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The Hothouse Flower
Date: 9/14/2015, Categories: Historical, Author: FeliciaGreene, Rating: , Source: LushStories
She has her back to me, watching the rain fall upon the petals, and I see a bunch of flowers in her hand; some cyclamens, yes, but also cornflowers, daisies, lilies of the valley. One of the servants from my flower party, led astray by the storm. I find myself silently approaching. Her hair is as wet as mine; clinging in soft damp curls to her shoulders and back. With a delicious shock, I see that she has removed her dress. She is standing in her shift, a thin, transparent shift that reveals the shadows of her secret places. If she turned I could see her nipples, or the dark triangle of her sex. Her outer clothes have been kicked into a pile; she must have felt so drenched that she removed them, along with her shoes. My silk feels heavier by the minute; my body beneath it, aflame. My foot snaps a twig. The crack echoes through the wood like musket-shot; the woman turns, seeing me immediately. Her eyes are grey, her mouth open in astonishment; I stay stock-still. She blushes a deep fire of a blush that spreads to her cheeks, her throat; I find myself biting my lip, uncomfortably aware of her damp skin, her breasts rising and falling. She smiles. Hello. Then, with a quick, graceful turn, she is running. My blood is up; I give chase like a dog, a hunter. There is no thought, there is only her laughter, the sound of her feet on the grass, and my own heartbeat thudding in my ears. Branches tear at my dress, my shoes are stained with the pink of the cyclamens, but I will have her. ...