Revenge

Revenge is a dish best served cold.

Oh, Lisa does know this too well. She can taste the sweetness of the revenge she is about to achieve.

She adjusts the small straps on her skin tight Cleopatra dress. The black wig lays smooth, covering her shimmering golden blonde hair. Bright blue eyes stare back at her from the mirror, nothing like her cat-like green eyes she is used to seeing.

How she loves costume parties, a reason to be someone different.

A dusting of gold powder across her skin, perfumed with pheromones to help her cause, and a golden mask to slide over her face concludes her preparations. She wants no one to recognize her tonight, least of all him.

It was not that long ago, just a year, but a man like him seldom remembers hearts he has broken along he way. He turned on his charm, showing his gentlemanly ways. She was immediately taken in by him. He used her and left her, feigning a previous broken heart, and a lack of interest on his part, even though he was the one to pursue her. During nights of crying into her pillow, and trying to mend her own now broken heart, her plan formed.

A touch of golden lip-gloss sliding across her lips, she takes a last glance in the mirror before heading out of the bathroom and into the crowded room.

Her body glides past people dressed in all sorts of costumes, but her eyes only scan the crowd for one man, and he is not hard to find.

Leaning up against the wall, cloaked in a long brown trench coat and fedora, she knows his look right away. Classic and classy, he draws attention with the simplicity. No mask covers his handsome face. He wants all the women to be able to look at him. A glass of scotch rests between his fingers as he leans on the bar, his eyes slowly caressing over a woman with her back to him. She is dressed as Marilyn Monroe (how unoriginal).

Lisa lets her sandaled feet slide across the polished floor without a sound, being careful not to draw attention to herself, though she feels a dozen pairs of eyes on her already. But tonight she is only interested in one man. The white dress brushes against her legs, sending shivers of excitement through her. She can feel the wetness slick between her thighs, having left her panties at home this time.

“Mr. Bogart”, her voice is low and sultry as she slides up beside him, her eyes twinkling past the holes in the mask.

“Ah…a lovely Cleopatra. How does a man like me come into such luck?” He raises her hand to his lips and brushes a kiss across it.

A blush threatens to creep across her cheeks, but she just smiles slyly. “It seems that I am the lucky one tonight sir, to have found you…unoccupied.”

A deep chuckle erupts from his throat, still not letting go of her hand. “That is not such a rare thing.” He tucks her hand in the crook of his arm, making her edge closer to him. “May I buy you a drink tonight?”

“White wine.” She simply pats his arm, not pulling away. She has his interest, and his attention. She can feel his heat through the cloth of his sleeve. The white shirt has been unbuttoned at the collar already, and the tie loosened to offer relief from the warmth of the room.

The bartender places the glass on the bar, and the gentleman pushes a bill across the marble, not saying a word, or looking her way. His fingers wrap around the stem of the glass and he hands it to her, making sure that their fingers brush against each other. He picks up his glass and steers her to the large glass doors on one wall, and she follows, knowing his moves.

He needs to feel he is in control, to have a woman follow his lead without questions. And she offers just what he wants from her, knowing she will get all she wants in just a bit.

The doors opens up into a lush garden, filled with an assortment of bushes and flowers, lampposts placed to cast light and shadow where it was needed and where it wasn’t. Benches are set far enough apart, some in the light for those couples who wanted to be seen together, and less lit ones for those who want to get to know each other a bit better. The latter type is the one she was hoping he would pick, and he did not disappoint her.

She sits beside him, taking a sip of her wine. Her eyes capture his as she licks at her lips. She watches his gaze flicker down to peek at her tongue as it snakes between her glistening lips. His body leans into hers.

“You seem familiar,” his warm breath brushing her skin as he whispers in her ear. His lips caress her neck, and she feels him inhale the scent of her body.

“I am sure you must be mistaken, sir.” Her fingers run up his trouser covered thigh, letting her palm rest heavy on his leg.

She feels his hand reaching up to cup her opposite cheek, gently tilting her head to give his lips access to her bare throat. His tongue runs up, touching softly to her earlobe, before continuing along her jaw line. Backing away just a bit, he looks deeply into her eyes, seeing the lust she feels, before leaning in to press his lips to hers. First they touch softly, before he deepens the kiss, showing his urgency.

His hand moves up her ribs, feeling her nipple strain beneath her silky dress. She has thought to leave them free, knowing how much this would spur on his lust. Grasping one between his fingertips, the nipple is tugged and twisted expertly. She lets a soft moan come from her throat.

Her hand roams as she wants, moving over his chest, his abs, and down to find his hardness already straining against his trousers. Rubbing up and down, she feels him twitch against the tight fabric, leaving a damp spot where the tip presses.

Hs fingers pull at the dress, inching the hem higher and higher, exposing her legs to the night air. His hand is warm and strong against her skin, brushing away the chill. She lets her legs part, giving him his control. She has to hold back a smile as he does all that she has thought he would. It was true that a leopard never changes his spots.

He breaks the kiss, reaching for her mask. She shakes her head, not letting him take it from her. He just shrugs, his eyes moving across her body. He sees her nipples press against her dress, dark spots behind the white fabric. His head bends down, taking one between his lips, sucking it though the cloth. His teeth nip at it, bringing it to a peak. Her hand takes off his hat, running her fingers through his hair, and holding his mouth to her. Her other hand still presses against his manhood, never letting up the pressure.

His hand nudges her legs apart, sliding farther under her dress to find the wetness that has glided down between her thighs. She hears him moan as he inches closer to what he sought. His fingers brush against her mound, finding it smooth and inviting. Her lips pout, wanting to feel his touch, and he obliges. Parting her lips, he slides one long finger deeply into her, feeling her warmth surround him.

His other hand slides the strap of her dress off her shoulder, edging it down to expose her breast to his gaze before suckling on it. He cannot get enough of her creamy skin. He longs to lick every inch of her.

His thumb brushes against her nub, coaxing her. He wants to see how much passion this mystery woman has before he fills her.

She wiggles her hips, feeling him playing with her, urging her on. And she lets him play, wanting him to touch her, and please her. Waves of pleasure course through her as she lets him bring her to her first orgasm. She moans, whimpering to him.

Her chest heaving, he lifts his head to look at her, and her hands then go to work. She deftly slides open the zipper of his trousers, letting his cock spring free from its confinement. She coos, showing him her pleasure in seeing such a masterpiece. His chest puffs slightly, and she almost lets out a giggle. But instead, she merely licks her lips before leaning forward to engulf his cock with the warmth of her mouth.

Her lips wrap around him, sucking gently at the throbbing flesh. His hands rest on her shoulders, and he lets out a moan. Slowly, not wanting him to find his pleasure yet, she will not let him guide her. His hands try to gently push her, wanting to set the rhythm himself, but now she is in control. Over and over, her lips continue to glide over his skin, letting her tongue tickle along the bottom of his cock.

Finally, when she feels he is close to the edge, she backs off, letting him slip from her mouth. She sits up, smiling to him. She wants more. He lays her back on the bench, sliding off the seat to kneel on the grass. He spreads her thighs wide before him, and his tongue licks up one long leg. Holding his mouth over her mound, not touching, just breathing, he then licks his way down the other leg.

She wiggles, wanting more. And he gladly obliges.

His tongue slowly parts her lips, now shining with the wetness he had coaxed from her before. He can taste her sweetness on his tongue, and he dives in for more. Again and again he tastes her, coating his mouth with her juices and urging her to give him more. And give she does, flooding onto his tongue as he plays. Again and again she finds her pleasure.

Kissing his way up her exposed flesh, he pulls her atop of him, sitting up himself so she can wrap her legs around him. She feels him nudge at her opening. His hands cup her backside and he lifts her slightly, just enough to open her wide to him, and slides effortlessly inside. She wraps her arms around his neck, moving her hips against him slowly and seductively.

She moves her body on his, feeling him buried deep within her. She takes her pleasure from him, but does not give him enough to find his release. She keeps him hanging on the edge as she feels her passion overtake her.

Finally, he grabs her. Falling onto the grass, he pounds into her. He is unable to contain himself anymore. She opens wide to him, feeling him plunge deeper and deeper. His cock hardens more, filling her. She welcomes it, wrapping tightly around him.

He thrusts hard, letting his seed flow into her, letting out a growl of passion. She cries out, her passions matching his own. Grinding his hips against hers as he releases all that he has in him.

He rolls off of her, letting her pull her dress down to cover herself. He looks at her, wondering who this woman is.

She smoothes a hand over her hair, and adjusts the mask over her face, making sure her disguise is still in place. She leans over to place a chaste kiss on his lips before rising from the ground.

“Your name?” He questions her, his eyes begging.

She just smiles, brushing a few blades of grass from her dress.

“Will I see you again?” He pleads.

She merely caresses his cheek before turning and walking away. She ears him moan in frustration as she walks back inside.

The next morning, Lisa strolls by his desk, and not looking, drops a golden mask on his desk.

And he sputters as she walks away.