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Jimena
Have you ever just seen someone and wanted to impress them? And when they talked to you, you couldn’t quite believe they even knew you existed? That’s what it’s like for me when I look at Miriam. She’s perfect. She’s the Eve no man or woman could ever have resisted.
It’s the strangest thing to be so captivated by another human like this—everything and everyone pales away into the background.
Take this party for instance. It is a beautiful place with gorgeous guests, fine wines, delicious canapés. I’m enjoying it, sipping my champagne and smiling at people weaving in and out through the decadent evening. Miriam’s late, but when I finally see her across the room, in her red silk gown, how can I possibly enjoy the rest of this party talking to these other people?
I watch for a moment or two, the way her dress nips in hugging her waist and hips, the fabric skating across her curves when she moves. The cowl neck drapes low over her magnificent soft breasts, so large on her petite frame, they quiver gently with every move she makes.
I can’t take any more and edge my way through the other guests until I’m by her side, inhaling her fragrance, sweet and hot with dangerous undertones of seduction.
She turns to me with a smile that lights up her whole face—that smile is for me. I lean in to kiss her hello and breathe into the sweet spot behind her ear that I know gives her thrills.
“I’m wet for you already,” I whisper, delighting in the blush that rises in the apple of her cheeks.
She smiles again and serenely casts her gaze to the other guests and around the room. I follow with my eyes to where she’s looking and spot the cloakroom door where I know she’s fixed her sights.
“Ten minutes,” she whispers back taking herself off to mingle with the throng, pausing to turn and look me with lust in her eye and I see the rise of her nipples hardening under the scooped dress fabric. She is an absolute goddess.