The Shape of a Stranger

She sighed, blinked, and put down her bag. Outside it was pouring. Autumn was gradually losing its fight to winter, and twilight was devouring more and more of the day. She pulled the scarf from her neck and threw it onto the chair by the window, then clicked on the bedside lamp. Her saturated coat was hanging up in the bathroom down the hall, dripping slowly under the weight of the heavens.

The house always seemed stagnant at this hour. Perhaps it was because she never had anywhere to go in the evening. She sat down on her bed and took her off her shoes, rubbing and gently squeezing her damp, tired feet. She felt like a long, hot soak in the tub. It had been a hard day. Lately, every day felt like that.

Rain continued to drum against the window. The glass seemed to be crying an endless flood of tiny tears that slid down its cold, lifeless surface. She moved her hand up to her shoulder and neck. Her muscles were rigid, so tense they felt like rubber. She would have given anything for a massage. To lie naked on her stomach and feel a lover's hands smoothing out all the anxiety from her body. Rubbing, caressing, firm but gentle. For a second she felt warmth inside, then sadness as reality brought her back down to an empty bedroom.

Her mind was apt to escape into fantasy without her control, and she needed it to get by. Her imagination was like a lifeboat in a turbulent ocean, throwing her a line now and then to pull her back from despair. Who doesn't dream? On a lonely, rainy autumn night, when the city was so vast and anonymous, and the day had been barely worth crawling out of bed for, she had the right to a little self-indulgence. It was worth the price of having to return to normality again, if she could be free for just a few blissful minutes.

Where would she begin? Who would it be tonight? She closed her eyes and wandered into the disordered attic of her creative memory. She placed her hands lightly on the trunk marked by a distinct golden 'M'. It could have stood for many things; Men, Masculine, Mysterious . . . Mine. The trunk flipped open with ease and she delved around inside. Random images danced beneath her mental fingers, hybrids of characters she had read about in the embarrassing romance novels she hid from her colleagues, or had invented in those solitary moments on the subway. What was she in the mood for? She smiled as she settled on the one who would be her secret love tonight.

None of her characters had a name, there was no need for one, but his physical details were fixed so clearly in her mind that she could almost see him in the flesh. He was a whole foot taller than her, with wide shoulders and strong arms. He had black, wavy hair that swallowed the light. It was just long enough for her to rake her fingers through and grab a handful if she wanted. His body was finely toned, but not *

too

* muscular. His torso was hard, and his hairy chest would feel good on her cheek as she lay against him. His manhood – her lips stretched into a guilty smile – was circumcised, quite thick and not too long. Like all her secret lovers, he was built to fit her to perfection. She would enjoy taking him in hand and stroking him, knowing that his hardness was for her.

But that was getting too far ahead. She reminded herself that there was no need to rush.

She was still sitting on the bed when he entered the room. His shadowy outline filled the doorway completely, and he was a little wet from the rain. She turned her head and looked at him with pretended calm. He was panting slightly, having run up the steps to reach her. His eyes flashed in the dim twilight. She felt alive now. She could have risen and dragged him down onto the bed with such ferocity that he would have known that she owned him. But she was not in the mood for that tonight. Tonight she wanted to be a tease.

"I want you," was all he said, his deep voice like melted chocolate dripping from his throat.

She was sitting sideways from him, the faint glow of the streetlights outside veiling her face. She uncrossed her legs, slowly, and very deliberately, and stood up. He was dressed completely in black, a long trench coat accentuating his height. He slipped out of the coat and let it drop to the floor. She stared straight into his eyes, letting her hands drop loosely down to her legs. Her fingers grasped her skirt and lifted it gradually until another inch would have shown her panties. Then she slowly let it drop back into place. She saw the hunger in his expression as he moved out of the darkness. He was coming towards her. She had given him all the invitation he needed.

He stood before her, looking down into her upturned faced. She allowed him a kiss, very brief, but enough to break the seal within her and allow warm feelings to trickle out. He put a finger against her lips. She sucked it tenderly, letting her tongue roll against it and coating it in warm saliva. He was smiling just slightly; the smile of a boy who knows what he's getting for Christmas.

His finger left her mouth, reluctantly, and moved down her chin. There was a slight drop before it landed on her throat, skimming lightly down to her chest. She was still wearing her pale blue blouse, and the open neck stopped just short of her cleavage. His finger dawdled at her necklace pendant, circling the shiny surface, before sinking further down to where her top button hindered its progress. His eyes moved up to hers, then back down to her blouse. With impressive skill, he eased the button from its slit using only one hand. The two sides of her blouse fell slightly further apart, revealing just a little more of her naked skin. He moved down to the next button, and out it came, releasing another inch or two. The line of her cleavage was now fully on show. Another button and the off-white lace of her bra would come into view.

She let him get that far before turning suddenly away. With her back to him, she went to the chest of drawers by her bed and began to take out her earrings. He was left standing there, his desperation intensifying by subtle degrees. If he wanted her, he would have to persuade her; and she *

knew

* he wanted her.

She had just placed her second earring into its holder when his hands fixed themselves on her waist and pulled her roughly to him. She jolted as her back collided with his front. He slid his arms further around her, tightening his embrace, and lowered his mouth to her neck, sweeping aside her long hair with the side of his face. She sighed. The area from her ear to her neck was the one place on her body guaranteed to start a fire inside her, if given the right attention.

His magical lips moved to the hollow of her shoulder, and he slid her blouse down over her arms. She worked quickly to undo the final buttons and expose her stomach. His hands were there in a second, caressing the flesh above the hem of her skirt. She sighed again. She was beginning to weaken in his embrace. His hands crept upward, holding her breasts from beneath. He pushed them higher, then let them sink back, squeezing, stroking. Her nipples were poking through the thin lace of her bra. He pinched them, making her moan softly. She was almost tempted to let him have her then, but she resisted. He would have to work for his prize.

She stepped forward, freeing herself, and spun around to stand with her ass against the window sill. Her blouse was still hanging half off her arms, and her chest was rising and falling heavily as she caught her breath. He followed, taking her in his arms again and pressing his lips urgently to hers. She opened up and took his tongue into her mouth, sucking it long and deep. His hands were all over her, his need urgent. He desired her more than anything on earth, and would have killed to have her.

With all her strength she put her hands on his chest and pushed him away again. He fell back onto the bed, hurt and confusion in his eyes. She stared at him, her mouth slightly open, and waited. He understood, and slowly took off his black shirt, his skin warm in the intimate light. She responded, letting her blouse fall off completely. He quickly removed his boots, then his tight pants, then his trunks, staring into her eyes the whole time. He had dangerous eyes, but no others could penetrate her so deeply. She pulled down the zip on her skirt and let it drop to the floor.

He was hard for her. He was naked and ready to do anything to earn the right to be inside her. He held out his hand, and finally she gave in. She would allow him to have her, and he would reward her with the beauty of his touch.

She took his hand and stepped forward. His face was level with her stomach, and he put his mouth there, kissing, softly biting, his tongue probing her belly button in a hint of what was soon to come. She took off her bra, freeing her tingling breasts. She began to touch them while her lover took hold of her panties and pulled them gradually down. He held still for a moment, inhaling deeply. Her scent heightened his arousal. He put his hands on her buttocks and let his kisses spread like warm water to her upper thighs.

She was burning down there, aching in moist desire. She groaned as his tongue found its way inside and opened her up. He was an oral expert, licking and stroking her lips until he centred on her sweet bud. The softness of his tongue pushed against her, moving in circles, then lashing at her in varying speeds. She moved her hips against his mouth, eyes closed, running her hands through his thick, black hair.

But he would not be rushed. He would take his time, just as she wanted. He brought her repeatedly to the dizzying edge of climax, then eased off, each time making her throb and pulse more. Again and again he almost made her come, only to lift his tongue and allow the sensations to subside. And each time they returned, those sensations were so much stronger.

When her knees threatened to give, he lay back on the bed, pulling her down with him. They kissed again, and her hand found his hardness. She held him, stroking him slowly as his masterful tongue once again entered her mouth. Then he was holding her by the waist, lifting her up so that his lips could explore her breasts. She continued to stroke him as he bit and sucked at her nipples, flicking them, blowing against them. She groaned, pressing her thighs close together.

He read her perfectly, knowing exactly when to turn her over on to her back and position himself against her sweet opening. She was still holding his thick cock, and she guided it in, allowing the large head to part her lips and sink further into moist warmth. She lifted her thighs and put her legs around him as he worked his way deeper inside her. He went slowly, letting her feel every inch enter her vagina. She gasped when his pelvis finally met hers and he was locked tight against her. They were joined completely, wrapped up in wondrous union. Once more they kissed, with such passion she could hardly breathe.

He moved smoothly, evenly, filling her gorgeously with each incredible thrust. She clung to him, pulling his body against hers, loving the feel of masculine skin against her own. The hours of loneliness and frustration vanished with every synchronous movement of their writhing bodies; every kiss at her neck as he savoured her flesh; every sweep of her hands over his muscular back. She closed her eyes and felt consumed by desire. The tension inside her melted away like ice, replaced by a growing warmth that took her further towards an explosion of utter release.

He drew back and entered her again, again, again. Harder. Quicker. More intense. His hands gripped her buttocks as he drove her into the clean, white sheets. Her headboard banged against the wall, and her bedroom was suddenly filled with the sounds of hot, passionate fucking. Oh, how she had missed those sounds!

The tension inside her began to build, and she held him even more tightly than before. Her whole body rose ever closer to the crest of a glorious wave. When it broke, crashing down and engulfing her completely, she opened her mouth and let out every gasp, moan and half-formed expletive that had been pent-up for so long. As she came, he erupted too, his own hot-blooded grunts joining hers as he emptied his hot fluid inside her. It seemed to shake them both forever, until finally they collapsed in each others arms, and there was no sound at all.

She opened her eyes and looked at the ceiling. The room was empty. She was naked, panting and flushed. Her wet fingers were resting between her legs. She lay there until she could breathe again, then slid over the side of the bed and grabbed a towel from the back of the chair.

No hands touched her shoulders. No kisses caressed her naked back. No one said 'I love you'. Still, as she stood up and walked towards the bathroom, she couldn't keep the little smile from her lips. Just a little smile, but enough. Until something better came along to fill her lonely nights.

Or maybe she'd just get a cat.