A snippet from a work in progress:



More wonderful bustiers

The purr of the zip as I slide it down, exposing the white skin of her back. The soft click as the zipper crosses the end stop and the creak and crumple of the black leather as the basque falls open. She sits up clutching the cups of the bustier -- white hands, scarlet nails -- unwilling to let it drop and reveal her perfect breasts.

I let my gaze drift upwards across her milky throat to her face. Shy, wary, ready to startle like a deer, she bites her scarlet lower lip with her little white teeth. I reach out and tease a strand of her burnished hair. The curl stretches straight then springs back when I release it. Her smile widens as the curl bobs and settles. If I take her now the moment will no longer be to come; the anticipation will be over.

  So I delay.

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