by Madeira Darling
(04/07/10)

Tonight's the sort of night where we're living in a red velvet world, a day for sex and decadence. I want you, babe. I'm seated fresh scrubbed and waiting for you naked on the brocade pouf in front of the gilt framed Louis XIV vanity. Black hair still damp, and clinging to white rose petal skin, I haven't put on my identity yet, and that's the idea. It's that kind of moment, I'm bored with who I was, and I could use a transformation.

You come in here with your rock n' roll walk, drop the needle on the record, and fill my heart. You've got that body, lean as a wild animal with curves in all the right places, and you've got it wrapped up in black lace lingerie and a leather jacket, stiletto heels and fishnet stockings. You've got the face of savage aristocracy, high cheekbones and ice blue eyes. You've got hair the color of shadows, and lips the color of sin. You've got rings on your slim fingers and long black nails. You've got a cigarette in one hand and you've got a whip in the other, and here we are in this room with its oriental carpets and rococo mirrors. It's a place of crimson velvet draperies, sequins, and smoky amber light.

You put out the cigarette and you toss the whip on a chair. You hand me a black satin robe and give me that animal smile.

"You're distracting," you say, and I put it on as you walk over, and shake a little water from my hair before before wrapping it up in a towel turban, and turning me round away from the mirror. I hold onto the image of my blank canvas, as you set out cosmetics on the vanity behind me, little plastic tubes, little plastic cases, paint and powder. You've got slim hands with long graceful fingers, babe, and they're everywhere. You're painting my face and there's gold glitter falling from the sky in slow motion, like out of a movie. You've got your fingers in my hair and there's the roar of the blow-dryer and my head's flipped upside down, and you're rocking your slim hips, shaking out your hair, half dancing to the golden tone of those electric guitars from the record player, and then you're grabbing me by the hair, sitting me up straight. Teasing comb and hair spray, I'm still while you work. You lean in close, and whisper in my ear in that husky voice, "Close your eyes, babe," and I do, keeping them closed as I hear rustling fabric.

You tell me to point my toes and they point, and I can hear you smiling when you say "good girl" which leaves me smiling as you roll fishnet stockings up my legs, stiletto pumps, pointed toe by the feel of them. Then there's that hand pulling at my hair again, signaling for me to stand, and I'm lifting one leg at a time for panties, and then you're turning me round, treating me like a dress up doll, as you lace me into what I can only guess is a corset, with my palms to the wall and your knee in my back, I can feel my waist shrinking, and then the laces are tied and I'm sitting again while you get something else. There's the scent of cigarettes, and old fabric, dust and oriental spice perfume, of night and sin and rock n' roll.

Something goes round my neck, and I smile because I know the feeling of the black velvet collar with its heart shaped lock, then come earrings and bracelets, before I'm standing again as you hook the garter belt, attaching my stockings and giving me a slap on the ass, whispering all the while about what you're going to do with me. You're so cosmic, babe, as I open my eyes, turn, and see my reflection, and god I look so good. All crimson lips and black lined green eyes, hair in tousled jet waves. My nails painted bright red, corset pushing up my breasts and nipping in my already slim waist, rounded hips in barely-there panties and long legs in lacy garter belt with fishnet stockings. I'm done up in diamond bracelets and chandelier earrings like some kind of sacrifice to sex as I bat my lashes and swing my hips.

"Take me to bed," I say, "babe, take me to bed."

You grab me and drag me to the bedroom, shove me on the bed. You kiss me and it's vicious, and I'm dragging my nails down your back. Let's make broken glass love on the crumpled black satin sheets. We're kissing like animals, teeth and tongue, and I swear to god you're snarling as you pull the panties aside and shove three fingers in me, thumb rubbing my clit. I'm fumbling with your bra and the stars are coming in through the window. This is glory, a moment of perfect unbridled ecstasy as we wrap ourselves around each other and get it on, heads tilting back and teeth bared. White skin, black hair, bodies taut and eager.

I'm rubbing your clit and I know it's good because of the noises you make. I tremble and you moan. Hips rock and your hair brushes over my cheek, and oh god, oh motherfucker, I'm coming, and then you're coming.

I'm sliding off your jacket, unclasping your bra, breathing heavy as your eyes glitter in the dim light. There's the howl of electric guitars, chaos in the air as you smack my ass.

"Fuckin' dirty whore," you purr in my ear, "can't get enough, can ya, bitch?"

"Nope, can never get enough," I say, grinning as I slip down between your legs, and the image of you, panties long gone, stockings and sky high heels with your knees bent, legs spread, looking at me with that cocky smirk, is so hot I have to look up and thank god for you, babe, before I put my head down and get to work, lapping and teasing, fingers inside you, pressing the spot I know you like. You grab my hair and press down, cursing like a sailor.

"God, angel, motherfucker, jesus, babe, yeah, just like that, fuck, goddamnit yes," you moan, writhing as I dig my nails into your hips and tug my hair. I keep going and you moan, so I go faster. It doesn't take long till you're arching off the bed, screaming that primal scream of ecstasy and climaxing around my fingers. Eventually of course you fall back to the bed panting, and then you smirk again looking down at me and pulling my lipstick smeared self up towards you.

"You're such a slut, babe," you say with a lazy grin.

"Yeah, but you like it," I say, lying against you grinning like an idiot.

"Yeah, I do," you say, stroking my hair, before flipping me over and spreading my legs. "Now I wanna hear you screaming my name, got it?"

"Mhm," I purr contentedly, hand on your shoulder. and then you start, and my back arches and I'm clinging to the bed post, rocking my hips and moaning.

"Oh, babe," I gasp, eyes half shut as your nails drag along my thighs, "oh babe, oh fuckin' hell woman."

You're smirking again, I can see it in your eyes as my vision blurs and pleasure courses through me. We're so wild. We're mythic, our pleasure reshaping the world.

"Jesus fucking Christ, babe," I cry as your fingers hit my spot and your tongue moves just right. My hips rock, and twist before you pin them down, smirking even more as you go at it till I'm a screaming, shuddering mess, spasming on your fingers with tears flowing down my cheeks, and then you start up again, taking the ten seconds or so until I come again, and I'm sobbing your name this time it feels so goddamn good.

When you stop you crawl up me, and we hold each other, looking into one another's eyes, and sleepily you mutter "damn," and I respond "goddamn," and we grin and fall asleep.

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