Carnal

I dressed in preparation to look divine. Something I was graciously given by someone who knew of my longing for the velvet, for the delight. A gift I could surely never have found. Maybe this was why he asked me out-of-nowhere questions concerning my sizes. This, I concluded, was why.
It was a velvet jacket and a skirt that went all the way to the floor. A deep emerald green that shattered the light when it hit the fabric, once appearing a desolate, drab black. The skirt was hugging, yet so very tasteful, much like candles and their flames. It rose high, to my lower abdominal muscles. It's shaping properties gave definition to the shape of my flattened core, to my now knowledgeable hips, and the silhouette of my legs. In perfect stance, my hips bones could be felt, or maybe even seen, though doubtful unless I removed the coat.
The jacket was just as lush as the skirt. It came in a strong V to the first button, which planted itself below my bust. A single, creamy button, followed by one more I didn't decide to join to its fabric slip. It held the same ethereal quality as the skirt, with the almost magical green appearances here and there. The shoulders were crisp and straight, with the most uniform posture performance clothing has given me. And with the way the skirt flowed so smoothly with the kick of my feet underneath, I looked like I wasn't walking so fast paced and rushed. And underneath it all was a silk black shirt and the most beautiful pair of lingerie I had eyes on for so long before it was able to look ingenious on my body.
I did walk slower. I was surveying the scene with the hierarchy of a Queen. Also, years or cruelty to myself and the desperato I've become to be lean have lent me this easy coolness that I could achieve external beauty. I had gone to a professional for my make up, and gotten what those years and dreams led me too: I was pale. Milky white, crystal, luminescent skin that shimmered with a natural hum to it. It appeared you could look through my flesh to see my veins pumping underneath, and in some steady concentration you could. It was highlights really-due to this one and sole night, I had remained dormant, away from the sun for months to achieve my look. I was going for a black dress before this was presented to me. Even more fitting for my mood.
Tonight was a very special night. It was a ball of all things, but a most elegant one at that. No suit and tie, no. It was an old-age ball. 18th Century. My favorite time. Men had to be in those men's' ways for the evening, and ladies bid adieu to crimpy night skirts, and revealing dress. Formal was the tone. Dance with ease.
I had all desire in the world to see him dressed.

•↭•↭

I was the sole figure walking down the grand hallway. Everyone else was spinning across the floor. I took slow, wise steps down the Zeus's chapel corridor. I saw him there, mine, waiting as a shadow half basked in light, leaning into the hall, bowed, hand to me to take, even if I was just halfway to him. When I smiled and neared him, he rose from his bow and came to grace the center hall.
Magnificent. He pulled my insides out and sprayed them with magic and gave them back. He wore rich red velvet, oh, the frock coat. It was enough to moan and whine at in itself. He wore fine red velvet, and cream colored silks, and a flashy pale to his skin. His eyes stood blasting against his frock coat and silken wear; oh, the longing of my vocal chords to just touch the air he breathed and let it out. Once I neared him, and took his gentlemanly gesture of extended hand, we stalked like two lovers to the ballroom floor. Swayed like a king and queen to depth and soaring experience gloriousness. We embraced in magic tonight, sweet circles made by our feet on the marble floor.

•↭•↭

Our night was spent staring at one another in a grand room. A King sized bed with white, a cherry wood dresser with a gold-embraced mirror. Space to land a miniature airplane. For hours I spent, letting his silhouette make love to my eyes. He was elegant as I had never seen. The silks and the velvet, and the elegance of the gold encrusted, pearl colored ring on his left ring finger. I couldn't get over any of him. I was savoring the very love he was making to my dreamer's eyes, though all he did was sit still.
I too must have the effect. I sat, looking at his severity, his stare so intense it should be a crime.
I couldn't get over the rich, gouache, blood red frock he was wearing! Like someone sacrificed a purest creature's blood onto the white fabric, and turned it into velvet grandeur. The mystery of how it pierced his eyes, making them glow like that of a cat's, and how every miniscule detail was dug up and revealed, made me believe I was just given new eyes that knew no beauty before. He was the embodiment of beauty I've only read about in Anne Rice.
His stare changed however. It became darker, brooding, deep. He tilted his head just a hair down over his hand under his chin, and cut me with it. I felt like being a sacrifice to him, just bare and full of release to him. It was a powerful feeling. And in one gripping motion, we were both on our feet, and he was lacing his hand across the middle of my back, holding me there with our hips kissing, as he breathed across my lips. So close to me he was I felt the hot moisture from his mouth. It made my own water. He touched my mouth with the faintest, almost never-have-happened kiss and it lit me up like seasoned wood to a flame, doused in gasoline.
He laid me back across the bed, the King's bed, and breathed life across my lips, my cheek, my jaw, my neck; all the while leaving his wet heat fading once he glided away. He never actually touched me with his lips, but that busted cocoons of euphoria all over at first, that nestled so low in me I never knew of its existence.
He stared at the fixed button, then took it out of its latch much like a mother would if she were gently dressing a ghastly wound on her child. He opened the coat like a treasure chest-slow to fill anticipation. I leaned up to aid him sliding it off.
I reached out and pulled apart his frock with such a careful consideration because I loved it much like I loved him. Maybe it was the matter that it was his, that he wore it, that his scent bathed it like I wanted it to bathe me. I stared at that coat, smitten, until he looked at me over it and smiled.
His shirt and silks left him in only his underwear now, and he left me with just the skirt and the lingerie on. He was sensual with his touch when he slid his fingertips under the hem and pulled it down like a sheathe to a fine, prized sword. It came off slow, and his eyes ate with every inch he got. I curled one leg a little closer to the other because the circulation in the room was finally on my once concealed flesh. The skirt gone, he simply let it crumple on the floor at the foot of the bed.
His eyes met mine from my feet. Then, never leaving them, he crawled, one hand and one knee at a time, up my torso. His lips met mine in such an embrace. Movement, hands across skin burned away at each of us. My hands across his shoulder to the shoulder blades and also slowly caressing the back of his head. His left hand held him up along with his knees, while his right hand slipped so close to 'me', and slid around to the back of my thigh to clutch my knee. In a powerful nudge, he arched his frame closer to me with our lips still touching, and his hand now squeezed behind my knee, and my leg burning against him. A lot of me was burning, against him or not.
He arched and I leaned to him, still locked to his lips. We breathed, and I could taste his mouth and its delicious moistness in mine. Teeth grazed my lower lip, then his tongue licked at mine, until us breathing and lips making even wetter the other was the only sounds made. Delicious melting core of mine.
We were sitting, our fronts pressed, until a single, unison movement of take and give in made him with his back against the pillows I once felt, and me atop him. It was intimate. It was deep.
It was carnal.
And the expression that King wore was of love and adoration, and knowledge of the melting occurring everywhere on his Queen's body. It was depth and perception like never before. Their intimacy ignited fires. Scorching hot fires.
I kissed him hard and open-mouthed, tongue dancing around his in our Ballroom fashion, and pressed my hips and lingerie to him, and 'his' and his boxers.
Depth and deep like never before.