63 Seconds to Eternity
As I moved to light the last vanilla beeswax candle by the nightstand, I caught your reflection in the vanity mirror and paused for a moment to watch you, as you put your right foot up on the chair and were pulling the black thigh hose up your leg. I love those, I thought, the ones with the sparkly trim around the top – perfect for your legs. The shades had been drawn across the high windows, and the only light the candles on each night stand and the dresser on the other side of the black glass topped coffee table, flickering gently, and the vanity. The vanity lights surrounding the mirror, with the dimmer switch all the way down, cast just enough light to see your reflection as you were looking down at your leg, your delicate fingers arranging the top of your stocking neatly. You wore the black translucent body suit, the one I bought for you, with the black bow tie in back, securing the end of the pearl g-string that disappeared between your legs. I rarely tell you that you are beautiful, even though I think it all the time, but because I know how it bores you. You can see it clearly in my eyes when I look at you.