DISCLAIMER: I only borrowed them for a while. MGM and whoever can have them back whenever they want.
ARCHIVING: Only with the permission of the author.
DEDICATED: to my muse and my love.

Interlude 17: Cake

By Celievamp

Janet loved to watch her lover pleasure herself like this. Preparation was everything, all the senses came into play.

Sight. A minute examination, total focus. Gaze lingering on those elements that she knew would give her most pleasure. Mentally playing out the scene she would soon enact. The smile on her face says everything. Almost lustful, almost predatory. She is the mistress here.

Smell. Nostrils flare slightly as she takes in the scent, that familiar beloved aroma. The sense of smell is one of the greatest evocations of memory. Janet knows that playing through that inventive agile mind are many of the other occasions that this scene has been enacted in all its variations. Smell also awakens other physical responses, preparing the body for what is to come.

Taste. Lips parted, it touches the tip of her tongue, her eyes close in appreciation. Janet watches the way her mouth moves, the delicate yet strong line of her jaw, the interplay of facial muscles. She has studied that face in close up so many times, traced it with her fingers, her lips. Those soft succulent lips open again, the tip of her tongue moistening them for a moment as she prepared to take another mouthful. Janet wants to kiss her, to take in her flavours. At the same time she wants that mouth in other places, wants the taste that floods her lovers mouth to be her own. But that is for later.

Hearing. This one applied more to Janet as the observer, but the happy little moans and sighs emanating from her lover left her in no doubt that this was a highly pleasurable experience.

Touch. The precise movement and co-ordination of her hands, deft and sure. Those hands can turn to many things, create and destroy, work miracles. Strong yet supple, work hardened yet soft, scarred, roughened by burn damage. Uniquely her own.

At last the task is done. Sam sets down her fork, sits back in her chair and smiles almost dreamily at her lover. "That was wonderful, Janet. I don't suppose."

"No way you're getting seconds, missy. I don't want to listen to your bitching all week how I forced you to eat all the cake. It'll keep just fine in the refrigerator."

Sam pouted then shrugged, seeing the logic in the argument. "Okay."

"And to be honest, I don't think I could stand a repeat performance. Honestly, Sam, you weren't just eating that slice of chocolate cake. You were making love to it. I have to admit, I was almost. jealous."

Sam just laughed, shook her head. "Janet, honestly. Sometimes a cake is just a cake."

The End

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