Night Stalker

He had a steady way of describing fleeting things which she found both fascinating and sinister. A mind so dexterous was dangerous and she knew it but the way he touched her with such command made her feel weak and alert at once. His ability to reflect without distorting, to bend without breaking, to manipulate at will. His disposition strong and calm enough to send her own skittish nerves into a quiet excitable humming which cascaded through her entire body in warm pulsating waves. She had a thing for men who went after what they wanted without apology and he possessed confidence in spades, stopping just short of arrogance. Not that spilling over into arrogance would have turned her off. She’d have licked, sucked, and swallowed that as it dripped off of him as well. Pouring a glass of rose wine as she walks slowly across the bare wooden floor in her new apartment, she leans against the window frame and watches as the fading evening light splays itself along the walls, still empty as though everything in the room, inside of the woman, were waiting. She is not sure of his whereabouts these days, he being a well traveled man not fond of leaving tracks. He was only a memory now. A shadow in dreams she longed to touch, to stroke, to please. In the darkening room, night falls in around her alone upon her bed, the aching between her thighs begins to liquefy,  a sweet flowering swell. She touches herself at the precious wound, consumed with desire to penetrate the luxurious depths of its softly unfolding petals. Muscles flexing, her dewy body enraptured with the imagery of his hand upon her jaw as he pinches her breasts, holds her hips in place while taking her again and again without relent. Inside of her she hears the groaning whisper of his voice, tastes the wetness in her mouth, panting for the heat in his words. Beg for this. Beg until it’s hard for you to breathe. He made the world spin upon its tilted axis. In his eyes were the dark secrets hidden inside of the universe he fed to her as she offered herself up to him completely. How he had shown her the wonder in so very many things. A man who could somehow inflict pleasure like a knife, pain like sick heaven. A man who knew the words to use with such precision he barely had to speak at all. But the moment he did, how she fell, instantly, expectantly, hungrily, upon her elegant knees.

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