Her skin shone in the flickering candlelight as she lay back on the white tablecloth. I longed to touch her, to trace my fingers over the line from just beneath her breast, over her ribs, around the slender dip of her waist - to touch my lips to hers, to lay on her, our skin together, our bodies one -
She closed her eyes. Our perfumes merged, and with a small smile on her lips, she brought her arms up, over her head, letting her hands fall into the space at the end of the table. She arched her back. She was perfect – she was everything I’d ever imagined.
I picked up the jug. Ice cold double cream. I added a pinch of edible silver glitter, stirred it with my finger.
I went to the head of the table.
“Are you sure?” I asked her. “You don’t have to, you know.”
She opened her eyes and stared into mine. Then she reached, not for the double cream, but for me. She pulled me closer, slid a hand underneath my short uniform. Somewhere behind us, the sound of conversation grew closer, but she kept my gaze as she moved my panties to one side.
“You want this as much as I do,” she whispered.
“No, I –”
“You should stay,” she said, softly.
The door rattled.
“I can’t,” I said. “I’m not meant to.”
“Let us in!” Someone laughed. “Come on!”
she slid her finger between my lips, searching for my clit. I knew should go – they’d be there any second, but –
oh God, she found me.
as the door opened, the men came striding into the room, but she didn’t stop – and somehow, I didn’t move.
I heard their calls, their whistles, but I couldn’t tear my eyes from hers. I opened my legs a little further and she pressed harder, and inside me, deep inside, I felt the rush begin.
“Gentlemen,” she said, taking the jug from me with her other hand. “Merry Christmas.”
As the waves broke inside me, she poured the cream over her chest, over her beautiful breasts, and the men stepped closer.