Even though it was early evening, she made a pot of fresh coffee, made with that chicory blend special ordered from New Orleans. It had been a beautiful day, but now that the sun had disappeared over the horizon, a cool breeze filled the air. She poured the thick black liquid, half-filling her cup, adding scalded milk to simulate cafĆ© au lait ā not as good as CafĆ© du Monde, but an adequate substitute.
She went out to the porch and leaned against the wooden rail, watching as dusk settled across the field. The sounds of night were beginning, and she could hear crickets in the bushes just beyond the driveway, chirping as they scuffled among the leaves. Far away, sounds of vehicles on the highwayā¦ and even farther, the train whistle at the crossing just before town. It was so peaceful here, and she felt safe. Away from the city. Finally.
She opened the screen door and stepped back inside the house. It was an older home, built in the early 1900ās, but she had it remodeled to add all the conveniences she had enjoyed in her city high-rise condominium. Still, she kept much of the original woodwork and basic design, appreciating the fine workmanship and hand-crafting that had been put into it.
She worked entirely from home these days, asking clients and associates to meet at her country location. She had planned for several years to make this transition, while building a reputation for artistic talents that would not discourage business from coming to her, regardless of the distance.
Tonight she was expecting a special visitor. She had spoken with him only once, but his voice alone left her momentarily speechless ā a deep, commanding spirit that spoke of confidence, mastery. She barely heard the words ā it was almost as if he didnāt speak any, but communicated with her telepathically. Finally, after a long pause, she gathered her senses again and invited him to a personal meeting to discuss his ideas.
She went upstairs, running the bath, and then selected her attire from a tall antique dressing closet. Her one indulgence was lingerie and sexy accessories ā and was inclined to fantasize about the most erotic encounters, wearing appropriate costumes to set the mood. Satin. Spandex. Silk. Leather. Pearls. Chokers. Scarves. Exotic perfume. Expensive cosmetics. The choices were endlessā¦ the collection extensive. The ritual was foreplay in itself ā imagination shaping the mind until the body responded.
She carefully lit candles around the tub, then stepped into the tepid water, letting it surround her as she leaned backwards, long red mahogany hair swirling around her head as she completely submerged. She came back up just as slowly, relishing the moment, breathing in the warm, sandalwood scent from the candles. She closed her eyes, wondering what he would look likeā¦.
In a daring mood, she put on a lacy, strapless bra and satin thong before slipping into a pearl-colored silk kimono with a low v-neck that accented her full figure and deep cleavage. The material framed her soft curves, draped to the ankles, where red-painted toenails peeked out as she walked. Manicured fingers wrapped around a silver hairbrush as she stroked her hair, loose blonde streaks falling back haphazardly among the red-brown strands, as if they had no real place of their own. She put on little makeup this evening ā her complexion was flawless, with a healthy glow from working in her flower garden ā but she brushed black mascara on lashes to frame blue eyes, brilliant topaz crystals that were unforgettable once looked upon. And, finally, a brilliant shade of garnet red was carefully drawn on perfectly shaped lips.
He wondered what she was really like. He had heard the tales about her studioā¦ but those stories were just too outrageous to be true. Intriguing, he had to admit ā there was quite a range of past experiences circulating among her clientele. In the end, the simple fact remained that she was reputed to be best in the field ā more than worth the drive out to her house ā and the ābestā was just what he needed right now.
He drove into the narrow driveway, lined by a white picket fence, and parked next to a classic black mustang convertible. Yes, he had heard about that carā¦ gleaming in moonlight as if to flaunt the secrets under its dark coat. He looked up at the house ā she did have excellent taste. Simple and inviting while stately and elegant, not an easy trick to blend the old with the new, but she had achieved it quite well.
He had only touched the brass knocker when the door opened and the soft glow of a candlelight chandelier lit the entryway. Red lips parted in a warm smile, and she invited him in, taking his hand in an affectionate greeting. He stood there, stunned by his own unexpected reaction to this exceptional mortal ā her very essence seemed surreal, tangible and invisible at the same time. Feeling her fingers squeeze his arm, he regained his composure and smiled back, following her, his voice still trappedā¦
She was surprised, but pleased, that he was so strikingly handsome. Although her clientele was selective, she was even more soā¦ keeping interaction impersonal, easily meeting the requests of men desperate for an intelligent female with an imaginationā¦ always maintaining each transaction as strictly business. Somehow, her instinctsā¦ and the pounding in her chestā¦ told her that tonight promised to be very different... unexpectedā¦ and memorable.
She built the studio herself, using her limitless imagination to create the ultimate environment for pure pleasure. The posted headboard of the bed was solid oak and displayed an intricate carving of two lovers, entwined in passionate embrace under an umbrella tree, surrounded by a field of wild flowers, the full moon rising above a mountain far in the distance. Matching posts rose above the carved footboard, and decorative silver rings hung by braided leather from the top of each of the four posts. Fresh white cotton sheets covered a triple goose down mattress, topped by a hand sewn quilt. A welcoming sightā¦ made for pleasure.
