http://www.myspace.com/amberhipple
I hold my hair up with my hands and survey myself in the mirror. I feel good today, this sweater hugging me in the right places. Cocking my hips, I pose. "I am lush," I say. Letting go, dark curls cover my shoulders. "I am extravagant." I heft my breasts. "I am seductive."
My husband enters the bookstore's only bathroom and smiles at me. His blue eyes slide over my body. I shiver under his gaze. "You are evocative, like words on a page." He leans on the door jamb.
"Inspiring?" I place my hands on my hips and roll my shoulder like Mae West.
He smiles at me, his eyes hungry. "Fully."
Michael slowly closes the door behind him and crosses the few feet to me. He looms, so much taller than me. I can feel his warmth. There is nowhere to go but against him if I wish to leave. My breath grows shallow.
"Not here," I mumble and slide past him, deliberately letting my breasts brush against his arm. Eyes downcast, with the sound of his words in my ear, I wind my way back through the shelves. I try to forget his words and his look as I work stacking and shelving the much used, dog eared things we sell.
"I always wanted words to come to life." Michael is behind me now, his breath hot on my neck.
I feel a good, familiar ache between my thighs. I lower my voice. "Whose pen? What words?"
"Sex Noir and Gatto, Kushiel's Dart and Carey." He whispers this before his mouth closes on my neck. Hot lips make me gasp, and I tilt my head forward, giving him that much more opportunity for those nipping teeth. "Anne Cloaked, Anais Nin, Nabokov, Chatterley's Lover, the Story of O," he breathes between devouring kisses that tickle my hairline.
"Tonight," I repeat. "At home." He reaches forward and cups my breasts. My half-hearted protests die. I feel him tugging on the hem of my sweater.
"I've flipped the sign," he says softly against my skin. Resistance melting, I raise my arms and he yanks my sweater over my head. I let him turn me around, and soon I am lost in the swirl of his words and the feel of his lips and teeth swarming over my shoulders and breasts.
"Secret longing, fantasy, imagination." These things he murmurs like a mantra. Michael's breath grows heavier and I feel his body moving sinuously against mine, his erection pressed to my leg. His hunger is fierce; my body answers.
"Oh please," I moan, arching my body up and against his. My fingers fumble with his zipper while I kiss his mouth. He tugs at my waist band. We cannot remove our pants fast enough. He pins me against the shelves. The smell of his cologne and the old pages fill my nostrils. When he enters me, we both gasp.
"Sensuous, flowing, deep, rich, delicious, smooth..." Each thrust punctuated by a word and the rattle of the shelving."So hot," he moans and pumps three quick times, shuddering and rasping out a throaty sound as he climaxes. His shaft throbs within me and I wrap my arms around him, enjoying that sensation. We breathe together, silent, our hearts slowing.
When I have my breath back, I speak. "I love it when you talk dirty to me." Michael's laughter is his response.