There is no name for a woman like me. Most people would prefer to keep me chained in their fantasies than admit there might be a real chance of meeting me in the street one day. Life has been good to me. I have it all - looks, money, university accolades, a great job, a top range sports car, and several penthouse apartments around the world. Some might say I'm a great catch, but those who know me would be more inclined to say that I'm the one who does the hunting. My sexual appetite is voracious. More importantly, there isn't a single woman in this world, lesbian, bisexual or simply curious, who can resist my charms. Love doesn't enter into the equation. I am not a romantic. What I crave and provide is the kind of breath-taking sex that can change a woman's outlook on life forever. This is what makes me dangerous. You can call me what you like, but to my friends, I'm simply Becca.
At 5 foot 7, with long dark hair, brown eyes and a figure that's bronzed and toned, there is never any shortage of willing partners. Most women aren't even aware of their preferences before meeting me. Doctors, lawyers, film stars, shop assistants - my list of conquests is varied as it is endless. My world is a bed of oysters, and the women who inhabit it its pearls.
They have all been good in their sweet and vulnerable ways, but there was one in particular who came dangerously close to breaking the defences of my heart. What made her special was that I had no knowledge of her name, profession, nationality, background, or any of the other little details through which women like to define themselves. She was beautiful in her own terms.
It was a sultry night in the summer of June, 2024 when she drifted into my life. A club deep in the heart of London's Soho area, ablaze with the flashing lights and pounding bass of Europe's dance culture. I am standing amidst a sea of people, swarming and surging to the beat, yet she stands out from the crowd. The second I spot her in the centre of the room, I feel a familiar tightening sensation between my legs. I am mesmerised.
One thing is for sure, she knows how to move. She is at one with the music - the inspiration behind every erotic lyric of the past, future, and smouldering present. As she dances, a single beam of light catches her ivory face, illuminating it and drawing me in closer. I smile at the attempts of others to win her heart, or at least her favour. At first glance, the secret rhythms of her soul seem impenetrable, but to me, there is nothing more satisfying than a challenge. She is the moth, and I the flames of her desire.
The corners of the room are already packed with horny couples, kissing, touching, and licking in the confusion of shadows, their moans of ecstasy drowning in the music. As I approach, I notice how she glances over at some of them, the lust evident in her sea-blue eyes. At this range, I am able to appreciate every sexual detail of her fantastic body - the softness of her lips, the gentle curves of her breasts, and the way her nipples harden beneath her thin top when she catches my gaze. She blushes slightly, allowing her long, thick eyelashes to fall in submission, before turning away.
Making the most of the push and shunt of the crowd, I edge in closer still, until I can almost smell her perfume on the breeze. Soon, I am moving to the music right in front of her. For a split second, our eyes meet, and a million things pass unspoken between us. There is hunger in her gaze, but also a fragility that stirs something unfamiliar inside my heart. What it is, I don't know, but I sense immediately that there is no longer any reason to be subtle in examining the firm outline of her nipples. I lean forward to breathe a few words of enchantment into her ear, but she is already one step ahead of me.
Breaking the mould of all previous seductions, she inclines her head in a way that brings her lips into contact with mine. I am rattled, but determined to stay in control of the situation. Putting my arms around her, I pull her into the heat of my body. Her reward for blowing my preconceptions is a kiss intended to shake the foundations of her soul. I suck slowly and gently on those sweet lips for an even sweeter eternity, massaging them with my own until I can feel her melting under my touch and her heart threatening to pound free from its cage. Breathless, we break away, and for the first time I see a hint of fear in her eyes. The animal lust that exists within every one of us has apparently won her over for the first time. It makes no difference that we are in a room packed with people. It makes no difference that our public display might provoke censure from some of the narrower minds present. She wants me more than she has ever wanted anyone before, and I find myself longing for the moment when she accompanies me back to my hotel room.
Reassuringly, I resume the kiss, sliding my hands down to curves of her butt cheeks and beginning a deep massage. It's amazing how much pleasure can be derived from such a simple action. Without realising it, she has spread her legs in subconscious invitation, causing her short skirt to tighten like the skin of a drum. I am left with only one option and take it, my fingers creeping underneath to explore the abundance of flesh provided by her thong.
We grind together for a little while under the guise of the music. When I am aroused, my clit becomes swollen to the point of protruding through the fabric of my panties - when and if I happen to be wearing them. On this occasion, I'm not, and as she feels my wetness soak through her thong, my clit probing hers, she gives a low moan.
"Relax, sweetheart," I whisper, directing my soft kisses to her neck, "I'm going to take very good care of you..."
I make no pretences to be anything but a pro in this game - I am always open, and always prepared. Reaching in my pocket, I pull out a small pair of nail scissors. She flinches at the feel of the cold steel against her pussy, but stands obediently as I snip my way through her undergarment. It falls to the ground, and with another crowd surge is left metres behind us.
For a while, I leave her to enjoy the flow of cold air against her naked pussy, directing my attention to her lips for the umpteenth time. Strobes are now ripping through the air, distorting everything in sight, and reducing those around us to jerky silhouettes. The atmosphere is unreal, and suddenly I feel caught in a fantasy of my own. Seizing the opportunity, I take her hands in mine and pull them inside my blouse. She offers no resistance.
As her inexperienced fingers come into contact with my bare breasts, she freezes. My body has been blessed with a firmness that requires little extra support. The bras that I own are merely for the sake of display, part of designer two-piece sets that are suitable for raising the pulse of chambermaids worldwide. Left to my own devices, I rarely bother with the constrictions of underwear. The thrill of being naked beneath my clothes is just one of my many pleasures in life.
The strobes fade and stutter away, her hands still resting uncertainly over my breasts. It feels as though we just lost our golden opportunity. Once again, we are in the glare of a spectrum of flashing colours, lit up for the world to watch. But once again, I have underestimated her. With a mischievous smile and a boldness far from her demure appearance, she takes the weight of my breasts in her hands, feeding off the incredulous stares of those closest to us. The queen of erotica, not even I would have considered going so far in so public an arena.
My nipples tingle as her thumbs circle lightly around them, no millimetre of skin escaping. I hold my breath, spellbound. Without even looking down, I know that my nipples have become rock hard under her gentle touch. As her fingers close around them, we sink into a kiss of awesome intensity, our tongues colliding and twisting over one another, no ounce of passion spared. I feel her breath coming faster and shallower as she squeezes and rolls my nipples, and struggle to maintain my own composure. It is a situation I have never encountered in my entire life—the ice queen is beginning to melt.