"He paced slowly as he spoke, eyes feasting on white flesh against the crimson sheets under her. The bed, a heavy four-poster with a canopy frame, was positioned at the very center of the room. At first sight it was an imposing structure, a fusion of dark carved woods and burnished metal in an old-world Mediterranean style. As he circled it, he studied her from every angle. Her thin wrists were stretched above her head, bound by two feet of cord secured to a grille of metal bars at the headboard. A tangle of brown hair framed her face, one eye hidden behind sweat-soaked strands that clung to her forehead and cheek. Her open lips waited, red and full, poised, ready at the next instant to beg him to finish her.'Such wanton elegance, ' he mused. 'Delicate shoulders carved from the purest alabaster... white breasts firm enough to mimic stone, yet soft enough to allow cherry-red nipples to quiver with each breath... the flat belly, showing a hint of muscle beneath it, as though carved by a. Monnie wore dark glasses and her eyes scanned the tables outside, not intentionally but it just seemed natural. Her eyes rested on two men sat at one of the wooden tables outside and her heart missed a beat. The two men sat opposite each other, she thought they may be father and son as they looked alike. The older man looked up and Monnie's legs nearly gave way beneath her. "You OK?" her husband asked. She tingled all over. "Yes, why? Just stepped on a stone that's all." She looked into the older man's eyes, and he looked up as if he sensed her looking at him. His eyes were large and very brown which complemented his good looks. Monnie quickly looked away, but she was drawn to those eyes, which seemed to probe her very soul. She could feel her nipples harden, and as she walked her bra seemed to rub and tantalize them even more. "Let's sit outside," she said. The four of them moved to an empty table and Monnie made sure she sat where she could see him beneath her sunglasses. The two.
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