“March 5th, 8:00 PM sharp. You are cordially invited to a reception of the brightest minds in which you are asked to represent your respective field.” I reread the gold embossed text on the black vellum invitation. I look again at the matching black envelope with my address in the same gold embossed lettering. There’s no postage stamp or markings from a post office, local or otherwise, however, I recognize the return address as one from a very prominent part of town. Not sure who or why anyone would want me present at the caliber of soirée that happens in this particular zip code but I suppose I shouldn’t find myself on the bad list of some VIP I don’t even know. I decide it would be in my best interest to attend despite the last minute receipt of my invitation.
After I convince myself for the millionth time, I walk toward the door and lift the heavy knocker. In seconds I’m greeted by a very polished doorman who ushers me through the threshold after examining my invitation and begins removing my coat and bag. He then carefully places both items with the coat check. I’m guided into the foyer and I scan the room, committing the faces to memory and taking note of the overwhelming influx of people I have yet to meet. I move about the various spaces which can be described no other way than “stately”. Once again I ask myself who could have thought I belonged here?
The salon is enveloped in an electric energy, there is a tangible pulse as if all of us are connected to each other beyond just this moment. My attention is stolen by two people, lovers perhaps. In the midst of the chaos, as the man speaks with sureness to those around him, she stands in front of him, her body touching his.
I can’t help but notice how her slightly smaller stature fits his frame so perfectly. He places his hands on her shoulders and begins to massage them, slowly moving up onto her neck. I notice her whole body relax in response to his touch and her buttocks rests against his groin. Every strong movement he makes pushes and pulls her against him. He locks eyes with me and a smug grin forms on his face. I blush but can’t take my eyes off of him. His eyes seem to conceal something dark. Something that likely, only a trusted few have witnessed.
Within mere seconds I seem to lose sight of him in the crowd and begin to feel disappointment which surprises me. I realize I also feel flush and there’s a yearning that is fading which nags at me. However, I ignore the feelings and find the drink service. With my back to the crowd, I order a Gin and Tonic and patiently wait for it to be made. The bartender sets the glass in front of me and I’m grateful for their efficient timing. As I take the first cool sip with hopes that my anxiousness will fade I hear a husky voice comment on my choice of beverage “interesting selection”. I smirk to myself, thinking “of course someone commenting on my drink to get into my pants…” I turn around ready to respond and meet his eyes, the same man as before only much closer and much more intimidating.
Whatever response I had is quickly forgotten and I look down at my feet. “What makes it such an interesting choice?” I ask and he places a finger under my chin, lifting my head so I can no longer avoid his possessive gaze which causes the yearning to return. He examines my face with his eyes, I can see that he’s making mental notes and then they return to meet mine. I disallow myself to divert my stare once he lifts my chin, somehow knowing he wouldn’t like to repeat himself. He raises his hand to my face once more, his palm on my cheek, and grazes my bottom lip with his thumb. “It is interesting because not many people possess the palate for such a complex taste.” Though he answers my question, his eyes and his touch speak volumes beyond what simple syntax and semantics ever could.
He pulls away from me just enough to offer a hand and tells, rather than asks, “come with me”. Without a thought I take his hand and he leads me through the crowd. Across the foyer, he comes to a door, and while I’m sure someone has seen our interaction just as I did before, with the other woman, he turns the doorknob and I realize we’ve slipped away privately with not a wandering eye to catch.
We cross through a second doorway and enter into his study, which has a very clandestine atmosphere. Once the door is closed behind us, he pulls me close to him and kisses me, I kiss him back, desperately. Feeling the yearning stronger than before, I throw my arms around his neck and he grabs my waist. His hands and fingers feel powerful pushing into my hips as he lifts me onto his desk. He pulls my face away from his own with his hand anchored in the hair at the back of my neck. I smile at him and then bite my lip as I’m overcome with lust. He gathers my dress underneath me and I lift my butt off his desktop so he can pull it over my head. I’m left sitting in front of him, naked, except my black lace panties. He places a hand at the small of my back and pulls me to him once more. He easily gains dominion over me and my legs willingly open allowing him between them.
His arm wraps around me and his hand finds the back of my neck, his fingers trail into my hairline and control manifests through this fervent gesture once again. He trails his lips down my neck, grazing my skin with his teeth. The moment he sees my body and feels the slightest ounce of control he recognizes a ravenous need to claim what is his.
He continues to kiss down my chest and onto my breasts. He takes a nipple into his mouth and prudently moves his tongue and lips to achieve a desired response. I uncontrollably arch my back, my body propelled to him relieving him of any need to strain. He pushes his other hand between my legs and pulls the lace fabric of my panties to the side. I blush knowing he can feel how wet I am; how he can determine just how much I’m craving what he is too. He pushes two fingers between my labia and into my pussy, massaging natural lubrication back and forth onto my clit. I can’t help but moan as my body begins to feel weightless. He pulls me to him and I begin to grind against his hand. Almost instantly, I beg him to let me cum already and I’m embarrassed by my greediness. He laughs but obliges my request and kisses me again as I begin to feel that loss of sovereignty over my own body in the very seconds after he gives his permission. I am anchored to him by my lips as the waves of pleasure crash over me, through me. I am thankful for his strength and his deliverance through my orgasm and my body now feels heavier than ever. I can barely breath to get air back into my lungs quick enough. He shushes me as he rocks me in his arms, my chest rises and falls, and my breasts push against him. Just as the pleasure dissipates, he begins again, torturously teasing me with devious intentions of forcing me to orgasm, this time when he wants and chooses rather than when I want to have it. I am at his mercy as he allows me to experience this private display of desire.
Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/u0m95r/private_display_of_desire_mfds