Her eyes glitter with a million shades of lust.
Her breaths are heavier, slowly becoming moans.
She moves her hips on her own, and I take my hands to cup her beautiful heart-shaped face and pull her into me until our noses touch.
She looks at me pleadingly as she rolls her hip for one last time over my leg and then snaps into the state of pure relief.
She throws her head back as one deep moan rumbles through her body. I do not care about any rule-enforcing, right now.
This is what I wanted to watch.
I wander with my hands around her waist to her back and kiss her from her abdomen up to her collarbone.
“This is what my lifestyle is about,” I whisper against her skin.
She brings her head back up, and her eyes radiate such purity of emotions over me that I know that this is something different.
A smile I do not know of myself tugs on my mouth, and while there are all these words I could say, some moments require silence, and this moment right here does.
13
MIA
PLAYLIST: UNTIL THE MUSIC FADES – THE VENICE CONNECTION
When I awake, bright light burns my eyes. I stare at a ceiling with a chandelier on it, in a wooden four-poster bed with the whitest and softest bedsheets I have ever seen.
Not a dream,a voice says in my mind.
I lift myself onto my elbows and glance around. The bedside next to me is empty, but it was definitely slept in.
I squint my eyes from the brightness. Although it’s cloudy outside, there are so many huge windows letting in all the brightness.
I am in a bedroom, in a Highlands Manor, Victoria Fitzroy’s manor. Sixty-year-old wealthy lady whom I happened to call “Mistress” last night.
I glance around but cannot see her, so I fall back into the bed and stare at the ceiling as the memory of last night comes back to my mind. Victoria made me come, and I kind of humped her leg. And then she walked me up her on a bloody leash.
I start laughing at the mere thought of it and dig my face into the sheets, because I am repulsed as much as it turns me on.
Okay, I need to get out of bed and wash all the dirty, dirty thoughts from my mind.
I get up and search for a bathroom. There are three wooden doors in the room; the first is a closet, the second, to myrelief, a bathroom—A bathroom the size of other people’s living rooms times two.
While I have seen some things about Victoria’s way of life by now, this bathroom is beyond anything I ever thought she would like and be into. My eyes linger on a round bathtub at least ten feet in diameter to the left, in matte black. Everything is held in matte black.
I step into the room, barefoot, and walk over the wooden flooring.
Who would put wood flooring in a bathroom?I ask myself.
I walk past a mirror so long it takes me six steps to pass it. I dislike mirrors, especially when I have to walk by them naked.
The lid of an equally matte-black toilet opens automatically as I walk up to it, and there are more buttons than I’d like on a toilet.
When I’m done, I wash my hands, take a towel from a shelf of carefully folded, extremely soft towels, and step into a glass cubicle in the middle of the room, which happens to be the shower. Like a glass cage.
It takes me several minutes to figure out how to turn on the water, and when I do, it sprays horizontally into my face. I shriek and turn it off. I also recognise I have no shampoo, and tip out of the cubicle with wet feet over the wood.
I open all sorts of drawers, find toothbrushes and toothpaste, soap and every flavour of shower oil, but no shampoo.
