The Corset

The dress was on the bed as he walked into the room. She was sitting at the dressing table putting on her makeup, carefully applying liner to accentuate her blue eyes.

She continued with eye shadow, mascara and blush, finally finishing with bright red lipstick. She was watching him in the mirror as he took in the view. The corset that had been on the bed before he left was now on her body.

It clung to each curve and he resisted the urge to go over and run his finger down each of the bones. His eyes, however, traced each lacing.

As she got up, he got the full effect. He found himself holding his breath, not wanting to stop this moment in time. She turned and walked to him, kissing him lightly on the lips.

“May I?” he asked. She took his hands and slowly ran them over her body. Just enough to get a taste but not nearly enough to be satisfied. She then put his hands down and turned to the bed.

She slowly picked up the dress, held his eyes and slid the fabric down over the corset. She stepped into her heels, took one last look in the mirror and led him to the car, knowing that he would be seeing that corset all night. Sweet torture.

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