Erotic

When he touched her she tingled from

Head to toe, When she touched him he

Pulled her to him causing her to squeal

With excitement …

Thunder rolled deafeningly across a

Billowing unstable sky, rain struck the

Windows with rich intent, and a high

Wind tore into nearby trees heavy in

Summer leaf, a hot day had given way

To an electrified sleepless night, a

Scintillating canopy of super-charged

Energy, weighty in ozone and lusting

To break loose upon the darkened

Earth below,

In the bathroom, a sliding shower door

Faithfully reflected a tumultuous crash

Of rapidly heated air directly overhead,

An ear-shattering voice from above that

Spoke volumes as to the power of nature

Over man, and on that point, both the

Storm outside and the present occupant

Of the shower were as one.

Wet steps tip-toed over twinkling black

Marble to greet deep luxurious carpet

In a gallery of wealth. A well-to-do

Young woman with the world at her

Feet suddenly caught herself unawares,

Prompted by an incautious spirit of

Devil-may-care, spinning round out of

Sheer joy and exuberance, a dizzying

Carousel that gave flight to her bathrobe

Revealing a glistening blur of a body,

A vivacious work of art, ready for love,

Ready for anything.

Here was a woman who knew her worth,

And knew too how to capitalise on every

Luscious inch of her curvaceous festival

For the eye, the hand, and the heart. She

Drew great enjoyment from nakedness,

A state she exploited to the nth degree in

Dresses that sought to hide nothing, in

Lingerie that one might say barely existed.

A true daughter of Hera, Queen of the Gods,

Her body was all she needed to draw the

Eye, to fix the focus, to raise the

Temperature.

Low-light and the trappings of wealth,

The seeds of seduction, sown with

Sumptuous aplomb in the sure and

Certain knowledge that in the hours

to come everything would be erect

And correct. For now though, dressing

Could wait, time to enjoy the moment,

To pleasure oneself, to do as she likes

In the fanciful corridors of personal

Excess. Manicured fingers, an outline

Of lust, waiting to be savoured, waiting

To be touched.

Buildings, places, décor, all have their

Role to play in the art of sensation, and

Thus, a long sash window presented the

Perfect opportunity for a lady to parade,

To put the world aside and dwell entirely

On herself. A stunning reflection, a spirit

Of seduction, a temptress, an enchantress,

A fountain of life, the light and the dark

Side of love.

Blushing glass and candlelight, steamy

Radiance swaying gracefully from side

To side, tempting the Devil to join hands,

To brush, to touch, to feel. A feminine

Glow of unmistakable fulfilment, hot,

Bubbling, quickly rising to boiling point,

Inside in turmoil, skinside on heat.

Everywhere a secret revealed, nowhere

Beyond bounds. Love indiscreet, tales

Told, deepest desires unspoken. unsaid,

Unheard, but always in the forefront of

The mind, when a guiding hand is all

A girl may need to voice love without

Uttering a word.

She stood for a while, walked to a chair,

Sat down and crossing her legs reached

For a pair of stockings still secure in their

Shiny cellophane wrapper. A moment of

Uncertainty as to which dress to choose

For the night ahead. Fact was it didn’t

Matter much which dress she chose, any

Dress in her well-stocked wardrobe would,

She knew perfectly well, fit perfectly, and

Perfectly suit any conceivable occasion.

She liked to play with her wardrobe, in

And out of silk after silk, satin after satin,

Cotton after cotton, halter neck, low-cut,

Defiantly plunging, peek-a-Boo ... and

The final decision? A touch of flagrant

French chic, Cervin fully fashioned

Seamed stockings paired with Christian

Louboutin six-inch heels. ‘Perfect’, and

Only just in time too, for there, a distant

Chime echoing along the gallery, her

Date for the night had arrived, and you

Know how first impressions count.

© Joseph G Dawson
28/06/2020