Red Cloak of Abandon
By Shirl Anders
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Red Cloak of Abandon |
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Full Page Excerpt from "Red Cloak
of Abandon"
Law knew what was going to happen at the same time he wondered why he dreaded it. Why dread? He was in his own home. No one could see him. Damnation, he had needs, didn’t he? He was a healthy man. A healthy young man, who had made one tragic mistake, one inexperienced miscalculation. Damn, he would not think of that now! Law shook his head, relieving his memories to attack him relentlessly later as they always did. But now he would relieve himself, or exorcize a vision, or just be a man. He did not know which, but he did know he would not use his willpower to stop it and he wondered why he would want to. Then, he purposely tilted his head back and set his mind to a vision. The woman was faceless but her gown was split open with her large bare breasts exposed. They were pale fleshed, dripping with sweat as they bounced heavily with her movements around the inner sanctum of the boxing ring. Her long chestnut colored hair with strands of deeper red and honey colors swayed and flowed around her petite height as she moved. This was not a boxing fight with fists raised. This was a sexual dance where she challenged him to see all that she was and capture it, appreciate it, and savor it. Affinity clutched Law’s journal to her breasts, standing nearly on her tiptoes as she peered around the open doorway into the almost completely dark study. Her heart was hammering in her chest at nearly being caught sneaking around Law’s house like a thief by his unexpectedly swift return. Suddenly there was a resounding bong sounding down the hallway from her and Affinity started, darting her gaze in that direction. It was only the grand clock in the hallway ringing the time of midnight. Midnight? Heavens, had she been prying through Law’s home that long? It had been hours, but then of course, she had found Law’s personal journal . . . a personal sexual journal, and reading it had engrossed her immediately. For hours it appeared. A journal that she needed desperately to return to the study where Law now moved about in. The only light was from the fireplace which Law now went over to stir, adding another piece of wood and making the flames dance higher. The golden red of the light illuminated the side of Law’s face and caught the dark highlights in his thick brownish blonde hair and the ever-present dark shadow on his jaw seemed chiseled at sharper angles in the firelight. Affinity’s heartbeat fluttered erratically and it was not because she had broken into Law’s home and wantonly rifled through his things. It was because when Law straightened and turned away from the fire, she saw that since entering the study, he had completely unbuttoned his shirt. . . . I ponder in my masculinity whether I would be brave enough to touch my male nipples. That passage from Law’s journal flitted through Affinity’s thoughts unexpectedly and took on new meaning as she gazed at Law’s chest. She found herself foolishly praying that wherever he moved in the room that it would afford her a clear view of his tight muscled and lightly hairy chest. The pangs of pleasure that had been throbbing ever higher in her sex, in her clit, while reading Law’s intimate journal, now took up intense bites that pulsed into her core. It rooted her to the spot and whitened her fingers gripping the journal to her oversensitive breasts. That grip of her fingers was fighting the urge to rush lower and rub deeply between her thighs at the aches bouncing in her pussy. Then, her gaze widened and a second later her eyelids lowered as though a husky purr had run through her mind at the sight of Law sprawling in a wing chair. The angle of the blue-tufted chair gave her an unfettered view of Law, relaxed into it folds, yet with some unnamed tension about him. Perhaps, it was her intense gaze clinging to the sight of Law with his shirt fallen open, showing the rippled muscles of his belly. My god, nothing she had seen in her young life had looked this utterly masculine and as divine as Law’s body, chipped and lean with his sinew tautly defined. He held a glass of liquor in one hand, yet it was his other hand that completely mesmerized her gaze. He was completely unaware of her presence. He was relaxing alone in his home, perhaps relaxing after helping another prostitute come into the light this evening. The benefactor of another lady of the night, who might have told him other sexual feats that he could ponder in his private journal. And that was why his hand was slowly rubbing over the outline of his cock beneath the black material of his breeches. Affinity’s very core quivered as she watched him, trying fiercely to keep her breath from gasping. She should leave! She should set the journal on the hallway table and sneak away. Maybe he would never know. Perhaps he would always wonder how it got there. He might blame a servant. They could be fired for thievery. Touching something so private would make anyone furious. She could steal it, stuff it into her breeches now and flee. She wanted it. She never wanted to let it go. How could she wonder the rest of her life what else was written there. Then, without realizing it, while her gaze was watching Law’s hand with his lean strong fingers slowly caressing-. She just did it! She stuffed the journal into the back of her breeches. It was held by the banded waist and covered by her wool sweater. To keep her hands free, she assured herself as a passage from Law’s journal floated unbidden through her mind. . . . I have never had a woman’s mouth pressed to my swollen cock before. She could not leave! Nothing in her soul could make her that first step. It might be a sin or damnation upon her soul, but she had to watch. It was a living breathing thing inside of her and the desire of it made her knees weak.
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