The Kiss
It started with a kiss, just a kiss. Really, just a peck on the lips as she leaned toward me. Still, it wasn't just a peck on the lips. There was a sensuousness to it. I could taste it, smell it, feel it--and it made me want more. I leaned forward for more, but she drew away standing before me, her hands on her hips, her breasts thrust out, and a curling smile on her lips.
"So you want more?" she asked. Her accent was French.
"Yes." I whispered.
"Are you sure?"
She slid into my lap with an arm around my neck, pulling me to her for a longer kiss. This time her tongue slid into my mouth, caressing and bringing with it an array of flavors I had never encountered in a kiss before. Cinnamon, sweet cherries, slightly bitter lemon, bacon, saltiness of oysters, the tang of a tannic wine, and a host of others--some recognizable, others not. They strengthened and waned as her tongue roamed the inside of my mouth caressing each portion. And my nose--it was experiencing it's own shower of exotic fragrances, rose, orange, caramel, all the spices I'd ever been near, and more.
But there was more than just the tastes, the aromas, and her caressing tongue. The overall effect was incredibly erotic. I could feel my cock springing to life, pressing it's rigid length against the soft flesh of her ass parked warmly in my lap.
The kiss went on and on with ever more erotic flavors and fragrances. Was that the taste of a woman's sex? Yes, I was sure of it. The salty taste of her pussy on the tip of my tongue. Oh God, yes. I responded as best I could with my lips and my tongue, sure that I was doing little to match her sensuous assault. I brought my hands into play, grabbing and massaging each soft round globe of her ass. Then doing the same with her voluptuous breasts, all fully clothed, but minimally so, with no sign of panties or bra. I ground my hips against her rubbing my erect cock against her buttocks.
And then she was gone. The kiss was broken, and she was walking away from me, back towards the brightly lit ballroom. As she walked away she reached behind herself and pulled up the hem of her dress giving me a brief look in the dim light at her perfectly shaped ass. Just for a moment. Just long enough to appreciate the erotic shape... and to see it was as naked as I had imagined. I was left sitting on the stone bench in the near darkness asking myself, "Who was that woman?" Asking myself, "What were all of the stunning, erotically charged tastes and smells in that kiss?" Asking myself, "How am I going to make love with her?"
I sat where I was for a while waiting for my erection to subside. It was not going to happen so long as I kept thinking about her kiss. Eventually I rose and adjusted my trousers and the jacket of my tux as best I could hoping the other guests inside wouldn't notice my condition. Picking up my now empty champagne flute, I followed in her footsteps into the brightly lit ballroom. There had to be at least a 100 people in the room none of whom were known to me. I was at this party in response to a mysterious engraved invitation delivered in the mail several weeks ago, with no indication of who the host was or why I was chosen as an invitee. It gave a time and place informing me that the dress would be black tie and that cocktails and dinner would be served. It promised there would be no marketing. When I arrived I realized there was no one there I knew. But now there was certainly one person I wanted to know better.
I looked about the brightly lit room asking myself, how was I going to find her? After I had been scanning the crowd for several minutes a waiter came by, efficiently exchanging my empty glass for a full one. That was when I spotted her across the room chatting with an older gentleman and another woman. He was handsome, in a roughhewn sense, broad shoulders, lean waisted, with a thick mane of silver hair. He filled his tux like it was invented for him. The features of his face were coarse, belying the glamor of his perfectly tailored clothes. He struck me as a man not to be trifled with. To this day I couldn't describe the other woman chatting with them in any detail, other than her appearance was ordinary, perhaps even dumpy, and she was doing most of the talking. Oh yes, and her hair was a not attractive shade of red. The gentleman was leaning toward her and appeared to be paying attention. The stunning woman I had met on the deck was ignoring both of them. She seemed to be surveying the room, looking for someone. Me perhaps? Not likely, I thought.
I stood, leaning on the bar with one arm, sipping my champagne, as I studied her. She was masked, as was everyone at this ball, but her mask, made of a black, widely meshed lace, that covered only the upper part of her face and hid very little of it. It stood out in stunning contrast to her pale white skin. Her large eyes were hazel, that blended color that isn't brown or green, but something in between. They set perfectly on the even features of her face, neither so wide nor so narrow as to detract from her beauty. Her hair was a lustrous dark brown, thick and wavy, trimmed to end a bit above her shoulders. Her full lips defined a small mouth, which barely exposed a row of neat white lower teeth. Her makeup accentuated her high cheekbones and focused attention on her eyes. The lipstick, which I trusted had been cleaned up after our passionate kiss, was a dark, intense, sensuous red. Her neck was long and slim, encased in a choker made of the same lace as her mask. It covered much of her throat, hiding nothing, all visible through the wide lace.
She was relatively tall, maybe 5-8, and perhaps a bit short waisted. Her shapely legs seemed to go on forever before meeting tall heeled sandals that did little more than provide a platform for her feet and accentuate the beauty of her shapely calves. Her legs were beautiful, and her dress hid very little of them, stopping well above the knee.
The dress itself was a stunning choice on her part--a dark blue, silky fabric that covered everything and hid nothing. It wasn't tight like the dresses of a number of the women in the room, but instead draped perfectly over her breasts in a way that let every man (and woman) in the room know that she had exquisitely beautiful breasts--not unusually high on her chest, but standing out firmly and fully. The fabric did nothing to hide the pert nipple that topped each breast. Was she aroused or were they always that large? I longed to suckle on them and find out. Later when she walked across the room each breast had the most delicious jiggle as she moved. The dress narrowed at the waist, perfectly showcasing her tight waist and then broadened perfectly over her hips, tightening again for the brief distance it covered below her hips. Wherever she moved everyone in the room could see her stunning figure moving sinuously through the crowd, covered, but far from hidden. The dress was a masterpiece, allowing her to be fully clothed and virtually naked at the same time.
I remained leaning on the bar, sipping my champagne and studying the magnificent creature across the room from me. Eventually her roving eyes came to rest on mine creating that magic instant of eye contact between two people in which each acknowledges the other's existence. She held her glance at me longer than necessary for a routine scan of the room, and I could see the tip of her pink tongue briefly emerge from between her crimson lips. She saw me, and it affected her. Was there a silent gasp on her part? I wondered.
I remained at the bar, chatting from time to time with passing strangers seeking to become acquaintances, but always keeping my eye on her and her silver haired escort as they wandered from place to place--he working the crowd like a politician or business mogul and she graciously trailing in his wake greeting each as he introduced her and listening, silently and politely as he charmed each person. Watching him, he struck me as a man who could charm or threaten with a mere change in his expressive face, with eyes that could change from a twinkling blue to the coldest ice in a moment. She did not make eye contact with me again, having satisfied herself with respect to my presence. I made it easier for her by maintaining my position, so, if she cared, she could be sure I was still present.
At dinner I sat at the same table as she. The threesome was at the end of the table, with our host in the middle and one of the women on each side. I was seated on a side near the far end of the table. Our host continued to be engrossed in conversation with the frumpy redhead, ignoring the beauty on the other side of him. As before she continued to scan the faces of those at the table, this time making extended eye contact with me on repeated occasions. As we finished the last course I saw her ask our host for a pen and she wrote a brief note that she handed to a waiter. Moments later the note was discreetly delivered to me. When I opened it I saw, written in a graceful script, "Meet me upstairs in ten minutes." The note had the many of the same enchanting aromas I had experienced earlier. When I looked up, I saw that she was gone from the table. I turned to the doors just to catch a glimpse of her lovely hips disappearing.
