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A Darker Flame: Masquerade

Adora was dreaming about the masquerade ball where she kissed Didier. She knew it was a dream, because she had the awareness of it as she walked around feeling past aroused and wanting to come. But she knew how things were supposed to go. Adjusting her mask, she saw a woman playing the piano naked, the piano player at the real masquerade was formally dressed in black tie. Other indications it was a dream in case she was not sure.
And then she saw Elijah as he was now on the island, all dressed in black.
With a mask.
She was afraid, but attracted as she was when she was awake. Attracted, even though he was menacing and she feared him. He grabbed her arms now, very tenderly. Their masks kissed before he kissed her. There was a crowd around them, but she could not see Didier. Deep down, she was not looking for him. Even at the actual ball she had been looking for Elijah. He had promised that he would be with her for the night, but she was alone. Maybe her dream was her penance? Maybe her dream was what her subconscious desired?
Adora did not know what to feel, because even when she was awake, she could not deny what she was feeling or had felt even while Elijah was scaring the hell out of her.
But now was a dream and she could be in control. Or she could let the dream happen to her. Her lacy mask grazed her cheek, as did her hair. Elijah pushed her hair out of the way, but not her mask. His mask was dark and stormy.
She followed him as he took her into a dim area, where there were more topless women and men with bowties about their necks serving champagne.
The actual masquerade had felt like it should have been something like this, and apparently her subconscious believed so too. Masks hid people, but exposed them too and there was so much of a sexual charge that accompanied it.
In a dark corner, that was only lit by a sliver of light from a curved lantern, Elijah stripped her except for her mask, and even though she was afraid they would get caught she did nothing.
Completely naked, her ass spread against the wall, Adora did not protest as Elijah unzipped his pants and pressed himself so hard to her she almost could not breathe.
“Oh,” she cried out holding him tight to her, before her hands slipped into his pants so she could feel a whisper of his ass thrusting against her.
“Cut!”
But they could not, they could not. Stella whimpered.
In the dream sequence they were filming, they were supposed to make love and be exposed. But now they were exposed to the entire production.
The real masquerade was over.
Her affair with Elijah was now there for everyone to see.
“Take a break everyone. Stella, Elijah stay on the set.
Her mask was her only bit of armor. Stella savored the feel of him inside her. She had always imagined what she would do if she had been Adora, when Elijah walked in on her and Didier on the island in that scene.
Now she knew she would keep on fucking him. It was awkward to move away now, when it was clear that they had just made love on the set. Elijah handed her her dress, and then zipped up his pants. He took her hand as they walked over to Dean.
“I think we should keep it in. I think we should even leak it, that you and Elijah are a couple and actually made love on set…” Dean said. “This is not the first time this kind of thing has happened on one of my sets and I go with it!”
“It was an accident Dean, what happened. It was getting carried away in the moment. I do not want that advertised!” Stella said indignantly.
And to her masked face, Dean told Stella he would respect her wishes. But somehow the film leaked out, and the terse horror movie that she had signed up for became a porno practically.

Darker flames can be found here:

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venetian mask photo by f dot leonora

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Kink of the Week, Oct 13-21: Stockings, Pantyhose & Tights

Maybe it started with the lace pantyhose I wore as a girl under my Catholic school uniform skirt, which caused a bit of a scandal because they were pink and my uniform was blue. My mother said that I would wear whatever she gave me to wear, so that conversation was ended quickly. But not my fascination with all sorts of hosiery. Particularly lace. I still remember the feel of that particular pair too…
I have so many pairs of pantyhose, thigh highs and socks, it is kind of ridiculous. I get excited in Duane Reade, when I see their back-seamed pantyhose. I have a particular love of those, and admire them on others as well. My co-worker had on nude ones with a black seam, and I wondered if thet were more risque at the top? The ones that say bite me in script? At Eroticon, I made small talk with a presenter because she changed her pantyhose–both sets were gorgeous. I giddy in Fogal when they have a sale, and have a pair of newly acquired Wolford thigh highs that take my breath away…
I like patterns and textures primarily, and anything lace is a must do. I literally have had a love affair with lace since I have known myself. I have a pair called Cathedral that I got from Anthopologie that are so stunning–there are no words. I also have a pair that looks like clouds painted by Magritte.
Hosiery is like a little secret, along with bras, panties and thongs or nothing underneath your outfit. I remember a crisp winter day that I was wearing thigh highs, and feeling particularly delighted about it–the too cool air whipping about…
I used to admire a man I worked with for his creativity with ties, hosiery is like a woman’s tie. Your character comes out with them, and I love that. I can project demure or flashy, I reinvent myself by putting them on daily.
I was rummaging through my homemade stock photos for my excerpt for my short story that is going to be included in the Chemical Sex anthology. I was looking for pictures of chocolate and as a chocoholic, I found lots of chocolate images. One was me with a chocolate cupcake, well my lace covered leg. I hate taking pictures, but I have several of my legs in gorgeous hosiery. That pair was a gift, people know how much I love hosiery so it is often gifted to me. Friends who went to Italy and Japan, have brought back hose for me. The Japanese ones were so gorgeous, even my friend who got them could not stop looking at my legs.
I cannot seem to articulate exactly why I am so obsessed with hosiery. In Paris, I was in Montmartre and about to take my descent into the Abbesses metro…but there was a hosiery shop and I literally was aching to buy a pair. But I knew I could order the brands cheaper in the States so I refrained. However the racing pulse, the shortness of breath and lust that overcomes me for a great piece of hosiery is always there…

Kink of the Week

photo of my leg with cupcake by f dot leonora

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Wicked Wednesday #126 — The First Time

Fernande pressed her lips together. She had just sucked on the neck of a soda bottle, and Rafe could not keep his eyes off of her.
“Is my lipstick still smudged?”
Pressing her lips together and not even looking at him, Rafe looked at her glorious naked body which he had just been inside of. Her sugar plum lips looked amazing to him, as did her ass which stuck out as she bent in front if the full-length mirror.
Fernande sighed, and turned around to look at him. Seeing her full breasts almost made him hard again.
“You little pervert!” she laughed and pulled her halter dress over her head. “You can stay here if you like, nobody is here.”
Rafe stood up and kissed her, his hands on her breasts. He was not as shy as he had been when they were first together. It was his first time and he was nervous, but he knew he did not want it to go as quickly as some of his friends said it had went for them.
He caressed Fernande slowly and even though he did not think she was expecting much, he thought he pleased her a great deal more than she expected. He caressed her, and told her she was beautiful over and over. It was Fernande that grabbed him and caressed first his head, and then his shaft until he thought he would spontaneously combust. The first seconds inside of her, it was nothing like his hand or anything that he could have imagined.
He’d buried his face in her hair after, buried himself in her because he was in love. He’d been so in love with Fernande.
Fernande was his first love. Sandrine was his first real love. Maybe it was the lessons of free love that he learned from Fernande, that made him feel that he did not need to be tied down to anyone. Maybe because he had loved, and been kept at a distance.
He could still see Sandrine walking away from him in the bar hours earlier, now he was sitting at the bar and waiting for Eliza.
Eliza walked in, he could smell her sweet scent even before she was close to him, he had memorized her scent, sweet and floral.
She walked over to the bar, kissed him after cradling his face in both of her hands.
“Hey you,” she said caressing his cheek, and looking in his eyes.
Eliza was his first mature love, she had gotten the best of him. The best he could ever be, he had been with Eliza. And even that was not perfect.
He had just been texting Severine. Drunk texting, and he probably told her he loved her which was not a lie because he did love her. He did love her in a sort of way…
He kissed Eliza, her lips tasted of cigarettes and perfume. It was an odd mix, but he accepted it on her.
“I love you,” he said putting his phone down. He caressed her cheek and kissed her. Juicy fruit and scotch invaded their kiss, Rafe opened his eyes. On his phone was a picture of Severine’s lips, round as a cloud which made him think about them moving up and down his shaft. He closed his eyes again, and Eliza’s softness and eagerness made him forget about everything else around him.
For the moment.

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red lips via wiki commons

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Sunday Snog #152

Veronica wrapped her arms about herself, still shaking from Max’s kiss. It was not the first time that he kissed her since they divorced, but this time it really shook her because he had not kissed her since he started seeing Chrysalis.
She walked onto the balcony and even though it was unseasonably warm, she continued to shake thinking about their kiss. Even though she had dressed for him to admire her, she had not expected to get this kind of response from him. The taste of his kiss was not lost on her, and now that she was freshly kissed she craved it all the more.
Her arms still wrapped about herself, she smiled when Gwennie returned to her, and frowned when she said that she was going with Nich.
“I can take your mother home,” Max said kissing Gwennie.
Veronica was silent. She wanted more alone time with him, but she was scared to be alone with him. When Max took her arm, she knew he knew that he had the upper hand. He knew that she still wanted him. She was going to take advantage of the fact that they had kissed, to fill the hollow that she felt ever since they had stopped sharing the same bed.
When they arrived at her place, his hand moved over her thigh. When she looked at him, she knew he wanted what she wanted and between her legs tightened with desire and need.
“Where is Chrysalis?”
Max kissed her neck.
“She knows that I am taking you home,” he said and the warmth of his breath on her neck replacing his kiss made her tremble.
Even with her breath unsteady, Veronica swallowed and looked into his eyes.
“I am not inviting you in.”
Max laughed, and she almost laughed with him.
“I don’t need to go in to do what I want to do…”
With the fogged up car windows, Max parked in the garage, and his hand grabbed her thigh. She was already wet, and shifting with anticipation. He cupped her inner thigh and shoved up her dress so that she was sitting practically bare assed on the car seat. When she lifted up to let him shove the skirt up over her hips, he slapped her bottom so hard it made her eyes moist with the sting. Made her even wetter since her body could not decipher the nuances of pain and pleasure now.
He kissed her again, and she was was certain she was dissolving on the seat. Veronica barely could think how to touch him because he was all over her. She had told him that she was not going to let him in the apartment, but she would let him in anywhere he wanted.
When his finger slipped inside of her, she gasped so loudly that he out his hand over her mouth.
“Someone is walking by!”
He kept telling her what to do this night, and it was driving her crazy in both a good and a bad way.
A whoosh of breath escaped her when he moved his hand, and she tilted her body so that he could have better access. His cheek was rough against hers, as he pulled her close.
“I want to come in with you.”
Veronica felt moisture at her thighs and starting in her eyes.
“What do you want?” she said her body slackening in the seat. Even though she wanted him, suddenly it nagged at her then what? He wanted her now, but then what? “What do you want from me?”
“I can’t stay away from you V, I never could and you know that. But every time we are together…we end up apart. But I will always want you.”
Veronica put her legs together, looked at him as she pulled her dress down.
“You better go home.”
Max stared at her, and she gave him a face that let him know she was serious. She pulled at her dress to make sure it was fixed right and grabbed her purse.
“V,” Max grabbed her hand.
“Go home Max,” she said shaking off his hand.
She got out of the car, and as she started walking to the elevator, he followed her.
“V, just let me come up and talk to you. I promise, I won’t try anything.”
“Say whatever you have to say to me here.”
He looked at her with a smile.
“Let me come up with you.”
Veronica sighed.
“You were the one who left me, you were the one who said that you wanted out and I told you I loved you. I always loved you, I never loved another man. Right now? I need to leave you.”
She got into the elevator, and down on her knees when the doors closed. Her heart and between her legs thumping like screams.

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fogged up window via pinterest

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Wicked Wednesday #125 — The Truth

Her name was Fernande, and she was as elusive as the painting or sculpture that Picasso created. Equally as beautiful, if not more so. Rafe was a junior when he first saw her, and he was obsessed with her immeadiately. The pretty senior was popular, and most of the boys in the school wanted her. He was never under the illusion that he could be with her, but he could not stop thinking about her. Her milk chocolate hair and eyes were as seductive as the real thing.
His parents were driving him to study hard in school, and he did. Harder, hoping that he would stop thinking about Fernande.
Fernande was dating someone anyway, so all of their teenage fantasies were very unlikely to come true. She was practically married…or so everyone thought. Her breakup from her boyfriend was bigger news than the senior prom. Everybody was talking about it, and boys hoped that they would be the one that she replaced her ex with. Rafe was in the library as usual–with his glasses, this was before his contacts–and she walked in. She walked past him, her scent a rosy juicy fruit, a combination of her perfume and the gum she chewed.
Rafe was hard almost as soon as she sat down, and he hated his teenage body so much right then. He could not get up and when she sat closer to him and looked at him, he really knew he could not get up.
“Your name is Rafe, right?”
He nodded.
“Are you mute?”
Rafe adjusted his glasses and looked at her.
“No.”
“Rafe, then? Well you know who I am? My ex hated guys like you, but I have to say, you are kind of cute for a geek with glasses. Take them off?”
Rafe took off his glasses. What was more startling: that she was talking to him, staring at him or that she was even more pretty up close?
Fernande was kissing close to him, he was not sure he could breathe.
“You are kind of a stud without your glasses. Want to go to the prom with me?”
Everything in his life from that moment on was like being inside of a dream. He had to buy a tuxedo with his dad, and a corsage for Fernande.
Fernande looked like something out of a Botticelli, her body as lovely as an Ingres. He feared that something would happen to him at the prom, that he was being used but to be used by Fernande was fine with him. Other girls eyed him because Fernande was with him, but he only had eyes for her.
At the end of the night, Fernande let him kiss her and more. She was easy, and he could not believe his luck. Could not believe that it was this easy with her. He spent the entire summer fawning over her, the more he was with her and the more she let him do with her the more he was smitten.
“I can come up to your school to see you on weekends,” he said to her on the beach.
Fernande looked at him with that smile that made him soft inside.
“But I will have a real boyfriend by then!”
Rafe stared at her, mouth agape. Fernande kissed him, roses and juicy fruit filled his nose.
“I was your first Rafe, but I won’t be your last…”
That was the truth Rafe thought to himself, coming back to reality. But every time he smelled juicy fruit gum he thought of Fernande. His first but most certainly not his last, he thought as he pondered the drunk man beside him who smelled of juicy fruit and scotch…

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photo of picasso’s fernande by f dot leonora

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Sunday Snog #151

Last week, I forgot to add the Sunday Snog banner, that was remedied! Here is another one for you. Appears when I do memes, I turn it into a serial…so this is continued from last week…xx

Veronica stared at the champagne glasses on the balcony until they became a blur.
It was not that she was upset that Gwennie was in love, because it was clear that she was…she was afraid that she would end up in the same situation that she had.
Love was not guaranteed, but the way that she had fallen in love with Max when she was a young ballerina…she thought that they were a fairy tale come true. They had been for a long time, long enough for her to have had Gwennie. But then it was gone faster than anything.
Her vision became clear again, and she was offered a glass of champagne which she took and held it just below her mouth so that she felt the cool minute drops of it bubble against her lips. She clutched the stem of her glass tightly when she saw Max walking toward her, and took a gulp of the bubbly.
“Where’s our star?” he asked standing in front of her, so that she could smell the champagne on his breath.
She looked at him she hoped soberly, but she was definitely a little tipsy.
“With her boyfriend I suspect,” she replied squeezing the stem of her glass so hard she feared she would break it.
“Oh Nich?”
“You did not tell me she was seeing another dancer.”
“Gwennie tells you everything V. I am sure she mentioned him to you.”
“She did, but she did not say that she was seeing him.”
“You did not tell your parents about us right away either…”
“I don’t want Gwennie to be us!”
“Lower your voice V, don’t make a scene tonight…”
“”Because I always make a scene!” Veronica whispered fiercely, as he took her arm and led her to the stairwell.
“There are people here tonight V, it it Gwendolyn’s night.”
Veronica glared at him.
He did nothing that she did. She called their daughter Gwennie, he called her Gwendolyn.
“I never would do anything to hurt Gwen–” She looked down as she felt her eyes moisten. “I love her more than anything…”
“I know.” Max touched her cheek. “I forget how delicate and sensitive you are, I would never do anything to hurt you.”
He pulled her close to him, and she fell into his embrace with ease from familiarity. Her eyes completely moistened at his words because he had hurt her deeply. When he said he wanted to separate, and she finally asked for a divorce because she did not want to be in limbo…he hurt her so much then.
He lifted her face up to his, and kissed her cheek. The way his eyes focused on hers was familiar, but not in a post-marital way. When he pinned her to the wall, and pressed his lips to hers, she lost her balance. He quickly reached for her hips, and he kissed her with more urgency than she remembered him ever kissing her with. She felt him hardening against her, and she pressed both of her hands to the wall to push herself more to him. Tilting her head so her could kiss her neck, she lost her balance again. He held her hips tighter, and she knew she would bruise. Tomorrow morning, she would stare in the mirror at those fully bloomed bruises, and admire them more than any love bites she had had on her neck.
When they pulled away from each other, she was breathless. He kissed her again and again. It was with complete abandon that she wrapped her arms about him, before she moved away from him as if she had been burned by fire.
They looked at each other, their breath heavy. Max caressed her stiff from tears cheek,
“You are always the most extraordinary woman in the room…”
He took her hand, and they were lucky to return unnoticed to where the gala was winding down. When he let her hand go to walk over to a dancer, Veronica put her hand in her mouth and she could taste him.

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kiss via twitter

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Wicked Wednesday #124 — Bad Sex

Severine held the phone in her hand, between her breasts. She had hoped to fly into New York, and see Rafe. She knew that it was ridiculous for her to believe that Rafe’s new relationship status was going to change anything between the two of them, but she could not help it.
There was a disconnect between her heart and her body, she knew in her head that there was probably still not going to be anything more. But her body had deeper cravings and forced her to desire more, to want what she wanted in the first place when she started with him.
The insatiable craving that she had for him now, was not based on their early encounters. She felt that maybe Rafe was right, and she should have known that there was something seriously flawed with their relationship. The odd times that he would choose to see her. He would come to her hotel when she was in New York, in the morning. The first time that they made love, he came nearly at the crack of dawn. She had not had time to put her contacts in, so she went to the door with her thick cat’s eyes frames. Bare without makeup and without a bra, unbrushed teeth, she greeted him.
He grabbed her breast not knowing she was premenstrual, and sensitive there. She groaned, he must have thought that that was her pleasure. Severine was torn because she wanted to be with him, they had talked about it…but she had wanted to look better than this. To feel better than this.
When he pressed her to the door of her closed hotel room, she kissed him and allowed tongue even though she had morning breath. The way that he grabbed her, she was not even sure he noticed because he wanted to have sex so much.
Her glasses fogged up, and they knocked teeth more than a few times with labored kissing If she had not wanted him, she would have felt helpless. Rafe was directing how everything was going, she went along with him. She wanted him, and she wanted what he wanted. He placed his hands roughly wherever he wanted on her body, and arranged her in the same way.
The sex was very orchestrated and quick. There was a feeling of pleasure in her for what had happened, more than there was pleasure while it was happening. When he left and she was in the shower, the water burned where he touched her because she remembered he had been there. The act had been so much more important to her than the sensation. Compared to everything that had happened to them since, she could say that it had been pretty bad sex that time.
But now, phone between her breasts, her clitoris throbbing just from what he said to her on the phone.
“When are you coming back to New York now that this flight was cancelled?” he asked her.
“Soon,” she choked thinking too much about the throbbing between her legs.
Rafe did not have to be near her now to give her pleasure.
Phone between her breasts, she closed her eyes. Now would have been a good time to talk to Oscar, but he was in Shanghai. All the men around her had secrets. Though finally she was hoping that Rafe’s secrets were open, as open as his relationship was going to be…

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rumpled sheets via flickr.com

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Sunday Snog #150 — Blisse Birthday Bash

When I did the Sunday Snog for Sommer Marsden, I thought the kiss meme was a one-off. How delighted I was to discover that it is a weekly thing! This week celebrates the 150th snog, and Victoria Blisse’s birthday. Victoria said it would be nice if a party could be figured into this week’s kiss, so here is what I have.

You can get more snogs here.

Veronica liked looking at Gwendolyn when she did not know she was looking at her. She liked seeing how her daughter was when she did not know that she was there. In ways, looking at Gwennie was like looking at herself with rose-colored glasses.
Her daughter was everything she had wanted to be at her age but more so. Gwennie had been an apprentice at a prestigious dance school, and then was invited to be a member of the corps de ballet. She was not being a doting mom, she knew that Gwennie would be promoted to the ranks of principal before long.
Veronica looked in the mirror, she had to admit that she did look stunning. She had made sure that she would. Because she always made that extra effort when she was going to see Max. It was a celebratory night, the company’s gala and she made sure that she was impeccable in a floral cocktail dress that when she stood outside of the theater, she looked like she belonged as a sculpture in the garden. But inside, it was important for her to look good for Max as it always had been.
Even though they were not together anymore, it still mattered to her that he saw her as his beautiful ex. Their relationship by default had to be cordial, because he was on the board of the ballet company. They had met as dancers, and she believed that she fell in love with him on the stage up in the air in his strong arms. Even before they performed together on the stage, dancers really only saw other dancers because their schedules were such that they were always together.
The dissipation of their marriage had not been painful, it was kind of like agreeing that you needed a new best friend.
His new best friend, Chrysalis was a dancer in the ballet as well. She had been a part of the corps de ballet at a European company, and was extremely beautiful. Veronica could not take that away from her, so she always tried to look her best when she was going to see them.
But it was Gwennie that she watched as she worked the crowd. The dancers came out in their formal wear after their earlier performance, and walked about. At eighteen, Gwennie was too young to have any champagne, but her sparkling personality did not prevent her from wowing the gala crowd. It seemed she was in her element, and did not even notice her mother until she was right in front of her.
“Mom!” she smiled. It warmed Veronica’s heart to see that smile still, in the elegant young woman that stood before her.
Veronica held her daughter close in her arms, breathing in her sweet scent. Gwennie wore her favorite perfume, that smelled just about the same on both of them. It seemed it was a bit sweeter on Gwennie though. She closed her eyes as she squeezed her daughter, and she swore she saw roses behind her closed lids.
“You are beautiful, a beautiful ballerina. I cannot be any prouder of you,” Veronica opened her eyes, and looked at her daughter. she saw Gwennie’s eyes moistened, and she realized she had not been able to help herself but that Gwennie got so emotional when she gave her that type of accolade.
“Thank you Mom.”
Gwendolyn’s moist eyes dried up as she looked toward the young man that she recognized as the dancer she had partnered with. She took his hand,
“Nich, this is my mother Veronica Kidd. Mom, this is Nich Harrison, the amazing new dancer that I have been telling you about.”
“Mrs. Kidd, you don’t even need an introduction. You look so much like Gwen, it is a pleasure to meet you.
“It’s Ms. I did not change my married name, but I am no longer married,” Veronica smiled wryly. Gwennie had mentioned Nich, but seeing them now, she realized he was not just another dance partner.
“I’m sorry!” Nich said looking completely nervous, and Veronica had to admit she was pleased. She really hoped that Gwennie was not planning to do the exact same thing that she had. And she could see very clearly that it was.
Chrysalis walked up behind them, and kissed Gwennie. Veronica was happy that Chrysalis did seem to really have an attachment to her daughter, and Gwennie seemed quite a fan of hers as well.
“It’s nothing,” she said letting Nich off the hook for now. “It is a pleasure to meet you. You both danced like a dream.
Stars were brilliant in her daughter’s eyes when she said that, and Nich turned to smile at her.
Veronica smiled, but she felt her lower lip tremble a bit.
“Chrysalis,” she said as she kissed her cheek.
“Veronica, you look lovelier than ever,” Chrysalis said, and Veronica knew she was sincere. But looking at the other woman in her nude sequined form-fitting dress, it was hard for her to feel very beautiful.
“V is always one of the most beautiful women in the room,” Max said looking at her in the sweeping, lingering way she had wanted him to. She still felt like the young dancer she had been when she met him. Even though when they were married and he said that sentence, she was the most beautiful woman in the room.
He kissed her hand, and she knew that there was color there. Max still looked at her even after he let go of her hand, before he put his arm about Chrysalis.
“It is always good to see you V, especially when we can get together again to see our beautiful little girl wow the world.”
“Daddy!”
Max never hid his affection and love for his daughter. She went into his arms like it was home, and that would have been the thing that Veronica remembered that night, if it had not been for the other memory she would have.
Later after a glass of her champagne that Veronica permitted Gwennie to have, she saw her on the balcony looking down at the fountain below. Nich walked out behind her. He was twenty-one, so he could have a glass of champagne. They twisted their wrists around each other’s. To sip from each other’s glass.
But Nich surprised Gwennie. Leaning in to kiss her rich red lips, her face made up from the performance earlier. Gwennie did not need it, but with her lovely red lips, how could a young man resist tasting them? They put their champagne glasses down, and instead drank each other’s lips. Gwennie held his head, and looked in his eyes soberly. Her eyes filled with love…
Veronica looked away it was not something she should be seeing. She did not look back again until much later, and studied the champagne glasses that had been left on the balcony.

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kiss via wikimedia

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Wicked Wednesday #123 — Senses

Oscar adored Polly’s naked scent, the scent of her warmth as he looked at her soft curves over the bubbles of the glass of champagne she held. She smiled at him, and he touched the curve of her hip. He savored the sweetness of champagne on his tongue, the bubbles popping there and listened to the soft singsong of her voice as she looked up at him, almost splashing champagne on him. He aimlessly caressed her hip again, his hand slipping down a bit more than it should have. They had both been drinking, so he figured she might let it go.
She had taken off her stilettos which he always wondered how she always floated so gracefully above them, and never tottered. But she had taken them off, and rubbed each foot as she did.
His intuition told him he should be careful with a barefoot woman before him. Made him think of the last time he was at an art opening in Shanghai with a woman, the last time a beautiful barefoot woman was standing in front of him…
Polly was wearing a qipao she found in a local vintage store. It looked amazing on her, everything looked amazing on her and he found himself unable to look without touching her. She did not seem to mind, and even more she had a tendency to move into his touch that made him want to touch her in a bolder way each time.
His conversation on Skype with Eliza, her declaring that she now wanted an open relationship with Rafe and that she wanted to see him left him torn. Severine was not really as involved with him as she had been, because she felt that this open relationship meant that she would have a chance with Rafe and that was all she really wanted.
Oscar had never had a desire to be in open relationship, and even as much as he loved Eliza, it was hard for him to not still desire a woman who might want to be with just him.
Polly soft and warm in appearance and heart in front of him, was something that made him feel good in the moment. He felt something he had not felt for a long time, or at least something he had not allowed himself to feel for a long time.
He wanted Polly.
When he first met her he wanted her, but her rebuff made him think it was not the right thing. She clearly did not want to get any closer to him, and he felt it was the right thing since they were going to be working together.
But her glossy beauty was never lost on him, her hair that looked like she brushed it to the finest shine. Her voice was like honey, so sweet even when she ignored him. She talked to him until now only when she had to but her voice was honey, so sweet and made him do whatever she asked for. Her scent was amazing, the scent was like a fruit or flower that could be eaten. Her skin was softer than a cloud, he was sure and he could still taste strands of her perfumed hair from when she fell asleep in the car beside him heading to the airport.
Oscar was aroused just thinking about her, glad she was a bit tipsy because she would not notice how he felt.
“It was a good idea to come to this party and relax, but I guess you had to come when there are so many pictures of you on the walls of the gallery!” Polly declared.
“It is only two!” he protested looking into her eyes that looked up into his. “And if Fiona invited me, I had to come.”
Polly grinned at him, and raised her glass almost above her head to toast him.
It was as if she dangled that fruit or flower she smelled like to his mouth. He wanted to take a bite desperately, but he did not want to start something with her since they worked together, since they were both a bit inebriated and mostly because he did not trust his desire anymore.
But he wanted her, he wanted her so much he wanted to drag her by her glossy hair out of the gallery and fuck her in the closest corner, pulling apart her qipao and having his way with her until there were only remnants of her glossy beauty that was before him now.
He let his glass of champagne toast hers, and he spilled some on her. The scent of her champagne drenched, was almost more than he could bear.
But he was going to bear it, he was not going to let things get out of hand even though Polly was attacking his senses with all her glossiness.

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qipao via wikimedia

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Wicked Wednesday #122 — Hate

Rafe hated that Eliza remained friends with Sandrine. He knew he could trust Sandrine with his life, but he was not as sure that he could trust that Eliza would not figure out one day that he had had many transgressions before Severine…including with Sandrine herself in the beginning of their relationship.
He had tried very hard to be only with Eliza, but it was just not natural to him. At first he thought he would be okay, but in an argument with Sandrine he fell apart.
“I told your new girlfriend as I am telling you, that you are not ever going to be faithful to her or anyone else. I did not even want it with you, and I could not keep you.”
The way she conceded, her eyes were wide but not moist. She just stared at him after she stated her truth.
He touched her face, and she put her hand over his. Being that close to her after she had been so honest, her soft scent that perfumed his thoughts even now. He remembered meeting her, being with her and he forgot everything in that moment. He wanted her. Sandrine was not yet friends with Eliza, so she had no problem letting him have her.
Even if he touched her now after all these years, it was like touching a live wire. But Sandrine did not want him now that she was friends with Eliza. She also did not think that what had happened that one time was anything to ruin her friendship with Eliza.
He lit a cigar in a bar where you could get away with that in New York City. Sandrine walked in, and he looked down at the table. They had made a conscious decision not to meet alone a long time ago, so when she summoned him he knew it was something serious.
The sound of her stilettos was the only sound he heard as she walked to the table, dulling out all the conversations and laughter about them. Dulling the sound of heavy glasses from hard drinks, there were not any elderflower or hibiscus cocktails here. Cigar in one hand, rye whiskey in the other was how he was armed as she sat down.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
He leaned over and kissed her cheek, felt the warmth flood where his lips touched her.
“Good to see you S,” he said.
“You sent Lizzie to me like a spy in the house of polyamorous love. You know Marcus has wanted to fuck her, if she wants a foursome are you prepared to handle that? What are you drinking?”
She picked up his whiskey and drained it, the heavy glass hitting the oak table with a thud.
Rafe set his cigar on the ashtray.
“I don’t make Eliza do anything. What I made her fuck this Oscar character? Marcus will have to get in line.”
“What did you do to her? She only wanted you, she was so in love with you and now she feels like she needs someone else? Of course you are fine with that, you probably waited to wear her down.”
Rafe ran his hand through his hair, then grabbed her wrist. Twisted her wedding band.
“Don’t you come in here preaching to me! What you think because you are married that you are some authority? Your marriage is open. If I came over to you and put my fingers in you, you’d lick your come off my fingers and be the same as you were when I was with you…and you know it.”
Sandrine laughed in his face, he let go of her hand.
“That’s all you have anymore isn’t it? You think you can hypnotize everyone with your dick, but that is all you are. A dick.”
She stood up, he stood up with her.
“You’re leaving?”
“I’m done.”
“You came all the way here to tell me I’m a dick?”
Sandrine put her hands to her chest as if for prayer.
“I am came here to meet a friend, but I do not know who you are anymore.”
The sound of her stilettos walking away from him was all he heard in the cigar bar.
He wasn’t sure who he was anymore either. What he wanted, what he was doing and he hated that Sandrine always called him out…
Correctly.

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whiskey via wikipedia