Thirst

A woman drinking is the most beautiful thing.

First, in the way she looks at the glass;
Her pupils dilate, lips slightly parting as her chest rises with the intake of breath, that gasp of desire.

Then as she takes action;
Her hand reaches out, elegant fingers wrapping around the perspiring drink, whether she runs her fingertips along the stem of the glass before she picks it up, or merely curls them around the handle.

Prelude;
She licks her lips in preparation before parting her lips further, closing her eyes and anticipating the rim of the cup to softly touch against her mouth.

The sip;
Knowing without experiencing that the cool or warm liquid is right now damming against her mouth, before she lets it slide over her tongue and down her throat. Watching that gracefully arched neck as she swallows, the way her hair falls over her shoulder and down her back, eyes still closed as she turns her face just that little bit heavenward.

Finale;
The last swallow and she has brought her head back, raising the hand not holding the glass to her face slowly. She then seals her lips, puckering them slightly as to not lose or waste any of the precious liquid having so completely quenching her thirst. The other hand coming to cover the glistening lips, catching a drip on the back of her hand, or a fingertip, or her wrist, as she lets her tongue dart out to retrieve whatever is left.

Finally her eyes open and, satisfaction.