She hears a knock at the door, but she doesn’t answer. Beyond the door of the bathroom there is movement—the jangling of keys, footsteps, the smooth jazz on the radio, and the distant, imperceptible sound of a man humming softly to the saxophone, this same man who danced with her and made her feel special. He is tall and slim and muscular in the right places. He opens the door and unravels his bathrobe. He doesn’t say anything, only hums as though underneath his humming looms a rhapsody of intense longing, all for her. He has dark hair and walnut skin, espresso eyes and a dimpled chin, and she wonders where she had seen him before. He yearns for nothing more than to climb into the bath with her, which he does, his bathrobe doffed on the wet tile, his body sinking deep into the bubbles as she unwinds her legs around his shoulders and invites him into her. ... And then the phone rang. She let the answering machine take it. She was too relaxed to move, the hot water a sedative and the. I knelt beside her and slowly trailed my tongue and lips over her body. My mouth worked its way over her face, ears, nape of her neck, breasts. Her breasts received much attention, until her nipples almost ached with distended hardness. Keeping them elongated with my fingers I moved my mouth down her body, always slowly, down her belly. Tanya spread her legs in anticipation of my mouth on her pussy. I bypassed the pleasure palace. My tongue trailed down each thigh, each leg, to her toes. She became hotter and hotter. Her words urged me to please now fuck her. At last I snail trailed my way up a thigh towards her sex. I knelt between her thighs, raised her legs, one over each of my shoulders, used my hands to open her sex to my mouth, and dipped my tongue into her slit. She was hot, very hot, very wet. Her clit was hard. I stroked my tongue softly, feather like, up and down her sex. Her body writhed. I nibbled her clit. I slid my tongue into her vagina. Gradually I built up the.
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