I read this back in Sept for this Salon of SEAF: Erotica event, which was really fun. Now I’m finally getting around to posting it here.

NOTE: This piece is erotic, but not explicit. Enjoy.

The jangling of her keys in the door mingle with the quiet rush of still vivid cheers, insects, and gentle wind of evening. Her bare arms prickle as she inhales an earthy scent of rain, and she pauses to take in the still fullness of the darkening air around her. Trees shuffle against each other all down the street, their edges sharply highlighted in bouncing light from neighbors’ windows.

Her house is dark and silent. It’s the first night in several weeks that it’s not bursting with company, performance prep parties, or the frantic hustle of her day job. And she’d made sure when she left early this morning that it would be spotless. Even recruiting a guest or two, for the final shine.

She steps into the darkened hallway, flipping a switch, locking a door, and dropping keys. Tonight is hers.

Sets of soft glowing LED strips illuminate the edges of the hallway, casting the room beyond in layers of shadows and silhouettes. She steps out of her low slung heels, hangs the little bowler prop hat embroidered with her name, Ailey, on its particular hook.

The rest of her clothes create a trail of shrugged off vest, silky shiny trousers, a rather dapper finely striped gray and black tie, stockings made the home of glitter led astray, and deep red silky panties skimmed down legs. It all leads down the hall, up a few stairs, and around the corner into the bathroom. Shower set to appropriately steamy, Ailey leans across the sink to peel away shiny red tasseled pasties from her nipples. Her makeup is smokey eyes, dark red lips, and bright contrasts. It makes her blue eyes dramatic, her lips expressive. If Ailey smiles, it’s daggers to the heart. A smirk, a playful eyebrow, and the begging starts.

She steps into the steam, her body thrumming against the water with remaining adrenaline and flush of applause and freedom. Her show tonight had been fantastic. Far and away beyond her dreams. And on a milestone show to boot. She’d been a goddamn star. It felt good to be this proud on a night engineered to be all hers. And this shower, with all its steam, and slippery lathered soap, was only a refreshing cleanse from stage makeup, several half lives of glitter, and the perfume of so many hugs.

Her hair hangs soft and cool against her collarbones as she pads downstairs, back into the world of shadows and quiet light. Her bare skin shifts against the smooth robe wrapping her with every step. Thigh, breast, and back. Each brush sends skitters of tingles along her body, all the way down to her toes, sinking into carpet plush, then pressing against cold hard wood.

Indulgence is key, anticipation high. Her patience flows around her, steeped in imagination, as she finds the rhythm in fixing her favorite snacks, humming her favorite song. The pretty black and white swirled bowl she finds in the kitchen makes a pleasant clink against the counter. Hot milk burbles to a simmer, the colors of coco, vanilla, and spices dance on the surface then rush together into clear glass mug. Lavender ice cream so cold she can feel it pulling at her hand above the swirled bowl it falls into.

Her humming rumbles pleasantly in her throat, finally trailing off on low note as she reaches the hot tub outside with prized snacks in tow.

Her backyard is rimmed in trees, hot tub lit just right from within, and a gentle breeze pulls at her robe. It’s exactly enough convincing to let the robe drop off her shoulders, shivers following it’s descent. Moments later, hot water slowly envelopes her, toes, ankles, thighs, clit to belly button and nipples. She leans into the jets at her shoulders, and breathes in the brisk night wind. The contrast melting the soreness from her muscles, highlighting want in her core.

Just a few more minutes now, to sip the hot, spicy chocolate and lick every cold biting drop of lavender cream from the bowl. Her body buffeted by fiery caressing currents, and startlingly cold ice cream droplets escaping onto her chest.

Tension builds with every motion, and when, finally, her hands are free to twist and stroke, pleasure peaks. Promising the rest of the night to be entirely hers.