Dirty Secrets. Jane O'Reilly

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СКАЧАТЬ if only my hair was a slightly different colour, if only I wasn’t so selfish all the time, everything would be fine.

      This man doesn’t know me. He’s never going to know me.

      I go back to the table that holds the champagne and I drink it, swallowing it down like it’s supermarket white wine instead of Bollinger. I refill my glass, take it with me back over to where the man is sat. This time, I stand between his legs. His knees press against my thighs, warm and firm, and I sip a little more of the champagne, letting the delicious bubbles coat my tongue, and suddenly I know what I want. What I need.

      I reach down to the ribbon that binds his right hand to the arm of the chair, and slowly tug it loose. He flexes his fingers. I keep pulling on the ribbon, pulling and pulling until it slides free. I drop it to the floor.

      Then I take his wrist, and lift his hand to my tits. His fingers meet my flesh, and instantly began to squeeze, the automatic male reaction. I let him grope me for a moment or so, let him find his way.

      His fingertips find the edge of my bra and try to make their way inside, but the angle is awkward and he can’t quite manage it. I take his wrist, hold his hand steady as I drain the rest of the champagne from my glass and set it aside.

      Then I slowly, slowly free my right breast from the tight satin that hides it. The flesh swells up over the top of my bra, exposing my nipple, which has already become a tight little nub. When I put his hand back in place, his fingers find it immediately.

      He pinches it, hard.

      I gasp, my knees trembling, and spit out an offensive word. But I don’t smack his hand away. Instead, I reach forward and pinch his small, flat, brown nipple in return. He flinches. He softens his grip, stroking me with his fingertips as if he’s trying to soothe the hurt he caused. Then his fingers slide slowly upwards, over the top of my breast, finding my collarbone, my neck. I’ve clipped my hair up out of the way, leaving him no loose strands to play with, though he explores the curve of my ear, my jawline.

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