It's Friday, and desire sits at the edge of my bed nudging me into action. My desire demands expression: It will not stay still, stay silent, be good, be modest, be seen and not heard. It will break out in tongues of praise, and moans of ecstasy, the high note shattering all barriers to reveal the forgotten color of lightning. It will seep out the spaces between my breaths taunting you and coloring your memories. It will not be denied!
I have a butler named "Boredom" and a maid named "Drudgery"- I gave them the day off. But before they left, I had them pack up my stiff upper lip and my tight-arse and seal them in a trunk in the attic.
With the house to myself, I pulled out the hollows that have never been filled and artfully arranged them on the narrow ledge of modesty by my stained glass windows.
Perhaps you walked by last night wondering what the hollows held? Or were you the mysterious one who changed the game on me, by rattling the window, shaking me awake? Well, you must have meant for the hollows to fall off that narrow ledge of modesty and stain the carpet virulent shades of purple, that not even the stained glass could hope to match. The hollows lay visible there spread-eagle, waiting for a wicked tongue to lick them, and churn sweet nectar out of them.
I want to be pleasured, oh! I so want to be pleasured, and I want an evening of pleasure beyond any other. I cut the strings that have always neatly tied up my life and threw things up in the air to see where they might land. I want far more than bubble-bath and warm fuzzies. I want us to be addicted to sensation and starlight, for just one night. I want to cross the boundaries of the map into the land that you hold sacred unto you. I want to be consumed by your tongue, by the flames of passion, by warm flesh and sensation.
Bring me a sexy savage Saturday that will curl my toes! Bring it NOW!