Your eyes are the last thing I see before the light fades. They sear into my memory, like staring at a candle’s flame and seeing its silhouette painted against the back of my closed lids. Quiet, confident emerald-green irises with hidden stories. Secrets only I know.

You affix the scarf with elegance and precision, a gentle touch to match the prim and proper facade. Your scent wafts off the material and elicits immediate excitement, my body’s riposte to your seductive parry.

I wait heatedly, laying on the bed naked and wondering where I’ll feel you first. My pussy pulsates and flutters as if she is shoving her way to the front of the line. Willingly, I spread my legs and the cool air of the room tells me I’m visibly wet.

My nipples fully extend in their own attempt to draw your touch. A scant arch to my back, as my hands lay motionless by my side. I know the rules.

Warmth emanates off your palm; it’s hovered just over my skin, waiting, circling, teasing. You glide it silently, inch by agonizing inch above my body, my chest, the curve of my breast, my neck. Masterfully orchestrating lascivious chills until finally...

My lips.

Your fingers, soaked with the bouquet of your arousal, paint your honey across my lips with a touch as delicate as an orchid’s petal.

How and when were you fingering? A transitory thought as I hungrily lap and lick every bit until your tongue replaces the fingers and together we feast on the musk of your pussy.

Our tongues dance, but the kiss is anything but romantic. The time we share is limited and pragmatic, part of the arrangement. I know we will soon return to our lives, our passion. One we will never publicly be able to share. A spider’s web of complexities and stresses.

It’s complicated, you always tell me with a smile. I acquiesce.

That world, the relationships all bearing down outside these walls. Restrictive. What you give to me is a fortress of darkness, where things are simple, compartmentalized. The abstruse realm cast aside, simplified behind your silken veil.

Everything centers to the moment, the feel, the edge.

In return, I give you allowance. A pleasurable opportunity. An empty canvas to play out your fantasies, your filth. Taboo role play you wouldn’t dare ask her to partake in. Pornographic reverie that boils your blood and soaks your pussy. And in turn, soaks mine.

Personas caged, kept in the dark, only allowed to come out and feed when they are together. A beautiful reciprocity.

Your tongue retracts, our lips part with a snap. I inhale deeply as you push away and for a fleeting moment you are gone.

You’re tying your hair back. It was loose. I felt it drape down over my face during the kiss. You always tie it back before the real fun starts. My heart pounds. A depression in the mattress between my legs. You are kneeling. My breath hitches with anticipation. You hear it and make me wait. I can tell you are smiling. I hate you.

“Please, fuck me,” I whisper desperately to the room.

“Soon, Pet.”

I allow you these moments. I’ve fixed so many already, handled the fuck-ups, and stood in the line of fire. Made her who she is, made you who you are. I’m good at it. The best, she tells me.

Now, I allow you to handle me, it's what I need, what I want.

“Fuuck meee,” I hiss through clenched teeth as you attach a clamp to each nipple followed by tension. You pull up on the chain connecting them, distorting my tits into cones.  

Heat riddles my body. You hold firm with one hand while the other administers a tap… tap… tap across my clit. The riding crop. Its leather tongue lapping at my sensitive nub, the force increasing with each snap, balling my fists into the sheets. I seethe. You exhale calmly.

Want is raging. An inferno stoked by the stings. Taps are replaced by slaps. A chorus of moans fills the room, mine as well as yours. You want it too.

“You like that, Pet.” The smooth leather trails across my tummy. “I can tell you are close.”

I nod.

Another hard slap, this time landing square.

You drop the chain and your weight shifts. I can tell you are fumbling next to the bed. The heat of your breath licks my ear as you lean. Your lips graze my lobe with a whisper, “It’s almost time, Pet.” 

I bite my lip knowing what’s next. My pussy throbs with a need she only knows with you. An orgasm dangling so close that it ties my core into knots. 

“Please, let me cum. Please!” 

Cold steel pinches around my left wrist and pulls up firmly to loop through the wrought iron headboard. My other wrist is brought to meet above my head, clasped and secured. I could shimmy the blindfold off with my bicep if I wanted, but again, I know the rules. I squeeze my thighs together and hump. Trying anything. 

There’s a rap at the door. It’s time. 

“Madame First Lady, the President is waiting for you in the Sky Lounge.” The voice calls through the bolted hotel door.

Your lips press against mine and I feel you smile. We kiss. There’s more passion this time, but it’s still just a means to an end. Your weight leaves the bed as you stand.

I can tell you are straightening your skirt, loosening your hair, fixing yourself... for her. 

“I’ll be back after dinner, Pet. She has a rally in Iowa tonight.” You tell me like I wasn't the one who’d arranged everything. “We will have two days together.”

The excitement in your voice flashes those irises for me. My blind smile is met by your fingers once again painting my lips as you stand bedside. Still just as delicate as an orchid’s petal, still musky with your scent.