sneaking a peek.

At the end of the day, I gather all of my crap that somehow always seems to be laying about. I want to sit in a long bath and put my headphones in and just drift. I like my bath water hot enough to actually melt the dirt from my skin. The bathroom fills up with steam. I reach out to the mirror to clear a circle to see myself in. My handprint drips down in a seductive teardrop path. I close my eyes and the scene in front of me is more real and more poignant than the reality that exists in my bathroom, but plays in my mind like a waking dream.
Dream sequences always amaze me. You don’t have to explain the logistics between two scenes. It’s like our brain doesn’t want to try and explain the how or why, it just needs you to live in the moment. 

We are dancing. Dancing is my favorite. It brings together music pulsing through my body with a hint of sexuality that never gets to exist outside of the intimacy between two people. When I dance, I don’t care what others see. I can dance with anyone. I can smell the heat on their skin. I can taste their want in the air. I don’t recognize this man that I am with. Crazy tall, crazy masculine. He puts his hands on my waist and I notice Michael’s smirk sitting neatly on his face, watching. I am dancing the Salsa and I feel sweat rolling down my back. Michael shifts in his seat as he finishes whatever was in his tumbler. My dance partner starts to pull me in closer. I see Michael notice and I know he will be coming over soon. God, this man is a good dancer. 

Michael walks up and takes my extended hand, interrupting the tempo. He slides his arm slowly around my waist and pulls me to him. He turns me around so that his hand is now on my stomach and I can feel him, fully erect. We move together. Every move is expertly echoed. We know this dance. He gently pulls my head to the left and covers my mouth with his. I wonder what my Salsa friend thinks. I notice the stars and sky outside of the glass that extends the full length of the room. I am dancing in the stars. I am the sky. 

Just like that, the scenery changes and I notice drips of perspiration streaming from my handprint against the cool glass. My dress is up around my torso, Michael’s hand cupping my  breast, holding my dress up at the same time. His right hand is slipping his belt from around his waist. I feel it snap against the back of my leg as he pulls it through, enough to know that leather could hurt if he wanted it to. I arch my back, knowing how much he likes that. My dress is pulled up over my head and then is gone. I move to slip out of my heels and I hear a whisper, “please leave them on”. Spread out, hands against the glass, heels on. Yes. 

Michael moves over my body like he wrote the map. Every touch of his hands sends electric shocks through my skin. His face hovers so close to the back of my neck that I can feel the stubble of his closely cropped beard. His breath lights a fire, an urgency so intense that I think I could collapse. My legs are trembling before he even gets close enough to touch me. He steps back away from the window and tells me that he wants to sit back and admire me. I am vulnerable, naked now that he has moved away. I lean back against the window to watch him walk away. He has the look of both predator and prey. I want him to attack me, but I know he is going to toy with me. He wants me to follow. To ask for more.

With an abrupt jolt, I am back in my bathroom, listening to the tub fill, watching my handprint melt down the mirror.  I know that it isn’t safe to go down that path.

Source: reddit.com/r/Erotica/comments/zi6nar/sneaking_a_peek