A Woman

A woman, mid to late twenties, sits alone in a coffee shop, ankles, only slightly elevated in by one-inch, black heels, crossed ever so gracefully beneath the table. She shifts her legs now, and the material of her silver pin-striped black pants swish crisply as only high-quality fabric does. Her blue and white striped faux-business shirt, unbuttoned just enough to hint at cleavage, and cut perfectly to paradoxically reveal her slender figure while actually revealing nothing, might complete the outfit, but a glance further upward reveals the accessory that truly brings everything together in the picture of elegance: the simple, silver, three-inch earrings just visible through her hair. 1

Her face is softly featured, with a hint of a tan, and devoid of make-up, excepting some tinted gloss on her full lips, and only a brush or two of mascara to bring out her hazel-green eyes that sit beneath two expressive and well-shaped brows. Any more make-up than that would dull her beauty rather than accentuate it. 2

Right now, however, her face is all but hidden beneath smartly straightened chocolate locks. Her usually bright eyes are shadowed by the strands and clouded with pain and hurt and tears, and are staring blankly down at The New Yorker open on the table in front of her. Two tears drop onto the page, and no more. After only a moment, she lifts her chin and smiles to herself. She takes a sip of her café latté and shifts her legs again. She turns the page of her magazine and makes a convincing effort to read the article printed there. 3

An hour later, she puts the magazine into her black Gucci bag, stands, and leaves the shop, not neglecting to throw a few dollars onto the table as a tip for her almost non-existent service.4

Down the sidewalk she strides, her heels clicking importantly on the pavement. Soon, she stops in front of a liquor store. Inside, she finds two bottles of the store’s finest champagne and pays for them with a smile to the cashier, a young man who thinks it his business to ask about the occasion. She smiles at him all the more but does not reply. He does not ask again; the sight of her beautiful form sashaying out of the store is far too distracting to worry about receiving an answer.5

Once outside, she hails a taxi and only speaks to give the driver her destination. He raises his eyebrows when he hears the address, but says nothing. That isn’t his job.6

He pulls the taxi to the curb when they reach the apartment building, the one with the absolute best view of Central Park in the entire city. She pays the fare and steps out of the cab, parcels in hand. Up the stairs she goes, heels clicking, always clicking, as she climbs to the top floor. She thinks to herself that someday she will take the elevator. Down the hall, the thick, expensive carpet catches her shoes as she walks and she almost topples over, but she manages to catch herself. She stops in front of an apartment and unlocks the door.7

She throws down her purse down just inside the door and kicks off her shoes. She closes the door behind her, locks it, and walks over the clothing-strewn carpet of the living room to the cool tile of the kitchen where she sets down her bag on the counter, withdraws the two bottles of champagne and puts them into the refrigerator to chill. After thinking about it for a moment, she finds two glasses in the cupboard and sets them out on the counter. 8

Now she leaves the kitchen and her bare feet now pad softly down the hall as they once did so many years ago in search of mommy and daddy. How much had happened since then… She reaches the master bedroom; this floor is also strewn with clothing, predominantly women’s lingerie. She doesn’t worry about that for the moment, though. Instead, she enters the luxurious bathroom and heads straight for the Jacuzzi tub. She begins running the water, adds scented salts, and leaves the automatic faucet to shut off the water for itself. 9

She leaves the bathroom, walks to the closet, a large walk-in, and finds exactly what she is looking for, a gorgeous black dress, complete with plunging neck line and spaghetti straps. She also finds a pair of black, leather stilettos, and she takes both the items of clothing and lays them on the bed. Back into the bathroom she treads, and notices the steady progression of the water up the side of the tub. It would be ready in mere minutes. 10

She begins to disrobe. The earrings are tossed on the edge of the sink before she attends to any clothing. At first, she hesitates, but finally turns her eyes to the full length mirror and watches her own perfectly-manicured nails as they slowly unbutton her blouse. She watches as her cleavage becomes visible, then her bra, her navel.  When the last button is loosed, she stands there, eyeing her partially exposed form as though she is seeing it for the first time. She begins to pull apart the material of her shirt, and her breasts become fully visible, and her slender waist is defined. She takes in her own form eagerly, searching the utterly flawless skin for…what? She doesn’t know. She slides the shirt over her smooth shoulders and lets it fall softly to the floor behind her. Deliberately, she unfastens and unzips her pants and begins to slowly slide them down to reveal beautiful hips, perfect thighs and legs, elegant feet. She unsnaps her bra, finally releasing her firm, full breasts, and last, she slides her panties down her legs. 11

Completely revealed, she stands in scrutiny of her body, finding herself, once again, completely flawless. Her breasts are as perky as a teenager’s, her thighs and waist the envy of every woman. She is perfect. And she smiles at herself and her beauty and her perfection. 12

The water has stopped flowing, and the jets have turned on. She tears herself from the mirror, and walks to the bath, stepping into the swirling, steaming waters delicately. She lowers herself in inch by inch until she is completely submerged, save her head and neck. There she sits, letting herself drift away in steam and thought. She massages her body; her neck, shoulders, thighs, stomach, breasts. 13

Some time later, she arises out of the water’s heat and into the relative chill of the room. She grabs a towel from the rack next to the tub and quickly wraps it around herself as she steps out of the tub. She lets the tub begin to drain, then retrieves the blow-dryer from under the sink and proceeds to dry her hair. She blows and scrunches and mousses it into thick curls, and then leaves the bathroom for the bedroom. She drops the towel onto the floor, and walks to the bed, where she picks up the little black dress, and holds it against her body, and sways, and watches herself in the mirror. She then slips into it, feeling the light, silky material slide over her smooth legs, caress her stomach, breeze over her nipples. She fastens it behind her neck and once again inspects her reflection. She is a vision of mystery and beauty. She reaches for the stilettos and slips her delicate feet into them easily. The earrings she was wearing earlier seem perfect now, so she fetches them from the bathroom and puts them on there, as well as some sheer eye shadow and lipstick: her night look.14

From the bathroom she emerges, radiating with beauty and confidence. She makes her way back into the kitchen, where she finds one of the two bottles of champagne as well as a cork-screw, pops the bottle open, and pours two glasses. Holding the two glasses and bottle, she makes her way to the living room. She sets down the drinks and turns on the stereo system with one of the remotes, and Chroma Key, one of her favorite bands, starts pouring through speakers. She picks up one of the glasses and sips it leisurely, helping herself to a seat on the leather sofa. 15

She looks down at herself, sipping her drink ever so elegantly, pinky extended, legs crossed, as she reclines on the sofa. She knows she is sexy. She sips more, and her head swims only slightly, only pleasantly. She waits. 16

As 7:00 approaches, she hears a key rattle in the lock. She smiles. A man enters the room. He is as beautiful as she, with even darker hair than she. It hangs in his eyes and hides his face as hers does into her face. He is dressed in a work shirt, khakis, and a tie that is now loosened at the neck. He hears the music as he enters and frowns slightly. Then he sees her on the couch and smiles. He tosses the briefcase in his hand to the side; it lands next to her purse. He kicks off his shoes next to hers and moves to the couch. He picks up the champagne glass from the coffee table and seats himself beside her on the sofa. 17

They just sit there for a moment, sipping their drinks, watching each other, smiling slightly, only slightly. She watching his eyes, those eyes that she loved so much, those eyes that she had written pages about. Those eyes that she had looked into for so many long nights. He watching her lips, those full, soft, sensual lips, those lips he had kissed tenderly so many times. Those lips that were so dangerously close to that long, slender neck, that neck that he so loved to kiss and caress. That neck that was so dangerously close to those full, beautiful breasts, those perfectly lovely breasts. Those breasts that were so dangerously close to the navel, which was so utterly and dangerously close to her warm center. That soft, inviting place that he had caressed so lovingly and tenderly on so many dark, silent nights. The thought of her makes him stir, and arousal takes him. They kick back the last of the drink in their glasses into their mouths at the same time, and set them on the coffee table. 18

He leans in toward her, and she smiles as his long, dark hair falls over her own face, a soft curtain from the rest of the world. His warm, soft lips press against hers, and she kisses him with all the passion of a first kiss, but none of the awkwardness. He leans into her more, and the kiss gains intensity and passion. She slides her tongue between their lips, inviting his into her mouth with a quick caress. He accepts and she draws on his tongue, sucking on it deeply, greedily. He moans. She kicks off her shoes and wraps her legs around his waist and he moans again, pressing himself into her slightly through their clothing. She can feel him there vividly, pressing against her, panting to be released. She smiles, more inwardly than outwardly with his tongue in the way.19

She lifts her hips only a little, rubbing him the way she knows he wants her to. He moans again. Her hands move up and down his back, then to his hair, feeling bunches of soft strands between her fingers. He presses his hips into her again, and this time, she is the one to moan. Her fingers travel back down his back until she feels the edge of his pants. She stops then, and grips the material of his shirt, tugging it free from his pants. Nimbly, her hands move to his front and work on unbuttoning his shirt, though she knows this won’t work with him pressed so firmly against her. She knows he will lean back, pulling her with him, flipping him to the sofa, and her on top of him, straddling him. She smiles as he does just that. 20

She proceeds to unbutton his shirt, not neglecting to apply strategic pressure every so often to the hardness located just beneath her presently. As she slowly works the buttons, he feels warm wetness seeping through his pants, and he realizes she is wearing no underwear. By the time she works the shirt off of him and onto the floor, he is going wild with desire for her, and, though she is hiding it better, she also is for him. She leans forward and kisses him once again, and he hungrily receives her, devouring her lips and moving swiftly to her neck. The gasp that she produces is absolutely no surprise to him, but gratifying very gratifying. He bites her, almost hard enough to draw blood, and she screams, but not from pain. The sound excites him even more, and he feels his member swell even more. She feels it as well, and a hand moves to caress him through his pants. He moans, and bites her harder, and she drags her fingernails along the khaki, producing a shudder from and something too high to be a groan, and too soft to be a scream. 21

He releases her neck and kisses her lips again, moving his hands to caress her breasts lightly, teasingly, then continuing down to the hem of her dress, pulling it up. He feels her tighten with anticipation. He slides it further up, caressing her skin as he does so. Over her breasts, her shoulders, arms, head. She is completely naked now, as he pulls her down upon him once more, pressing her breasts to him, feeling the pert nipples against his bare chest. He must concentrate to keep from releasing at the very sensation. She smiles, because she knows he is working now. She gyrates on top of him now and he gasps, trying desperately to keep control. She giggles softly, and he realizes what she is doing. 22

With a smile, he moves a hand to her center, amazed at exactly how wet she has become, and inserts a finger. She moans, and he inserts another. She moans again, louder, and a slight frown creases her brow. He inserts still another, just barely able to fit it into the tightness (which he finds incredible and unbelievably arousing), and she lets out a gasp. She moves a hand to his pants to unbutton them, brushing him in the process; if it had been any other woman, he would have thought it an accident, but not her. She unbuttons the button with some minor difficultly, and carefully, gently, pulls down the zipper, shifting herself forward onto his chest as she does. He feels his engorged member spring loose from the pants with great relief, and she releases the zipper. Her hands go to his chest and caress him softly with her finger tips, as her lips play softly with his, as her feet softly help his pants to slide down his legs. 23

Once they are off, she slides herself back, feeling the heat and hardness of him meet her buttocks, she moans, and he does likewise. Further back still, dragging herself along his shaft slowly, feeling him pulse against her. She feels his head drawing across her lips, and she pauses to rub him once or twice, feeling it twitch. He is sweating and gasping with each gentle stroke, keeping himself under control admirably. Finally, she guides his shaft into her and as each inch slides in, she gasps. Harder and harder her breath comes with each passing moment. He is in her completely now, and now she thrusts her body against him, unable to hide behind restraint anymore in the face of such great desire. He is gasping and thrusting up to meet her, and she is screaming now, as she plunges herself onto him with greater and greater heat and intensity. They move together furiously, and then everything turns to blinding darkness, and in the darkness she feels his seed explode within her, and he feels her wetness tight and griping and pulsating around him, and they are both swimming with the pleasure and the champagne, and then she is back. And she is alone. 24

She is on the couch. Alone. Both the champagne bottles are lying empty beside the sofa. The only drink left untouched is that in the second glass, on the coffee table. Her heart is pounding, and she is nude, her shoes and dress on the floor…there is no sign of his clothes. She can feel the wetness that has accumulated between her thighs and spilled onto the leather sofa. She smiles and sits up. She stands, puts her dress and shoes back on, fixes her hair, composes herself. She picks up the last glass of champagne, though her head is still swimming from the rest of the two bottles. She raises the glass, and makes a last toast to a non-existent group of onlookers. She downs the glass, thinking it tastes slightly off, think it tastes slightly funny, remembering why vaguely…25

Her thoughts swim, and amid the treacherous waters of her mind, one island of happiness and peace perseveres.  It is what she knows as her head falls and crashes through the thin glass of the coffee table. Then the blackness. 26

---27

As 7:00 approaches a key rattles in the lock, but she is not there to hear it. A man enters the room. He is as beautiful as she, with even darker hair than she. It hangs in his eyes and hides his face as hers does into her face. He is dressed in a work shirt, khakis, and a tie that is now loosened at the neck. He hears the music as he enters and frowns slightly. Then he sees her body lying in the remains of the coffee table. He tosses the briefcase in his hand to the side; it lands next to her purse. He runs over to her and lifts her head in his hands. He weeps.28

The tall, blond woman accompanying him stands in the doorway, wondering who this person was that had invaded her apartment…who had fallen through her coffee table...and wondering also why her fiancé seems to know…why he seems to pine… 29