It’s a Saturday night, outside her bedroom window is an evening painted in colours so rich you could taste them. She licks her lips.
She has a date and she’s nervous…she has trouble acting normal when she’s nervous. She catches a glint, pauses infront of the full-length mirror by her dressing table, the last wisps of colour finally sighing into stillness in her periphery. Her eyes travel up the curves of her body to the source of the glint…her eyes. “Goddamnit, I’ve got that look in my eyes”, she thinks to herself. Therein lies the problem…
The sparkle in her eyes is more than reflected light, there’s electricity dancing there, curcuitry crackling with anticipation, glistening, jostling waters…
She leans in for a closer inspection…yes, her bottom lip is quivering, she knows her body well,
she knows what that means…
She’s not nervous about her date you see, she’s nervous about this animal writhing beneath her skin, craving the taste of flesh on flesh…the feel of juices flowing and mingling in silken abandon… It’s been ceaselessly clawing at the glowing heat between her legs…“I have to get this look off my face”, she deliberates, “this guy’s going to think I’m an utter slut if he sees how-”, her eyes fall on one of the tubes of lipstick littering and glittering all over her dressing table, betwixt powders and candles and odd trinkets. This particular tube is called “Merlot Red”, an intoxicating wine-red colour. She knows it well. Knows the indescribably sexy, smooth texture of it being smeared onto her lips. A small, ever-so-slightly wicked smile touches the corner of her mouth… “Perhaps the solution to my problem lies not in getting this look off my face…but in painting it over…”
She reaches over, savours slowly rolling the stick of glistening colour out of hiding… She always does, she’s been putting on lipstick ever since she was a little girl, “but”, she thinks to herself, “there’s never enough times I can enjoy this little moment…”
Her smile widens ever-so-slightly.
She’s going to do this slowly…
For the first coat, she likes to stretch her lips back till they’re as smooth as glass…making sure the lipstick will ooze into every single valley, making sure not the slightest speck of flesh be deprived of the sensual, vivid balm.
There. She smears her lips against each other, taking delight in the sensation… Second coat. She runs the lipstick mostly on the inside of her lips. Slowly. A quick pout…yes, she’s got lipstick everywhere it can stick… A third coat, “Because three’s the charm” she murmurs to herself with a wink… This time she’s not merely slicking the colour on slowly, but there’s not an exact word for the way she’s taking her time this time round… It seems almost explicit, blatantly sexual…
She checks the look in her eyes. Allowing a little of her fire to burn has helped a little…but not enough… A fourth coat is smeared on between increasingly shallow breathing, a fifth, a sixth, a seventh, her head is spinning, an eighth, a nineth…
A deep intake of breath…
But the flames still flicker under her skin, in her secret places...
As she shifts her weight from slender, endless leg to slender, endless leg while applying the makeup, she notices a wetness melting along the inside of her thighs. She reaches a hand there to assess the situation…it comes back gleaming and slick. The thought “This is bad” is about to come to mind when she is suddenly hit with inspiration…
She draws out the lipstick once again, an ecstatic smile behind her cascading hair. And she reaches between her thighs again…
And luxuriates in that silken sensation of trailing lipstick all over her lips once again… A second coat is smeared on…a third, a fourth, a fifth.
She puts the lipstick away. There’s a light pulsing between her legs and she allows her palm to cradle it, gently apply pressure to it till it relaxes into a content murmur…
She closely inspects the glossy, ruby print on her palm, admiring it blissfully.
The mirror…
She presses her palm to her tummy, sighs sweetly at the detail it leaves there…
One more time…while there’s still time on her breast.
Perfect.
She wishes she could revere at the coloured traces on her skin a little longer…but, no worry. They’ll be her little secret to keep her company through dinner…
She throws on a slinky little red number, the same intoxicating colour of her lips just as the doorbell rings…
As she strides out, she puts the leg behind the slight slit at the front of the dress first…leading up her thigh to other lipsticked lips…
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