans fall to the floor. As the final stretch, she wiggled out of some silk boxers and crawled to the bed.

"Are you satisfied with the gift you've chosen. I can request another style if you like."

"No, I'm completely satisfied with my selection." I slithered down to meet her lips. Her mouth was sweet and soft like warm honey dripping over my tongue. Her breasts pressed against mine as we wrestled each other for dominance. We flipped around for a few minutes until I grabbed her wrists and straddled her body. Her arms relaxed and the struggle was over. I crawled down her body moving my legs between hers, gently forcing them open. The tips of my fingers trailed down her neck, over her hard nipples, across her ribcage, stopping at the curve in her hips. I held her eyes as my hand slipped between her legs guiding my fingers to discover an intoxicating wetness. I moaned as I touched her hard clit. Silky and smooth, she begin writhing around as the tempo quickened. And just as the point of no return arrived, I slammed my fingers deep inside her igniting the g-spot. As her body tightened around my hand, the intense magnitude of her orgasms sent streams of creamy juices down my thighs. After the longest moment of my life, we both collapsed to the bed sweating and panting in unison.

Many hours later, Grace, my passing fancy, and I fell asleep in a mound of sheets and legs. I'll never forget those legs.