In These Shoes
"Then I met an Englishman, 'Oh' he said
'won't you walk up and down my spine?
it makes me feel strangely alive.'
I said 'in these shoes? I doubt you'd survive.'
I said 'honey, let's do it'"
- Kirsty MacColl "In These Shoes?"
from "Tropical Brainstorm"
Her lips slightly parted she sits in front of the mirror she doesn't need anymore
applying lipstick. "Crimson Tide" that color is called, but the name
doesn't suit it. The shade is a dark, sensual burgundy, the color of fresh blood.
She has no reflection, of course, hasn't had a reflection for months now, but
she still sits in front of the vanity to apply make-up with the surety of many
years' practice. She's pouting now, pressing her lips to a paper towel to plot
up the excess color, and for a moment I imagine my cock between those lips instead
of the tissue. She's glorious.
It's 80s night at the Cathouse and Baby's dressing for the occasion. She's wearing a black lace top, no bra underneath, so her dark pink nipples are just distinguishable from the white skin surrounding them. Her black leather skirt is so short, I can see the tops of her stockings peeking out now that she's sitting. I know for a fact she's not wearing panties either; they would just get in the way later on the dance floor. She's wearing boots though: knee-high black, suede boots with three-inch spiked heels. I swallow hard as I imagine those boots walking across my back.
I reach out and run my fingers along her bare arms, barely touching her skin, and she shudders a little. An almost inaudible moan escapes from those perfect, burgundy lips. I can't restrain myself any longer.
"Baby," I moan as my hands stray to the hem of her top. The club will have to wait for a while.
She's pouting again. "Oh no you don't," she says, "I didn't spend all this time fixing up the face for you to smudge the lipstick."
I chuckle and run the palms of my hands over her breasts, noting with satisfaction that her nipples are hardening as my fingers brush past them. I grab her waist and pull her up from the chair, nudging her towards the high, four-poster bed, one knee between her thighs. My hands are teasing the skirt further up her thighs.
When we reach the edge of the bed, I push her torso down into the mattress, but keep her parted legs standing firmly on the floor. The skirt scoots up just high enough to reveal her soft, white buttocks and her wet pussy underneath. I lightly brush my hands across the skin and she moans again, louder this time.
I kneel on the floor, running my hands all the way down her thighs and over soft suede until my fingers are firmly locked around the heels of her boots. I lean forward and languidly run my tongue over her weeping slit. Oh yeah, she's moaning good now.
I run butterfly kisses across her thighs and buttocks until she is mewling with desire, then I whisper, "walk across me in those heels."
She laughs, rises from the bed and turns around. She quickly strips my shirt from my body and pushes me onto the bed facedown. Then she grabs my wrists and spreads my arms wide in front of me. She grabs a couple of discarded bras from the bedroom floor and ties my wrists to the bedposts and then it's my turn to moan. "Don't move unless I tell you to," she orders.
I feel her stepping up onto the bed and then a tentative heel settles on my back, sending shivers down my spine straight into my groin. "Oh Baby!" I moan.
She grinds the heel in a little. "Who gave you permission to talk?" She asks in a silky drawl.
Her weight shifts a little as she raises her second boot to my back, and exquisite pain shoots through me. I suppress the urge to rip the bras restraining my hands and instead grab the posts of the bed hard in my fists. Out of the corner of my eye I can see my knuckles getting even whiter if that is possible.
She slowly moves up my back taking tiny little steps that are leaving bruises nonetheless and I can smell her arousal. "Talk now," she orders, "tell me how you want to please me."
I have to concentrate hard to keep myself from loosing it right there.
"I want to lick you and suck you Baby," I groan. "Make you come harder than you've ever come before with my mouth alone. Won't touch your lips. Won't ruin that beautiful blood-red smile."
She reaches my
shoulder blades and gently steps off my back. Then she leans down to untie my
wrists and flips me over. Seconds later she is sitting on my face, grinding
her cunt into my mouth. She grabs my wrists again and pins them down on the
pillow, while I bury my nose even further in her throbbing pussy and start sucking.
I suck and lick at her until her clit is swollen with blood and feeling hard
against my lips, then I plunge my tongue as far as I can into her slit. She
lets go of my wrists and shudders as the orgasm rips through her and she screams,
"I love you, Spike! God, I love you!"
I wrap my arms
around her waist and gently lift her off my face and settle her on my chest
so I can look at her. She's looking slightly dazed, and a little smug in a post-coital
way, and her burgundy lips are still perfectly made up.
~Fin~