Stolen Moments Ch. 05

He opened the front door and light from an outdoor lamp post spilled into his darkened hallway. He flipped a switch and suddenly the room was filled with a bright light from a classic hanging lamp, all glass with brass edging. Suzanne blinked her eyes a few times trying to get used to brightness, and as she did, she heard Michael close the door behind her and turn its various locks. He came up behind her, removed his coat from her shoulders, and freed her wrists from her confines... first one...then the other. Suzanne brought her wrists to her front and rubbed them absently as she perused her new surroundings...

The place was incredibly clean. The small hallway was tiled, and let out a ways where it opened into a living room on its left. The room had large windows running along its main wall allowing the lights of downtown to twinkle like a portrait. In the middle of the wall there was a fireplace. It looked like a gas fire place... but it was still more than she had in her own modest apartment. In one corner a couch and love seat created an area facing an entertainment center. On the other side, in the far corner, stood a shelf with some books, and a grand piano. The carpet was cream, and the furniture had a newness to it, but looked very very comfortable. To the left was a large kitchen... two ovens and a range on a center island... various copper pots and pans hung from the ceiling. It was a kitchen belonging to someone who knew how to cook. The hall continued.

"Home sweet home." Michael said close to her ear. She turned to look at him and he smiled, ran a hand through his hair. "Would you like a drink?"

"Ummm. Sure. Thank you." Michael went into the kitchen and disappeared into a sizeable pantry. While he rustled around Suzanne let her eyes roam over his things...

His paintings were modern. He seemed to prefer cubists. They added color to a house that seemed to be otherwise in shades of cream and black. Suzanne heard a popping noise behind her and turned. He'd opened a bottle of something red, and he took two large wine glasses, deftly pouring some wine into each. "Here you go," he handed her a glass. "Would you like the tour?" Suzanne nodded and followed as he took her further into his apartment.

He showed her his study, furnished it seemed, a little less starkly than his living room; it seemed more personal. Warm colors and photographs. Softer than the face he so readily put on view in his more public rooms. A little further down he gestured to the bathroom. "I'm actually pretty proud of it... I remodeled it myself." Suzanne turned to look inside, and he put his hand on her arm. "You'll see it later," he added playfully. At the end of the hall was the door to his bedroom. He went to the far corner and switched on a light.

It bathed the room warmly. The first thing she noticed was the large bed. Made out of a dark wood, it and had four posters. Matching side tables and lamps stood guard on either side. A dresser and a bureau...the dresser had a few personal items scattered on it... a book... cuff links... A Large closet was off to her left. But her gaze kept going back to the bed. She took a deeper drink of the wine and coughed.

"Are you okay?" he asked. Suzanne looked down and saw the red elixir slowly staining her blouse, incarnadining the grey silk of her blouse.

"Oh no... I am so sorry...did I get any on.."

"Don't worry about the carpet. It's okay. Are you?"

"Oh yeah, yeah... I'm fine..." She waved her hand dismissively. "Just a little nervous I guess. I just don't think my blouse will be so lucky."

"Oh we can get that out."

"Damn it, it's all over me."

"Don't worry, Suzanne. We'll soak it in some water right away and it won't even have a chance to stain."

She looked up, the small light of panic in her eyes.

"What will I wear?"

Michael's grin had just reached his eyes when he wiped it away in all seriousness. "Hold on." He went into his closet and pulled out one of his white dress shirts. He offered it to Suzanne and took her glass in exchange. "It should cover you to at least mid-thigh." Then he handed her a fluffy towel.

"Why don't you go take a shower, and get the rest of the wine off of you before it gets all sticky."

"Hmm. Thank you." She turned to leave and go to his bathroom when his voice stopped her.

"And Suzanne," she turned to look at him over her shoulder. "Don't dry your hair, not even a bit."

They held a stare for a long moment, and then she broke it off and went to the bathroom, shutting the door firmly behind her.

Suzanne wandered into the bathroom and shut the door behind her. Maybe she had shut it a little too hard. Even this simple barrier between her and the man outside seemed to relieve a burden from her, and she placed her forehead against the door, sighing, as she found the lock on the door handle and turned it. She stood there for a moment and tried to regain her sense of self composure. It wasn't coming.

Maybe he was right. She would take a shower. She turned to look at her new surroundings, and gasped.

To her right, a full vanity was set up. The mirrors were large, and crowned the surface with three panels. A bit further on, directly ahead of her, was the largest bathtub she had ever seen. Surely any larger and it would have been classified as a Jacuzzi. The tub appeared to be marbleized porcelain, but the fixtures were brass that gleamed like gold. She approached the tub and looked to her left. A toilet and a sink. To her right stood a large shower, with a plane glass door. Anyone walking by would be able to see the bather quite clearly and beautifully framed at that. She walked back to the vanity area too look for a towel, and she found them in a cupboard. To her dismay, she also found shampoo, soap, lotion, and a disposable razor on the shelf beneath the bathing linens. He either had guest frequently over to bathe, had a girlfriend, or was expecting her. Surprisingly, none of the options sat well with her. She grabbed the soap and shampoo and a towel, then shut the cabinet door.

Suzanne turned towards the mirror.

Suzanne turned towards the mirror and surveyed the visage contained therein.

She was never the sort of girl to call herself beautiful, although others certainly thought so. She reached into the sink to plug the drain and turned on the cold water. One by one, Suzanne undid the buttons of her blouse revealing the creamy skin beneath.

At 5'7" she was not particularly tall, but she was fit. She pulled the wine-soaked shirt away from her skin and placed it into the sink. Her breasts were full, and crowned with rosy nipples that peeked through the open shelf bra and made her feel a bit more naked than she normally would. She turned off the water and placed the shirt to soak in the sink. After staring at the startling image for a moment, she reached behind her and undid her bra as well. While she lost a bit of the upper curve of her cleavage, she was still pert enough, and the way her breast lay offset the curves of her indented waist. She threw her bra carelessly to the floor.

Suzanne shook her head as if trying to clear herself from a daze and turned her back to the mirror. She deftly removed her shoes, and undid her garter belt, rolling her stockings down her legs only to leave them on the floor next to her other undergarments. She made her way across the bathroom, the tile cold and unyielding beneath her feet, opened the shower door and turned on the water, testing its heat before stepping inside the cocoon of glass and steam.

Michael walked into his living room and started the fire. Not a particularly hard job, but enjoyable none the less. He had smiled when Suzanne accidentally slammed the door. He heard her turn on the shower and looked up, smiling.

He needed a Scotch.

Michael got himself a glass and a couple of ice cubes out of the kitchen and poured himself a small bit of the amber liquid. He then turned off the lights so that his front room was bathed in the warming glow of the fire. He took off his shoes and socks, feeling the deep carpet as he wandered towards his chair that sat, contented, next to the hearth. Soon, he thought. He held up his scotch to the light and watched the flames dance through the foggy window of his glass.

Suzanne stepped out of the shower feeling much cleaner, and a little less sure of herself. She dripped onto the floor mat as she reached for one of the white terrycloth towels draped over a rack for her use. Out of habit she brought it up to wrap her hair. And then stopped.

Why did he want her to keep her hair wet?

No matter. She tried to dry the rest of herself but found the task rather difficult with fresh rivulets of water creating new paths and tickling her skin. She walked over to her pile of clothes and kicked them into a corner under the sink. She reached for his white shirt and put it on.

It was much bigger than she had originally thought and parts of it came nearly to mid-thigh, exposing a bit more leg on either side, but nothing to be worried about. She buttoned it up leaving the top two buttons undone. The sleeves were too long. So she unbuttoned those and rolled the cuffs until her forearms were exposed. The shirt began to stick to her. Her hair was not merely damp, but soaked through with water, and she watched in the mirror, mesmerized, as the shirt became more and more transparent. She flipped her hair behind her shoulder quickly. At least that way, the majority of the water would trickle down her back. Not really any more comfortable, but a bit more modest in the long run... as if even that small bit of modesty was worth anything now.

Taking a deep breath, she opened the bathroom door. And couldn't see a thing. The hallway was dark. To her right, she thought she could see some flickering light, but the bright bathroom lights had as good as blinded her to anything else.

"Michael?" she inquired. She had meant to speak louder, but the sound barely made it beyond her lips. She coughed and spoke louder. "Michael?"

"In here," he answered. Suzanne reached to turn off the bathroom lights and squeezed her eyes shut for one moment. When she opened them again, there was more than enough light for her to make her way down the small hallway. She cautiously made her way around the corner.

Michael was completely in silhouette, the dark shadow of his self outlined in a glow. She took a few steps into the room.

"Did you set your blouse to soak?"

"Mm hmmm." She answered. His words had stopped her motion as much as anything could, and she stood still, looking at him, trying to make out the features of his face in the dim light.

"Good."

She didn't know what to do next, so she just stood there.

Suzanne could feel his eyes on her, and despite the damp of his shirt, her skin began to feel flush. Her nipples tightened painfully beneath his gaze, and she shifted her weight uncomfortably. He didn't say anything else. A minute passed by. Two. He took a sip out of his glass and set it down on the mantle as he stood up. Even across the room his presence seemed imposing and Suzanne felt herself take a step back, and cross her arms. Michael walked the short distance to her and too her hands in his, lowering her arms to her side. He took her hand in his face and peered down into her eyes before he lowered his head to capture her pouting lips.

His warmth and scent enveloped her and she felt her knees weaken as she leaned into his strength. She felt his other arm make its way behind her back to steady her and hold her firm against his chest. Her wet shirt and hair dampened his own clothing, but he didn't seem to notice as he tested the softness of her mouth, filling her with this part of himself only, making a promise of the night to come. Suzanne concentrated on the sweet taste of his mouth, and hardly noticed her feet shuffling backwards at his insistence until she felt her back come against a wall. Her eyes flew open in surprise, but he took this opportunity to deepen his kiss, crossing the boundary of seduction to possession, and she felt herself melt into oblivion once more. His hand came up to toy with her right breast through the dampened cloth while his teeth played with her bottom lip. Suzanne arched her back, pressing her breast further into his hand, begging him to increase the pressure of his caress. He chose instead to smooth his hand down her waist and rest it on her hip, letting his thumb stray to stroke the hollow where her hip met her body. Suzanne shifted her legs in invitation as she felt an ache grow within her with startling rapidity. She wrapped her hands around his neck and kissed him with all her soul as she felt him brush his hand over her briefly. She held her breath as she felt his searching fingers find and caress her core.

"Do you always get this wet, Suzanne?" he asked. She didn't know what to say and bit his neck in punishment for asking such an intimate question. His fingers circled her clit and she gasped. Then he moved his hand away.

She went to reach for arm, trying to pull him back to her. She was not in the mood to be teased any longer. He took her hand, kissed it, and placed it on his shoulder. Kissing her briefly moved his kisses down her neck and went down on his knees. Suzanne looked down at his head and felt her heart speed up as his gaze fixated on the part of her she wanted him to touch so very much. Gently, he parted the bottom of his shirt, and exposed her to his sight. His hands moved up her thighs in a firm caress and Suzanne's knees began to tremble. Firmly, he nudged her knees apart, and she complied clumsily. His hands reached up between her thighs and parted her. A shock ran through her as she felt his tongue on her, kissing her in one long, slow stroke before he pulled away to look at her.

Suzanne was dazed, her gaze unfocused, her hair beginning to curl as it dried. And she couldn't breathe when he looked at her that way.

His mouth returned to her core to settle upon her clitoris. Suzanne sighed in contentment as he settled upon her. For some minutes he used his mouth in many ways, sometimes nibbling with his teeth, using long liquid strokes, suckling on her inner lips and her clit, teasing her with the very tip of his tongue. He felt her tense a bit as he circled her clit with his tongue. He paused, and then did it again. Suzanne placed both her hands on his shoulders to hold her up, and she no longer felt quite so content. Michael continued the caress until her arms started to shake from trying to keep her upright, still his eager mouth did not relent its gentle and insistent searching.

"Michael?" Her voice sounded far away in her ears.

"Yes?"

"I don't think I can stand much longer."

"You're going to have to."

Her heart skipped a beat.

"I mean, I think I need to lay down. I can't keep standing up."

"I know what you meant. And you'll stay standing."

She felt his finger enter her and she groaned as much from feeling the small invasion as from the meaning of his words.

"Why?" she breathed.

"Because the minute you stop standing, I am going to stop."

His finger settled into a circular motion inside of her, and she rolled her head back against the wall.

"You can't mean it..."

"Try me."

Suzanne was not about to press her luck and braced her back against the wall. His kisses were heaven and hell, and she wouldn't stop them for the world. Seeing that she had no more to say, he settled again between her thighs. The insistent rhythm of his fingers offset the gentle teasing of her clitoris by his soft and agile tongue. Suzanne could feel the tension building in her middle, and pressed her knuckle to her mouth in order to keep from crying out. Her knees almost gave way from underneath her, and her skin was covered in a sheen of perspiration from her attempts to stay standing. He moved her higher and higher, and she found herself torn between riding the sensations and the need to stay upright. Her climax snuck upon her. Unexpectedly she felt herself explode and she cried out as the shock ran through her entire being. She stilled and then cried out again, and again.

He pulled away from her and stood up, taking her into his arms and relieving the pressure on her thighs. When he kissed her she could taste herself upon his lips, and instead of being disgusted, she found it mildly erotic and kissed him back as sweet lethargy stole its way into her. Her breathing slowed as they dueled sweetly with their lips.

She playfully bit at his neck and she heard him groan as he ground his hips into her. She felt him through his trousers, pressing up against the softness of her stomach, and stole her hand down between them to caress him through the cloth. Her eyebrows raised.

Oh my. He was much bigger than she had thought.

Looking up at him, she slowly undid his button, and drew down the zipper. Her hand moved into his pants until she encountered him. The softness of his skin intrigued her, and she could feel a longing begin in her mouth. She swallowed, and tightened her grip on his manhood. Swiftly she reversed their positions to his back was to the wall.

She leaned into his ear and whispered, "Your turn."