Shiver

His smile was soft and seductive, and his eyes gleamed, holding her gaze.

"I don't know if you have the time, but I was hoping you would examine some work for me?"

She blinked at his request.

"Like, you want me to edit them?"

"I have a couple of poems in here, and a couple of stories. I was hoping you would read them, and get back to me? Just let me know what you think. I don't want you to edit them....more just like a critique."

"Of course I would. I would be delighted to - you are truly a unique poet."

She watched as he blushed for a second, and that seductive smile played over his lips again.

"Miranda? There is something you should know. The poem I read tonight? It was written for you."

Miranda paused, and seemed to go deaf after those last words.

"Stop it. That is so ridiculous."

The smile slowly faded from his lips, his eyes grew darker.

"I have both of your books, in addition to reading your poetry on the Poetry Swap website. I just love how you arrange your words. So minimalist, so defined, yet very powerful. Your poetry spoke to me. If you noticed, my poem from tonight? It was similar to your work. I have patterned my style after yours, since yours left such an impression."

A lightheaded feeling swept over her. When she reached out to take a drink of water, the table seemed to be a mile away, and her arm longer as she tried to level herself.

"I didn't want to come out and dump this on you. My intentions are to just thank you for the inspiration. Nothing more."

Even though her heart was pounding in her chest, she took a deep breath, and spoke evenly.

"Any writer, no matter what they write, all they wish is for their work to touch just one person. I feel lucky to know you felt something from my writing."

They smiled at each other. He slid the envelope over to her, and smiled again, as the waitress brought the check. She glanced around for Lauren but didn't see any sign of her. His signature was quick, and they both rose.

"Thanks again for coming along tonight. You will see me next Tuesday at the next workshop. The very first poem on the top, I wrote tonight for you. I hope you enjoy it."

He followed her out, and he opened her car door as the heavy wind whipped dusting snow around them. He smiled to her once again, as he closed her door for her. Her eyes were locked to his form, moving through the light snow to his truck. She looked at the envelope, and a quick shiver pushed its way through her bones. She froze, as she thought about his last comment.

"I wrote tonight for you."

There was no denying his talent, but for someone to fixate on her like that, and use her own style of poetry on her. She was simply speechless.

Thoughts of him drifted through her mind on the short drive home. Every time her mind would move along and begin concentrating on something else, something around her would remind her of him, and the process would start all over.

Two am. Again. She tried rolling over, and she saw that Kyle was not in bed. Pushing the covers from her lithe body, she pulled her slippers on and opened the door.

The hallway was dark, but she could see a light on downstairs. Convinced that Kyle was pulling a late night refrigerator raid, she silently slipped downstairs to give him grief.

Arriving at the bottom of the stairs, she was greeted by the kitchen lights. She looked around and, not noticing Kyle, she started moving towards the living room.

Peeking into the living room, she noticed he was not there. She turned to leave and head back upstairs, when the doorbell rang. Her mind feverishly raced as she hurried to the door. Peering through the window near the door, she saw it was Dean. She whipped the door open, her eyes wide with confusion.

His voice was as soft as the breeze blowing through the door. He smiled serenely at her and simply extended his hand.

"Trust me. You will enjoy this."

With her hand in his, she took a step forward onto her porch and closed her eyes.

Upon opening her eyes, she saw a large theater in front of her. Dean was still holding her hand, and now dressed immaculately in slacks and a pressed shirt. She glanced down at herself to see a flowing summer dress hanging from her shoulders, the silk grazing and flirting against her calves as the breeze blew. The theater seemed to be the only thing around, and he steered her towards the door, opening it for her as they neared.

As they walked into the cavernous opening, they seemed to be plunged into a world of black, and she could only feel his hand against her palm. She followed his footsteps, as he sensed where they needed to go.

As though almost on cue, the lights slowly turned themselves up just enough so that Miranda could see. The theater was beautiful, and Dean led her down a row of seats to the middle. The theater was entirely green. The seats were heavy velvet, and a dark kelly green, matching the huge curtain that veiled the stage. The walls were a lighter, muted shade of green, and she seemed to have a sense of calm come over her body. The velvet on the old fashioned seat gave her the impression that it was swallowing her as she settled into it. She crossed her legs, and still holding his hand, her free hand casually glided over his arm.

The curtains unhurriedly drew their way apart, exposing a green stage and six ballerinas, dressed in varied green outfits. The music spilled out into the large empty building, as the dancers began to weave their way around the stage. There was something even green about the music. She watched the movements of the dancers meandering around, entwining themselves as they moved to the music.

Miranda was enjoying the show, and she felt Dean's hand come to life, releasing her hand, and gently caressing her thigh through the thin fabric of her dress. Taking a deep breath, she slid one hand up against his bicep, the other moved to the armrest of her chair. She tried to focus on the dancers, as his hand leisurely kneaded her thigh. Her breath was already coming to her quicker, and she felt those eyes of his boring into her. She glanced at him, and he was gazing at her, his blue eyes magnetic. The world seemed to be spinning, when he leaned in, and softly whispered.

"Pull your dress up for me."

She swallowed hard, and her fingers crept down her thigh. She furtively pulled the silk dress up, surveying as the silk crawled up her shins and over her knees. He lifted his hand, and placed his palm against her knee, and just the feel of his skin against hers extracted a faint moan from her lips.

His palm was warm and slightly rough against the supple flesh of her thigh, as it moved up her leg. Her breathing was already reaching the panic point, her breasts rising and falling, pressing against the silk with every intake of air. Her body was simply taking over and disconnecting her brain from any rational thought. She almost watched with a detached view as her thighs spread, and his fingers grazed against the silk panties that covered her sex. Her core began crying out for his touch now, and her hips slid forward, wanting to feel his flesh against her.

She noticed the dancers were gone, and the music was still playing, but much more softly. His fingers teased again, sending flashes of electricity through her body. She heard his voice again, faintly.

"Come, sit on my lap for a moment."

Taking another deep breath, she slid one leg over him, and straddled him in the oversized seat. The velvet was pleasant against her knees, and she tightened her thighs about him. His eyes pored over her again and she felt herself blush. His hands moved to her hips, and teasingly began pulling her dress up, so that her pale thighs were exposed, the alabaster skin taking a decidedly green tone from the light. Both of his hands skimmed over her thighs, and she moaned again, and tilted her head back, feeling her long hair rustling across her uncovered back. One of his hands moved across her hip, and slid between her legs - the other found its way up her body, and began caressing her breast over the top of her dress. His hand cupped her breast, kneading the soft flesh through the silk, his thumb grinding gently against her nipple. She groaned at his touch, feeling the nipple hardening beneath the cool fabric. Dean's other hand teased her sex, finally slipping between her panties and skin. She groaned even louder as his fingers slipped between her folds, growing wet with each passing second. His finger separated her, and pushed into her delicious canal, pushing a deep moan from her body. His thumb toyed with her clit, grazing over it lightly, while his finger slid deeper.

Her hips were moving on their own now, betraying whatever thoughts her brain may have had. They easily rolled against Dean's hand, and he adjusted, pushing his finger farther into her, finding that rough patch deep within her, letting his fingertip move across it while moving his thumb quickly over her clit.

Miranda squeezed her eyes shut, but it didn't matter. Her vision was replaced with the white hot flashes of her first orgasm, followed by everything turning silver. Her release was all consuming, flooding his hand, forcing her to gasp for air as it subsided. His fingers had slowed, but not stopped, and they slowly dragged Miranda to another orgasm. Another crescendo pounded through her body as she shuddered against him, her small lithe frame molding to his body, her body heaving as she tried to breathe.

His slacks were damp from her orgasms, and she ground down against him, feeling the thickness of him growing beneath her. Her voice was throaty, and desperate.

"I want you, I need to feel you inside me......"

His finger was still buried in her, and it grazed across her special place, and combined with his thumb grinding into her clit, she cried out his name, over and over again. The green fading to silver as she lost herself to another orgasm, her body incredibly anxious for more.

Dean was smiling at her, and leaned forward to kiss her cheek, as the world began spinning again.....

Her eyes flew open again, and she found herself in her bed. Kyle was beside her, sleeping soundly. She rolled over and immediately found the evidence of her dream. Her panties were soaked, her fingers glistening in the pale moonlight pouring through the window. Rising on wobbly legs, she was despondent to see a large wet spot where her hips had been.

She quickly cleaned herself up, and quietly snuck back into bed, the endorphins blindly running through her body creating a serenity in her as she curled up next to Kyle. She glanced back at the clock, before slipping off. It was 2:05.

************

The chills never stopped. They seemed to ebb and flow, almost like the tides of the sea. Each passing day brought new thoughts of the late nights. Her fear of dreaming kept her from enjoying what sleep she did get. When sleep did come, it was fitful.

Even Benjamin had asked her if everything was ok. Normally the model of being pristine, she was coming to work bleary eyed, and people at work were beginning to notice her lack of composure.

She served dinner that night, and Kyle took no notice of her state. After cleaning up, he rolled his fingers through her hair, eliciting a small moan from her lips. She felt that low growl of his sift through her neck, as he teased her skin. That small smile of his didn't hide his intentions, and she kissed his hand, and glanced upstairs.

Laying against him, she felt content, but still wondered if she might be visited again. Her eyes grew heavy as sleep drew near.

Her eyes flashed open. Glancing at the clock, she cursed softly to herself. 2 AM again. Rolling over, she saw that Kyle wasn't there, and that the door was open, again. Her teeth grazed over her lower lip. She rolled back over and squeezed her eyes shut.

It only took her a minute to rise and slip downstairs.

Walking around the first floor, nothing seemed out of sorts. She sat down in the loveseat, and as she took a long cleansing breath, her chest tightened as she heard the doorbell ring.

The heavy wooden door creaked as she pulled it open and watched as Dean simply smiled and extended his hand. Placing her hand into his, she stepped through the door.

Opening her eyes, she was in front of a small café. A waiter guided the couple to a sidewalk table, and she eased into the seat, letting her long skirt drape over her legs. He sat down beside her, and smiled into her eyes.

The two sipped their wine while watching people stroll in front of the small café. Most of the people outside with them were simply drinking, and enjoy the pleasant weather.

Her back arched as his hand slid along her thin red sweater. A flimsy bra only enhanced the sensation on her nipples, and she softly sighed.

It took a minute to notice that all of the buildings were a red color, and even all of the people were wearing different shades of red clothing. It made her body a little warmer.

His fingers lingered over her back, lightly playing with the soft cashmere. He leaned over to her, and she felt like she was twirling. She placed both hands on the table to steady herself, hoping to remain stable.

His breath drifted over her throat, then her ear, never touching her, just teasing her with the whisper of warm wind from his throat. She saw a brilliant blue sky as her head tilted back, and then darkness as her eyes squeezed shut when his lips soothingly touched her skin. Her throat felt spongy, and it yielded a muted moan. Each deep breath pushed her breasts against her sweater, and she gasped again, as his hand played along her thigh.

She was vaguely aware of the people sitting around them when Dean leaned over to her. A chill swept through her body as he gently kissed her throat. His hands seemed to be everywhere, her thigh, her back, idly caressing as if he didn't have a care in the world. Her body was moving on its own, reacting to the touch of his fingers and lips.

A chill swept through her as his lips abandoned her skin. Even while the various shades of red made her feel exceptionally warm, her skin formed goose bumps as he rose beside her.

He shuffled behind her and her eyes deliberately closed. Her hair covered what little of her sight she had, as her head tilted down. His hands were gentle, yet firm, splayed across her shoulders, and his thumbs arched down against her shoulder blades. They swept in large circles, creeping down her spine. A chorus of fingers moved down her back, and then plodded back up. Inch by inch, they crept up to her neck, rhythmically milling against the cashmere of her sweater, and her skin.

His fingers slithered through her hair like they were cutting through a flowing ebony liquid. She sighed as the tips of his fingers shifted, gently caressing her scalp. His fingers pressed harder, and then gently smoothed again. Her breath was beginning to quicken, as her skin was already radiating with warmth.

His hands parted ways with her skin, and she felt herself lifted to her feet. She looked up into his eyes and he smiled softly to her, as he shifted over the table.

The clattering of dishes followed his arm sweeping across the table, sending everything off onto the sidewalk. She gasped at the sudden noise, and was even more shocked to feel herself lifted off her feet and on to the table.

Dean just smiled and began pulling her skirt up. She was completely aware of the people seated around her, watching the two of them intently. She squirmed, a last shred of shyness fighting to keep her sane. He leaned into her and whatever fight she had subsided, and her arms wrapped about his shoulders, his fingers continuing to pull up her skirt. She felt like the eyes watching them were boring into her, almost frying her, as their gaze fell upon her exposed thighs.

He moved in closer, like he was attempting to shield her from everyone's gaze, but she could feel his hands moving against the bottom of her sweater. She leaned against his body, feeling the heat radiating from him in waves. He casually pulled the sweater up, and her skin chilled as the cool air met it.

Her teeth bit her lower lip as he lifted the sweater over her head. The long strands of ebony cascaded along her back and her breasts pushed against the thin bra she still had on. His hands guided her shoulders back, until she was laying against the table. Her breasts rose and fell with each breath she took. Her eyes closed with each breath, and he faded from her view.

She gasped again as she felt his warm breath flooding over the inside of her thigh. His hands gripped her thighs, and eased them further apart. His hair tickled along her stomach, as his head slid lower. He bypassed her hips, and she felt his smooth cheek glide along her thigh. His lips taunted her skin, skimming along her curves. A low moan pushed from her throat, as his lips rose higher.

His fingers glided and flirted with her hips, and she felt her panties being dragged to the side. Any awareness of the people watching was forgotten as his fingers caressed her folds, almost slippery with her own desires. Her hips rocked forward, trying to thrust themselves against his mouth. She groaned loudly, her head already whipping from side to side. His lips flitted over her, and her mouth stretched into an "O" as his tongue separated her. It pushed into her, the perfect combination of soft and hard, gathering her wetness as it slid up and down. Her vision was already streaming from red and turning silver.

Her hips moved seemingly on their own, grinding against the table and his mouth. Her moans were going louder, and as her eyes flashed open, she found that people were gathering around her table. Her fingers wound their way through his hair, pulling him roughly against her. His tongue dug into her, flickering within her.

His mouth lifted, and his lips covered her clit, sucking the small pearl into his mouth as his finger pushed into her. His finger tantalized her, and her own fingers tightened on his hair, and she screamed his name out. His mouth lifted slightly, and she trembled as the tip of his tongue mocked her skin again.

She was gasping for air, then the finger ground against that rough patch deep within her. Her hips shook, and she screamed out his name again. His lips pulled at her clit again, and her body shook as another orgasm overtook her. Her eyes opened and closed, not seeing the throng of people gathering around them. Her hair was casting a dim shadow against the table as her head whipped from side to side.

His fingers and tongue dragged her along slowly. Her body was tingling, her skin on fire wherever his touch was. His fingers alternated pressure, stronger as his tongue waned, and lighter as his tongue teased. The effect was building slowly, and as his fingers teased that rough patch again, she couldn't stop. Her body began an achingly slow release that filtered the color from her sight, and flooded his hand as she shook.

Her body wasn't done, and she felt the thick head of his cock pressing against her dripping folds. He brought her legs up and pushed his cock into her. Her eyes opened, and she blushed at the people gathered around her, but she was concentrating on the body moving against her.

She looked up at him and saw his shirt was somehow off, his body glistening with a sheen of sweat. His hips rolled into her, pushing his cock in, withdrawing slowly each time. Her body pulled at his, each of his thrusts slow and delicious.

Spasming each time the head of his cock grazed against that rough patch, she felt herself propelled to a higher place. A sense of euphoria came over her as she surrendered herself to yet another orgasm. Screaming his name over and over again, she felt an awkward pressure on her side. Squeezing her eyes shut, she tried to ignore it, but it grew in force. She finally opened her eyes and saw Dean's smiling face, and felt his body slapping against hers, as the world began to spin again.