I approached a big table covered with frilly lingerie as soon as I stepped into the shop. The delicate lighting and the warm honey-colored flooring accentuated the pricey lingerie exhibited on racks and tables by creating a cozy atmosphere. She felt a similar longing as she saw the exquisite lace and satin.
I could feel the salespeople's attention as I ran my fingertips down an adjacent table. A tall blonde woman came up to me.
"Welcome to La Perla," she added as she gave me a thorough inspection. I reasoned that a person in this field would be well aware of the worth of my outfit and the provenance of my diamond cufflinks. Her eyes almost seemed like money signs. "Can I help you today with something? Maybe a present for your wife? Perhaps your girlfriend, too?" There was a tinge of flirting in her voice.
I said, "No, thank you," feeling embarrassed to have ever entered the place. I'm simply looking around.
She winked and went back to the sales desk, saying, "Well, if you change your mind, let me know." As I saw her go, I instantly scolded myself for not even thinking to ask for her phone number. Damn. Although I wasn't a total womanizer, I hadn't even considered returning the favor until a stunning woman started flirting with me at a lingerie shop of all places. Why the heck was I having problems?
When I saw anything, I turned to leave. A black lace garter belt hanging on a rack was traced by my fingertips. Before I began working with her, I had no idea that ladies really wore things outside of Playboy picture sessions. A meeting from our first month of working together came to mind. She moved while bending down beneath the table, exposing the delicate white strap fastened to her stockings. Although it wasn't the first time I had spent my lunch hour in my office daydreaming about her, it was the first time I had noticed that she had a penchant for lingerie.
"Do you see anything you like?"
A recognizable voice shocked me as I turned, and I did so.
Shit.
Ms. Brown.
However, I had never seen her before in this manner. As usual, she had a sophisticated appearance yet was very informal. She had a red tank top and slim-fit black pants. Without makeup or the spectacles she sometimes wore to work, she had her hair pulled back in a sensual ponytail and seemed to be no older than twenty.
Her phony grin vanished from her face as she questioned, "What the hell are you doing here?"
"How does that relate to you?"
"Just wondering. Say you don't have enough of my underwear to start your own collection, please. She gave me a sneer while pointing at the garter belt I was still holding in my hands.
I let go of it immediately. "No, no, I-"
"So, what precisely do you do with them? Do you store them aside as souvenirs of your victories? Her breasts pressed against one other as a result of her crossed arms. My attention was pulled to her cleavage, and a fluttering sensation in my trousers indicated that my desire for her was still very much alive.
I said, "Jesus," while shaking my head. "Why do you have to be such a bitch all the time?" I was overcome with a mixture of desire and rage, which caused my muscles to stiffen up as adrenaline rushed through my veins.
She leaned in close, her chest almost brushing mine, and added, "I guess you bring out the best in me." I observed the odd looks from other shoppers as I turned to look around.
I responded, "Listen," trying to gather myself. Why don't you calm down and speak more softly? I realized I had to get out of there before things got worse. For some bizarre reason.
She left with her underwear in my pocket. "What on earth are you doing here? Why are you not working?
Her gentle curls cascaded over my palm as I tenderly unfastened the clasp holding her ponytail in place. I pulled slightly while firmly grasping her hair and adjusted her head to fit my lips. I was overwhelmed by the need for more and my ravenous want for all of her. She let out a groan, which increased my zeal as I tightened my hold. You like that, I murmured.
Those words resonated through me at that very instant, blocking out everything else from my awareness. Our environment, our selves, and our feelings lost any meaning. I had never previously had such a strong, emotional connection to another person. Nothing else mattered while we were intertwined like this.
Our kiss was briefly broken as I quickly slipped her shirt over her head while my hands stroked down her sides. She excitedly tossed my jacket into the air, letting it fall to the ground with a pleasing flutter.
As my hands reached her pants' waistline, my thumbs formed soft circles on her flesh. I skillfully unfastened them, and her sandals, and they both fell to the ground together. I gave her neck and shoulders many kisses, savoring the flavor of her skin.
I had touched, kissed, sucked, and fucked every part of her in my vivid thoughts, but the experience of just looking at her was better than anything I could have imagined. Only her silky underwear stood between us as her hips swayed against mine. Her hands tangled in my hair as I buried my face in her chest, luring me in.
She looked at me intently and murmured, "Do you want to taste me?" She pulled my head away from her flesh by yanking my hair firmly.
I was unable to interrupt her with a clever rejoinder or a scathing comment in order to just enjoy the situation. In actuality, I was more enamored with the flavor of her skin than anything else. "Yeah," I admitted.
Then, ask politely, she mocked.
"Fuck being polite. Let me out," I said.
She groaned and leaned closer, letting me suck on her gorgeous nipple, which caused my hair to pull even more. It felt amazing.
A flurry of ideas raced through my head. Nothing in the world would have satisfied me more than to lose myself in her, but I was aware that when it was finished, we would both be overcome with shame. I would hate myself for letting passion get the better of me and I would hate her for making me weak. I was aware of this, yet still couldn't bring myself to quit. I had developed a dependence on my next fix. My carefully crafted façade was disintegrating, and the feeling of her touch was all I could think about.
My fingers barely touched the underwear's waistline as my hands slid down her sides. She began to shudder, and in an effort to recover control, I clamped my eyes tight. I tightened the cloth in my palm and willed the situation to stop escalating.
She sank her fangs into my skin and whispered into my ear, "Go ahead and rip them... you know you want to." Her pants were quickly reduced to a tangled pile of lace in the room's corner. I pushed her up by firmly grasping her hips, stabilizing my base of erection with one hand, and helped her fall upon me.
I had to tightly clutch her hips to keep from climaxing too soon since the intensity of the experience threatened to overwhelm me. She would only use it against me later if I gave in right away. I wouldn't give her that gratification.