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Autumn hummed her approval against Florence. Fingers still twisting inside, she murmured encouragements about Florence's walls and the way they tightened, her wetness staining the velvet cushions, the curves of her body and how perfect they looked when conquered.
Florence's hips rocked with desperation. Autumn rubbed quick patterns on Florence's hood with the pads of her fingers. A revived wave of satisfaction rocked Florence once more.
"Your husband never gets you this wet," Autumn savored. "You'll go home tonight to him. You'll take his council seat and his power, his pride. And as that clumsy buffoon presses into you, all you'll be able to think about is this, Florence. All you'll want is me."
One final clench, marked with a shameful cry, rippled down Florence's body. Her legs slackened on Autumn's shoulders. Her eyes fluttered shut.
The fingers inside her settled to a standstill. Her breath still tickled Florence's mound. The ringing in Florence's ears diminished. The ambient noise of the room returned; the bustle of the book signing outside, the tick of the grandfather clock in the corner, the patter of rain on the streets outside. Even in the calm, Florence knew Autumn watched her.
Eventually, Autumn broke the silence with a whisper: "Think of the alliance we'll make, Florence."
Her gut twisted in guilt.
"You'll make such a powerful councilwoman," the author doted. "You'll make your own deals. You'll cast your own votes. And after each session—" she punctuated this word with a curl of her fingers—"you'll get your reward."
Her point made, Autumn withdrew her fingers and rose to her feet. Florence slumped across the couch. With one eye peeped open, she watched the author pat her face dry. She methodically unfolded each glove and returned it to the appropriate hand, straightening each seam along the lines of her fingers. A puff of lavender perfume masked the lingering musk on Autumn's cheeks. As Florence expected, Autumn was as poised as ever.
"I'll be by in an hour with a contract," Autumn said. "You're welcome to stay here, but you may want to put on your chemise. My assistant will be in soon to pick up the tea. I'll help you with your corset and skirts when I return."
The door squeaked open. Florence sat up to watch a flawless Autumn in the doorway. The writer winked and offered a final goodbye:
"We'll make a powerful team, Florence."
Naked and shivering on the velvet couch, Florence fell limp as the door clicked.
- COMMENTS
Anonymousabout 1 year ago"Being the wife of a prominent city councilor and the owner of a fair share of businesses, Florence was a woman of stature. Her timid husband was dazzled by her directness and tapped her as his political advisor. On his behalf, she lobbied, she argued, she negotiated, she blackmailed. He voted."
This would never happen a woman like her attracted to a wimp. Unless Florence was already a man hating lesbian which makes the "power play seduction" void.
