Tether (Fiction)

Lucifer – I’m not normally one for sappy TV shows, but occasionally I indulge. I think I’ve read too many YA novels to not derive some guilty pleasure out of a show like this. Especially when the song choices are just too good.

Picture me like this … tall, tanned, leanly muscular and with the perfect amount of scruff across my jaw and cheeks.

I have dark short hair, sliced and cut into a undercut. Annoyingly when I exercise, a lock of hair normally curl over my forehead. I think it’s untidy, but apparently women are drawn to it. My eyes are dark green, and I have a habit of placing my index finger along my cheekbones when I’m thinking or being flirtatious. which are normally intertwined together, because if I am being flirtatious with you, then I’m thinking about you.

Everything about you. How you think, the way you laugh, the dimples on your smile, the toss of your hair when you’re nervous, the tilt of your head when you stare … anything you do, I’m interested, curious and intrigued.

The first thing I look at in a woman, are her eyes. Not the face, the bust, the hips or the bottom … it’s always the eyes. If she has beautiful eyes, I’m switched on, but if she has interesting eyes, then I’m turned on.

It’s always easy to tell when they have interesting eyes, because you’ll normally can’t read what they are feeling. They’ll always be enigmatic, staring back at you, without wavering attention. A woman can have beautiful eyes, dazzling different colours and sweeping lines, but she’ll never be interesting if you can see everything she is feeling.

When I make a joke, a woman with beautiful eyes will laugh along, whether she finds it funny or not, because she’s attracted to me. But an pair of interesting eyes will always keep her intentions unclear.

I’ve searched many women’s eyes in my life, but hers was the only one that remained interesting.

I met her under special circumstances. What I mean by that is that they were special to me, but ordinary to everyone else.

To all, they were attending an Opera. As for me? I was experiencing my first taste of Turandot.

It all started with the colour of her long dress. It was impossible to miss. That damn colour haunted my dreams for the next 5 months. Honeyed, warm, amber and just the right side of bright, the satin weave made her dress beautifully lustrous and created incredible dips of fabric in all the right places. A royal blue sash kept the dress around her waist like a belt, and offered generous views of her long legs, as the fabric of her dress ebbed and flowed with each step.

Her left shoulder was left bare, as the dress came up in a classic chartreuse style and accentuated her long slender neck that swept up her warm golden brunette locks into a classic bun that only enhanced her naturally elegant features.

But it was her eyes that caught me off guard. It’s always the eyes ….

They were the most impenetrable blue I have ever seen anywhere. They glittered like sapphires, radiating a confidence, intelligence and wry detachment on everything they saw.

I was besotted. Smitten, infatuated and enraptured. I knew right there and then, I had to find out who she was, even though we were just lining up for our ticket check. Even though I was a stranger. Even though, this wasn’t a bar that screamed “pick me up”.

As I walked forwards, ignoring the small murmurs of protest about line-cutting, I knew that I had to take my chance. By now, the murmurs had become general discontent, and she is slowly becoming aware of the commotion I’m causing behind her.

When you go after honey with a balloon, the great thing is to not let the bees know you’re coming.

She turns around with an amused smile and looks into my eyes. Up close, it’s hard not to catch my breath. She’s elven in looks, with defined cheekbones and full lips. Her ears tapered slightly upwards to accentuate the sweeping lines of her features and I can’t help but note the wisps of her golden hair that seem to shimmer in the light of the opera room.

Did you just quote Winnie the Pooh at me?

I couldn’t think of a better pick-up line. I figured … a woman like you, would appreciate a classier quote.

Her genuine amusement and smile at the compliment is enough for me to be assured that this flirtatious to and fro between strangers is going well. But it was the fact that she didn’t blow me off completely, that proved to me I was allowed to keep my eyes locked onto hers.

I’m surprised you didn’t quote Turandot at me. she said slyly

Love is in vain, if luck isn’t there. I replied loftily. And I’m lucky to be here, seeing someone as lovely as yourself.

She laughs wholeheartedly as we inch closer to the ticket box. Really now?

Yes. I say with complete sincerity, maintaining eye contact and trying my best to communicate the depth of emotions she has stirred in me, within minutes. She looks back and I see a tiny trace of emotion crept across her blue irises before they disappear. The ticket collector looks at our tickets, and without hesitation I demand something ridiculous.

Please, seat me next to her.

I’m afraid, I can’t … oh sir, you already are! says the flustered ticket attendant, as she looks at our tickets in confusion.

She looks at my ticket and gives me a surprised look, before it is replaced with a look of daring.

It must be fate. I say assuredly with a smile. I hold out my arm, and ask Shall we go to our seats, Ms?

Scarlett. Scarlett Greene. she says as she takes my arm.

Dorian Wilde. Pleased to make your acquaintance Ms Greene.

I can’t tell you exactly what happened in the opera, except that we were much more interested in one another than what was happening on the stage. We mimed to each other throughout the entire opera, her faux yawns matching mine, the playful looks of mischievousness replaced by daring, seductive looks in an instant.

By the half-time interval started, we were out of the door and hailing a taxi, back to her apartment. I remember the rush, of restraining ourselves. We sat on opposite sides of the taxi cab, our hands close, but not close enough, the sound of rain slowly pattering on the roof of the car.

It seemed like the rhythm of nature itself, was matching the pace of our heartbeats, our anticipation increasing with every minute of the ride. I found myself unable to look away, the profile of Scarlett’s face against the stained window, as the city lights cast shadows across her features, hauntingly beautiful.

She looked like an angel.

When the taxi cab finally pulled up to her apartment, a luxurious condo on the 7th floor, she was leading by the hand through the lobby and into the elevator. I was swept along, through the halls of the apartment block and finally near her door.

As she slipped the key in, I placed my hand near her face, on the wall and stood there, as she slowly turned around and looked up at me with those voluminous blue eyes. We stood there, for the longest second of our lives, staring at each other, nose to nose, soaking in each other’s presence.

We were hungry for each other.

A second later, we were crushed against each other, my hands, gripping her waist and the back of her head, cradling both like precious jewels, her hands running across my torso, gripping my shoulders underneath my blazer, then moving up and across my face as I kissed her passionately.

Somehow the door to her apartment shut, and we navigated the place blind, with only the moonlight to guide us. We were unable to let go, our bodies locked in tango that neither of us would let go.

Without hesitation, I lifted her upwards and onto her kitchen bench, where she panted heavily into my mouth. as she scrabbled at the buttons of my shirt. I kept kissing her, caressing her beautiful face, letting my hands explore every single dip and rise of her features, enjoying the feel of her hair swiping along the back of my fingers.

As she ripped my shirt off, letting the silken fabric fall to the ground, I grabbed her closer to me, pressing our bodies together hard, her golden brunette hair now cascaded down her muscled back, and creating an image that stunned me momentarily.

I pushed her away from me for a second, as she looked at me confused, and hungry.

Incredible, I whispered, as she smiled dazzlingly at the compliment and hopped down off the bench, to undo her dress.

Whipping her shoes away, and undoing the clasp that held the chartreuse dress together, Scarlett Greene was now my entire world, nothing existed beyond her.

Standing there, half naked, only in lingerie, with her wavy hair tossed, each every way, she posed slightly, poised and confident.

I laughed reflexively in happiness and took a teasing single step closer and pausing just long enough. Sick of the games she leapt at me and wrapped her incredibly soft, and lithe legs around me, causing us both to pant as we kissed through our efforts.

I carried her across to the wall that led to her bedroom and cradling the back of her head, pinned her against the wall, our kisses still coming thick and fast. Her full breasts pressed and heaved against my chest, as she broke the kiss, to run her tongue along my neck, whilst she shed my pants, undoing the belt and the trousers in mere seconds.

Staring at her, as we exchanged incredulous smiles and breaths, I held up my hand between us and walked past her slowly, towards the bedroom.

Laughing at the gentlemanly gesture, Scarlett grasps my hand and allows herself to be led to her silken Queen-sized bed.

As I lay her gently on the bed, she looks up at me and I stare at her blue eyes, lost for words. She runs her hand along my face, stroking my cheekbones and tracing the shape of my jaw.

I returned the favour, letting my hands slowly run down, until they trace her shoulder blades and and unclasp her bra in a single movement., freeing her breasts.

Scarlett’s hands pulls me close and down on top of her, and as we continue our exploration …. she whispers into my ear

Dorian … drive me wild please.

Author’s Note

Figured, I’d stop it there, before it gets a bit too graphic, which I notice tends to sound very gross. Genitals have never sound particularly sexy and I was definitely running out of adjectives.

This was an exercise in how I could build a highly charged, sexual atmosphere, and I credit most of it to the show where I got the screen-grab from. L

I would say, I hope you enjoyed reading this, but that’s implying a lot.

So instead, I’ll just say, don’t expect too much of this type of content in the future, although I will come back and continue to practice these sort of scenes.

~ Damocles.

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