She steps out of the carriage, a fierce draft causing her petticoats to swirl around her like a hurricane. She sucks in her breath, her nipples responding to the icy wind by violently peaking under her tight black bodice. They swell and grind against the bony corset, eliciting a surge of pleasure through her body. She runs up the stone steps and into the musky warmth of the ballroom entrance. Muted merriment echoes from the main hall into the cloak room as she signs the registry, stirring excitement in her mind for the possibilities of this evenings masquerade.
He stands at the bar brandy in hand, intent blue eyes roving the masked faces in the crowd. He is searching for her, even though he does not yet know who she is... He swirls his glass, the rhythmic clinking of ice fuelling images of the seductive dance he intends to compose. His senses on overdrive, a smirk of satisfaction curls his lips as the assembly parts and whispers are fervently exchanged. She stands perfectly still, absorbing the adoration. He has found the object of his longing - Aphrodite, as it were.
There is something above the natural affection she is accustomed to overriding her senses. Somebody is sending her a message, an unspoken promise of connection beyond her experience. The intensity of this magnetism draws her gaze to the bar. Heat pours from the top of her head to the soles of her feet as their eyes meet for the first time in eternity. Her surroundings disappear in an instant, blurring into insignificance. All sounds fade into the distance as all she can feel is the slow, heavy pulse of her blood, running like languid river through her veins, burning her heart. Her red lips part.
He takes her in methodically, her glossy black hair, her startling deep blue eyes peeking through the black and silver mask, appraising him with carnal wantonness. Her creamy shoulders and bountiful heaving breasts flowing over the black bodice. The scarlet silk garments that float around her like a sea of desire, hugging her curvaceous form in all the right places. Her long black gloves moving slowly over her hips - willing him to lust for what lies underneath. He is transfixed, remembering to breathe only when she takes a purposeful step toward where he stands.
She stops in front of him - her face merely inches from his own. he can feel the power of her body radiating through his tux to his own feverish skin, the warmth and sweetness of her breath on his lips inducing an erotic reverie in his mind. They do not speak. Words will not be at all adequate for what they will exchange. He can see the reflection of his masked face in her dark, glittering eyes as he reaches for a strand of her hair, rubbing its silky thread between his fingers, then tracing the contours of her cheek, her neck, her shoulder and the delicate curve of her breast. Her skin is on fire.
His touch is electric, pulsing through her voraciously. She can do nothing but stare at his sinful lips, yearning for them to claim every inch of her aching flesh. She presses her cleavage into his chest, her hips folding into his pelvis, the rigidity of his desire probing into the moist throbbing between her legs. His body now grinding into her hers, he moves a hand to her back and gropes his way down to the roundness of her ass, squeezing it firmly and pulling her curves even closer into his hardness. Her long dark lashes flutter close. A deep low groan escapes from her lips as his mouth converges on her neck, planting sensuous deliberate kisses up to her ear. He licks at her bejewelled earlobe delicately, grasping it between his teeth and sucking fervently. His hot fast breath sends a spasm down her spine. His cock grows at every little noise she makes, every rise and fall of her breasts and every minute gyration of her hips.
She is suddenly aware again of where they are, and feeling no want of censure, is incapable of disentangling herself from his arms. As if reading her thoughts however, he carefully releases his hold and clasps her hand, pulling her urgently through the crowd toward the room he had prepared for their rendezvous. She floats behind him, every pore tingling with anticipation of what must be.