Jazz

 It started out with a feeling between them, their hands searching under the table.

Brassy jazz playing around them in echoes.

Their glasses clinking, allowing a drop of martini to spill on to their lips.

Fingertips running along softness to catch the drip of the icy liquid from falling carefully.  

Their legs wrapped like ribbon.

Complete boundless pleasure.

Stockings against suit trousers.

Breath against neck.

Hands brushing away the urgency that filled their hearts.

They did not care.

Dewy wetness of her seeping onto his fingers.

Her open moans filling the smoky room, puffing out in tiny streams of lights.

His smile generous and open.

Her red silk dress falling to the side revealing Lacy stocking tops.

His kisses forcing her lips to bruise and stain.

His hands pushing her legs further and further apart.

The feel of her snapping at the pressure.

Her body rising and falling.

The dark curls of her hair falling delicately to frame her crimson face.

The room seeming glittery, almost whirling to her eyes.

His fingers working harder and faster.

Pulling the pleasure from her.

The feel of her warmth overwhelming his senses entirely.

The silkiness running the length of his hands.

Her body arching in the smooth darkness of her seat. 

He loved her.

In that moment.

He realised he loved her.

 

© Copyright of Charlotte Thorpe