Silk Scarf Ch. 4

At first, those couple of months ago, you started shaving as a lark. An impulse that ultimately led to the total enjoyment of the feel of silk against your mound. You found yourself shopping for just the right cut, one that would move against you as you went through the day. Almost constant thoughts of your liaisons were running through your mind. Everyday the images were growing stronger, not fading like most. Memories awakening desires imbedded deeply within you.

Your changes have been subtle, but effective. Your hair is a little better kept, you have returned to working out everyday. He must be watching me, from somewhere. You need to look good for him. Dresses a little shorter, blouses slightly tighter, heels mildly taller. Your step has a new bounce to it. As strange as it seems to you, you feel happy inside again. For the first time in a long time and it shows. Even those around you have begun to notice. Frequently you are asked at work, about the new look, the new attitude. Even work is less frustrating. The days seem to fly by, except for those moments of fear that you might be caught.

Sitting at your desk trying to compose a letter to a disgruntled customer, your mind wanders. After the last encounter you have spent many hours trying to figure out whom your secret, love, or is it just lust, might be. Is it someone you work with? You have gone over in your mind every possible individual that you know, or have even seen in the building. No one seems to fit you know so little. He seems to be fairly well built, suggesting youth, but this is the nineties, and a lot of older men stay in shape. He must be fairly well off, judging by the interiors that you have managed to see. Thinking over all the prospects, nobody seems to fit the equation.

Strange though, its been over a month now, and no more contact. Maybe he's gone, gone for good. Would that be best, you ponder. Yes, best, but not what you want. This man, this invisible ghost has awakened you, brought you forth into the world of pleasure. Perhaps even the world of love. Can you love someone you've never even spoken with, someone that you are with only like you have been? Where does love begin and lust end, can they be the same, co-existing. This is a new thought. Would love be possible?

Perplexed, you rise, and make your way down the hall to the water fountain. The stroll, moving your mind from the complexities of this relationship, to the movement of the silk against the bare skin between your legs. You smile to yourself, enjoying knowing that the fabric is having its sought after effect, and those around you are none the wiser. If they only knew. The slipping over your hidden body takes you back, back to that magic moment, and that magic tongue. You moisten at the thoughts, a small burning starting deep within. You blush slightly at the thought that you are going to do again that which you swore never to do. A small sip at the fountain and a furtive glance around as you enter the ladies room. At least this company had a little taste here. In stead of the tile floors, surrounded by sinks, mirrors, and stalls, the room has been well done.

Individual private toilets each with its own small door, runs down one wall. The opposite wall completely covered with mirrors. A small shower at one end is provided for those who like to work out at lunch. Hair dryers, hair spray, are all available. More like a locker room than most corporate bathrooms.

You glance around as you enter, checking to see if the private rooms are empty. You are alone, like before. Standing before the floor to ceiling mirror, you examine yourself closely. You look closely to the sheepish grin that passes your lips. You know, and your body knows what you are about to do, again. A finger nail traces lightly across the black body hugging dress flared at the waist into a full short skirt. You watch as your nipples arise to the tender touch. Another more strong crossing of your finger, and you savor the growing heat deep within. Your hands close full over you, your back arching into the clutch. You can detect the full hardness of the flesh underneath. Another squeeze, slow but firm, then with hands at your sides you admire the shape showing through the top of the dress.

Another glance around the room, still empty, must be the time of day, same as last time. You turn in the mirror, watching the skirt open with the movement. Enjoying the view from behind as you are given a glimpse of the red thong moving between your thighs. Hands press the material firm against you. Hips thrust to the contact. Second room to the right, you move in that direction. The little almost full door closes. Thank GOD it has a lock.

Quickly now, lest someone enter you reach under the skirt. This is not like the tub at home, this is hurried, a need to be fulfilled. Panties moving quickly down your bare legs. You step from them. Not wanting to let them rest on the floor. You seek a perch for the panty, none to be found. The material damp from you, carries the scent that you recognize so well. Resting them on your shoulder, you raise the skirt. Your hand slides across the full already moist mound. Then again, fully caressing that which has become so controlling in your life now. Another pass, and you smile with satisfaction at the wetness.

The room area too small to open fully you place one leg upon the commode, the other wobbly in the heel. Hand moving again back and forth, the motion repeated over and over. The sensations growing. You clasp the full of you in your hand. You feel how the lips have engorged, and spread themselves slightly. Slick and smooth like a newborn baby. The dampness covering you completely. Never until the last few months have you gotten this wet. Hand releasing and clutching again. A fingertip barely inserted. Hips out thrust, lust growing. One finger curled to reach in, hips moving you against the touch that you crave so much now.

Two voices, heard, women talking at the running sink. You hadn't heard them come in. Listening closely for signs of discovery you return to inward thoughts. Hips moving slower now, but the excitement is still there. Finger going deeper, lips clenched against the sounds. Giggling in the background. Two fingers moving deep. The other hand moving to that special spot. Circles slow and firm. Strokes from top to tip, and back to circles.

Two fingers moving out, the wetness following. Lips parting, wanting growing. Fingers move in slowly, strokes firmer. You feel the warm wetness within you. The soft hidden flesh surrounds your deep touch. Muscles inside crying out, fingers withdrawn. Three taken in, you open wider, savoring the intense pleasure. Stroking from the other finger faster, your hear the noises, from your body, seeming to echo off the walls. Still you climb. Fingers thrusting, again and again. Stretching you, that full feeling so needed. Your clit surrounded by your thumb and fore finger, stroked as if a man.

A door closing, silence again. Hands moving faster, fingers probing, and stoking, the top is there. Your muscles deep inside grab at your fingers, your hips move on their own. The stroking faster, more deliberate. The wetness, that is you, running over your palm and down to your wrist. One more deep push, fingers moving wildly within, your whole body coming together in that one place, a muffled scream, a flood of release. Still your hands touch, slower now, riding the wave back down. Gently you continue to stroke, body so sensitive now, too hard would make you scream. Heart slowing, eyes opening again, you flush with excitement and embarrassment.

Your scent fills the air musky, sexy. Your immediate need dissipates. The desire momentarily under control. Still, after the other night, not put to sleep. Seeking something to clean up with you realize that the roll is empty. Remembering the last taste, you bring your fingers to your mouth, enjoying the taste and the texture of yourself. Panties used to finish cleaning you straighten the rumpled dress, and open the door.

Two hands full of water splashed on your face, a paper towel or two later, you stop at the fountain again, on the way back to your desk. Flushed at what you have gotten away with again, you realize that this has to stop. But it feels so damn good. Now you know, feel, the constant need that has befallen you. Where has this come from? All you know is it comes from deep within and the need is great.