Window of Opportunity

My accidental eyes
followed the fiery light
that wandered into her room
and fastened upon her shape
with benevolent precision.
Her form and features
were magnetized,
and she knew it,
ready to launch magic
to a stranger's eyes.

She stood within
the lush stillness
to gather her horizon.

The wide window
framed her movements
as she casually kicked
her shoes off.
The caressing brown skirt
found its zipper
being partially undone.

She untucked her white blouse.
The buttons were offered,
one
by
tantalizing
one,
with Eros-itch vision
of curving flesh
inching into view.

The last button surrendered itself.
With a twist of shoulder
and shiver of fancy,
she slowly removed the blouse,
dropping it lightly
onto a
patiently waiting chair.

The white lace bra
was cut low,
teasing show,
and held its precious captives
with loving care.
The skirt resumed its unzipping,
but then
suddently stopped.

Slowly,
with knowledge of a revelation,
she looked up,
and shot her eyes
straight toward mine.
I could not tell exactly
when it changed,
but at one point
there was no smile,
and at another,
there was a grin
of sly temptation.

Unzip,
and the skirt slid
with a restless wriggle
along her hips,
savoring the moment
and dropping to the floor.

The brief, black panty,
cut high,
sauntered underneath
and grasped her crotch
with greedy arrogance.

Turning around
and bending over
to retrieve the skirt,
her ass peeked with mischief
under the dark fabric.
She held the skirt
over the chair,
and let it drop.

This urban nymph shook
her flowing brown tresses gently.
Their tickling breeze
grazed her shoulders.
She let her back
arch slightly,
fingers deftly unclasping
her bra between her
blades of sleekness.
She turned to the side
as her left strap slowly
drifted from her shoulder,
and continued turning
to face me
as the other strap followed.

The bra refused to depart
so easily,
but did reveal
the tops of her nipples,
red with the delight
of any admirer.

The lace
then dropped further,
and rued its exit
to show her full,
rounded beauty.
She raised her arms,
holding the lace trophy above,
her soft curves moving with grace,
fleshy, firm and free.
The bra was casually discarded
to the chair-in-waiting.

She cupped her breasts
and pushed up,
fingers crossing
and recrossing
the aureoles.
Her nipples rose,
on their toes.

The panties felt two hands
slip inside them,
on the lust-softened hips,
with thumbs pushing down.

Wriggling the night-black fabric farther,
her pubic fleece was released.
Farther,
and the panties were free
to her ankles.
She lifted one leg out,
then the other,
and placed
the last piece of clothing
on the chair.

She was now naked before me.

More naked
than any woman
I had ever seen,
ever known.

More sexual
than than any first love
in passioned embrace.

More heart-arresting woman
than any unclothed,
unfucked body
could be.

She raised her arms
to hold her hair
behind her head.
She turned with slow urgency,
entirely around,
and moved to the bed,
sitting down
with one foot on the floor,
and one knee pulled up and bent
with foot
on the edge of the bed.

Her arms supported her
as she leaned back.
Her knee wavered
back and forth,
flirting and fawning.
Her clitoris came
into glorious view.
She looked at the ceiling intently,
as if a vision was appearing.
She turned her eyes down,
and aimed them at me,
as if to propel
each sensation
into me.

Leaning forward,
her hands
effleuraged the hips,
the thighs,
inside the thighs.
Her knees spread,
her wonders appeared.
One hand,
in impish distraction,
moved to her breast
to pinch the risen nipple
between two fingers.
The other moved
to her clit,
squeezed and rubbed,
across its swollen surface.

Fingers moved lower,
and settled inside
her slit
of growing pleasure,
moving in
with fawning energy,
moving out
with captured power.
She descended
onto her back,
sinking into
intense reverie.

On she wandered
through her rising slope
of self-seduction,
one hand,
then two,
then one,
then two.
Spreading her lips,
pushing together,
waiting for breath to signal
the head-turning,
blood-quivering
peak-peak-peak
of her
nerve-tinged fervor.

The crisis
of delight arrived
and passed,
but her hands refused
to acknowledge completion,
racing on ahead
to another fearsome passage,
another conjured burst,
another rush of madness.

With pleasure sweating
a madcap frolic,
her battered senses
jumped from apex
to seething apex,
finally diminished
in tingled echoes.
Another echo passed,
a soothing valley
came,
a painted silence
arrived.

Stillness.

Light of fire resting.

Whispered shadow of ecstasy.

Delicate panorama
of fallen leaves and twigs,
scattered without pattern
after a spring storm.

A remote apparition,
a revealed phantasm,
assembled into balance.

A turn of head,
eyes again
directed into mine.
A knowing smile,
a lingering kiss blown
through the glazed barrier.

She has ushered me
into her sanctum of passion,
her queendom of sensuality.

She has told her tale
in wanton vision,
and painted her image
in silent words of craving.

One lonely body-soul,
captivated into awareness,
will remember
the how and why
of fired touch
in searing feminine spectre,
that knows the moments
that pass beyond.