The astonishing goings-on in a small alcove near the Ladies room restored my faith in the inspirational power of weddings. At first, all I heard was a woman's soft whimpering voice and a man's throaty growl. I couldn't tell what they were saying, but there was heat. Unsure whether it was a commonplace grope in the hallway or a damsel in distress, I approached quietly and listened hard. From as near as I could get and still remain entirely out of sight, I heard the man's voice:

"..and who owns your desire, my pet?"

Then the woman's, "You do, Master."

Good God. Was this some bimbo playing up to a rich old fart or just a couple of Renn Faire rejects?  I risked exposure by moving one step closer so I could actually see them. The image left me spellbound. "Master" was an average-looking guy in his 30s, the look of passion and hunger in his eyes unmistakable. His "pet" was equally enraptured, sodden with arousal that left her heavy-lidded, full lips parted. His casual toying with her pearl necklace seemed to give her a pleasure unwarranted by the simple action, until I noticed that he was not just running his fingers along the choker but tightening it, bead by bead, around a finger. Her blue-eyed gaze did not register each twist but remained locked with his, and as she withstood, his mouth, too, opened.

When he bent forward, so did I, watching intently as he gently kissed her bottom lip then began to suck on it. My view was blocked as he began to feast on her mouth, so I looked where I could: at her small breasts, rising and falling with quick shallow breaths, until they stopped, completely. Time stood still. I heard his moans as he continued to cut off her oxygen and devour her sweet, full lips and her tongue. I wanted to reach out and touch her chest, to feel her heart beating as she gave herself over to this stillness, to this pleasure in yielding control, in surrendering completely.

I held my breath. She was so very silent, and I longed to see exactly how he used her, how she was responding. I could not look away. Was he still tightening the necklace, or had he stopped, satisfied that he had what he needed of her submission to bring them both the pleasure they sought? He continued to taste her, and she continued to surrender. Was she feeling dizzy—as I was? How long could she stand it? As my gaze began to cloud and my knees to weaken, I was shocked into an involuntary, gasping breath by the sudden loud clatter of beads across the tile floor. I focused and looked at the couple. The woman had sunk to her knees and lowered her head, her cheek pressed to the man's polished black dress shoe. He was laughing gently, watching the pearls skitter this way and that, then he bent forward to stroke her long hair. Though I knew he would see me if he only turned his head a little, I couldn't move. I didn't want to move. And when he stood straight again, he looked right at me. He held my gaze with an easy, genial power and smiled. I returned the smile.



~~~



Copyright 2004



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