The room was filled with sunlight. It was almost white from the dΓ©cor and the morning sun streaming in from the French doors. Lara sat at the mirror of her dressing table, applying makeup and perfume, her favorite and his, Paloma. Dressed in a flowered print skirt and soft white, linen blouse, she was waiting for him.
A breeze caressed her back as the French doors opened. The curtains rustled a bit but she did not turn. She was expecting this, smiled and waited.
Serge approached. He could see the outline of her bra through the white blouse. She had decided to be playful and the garment was a darker shade. Black? No. Pink or red maybe β yes, that's it red. The straps have a satiny shine that is evident even through the linen of her blouse.
Lara watched in the mirror but did not acknowledge his presence with more that a pleased smirk. He had dressed in black in contrast with the room. She took in his silk shirt with her eyes and anticipated its feel when it became her time to explore. But for now it was all up to him.
He stood behind her now and gently enfolded her in his arms. His hands roamed gently over her torso and he looked not at her but into the mirror to gage her reaction. She tensed slightly and then purred softly.
He could see the scalloped shells of her bra cups encasing her breasts. The red turned the white translucent material of her blouse pink. A tiny hint of lace peered from her cleavage where she had failed to button the top two buttons of the white garment.
He inhaled her fragrance. Her hair surrounded his face and tickled his nose. He breathed her scent deep inside and then let his tongue lash not too gently at the nape of her neck and under the lobes of her ears. His teeth grazed slightly along the back of her neck and then just over her carotid artery where her blood was now rushing at a terrific pace. She exhaled deeply as she realized that she had been holding her breath from the moment he had entered the room.
Not a word had been spoken. Only the sounds of the breeze and her mounting excited mewling. She still did not tun to him. She stared at the mirror and watched his arms encase her in black silk. Her hair hid his face. He appeared to be disembodied. She felt his warmth against her back but he was still not real to her. She began to surrender to her feelings and melt more and more into the spirit of what was about to possess her.