Touch

Chapter 2| Only Me

My limbs fell slack, and if it weren't for his other arm slicked around my waist I would have met the floor quite unceremoniously.

The knot in my throat suddenly receded giving way to the most wanton of moans to ever escape my lips.

How desperate did I sound?

At that moment, I might as well have been a cat in heat incapable of controlling my emotions because I simply couldn't.

All he did was stand there, and when he touched me, he was hardly invasive, if at all, and I lost it.

If having someone wrapped around your finger was a person, it would be me. You would find my picture right next to the term.

At his command, I trembled, at his command, I panted, at his command came the strongest orgasm I had ever experienced and he didn't even touch me, at least not in the way that I wanted him to.

The sound of his voice reverberated through me as he chuckled, breathing life into parts of me both long forgotten and newly discovered.

As he groped, tugged, nibbled, and claimed me with his nimble fingers, and soft lips, I felt the longing build with a new intensity.

I was in sensory overload, and wanted, no needed my second release, and just as I was about to reach the crescendo, he stopped.

He walked out, leaving me in his office. Not a single word, not a single sound except the close of a door signaling the end of our encounter.

The most frustrating part was that I didn't come crashing back down. I was teetering on the edge of euphoria and there was nothing I could do about it.

While it was a sure fast way to resurface from the fog I was in, it didn't take away from how frustrated I was. I shook my head, trying to come to grips with what just occurred, I needed to get myself together.

One look in the mirror was enough to let me know that there was no way I could return to the gala downstairs.

My face was flushed, my hair undone, my dress wrinkled, and there was no way I could go back in that room and face him, much less be in his presence.

After what just took place, I was still too worked up, and that was enough to help me decide that the night had come to its conclusion.

I gathered myself and made a beeline for the elevator, but the wait felt like an eternity. As I waited, I paced back and forth, counted backward from one hundred, doing all that I could to distract myself from the tightly wound knot that I couldn't seem to shake and the man responsible for it.

The more thought of him, the stronger the longing became.

Wondering why the elevator had not yet reached my floor, I pushed the button five times as though that would make it come faster. Still, it wasn't enough to deter my thoughts.

My breathing grew deep, my temperature shot up. This was not normal reaction-had I really been that deprived or was it him?

The elevator finally reached my floor, and for the first time, I felt relief. I stepped in hitting the lobby button five more times as if it would make the elevator doors close faster.

I had to get home, I needed to satisfy this need, I needed to forget about him, yet I instinctively knew I couldn't.

Just as quickly as the thought came, it disappeared becausee I knew; only his touch could relieve me of the ache burning through me. Only his touch could bring me that kind of euphoria again. Only his touch.

That was the thought that kept repeating itself over and over again in my head as I waited for the doors to close.

"Only me," his voice rang loud and clear in my head as the silhouette of a man appeared at the other end of the dimly lit hallway. Before I could respond the doors closed, descending to lobby.