Stars

The hall was enriched with a feather-like glow of deep orange and red, the dark pine of the main table  indulged and decorated with heavenly foods and dark wines.

The tiny flicker of multicoloured tea lights highlighting the silk and satin drapes that hung proudly from the sloping walls, in heavy colours of India purples and blushing fuchsias.

A masked ball of delight.

Dazzling gowns and twinkling diamonds hanging from the ears and necks of the rich, their faces hidden by a collection of handmade masques of glitter and feathers.

In their minds they play a game of seduction.

Need.

Obsession.

Their hands fondling at the dinner table.

Wondering and exploring.

Their toes curling around decorated thighs.

Tiptoeing and teasing.

Wet.

Hard.

Their sighs and moans echoing around the halls.

Gowns ripped.

Ties thrown to the ground.

Her face a picture of delight.

His face a quirky smile, knowing exactly what she wants.

Making her cum.

Making him cum.

Hands.

Mouths.

Circling.

In a hall of lost passion.

That seems to be no more.

 

© Copyright of Charlotte Thorpe