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The Sea

Tags: hair face looked

The night had been a blur, I was caught between trying to impress his friends, and laughing inside at how crazy this all was. As if anyone was going to believe I fitted in here, even scrubbed up, in a nice frock and with Hair done perfectly by a disapproving hairdresser, there was still something of the gutter about me. Something that wanted to stuff my pockets with food from the buffet to eat later on the bus.

Still, I'd held my own, my wit helping me out of my lack of knowledge about business matters and society gossip. Some of his friends had even tried flirting with me, although I just put them down with a sharp comeback and a snooty look. He paid me enough attention to be protective, but not enough to make me feel entirely comfortable. There was still an edge of fear, despite all his protestations of gallantry, I didn't really know him.

Once we were alone, all my worries resurfaced. I instantly felt awkward, ashamed, not knowing what to do with myself. He saw and smiled, as much enjoying my discomfort as to reassure me.

"Oh, don't be frightened, just you and me now."

"Yeah, that's the problem."

He came towards me, put an arm around my back, pushed my hair off my face. My body moulded to his automatically, as my instincts took over. I looked up into his face, my eyes big. It was out of my hands now, this was his territory and I just had to follow his lead.

"Shh, it's OK, just look in my eyes and you'll see that you can trust me," I did as he asked, falling into them, so beautiful, flecked and green, just like.... "They're like the sea, aren't they? You remember the sea don't you?"

It was as if he'd seen my thoughts, or perhaps... put them there... I remembered the sea (when had we been by the sea?). Laying down, warm in the sun, dozing while he described the waves, their slow, endless motion, something so soothing, so easy to just accept, always there, endless...

I felt dazed, as if I was floating, the familiar feeling creeping over me too rapidly to resist. Oh god, I was helpless to do anything as he kissed me hard, moved me where he wanted me, not even needing to keep up any patter as my keen awareness of our relative positions did all the work for him.

He was in charge.

I wasn't.

"Remember the sea..." he whispered from time to time, when I looked as if my thoughts were resurfacing and I went back down into the soft depths, his tongue, the waves, his hands, the irresistible currents. Each time my arousal washed through me I sank deeper under his control, lost a little more ability to resist, more open, more vulnerable, until I knew I was completely in his thrall and shuddered with release.

His eyes glinted. "Good girl, now, remember the whirlpool."

Everything went black.



This post first appeared on Under The Influence, please read the originial post: here

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The Sea

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