I step into the room, excited, barely able to catch my breath with the anticipation. I stand for a moment in the doorway, both to give to you the chance of taking in my appearance, and so compose myself. I want to present a cool, calm, controlled front, not to betray how excited I am. I am dressed in a leather jacket with leather trousers and tight, thick leather gloves.
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The room was dim and cool. Shadowed figures huddled in the corners, soft whispers of conversation counter-pointed the soft “shush, shush, shush” of the machinery by the bed, the occasional “beep, beep, beep” indicating that life still lingered. The woman on the bed laid unnaturally still, her eyes half open, seeing nothing. Her white hair gleamed softly in the dim light. Her skin had the parchment quality of age, yet was smooth and unlined.
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She paced the length of the living room restlessly...the sharp points of her high heels clicking against the wood floor. Her eyes flicked to the clock, realizing that it was almost time. He had said the car would arrive for her at eight and it was nearly that now. He had promised her an evening she would never forget. She took a deep breath and checked her appearance one final time in the mirror.
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The moment he put the phone down I felt a surge of joy rise inside of me. Okay, that's strictly not true; it had been there all day, like a troupe of ballet dancers in steel-toed boots had taken up residence in my gut. I was behaving, I knew, like some dorky teenager about to embark on a first date. The fact was, I wasn't and neither was he.
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The sound of moaning greeted us as we pushed through the door into the darkened cinema. The actress on the big screen was getting fucked hard, and doing a good job of sounding as if she was loving it. In the dim light from the screen we could see that the matinée had attracted a few people to this porn cinema. Maybe fifteen or twenty.
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You walk into the room, soft heavy curtains closing behind you blocking the light from the hall. It is dim, candles providing the only light, their flickering crating more shadows than they dispel. You peer round in the gloom, noticing the deep velvet drapes hiding the windows, the soft, dark carpet underfoot.
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My wife was preparing her lunch for work as I finished my morning coffee. I was home for a few days after another long stretch away at work. I had arrived late the previous evening after she was asleep and tried my best not to disturb her as she had a full work day ahead of her. We hadn't been able to spend much time together lately and we both needed some time to reconnect.
"Any plans for today?" she inquired.
"Just catching up on what I've missed over the past few days."
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I'm a sucker for a deep authoritative voice. Few men understand how powerful their voice is or the effect it can have on some women. Like me. The right words uttered in a certain tone are guaranteed to snatch my breath away and cause an instant puddle between my legs.
In such a mood, I don't want to be asked what I want.
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Meg's heart pounded in her chest as she pulled into a parking space in front of the condominium. She was having difficulty believing that she had agreed to this. What in the name of God had her hormones gotten her into this time? Where was her mind when she visited that Internet chat room? It had been hard enough to admit that old desires had begun to surface again but to actively go out and seek someone who could help her fulfill them was madness.
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"You know what I want." Laura said, seated in her office chair, her eyes exploring me from head to toe as I stood beside her, within touch.
"Yes," I replied. I knew what she wanted. I also knew that she would not say the words.
"What do I want?" she asked, her voice thick and husky.
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