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 A Promise of More

   By OneIdleHand



   It wasn't just her warm, moist breath.  She was nibbling on my ear in a
full court press.  Holy Smokes!

   I'd known Kitty about 5 years, she was with Rick and I with Becky - It
was a socially polite relationship.  Kitty had always been a looker, but
one bound up in slightly too much clothing.  She didn't mind wearing a
clingy skirt or blouse, but if she did, she would inevitably wear a jacket,
scarf, or frilly something to obscure her form.  She let it be known that
she had the right curves; she just didn't let you appreciate them fully. 
Irritating, actually.

   For that matter, she wore too much makeup.  It's not like she was trying
to portray the image of a very attractive but modest housewife; she fully
succeeded in doing that, in style, all the time.  Even at a pool party, she
would wear a one piece, but cover herself with a wrap up until the exact
moment she entered the pool.  Or got out.  But, always, there was something
about the shape of her face, the depth of her blue eyes and her full bodied
mid-length blonde hair that begged the notion of a tigress, regardless if
she kept herself on a leash.

   It is, of course, wrong to think that way about another person's wife,
but with a teasing name like Kitty, and those looks, thinking of a hellcat
in bed wasn't difficult.  Add in good conversation and a quick wit, and she
was enjoyable company at any function.

   Advancing forward, I'm a widower, and she's fairly recently divorced. 
And as of 30 minutes ago, she's wearing a sleeveless blouse and assuming
all sorts of cute poses in the seat above me as our group awaited a speaker
in the auditorium.

   Let me define "cute poses." She's smiling at me.  She's wearing a skirt
that cuts off above her knees, affording me gracious views of her
impeccably tanned legs.  And a bit of thigh.  (Don't stare).  Everyone
knows that high-heeled shoes are back in vogue.  Hers take the minimalist
look, with only several wispy thin, black straps that suggest "It's a
business function now, but you should see what else I wear with these
shoes. " And I'm not "into" feet, but dang those are cute toes.  And well
manicured toenails, and soft arches, and... well, naked begins at the tips
of her toes and goes exactly how far into that skirt?  It's just too
impolite, at present, to fathom the depths of those shadows.  And does she
ever so slightly squeeze her arms inward when she's talking to me, just
enough that her breasts swell against the form revealing cotton blouse? 
And those breasts are holding a beautiful position, casting a slight shadow
over her tight abdomen even in a well lit room.  "Cute poses."

   And it's a Tuesday.  Afternoon.  I'm tiger bait, helpless in her domain.

   Just as I had been thinking about how to set up a plan to have a
discussion after the session ended, she had taken the lead.  "I'm thirsty.
Do you want to come get a drink with me?" I was spellbound.  What else
could I have done?  Fortunately, none of our adjacent associates decided
they were thirsty as well.

   And so it was that she guided me to a stairwell to have a "quick
personal conversation." Ultimately, as she drew closer where I could
capture the smell of her, it was a personal proposition delivered in
business form.  "You're the one that I've wanted, for longer than you know.
I know this is awkward, but I need to know if you're interested, now,
because there is another opportunity, and I don't want to miss both."

   Wow.  Flattering.  I think.

   And in my vast experience in such instances, there are a flurry of
possible responses.  To wit:

   1) I'm really not attracted to aggressive women.

   2) Are you proposing a serious relationship that possibly ends in
something permanent?

   3) Kitty, as your friend, I think it's too soon after your divorce to
jump into anything.

   4) Why me?

   5) Who is the other guy?

   6) How long have you planned this?

   7) Is modesty your true nature, or the more forward woman I see now?

   And, with it being improper to ask all those questions, they're crossed
off as follows:

   1) I've actually never had a woman come on to me.  I like it.

   2) Obviously, yes.  Or, I think obviously.  She's not the type, I think,
to be booking her bedtime plan for the evening.  Or lunch.

   3) It's long enough.  Don't be a wuss.

   4) Don't go there.  It doesn't matter.

   5) Don't go there.  It doesn't matter.

   6) At least as recently as she got dressed this morning, but possibly
earlier.  Likely earlier.

   7) That is, indeed, the question.  Proceed.



   So, I gathered her in my arms, pulling her close, and began with a
romantic kiss.  I peeked.  Her eyes were closed.  And now, to see if she's
still wrapped up in layers...

   Yes, her body didn't just remain in an embrace, it adjusted for fuller
body contact.  There was a slight but noticeable periodic pressure against
my groin.  Nicely done.  And her tongue became alive.  I could, and
probably should, fuck her right there.  Which was at the forefront of my
thoughts as she stretched her head upwards, and, as noted earlier, was
making good work of my ear lobes.

   But I'm not that kind of guy.  I don't want to jump fully into a
relationship, or a business proposition such as this, without the details
of the contract.  And, honestly, despite the thrill, I'm not so thrilled at
the prospect of being found in the stairwell in a civic auditorium by the
Police, ushers, or anyone else, which would be likely as I wouldn't want
this particular experience to be a quiet one.  Yet, my hands found
themselves grasping a very firm butt as I pulled her even closer.  Yet, as
I was grasping her very taut hips which begun a circling motion, I wasn't
in a hurry to end whatever this was.  Tigress.

   How could I possibly be a victim of too many thoughts with a raging hard
on?  Yet, not now and not here.  I broke away.

   I looked at her.  She looked ready to eat me.

   I had to take a few breaths to let thoughts form more fully into words.

   "Kitty, I want you to come to my place at 7:00 tonight.  I'll prepare
dinner, but I want you bring with you three to five questions, at least one
of which has to be about sex, written down, that you would want to know
about me."

   "You'll do the same?" she asked.

   "Yes, of course." That was really my point, though she wouldn't know
that.

   "That should be interesting.  And fun.  Looking back, I definitely want
to get things right next time."

   Indeed.  Maybe she understood my agenda after all.

   I don't think either of us heard anything the speaker said that
afternoon.  Real Estate law updates are not exactly compelling, and, in
fact, they turn to vapor given Kitty's toes periodically grazing my neck
and ear.  I couldn't look back, but I couldn't help but wonder if anyone
noticed what she was doing to me.  I tried to fashion how I might phrase
questions for that evening, but the thought of twisting around to suck her
toes there and then interfered.



   Afterwards, departing pleasantries were exchanged by everyone except us.
Her eyes, though.  Her eyes... I'm glad she didn't press to follow me home.
I needed the time.





   To vacuum, for one.  And clean the bathroom.  And change the sheets,
and... think.  And think mostly of what I wanted sexually from a new
partner, if not a new wife.

   After my wife's passing two years earlier, I dated very little.  I loved
her deeply, but our sexual relationship was fiery at its beginning and
settled into a very dreary world of vanilla, "that felt good," almost
obligatory sex.  Fantasies can sustain, but as rewarding as they may be,
they're also a reminder of distant reality is.  And some fantasies I
certainly wanted to be a part of my reality, regardless of how tempting the
dish.  And Kitty was definitely dishy.

   That afternoon notwithstanding, "Ms.  Modesty" was my prevailing
understanding of Kitty.  She clearly had passion, but I had no idea whether
she would revert to that in time, or whether she had a gravitation to
kinks, for lack of a better word.  It was a nervous endeavor to craft
questions that met my needs, and speculating on her reaction was tortuous,
never mind her doing those things that I so wanted her to do.  So, as I
prepped for dinner, I confined my thoughts on how she might dress for the
evening.  Patience.



   She arrived on time.  I had alerted the Concierge to notify me and send
her up when she arrived, and I greeted her at the elevator lobby on my
floor.

   She stepped forward, raising an arm to lean against the open elevator
door, stretching her opposite leg at an enticing angle.

   "You like?" she asked.

   I had expected thin, clingy party dress or dressy sophisticate would be
her wardrobe.  I had countered with black dress slacks and a short sleeve
button up casual shirt with a casual jacket.  Boring on my part,
well-conceived on hers.

   She arrived in a college T-shirt from my alma mater.  She knew the team
I loved, and she had apparently gone shopping for it.  It wasn't
particularly tight, but it's cut was short.  Her particular position raised
her shirt, where I could see a taut abdomen and a cute belly button,
pierced with a small gold ball.  That was fairly shocking, actually.

   Almost neglected, but not quite, were the blue jean shorts, rather, the
short blue jean shorts and her long, well defined legs.  No high heels this
time, but rather sandals, the sort you have around for comfort wear.  A toe
ring added balance to her navel piercing.  The overnight bag behind her was
an encouraging accessory.  I now understood the uncertainty in the
Concierge's voice when she had called to let me know Kitty was on her way
up.  Most residents and their guests dressed to impress.  Obviously, that
depends on the audience.

   The elevator interrupted my thoughts with a loud "buzz."

   "Well, I guess `speechless' is a compliment then," she said.

   "Actually, no, the word that came to me as soon as I saw you was
`delicious.' I'm just appreciating how delicious you look."

   "Flattery will get you everywhere, buster."

   I took her bag and offered my hand and we walked the short distance down
the hall to my Condo.  Had I ventured a kiss... all the planning might be
for naught.



   The Condo life is not one that is common to my friends.  But, after my
wife's accident, I had wanted something different, away from suburbia
without the headaches of many possessions, household maintenance, a lawn to
care for... in short, I wanted a new start.  And the settlement from the
drunk's insurance company had afforded me an 18th floor view of downtown
Atlanta, plus savings.

   She took in the main living area at a glance, pronouncing "It's very
masculine" as she took in the darker tones of the flooring, fabrics and
wood trim.  Yes, it was, but certainly by no means glum.  She ventured to
the dining area, where a single spot shown on the center of the table, on
which a tall red candle was burning.  White table cloth, cloth napkins,
elegant wine glasses, muted lighting, a single candle... I can do romantic.
Of course, the way she was dressed, a tailgate BBQ may have been better
suited.

   I gave her the quick tour, because there is no extended tour in high
rise Condos.  The kitchen, dining area and living area are all one room. 
Which leaves a bedroom converted to study/office, a bedroom for guests, a
full bath, a hall closet and, of course, the master bedroom.  Each bedroom
had an exterior wall, and the master bedroom had an expansive view of the
City from floor to ceiling.  She said nothing, taking in the view.  The
pause was almost uncomfortable, but then I noticed her mouth had opened
slightly and her nipples, if my mind wasn't playing tricks, had hardened. I
made a movement, setting her bag at the foot of my bed.

   Her trance apparently broken, she turned and smiled.

   "You looked lost in thought," I said.  Her face blossomed into a smile.
"Yes, you have a beautiful view.  My bedroom has windows, and I don't know
if I've ever looked through them after the blinds and curtains were
installed.  This is so... open."

   "Well, that's true.  But I don't have neighbors walking their dogs or
UPS trucks making deliveries outside my window."

   Kitty didn't say anything to this, but I could see her quickly scan the
high rises in the not-too-distant distance.  Interesting.

   "I've had invitations to showings of condos, but my customer base isn't
located here.  I really like this; I should have taken advantage to see
more." She turned to face me.  "I suppose you never know what someone might
like until you show them the options.  You have very good tastes.  I really
like it here." Music to my ears.  She briefly took in the art that I had
chosen, some of the books that were lying around, and life with little
storage space as we made our way back to the living area.

   I slid open the door.  "And then, there's the balcony."

   "I've been waiting for this.  It's gorgeous!"

   This I knew from experience, just as I knew the sun would be setting in
about 45 minutes.  It was a fairly simple balcony, with a table, two
chairs, and footrests.  One plant was all that I could commit to watering.
But my balcony was like the several above it and all the ones below.  They
were all placed at the narrow end of the building.  They were therefore
"private" except at the very ends, at least in reference to other residents
within the building.

   "Hungry?" I asked.  Kitty grasped my hand and pulled close as we made
our way back inside.  I don't know perfumes.  But hers was subdued, to the
point where I wanted to get far too close too fast and inhale her scent.

   Dinner was a salad, Penne with peppery broccoli and Morel sauce, and a
side of asparagus, for a number of reasons.  I'm good at preparing it, it
goes well with wine, and it's not so loaded with protein that it puts me to
sleep.  Or, hopefully, her.  I refrained from adding garlic to the bread.
That was not how I wanted the evening to be remembered.

   We caught up, awkwardly, actually.  It was strange to talk about a
period of time in which we were attached to others while beginning new
possibilities.  Still, conversation became pleasantly casual, during which
she reminded me why I had always liked her.  Or, more honestly put, why I
maintained a curiosity about her even though we had been off-limits.  It
hadn't been a case of outright lust, back then.  But my interest had
certainly been with a clear recognition of the paths not taken in life.

   Her eyes shine when she's talking about a subject that she's interested,
she listens well and engages with good questions, and she transitions from
one topic to another without having skipped past what was to be learned or
slowing into tedium.  She's a great conversationalist, and conversation is
certainly something that, with a bowl of fruit, can be enjoyed on a balcony
as the sun sets.  Oh, yes, with the wine and the glasses.

   Kitty seemed mesmerized as the sun settled between two buildings and
dipped finally below the horizon.  I hadn't paid much attention.  The warm
tones of the evening sun on her face had been much more remarkable.  She
turned toward me, a casual smile on her face, knowing.

   "That was beautiful," she said.

   "Yes, you are." I replied.

   She gazed into my eyes.  If either of us made a move, I could have her
at that moment.  But we both knew we were there for more than that.  It was
time.

   I placed the table to the side for our wine and arranged the seats so
that we were knee to knee.  "It's time to find out a bit about ourselves.
Do you want to go first, or me?"

   "I will, she said.  Ladies first, you know." She had no notes, but she
didn't seem to be at any loss.  "What do you think is the best way to keep
a relationship alive, after the first couple years?"

   I answered, "After the lust wears off?  And you find that you live with
someone who actually has flaws?"

   "Exactly," she said.

   "Love is a commitment, not a feeling.  I read a book about that some
years ago."

   "Probably, the Five Love Languages."

   "That was it.  Communication is key, and you have to be intentional on
making sure you're connected."

   We talked about the love languages a bit, her primary one being words of
affirmation, words that weren't known in her ex's vocabulary.  Good to
know.

   It was my turn.  "What turns you on the most?"

   "If that's your first question, this is going to get real interesting
fast," she teased.  But, her answer was surprising.  "I'm still waiting to
find out." What followed was an explanation of how her ex had quickly
gravitated towards sex when it suited his needs, and his detachment for
long periods of time when he became jealous, rightly or wrongly, when other
men looked at her or even talked with her at length.  "It's fair to say
that you've caused me to be deprived, by the way." I wasn't sure how to
take that.  "On several occasions, in fact.  He was awful." It had led,
gradually, for her to question whether each man really lusted after her, to
dressing as conservatively as possible, to mild violence, which became
enough for her to call it quits.  This didn't answer my question, but it
wasn't appropriate to press.

   Her next question was, "How many women have you been with?"

   Predictable.  And a quick story, as in 1, 2... "Two." Hers was two as
well.  One in college to set her expectations of how exciting sex would be,
and another to ruin it.

   My turn.  "Okay, what do you think would turn you on the most?"

   Kitty laughed.  "You didn't write that down, did you?"

   "Nope.  Still fishing on the first question."

   "I don't know.  A return to "loving" is a start, but beyond that...
Something with variety to it.  I'm tired of watching TV and seeing women
proposition men in stairwells, kissing them passionately and jumping into
sex in semi-public places.  I don't know what TV show that might have been
on, but I have very clear images of it."

   I laughed.  "We do have stairwells here, you know."

   "Oh, I'm quite aware, and if you play your cards right, my intrigue
about how certain sounds carry in there might be satisfied.  That's a good
word.  I'm intrigued about moving from fiction to reality.  I want you to
crawl inside my mind, make my imagination run wild, and consummate it.  I
want fun.  How that plays out, I don't know yet.  New things.  Let
fantasies become reality.  I want to be challenged beyond the lousy excuse
for Vanilla that I've suffered through the last years.  I want to play. 
And I want it to take the time that it takes, the time to do it right."

   "That's about as... hopeful an answer as I could ever ask."

   Kitty gave a wicked grin.  "I think what I said is that I'll try just
about anything."

   "That's a pretty big statement.  It also requires trust.  Do you trust
me?"

   "I wouldn't have been here if I didn't.  I've watched you.  I know you."

   "You think you know people.  But then you find out you don't know them
as well as you think.  Rick the Prick is a good example."

   "True, but I saw the way you loved your wife, and the way you treated
her.  And I've seen your speculating eyes whenever our paths crossed.  I
never sensed you were looking for an affair, but perhaps a kindred spirit."

   I was surprised at this.  "You knew my sex life was unsatisfactory?"

   "Well, no.  But I've seen you at work, socially and at work.  You have a
sense of purpose and command, and combined with your enthusiasm and those
searching eyes... Was I right?"

   I looked into her eyes and gave her a slow nod.  "Your turn."

   Kitty asked, "Do you want kids?"

   And she was serious.  This wasn't just about a night or a fling.  "Yes,
but sometime after the two years of lust." She laughed at that.  Two, we
agreed.

   "Here's my third, or fifth, or whatever we're up to but final,
question." I said.  "We had limited foreplay, one of three positions, and
an unfulfilling sleep that followed.  I do not want to look back at my sex
life someday and remember it that way.  I want kinks.  You said you would
do just about anything.  So, between your "fun" and my "kinks," where do
you draw the line?

   "I don't know yet."

   "Really?" I asked.

   "I don't want to put limits out there.  It's too early for that.  I do
know that if we're married, your cock is the only one I want inside of me."

   "I agree, but that's a very delicate way of phrasing that.  It leaves
open..."

   "Possibilities.  But it's your job to stir my imagination.  And how wild
an animal I become..."

   There was a momentary silence.

   "You're stirring my imagination now," I said.  "Okay, when you're alone.
What do you fantasize about?"

   "I thought you asked your final question, already.  I tell you I'll try
just about anything, and now you want me to fill in the blanks?"

   "Humor me.  Just this time."

   "Well, I want to watch a man jerk off for me."

   "Never happened?"

   "Nope."

   "A shame.  And have you given a guy a show?"

   "No, but I like the idea of being watched.  I've spent a lot of time in
the gym and never had a chance to really show off."

   "And what if I took a picture of you doing that?"

   "See, that's what I'm talking about.  I don't know.  I don't know if I
would get into it or freeze up.  But I want to find out."

   "I have a Nikon D800.  It's a camera that's worthy of taking your
picture, clothed or naked.  Having sex.  Bathing in the tub.  In sexy
poses..."

   "Like in my Clemson shirt?"

   "Especially your Clemson shirt.  It's particularly good at showing your
erect nipples."

   Kitty did a quick self-assessment, an endearing one.

   "You know, if you're cold, we can go inside."

   "I think you know I'm quite warm already." She quickly changed tact. 
"Have you ever noticed at the gym that everyone is doing weights, or doing
cardio, or whatever, but they're in their own little world.  But when you
see a couple there, it all makes sense.  Sure, some people are there for
purely physical reasons, but how many go there so that they look better
when they're with their partner?  I'd like to be sexy.  Visually so.  Like
I was today at the auditorium.  I'd like for other men to be jealous of you
having me on your arm.  Not because of my face or my figure, but
because..."

   "Because you're sexual."

   "I want you to be in a state of arousal because of me, and I want you to
be in a state of arousal because of me.  And if other guys can't help
looking at me, I think it would make feel like I'm doing my best for you.
But, that's not all true.  I've been bottled up.  I want to be admired,
too. I'm not saying I want to dress like a slut, but I'm fine with men
checking me out.  I want to be... like a younger version of A.J. 
McCarron's mom."

   "The Alabama quarterback?"

   "Yeah, have you seen her?  I don't want to be a celebrity, but it would
turn me on to know guys talk about me in a sexual way."

   "Just to be clear.  Guys look to check out a figure on about every
woman. I do too, and it shouldn't make you jealous.  But when that look
lingers, it goes to what you look like underneath, and then to what you
might be like in bed.  You're saying you want guys to lust after you?"

   "Yep.  Because, as you say, I'm sexual.  Or hoping to be." And she
stretched out a long, tanned leg to wiggle her toes.

   "Oh, you are that.  `Tigress' has come to mind long before this
evening."

   "I want out my cage."

   "Let's see then.  Would you go in public without your bra or your
panties?"

   "God, yes.  I did it as a teen on a dare, but... As long as you're
comfortable with it, of course."

   "I think you'll be wearing them a lot less.  And if you were at a public
park, sitting on a bench, would you spread your legs so that I could see up
your skirt?"

   "I almost went to our meeting without panties today, but I chickened
out. I imagined doing it.  And I planned my seat right."

   "I couldn't quite make it out.  I did try to steal a glance, but I
didn't want to get swatted for looking, not knowing if you were hopelessly
clueless about what you were doing to me, or just teasing to tease.  In any
case, crawling into your skirt to see up close would have been noticed."

   "Ha.  You should have let me catch you looking.  I would have opened up
if you had.  Or I think I would have.  I just don't know yet about all
these things."

   "One more kink."

   "And here I thought you had asked your final question a while ago."

   "Pretend that I'm just reading from a checklist."

   "Roleplay?  Okay, doctor, go ahead."

   "I'm this close," I said as I suggestively measured 7" between my hands,
"to wheeling you to the operating area.  Okay, let's try a few other
kinks."

   "Now?  Out here?"

   "No, and maybe later but that's a good place to start.  Out here.  Sex
on a high rise balcony."

   "Fun.  Maybe.  I don't know yet.  Kind of scary fun."

   "Blowjobs?"

   "Fun.  Or used to be.  I'll stick with fun."

   "Swallow?"

   "I'm not sure.  But I'd have to imagine McCarron's mom would, so yes."

   "Facials?"

   "What do you mean?"

   "I..."

   "I know silly.  As long as you've got enough to do the job right, fun."

   "Girl on girl.  You seem to have a thing for the Quarterback's mom."

   "I thought for years about how that might be better than Rick, but no
real interest that I know anyway.  And have you seen her?"

   "His mom?"

   "Yes."

   "No.  Should I?"

   "I don't think so.  You'll have your hands full."

   "Right.  With a vibrator.  Game?"

   "Definitely fun.  More fun when it's not just me."

   "Bon..."

   "By the way, facials?  I say that, but I've never done it.  I don't
really know.  How long does it take for you to recover?  A woman has
needs."

   "I'm asking the questions, here.  Bondage?"

   "Fun.  Scary fun."

   "Slave for a day?"

   "Whatever you want, Mister."

   "That would be `Master,' actually."

   "Fun."

   "Anal?"

   "Actually, no.  Went there once.  No."

   "Pain?"

   "Scary, not fun.  Doubtful.  My nipples, at the right time, maybe.  I
prefer fun."

   "So, do I, you'll be happy to know."

   "And how about...?"

   "How about I stand up, stretch, and admire the city lights?"

   Kitty moved to the railing, pushing against it to test its strength,
then leaned over the railing.  "You get this view every night?"

   "Yep."

   Kitty looked back over her shoulder.  "For a guy with so many kinks,
you're kind of slow.  You get this view every night?" She wiggled her hips
very, very provocatively.

   "Eh, no.  Never." I stepped beside her, close beside her so that our
arms touched.  The evening had cooled slightly, but Kitty was incredibly
warm.  "You smell wonderful." And I didn't think it was just her perfume.

   She turned, her back to the rail, and invited me close.  We looked at
each other for a long moment, but there was nothing tentative here.  We
both knew it was time.  Past time, even.  Her lips were magical, and then
her tongue started darting, expressing her need.  My hands found their way
to her waist, then lower, flaring to the width of her hips, which I pulled
closer.  We kissed for minutes, I suppose, and like our conversation,
building, but not urgent.  Until I was able to nibble my way to her ear,
and her neck.  She exhaled at first, and then moaned.  I felt her hands
reach to mine and guide them up to her breasts.

   "36,"she said.  My hands reached under her shirt as I continued to tease
my tongue along her neck.  "C's," she added.  "24 and 36" in case you go
shopping."

   "Perfect."

   "You'll see," she said.  She reached behind her back, unclasped her bra,
and by her gender's secret magic, quickly removed her bra through a sleeve.

   She turned her head, glancing at the skyline behind her.  For all the
darkness that had settled in, dilated eyes revealed how bright the city was
up close, but I wouldn't dare call it light pollution.  She was just that
gorgeous.

   She turned back to me.  "I want you to keep your eyes on my eyes. 
Nowhere else.  Understood?"

   "Got it." Standing six inches from me, her face was intoxicating.  Her
mouth quivered, not from nervousness, but as if we were already making
love. Determination, humor, and need beamed with the minutest of changes in
her eyes.

   And she began to reveal herself.  I was aware of leg motion and heard
her flip flops scatter across the concrete.  I sensed the movement of her
hands as she unfastened the decorative belt and unsnapped her pants.  It
wasn't a lengthy zipper, but I heard it unzip slowly, taking her full,
luxuriant time.  Then there was a slight twisting of her body and her
shorts were off.  Gone.  And I hadn't looked.  Down, anyway.

   She started unbuttoning my shirt, and after several, stopped.  She shook
her head slightly, boring into me with her eyes as her hands climbed
grasped the hem of her shirt.  She lifted it steadily, and I could feel her
eyes behind the fabric, testing my resolve.  My gaze held true.  I was
staring directly into her eyes when she pulled it over her head.

   Her face was worth my concentration.  I hadn't seen a woman look so
beautiful.  Her face was flushed, and while the location may have spoken a
measure of embarrassment, I knew it was a consuming passion.  The Tigress.

   "Close your eyes," she said, and I did.  "Take two steps back.  Good. 
One more.  Again.  Now, when you open your eyes, I want you to look
directly in mine.  Nowhere else.  Now."

   It was the most difficult challenge I've ever faced.  I looked into her
eyes and somewhere amongst the sexual heat was a woman experiencing "fun"
possibly in a way she never had before.  It was intimidating.  I might fool
myself into thinking I had all the cards, but she was playing a different
game.  She had the power.

   I tested the periphery of my vision.  There was more than adequate
light, not just from the buildings behind her but from my own living room.
She was gorgeous, from the...

   She interrupted my thoughts.  "I think we discussed words of affirmation
earlier."

   It was too steep a challenge.  "I..."

   "Don't even bother." She raised her right hand to her face and extended
her index finger.  "I want you to keep your eyes on my finger."

   God.

   And she lowered it, teasingly, to her chin, and along the side of her
neck, down to the nakedness of her shoulder, which was... muscular, but
feminine, and flawless.  Then she settled down a slow path to her left
breast, finally circling her nipple with her fingertip before suddenly
grasping her breast from underneath, her finger still at her nipple, her
palms squeezing at a steady rhythm that marked the timing of her inner
drums.  .

   Then her hand lowered to her piercing, briefly tweaking the little gold
ball, before lowering to her panties.  Blue ones, cotton.  A sports
undergarment with a very low cut.  And wet.  She put her finger on the
fabric above her clit, pressing... rotating... and I could see her shiver.
She reached underneath with her finger, followed by her hand... and
abruptly her other hand descended and she flung her panties to the floor.
That particular show would wait for another time, then.

   And just like that, I was staring at the most beautiful shaved cunt...
the most beautiful.  There were a few wisps of hair neatly trimmed like the
fletching of an arrow above her clit, and... her hood was shiny, and her
clit protruded enticingly even as her fingers began to rub it gently and
reach beyond.  My eyes fell away from her hands, drawn by the moistness on
her thighs.

   I started forward.  "Slowly," she said.  And by the time I took the
several steps, her fingers had disappeared between her legs.  Her breasts
were flushed, her nipples calling for my mouth.

   She stopped me, again almost touching her body.  She didn't have to tell
me to look into her eyes.  I didn't want to look anywhere else.  They were
on fire but now surprisingly needful rather than commanding.  "I want you
to taste me." She raised her fingers and inserted them in my mouth, slowly.
Her face had changed slightly, suggesting a question.  She quickly withdrew
her fingers.

   "You taste... like you smell.  So good, yet so much richer.  Again..."

   Kitty brought her fingers back to my mouth, freshly wet with her juices.
And she tried to pull them away, but I grasped her hand, holding it in
place so that I could clean her fingers, taking my time.  "It's honey," I
said.  And I saw a small tear form in the corner of her eye.  "Kitty, we've
got all night.  But I'd like to start by savoring every drop you.  You are
truly, delicious."

   She allowed me to carry her back to the bedroom, control given
completely to me.  Sure, she gathered her juices and trailed them to spots
that she felt needed attention while I otherwise lapped between her legs,
but she was content to purr.  She was open to so many things; in fact, she
had demonstrated that already on balcony that was more public than she
knew. But, I sensed that this was not the night for evolved fun or kinks.

   After we had fully explored each other's nooks and crannies, we finally
made love.  I slid into her easily, testing her depth, her eyes opening
wide, communicating both surrender and her need.  Her legs wrapped around
me and the time for patience had ceased.  I fucked her, hard and fast.  If
she said words, I wasn't aware of them, or I couldn't hear them over the
sounds of our bodies meeting.  She returned thrust for thrust, her eyes
closed as I viewed the most beautiful expressions of pleasure that I could
ever imagine on a woman's face.

   I came inside her, hard.  And when she had gathered her breath, she
cuddled her way onto my shoulder, our legs entwined, her arm draped across
my chest, finding the intimacy that follows the joining.  Was it love, yet?
Did it matter just now?  The width of her smile and the contented, trusting
look of her eyes said that she was mine.

   And my imagination ran wild.