In secret

On the sweltering streets below, the cacophony of clock-watchers and number-pushers hurrying to meet schedules and priorities signals the arrival of another day. But here, in the quiet coolness of her room, time passes in a whisper and the date on the calendar holds little importance except to mark his impending arrival.

The hands of her old Technochrome steadily circle the hour when she will finally belong to the man on the other end of the phone, her anticipation of the moment growing greater with each mechanical tick.

Amber eyes study the one-room apartment, measuring the weight of each treasured object, ensuring that everything is in its place. Should have saved something for this morning, she contemplates, regretfully considering her clean space, some little task to distract me.

A blaring horn startles her from inactivity and motivates her toward the tiny bathroom, her hands desiring to seize on something other than the fluttering of the past hour. Glancing at those hands, she examines the ragged edges on her chewed thumbnail, and tsks at the compulsive habit. Ultimately grateful for something to do, she immerses herself in the act of filing her nails.

Minutes pass, and she finds herself staring at the blank wall, remembering their conversation before he boarded the plane.

"And when you think you can't take any more, when your bottom is blazing hot under my hand and you're writhing against my thigh," he paused then, letting her wonder, "I'll still give you more. Because you can and you will take it."

"But what if I can't? Take it?"


"You can. And you will," his confidence in her strength assuaged some of her doubts then. His next words made her drip. "And then I'm going to dip my finger between your legs and check how naughty my girl has been."

"I am very naughty," she sighed, "always naughty for you."

"Yes. You are my dirty girl, aren't you? Dirty only for me, aren't you?"

"Yes...," hesitating on the newness of the next word, she struggled to force it out, "Sir. Only for you."

"There's my good girl," he purred. "And soon, soon baby, I will own you with my hands and tongue and cock. You will be mine. Is that still what you want?"

"Oh, yes. I want that very much," she breathed, "more than you can know."

Closing her eyes now, she imagines the length of him pressing against her tummy as his fingers plunge her slick depths, her own finger simulating his. On a ragged breath, she turns her head and rubs her cheek against her shoulder, catching herself just before release.

Soon.

Soon the sound of palm meeting yielding flesh will drown out the horns and shouts from the city beneath as they discover their rhythm together. Her caged heart will beat for him, her name will escape his lips and cover the windows in condensation, evidence of their pent heat surpassing that of the air outside.

Resting her elbows on the windowsill, she wonders at the agendas below. There is nothing more important than this secret life at this very moment, nothing more crucial than that eventual knock on her door.


(Top photo served as inspiration and was found on Doonstartwo's blog.)