What is it?
The crisp white shirt?
The glint of light hitting the cufflinks?
The expensive silk tie?
The perfectly fitted, expertly tailored dark suit?
The smell of his subtle cologne?
It is something…
I see his hand in his pocket,
the jacket rumpled around his wrists,
and my butterflies dance.
With a purposeful grace,
he slides the jacket from his body,
placing the shoulders carefully around a chair.
My heart is racing, my breathing rapid.
Languidly he moves towards me,
his hands, so perfect, reach out,
and as his fingers flicker across my face,
my eyes close, and I feel my hot wetness.
I have been kneeling…
clad in a just a bra,
and a garter belt,
all of his choosing.
They had been laying on the bed,
silently speaking their message.
Taking my hand he lifts me to my feet,
and as my flushed cheek rests against him,
the smooth fabric soft and cool against my face,
his hand clutches my hair,
my head is jerked back,
his lips whisper against my neck,
and I melt.