You wish

I can see you watching me. Oh, you avert your eyes when I look around, you pretend to be deep in conversation, oblivious and unconcerned. But I know you’re looking. You can’t help yourself, can you? You know that under my black chiffon and lace, moves warm skin, intimate secrets, and it thrills you. What has been seen cannot be unseen after all.

Here, look at this. Rolling the martini olive between my red-painted lips, collecting it on the tip of my pointed tongue. Remember my tongue? How it moved against yours, how I traced the network of veins ascending your cock so lightly until you begged me to take you deep into my mouth? You’re thinking of that right now, aren’t you? Lipstick on your dick, on the sheets, on your shirt, marking territory captured and conquered.

See this long curl brushing my bare shoulder? Watch me twirl it around one finger, wrapped like the loops I made around your wrists with your tie, drawing you to me. Don’t pretend you don’t see. Your glances burn where they touch; invisible fire licking at my neck and shoulders following the past paths mapped by your hands and your mouth.

Here I am. A reward you don’t deserve. A prize you cannot claim. I smile and laugh and stand with one hip cocked and sweep my eyes across your face as though you are still the stranger you were to me last year. As though you’d never tasted my cunt or whispered my name into the soft hollow at the base of my throat. Here is everything you need and cannot have, through your own choice.

Yes, you chose her, and now you are alone in a crowd, radiating solitude and wafting unhappiness with every gulp of your wine while I scintillate at the edge of your vision. Three metres of floor and a wall of denial between us, a wall that you built with your own words, out of rectitude and cowardice.

I know your eyes are drawn to my curve and swell when I breathe deeply. Laughter makes smooth flesh ripple; tonight everything is hilarious. One fingertip touching the pendant lolling at the base of my neck, stroking skin-warm silver and glass. Recognise this? I used it to dowse for the desire in you, and by the time it came to rest, you rose to meet it. We fucked slow and deep, and I wore this, only this, and you.

I sense your want, humming below the raucous babble of the crowd, low enough to be inaudible, only felt in the thickening of the air and the rising heat between us.

You wish, I flaunt

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