a fantasy... II

He remembered it well, how it had all unraveled so rapidly, the way she had wanted it to.

They had grown silent, and the air had grown thick again, like in the elevator. The distance between them had shrank and shrank though they had never moved. He had become convinced that she could feel his every thought. That if he were to just lift his hand up and slide it down his vision of her, caress it down his point of view, she might even give a shudder.

He remembered how finally he had given up all thought, and moved towards her. Suddenly closing that physical distance between them, he had been alarmed to find there was still a dizzying depth to cover, a long way to fall. Down the length of every strand of her long molasses brown hair, round and round the circumference of her proud waist.

But her quirky secret lips had smiled again and taken control. He had found himself wrapping his arms around that waist and dancing with her. Then not dancing at all, not moving in fact, just trapped in the weave of her body, her embrace mastering him. His fingers slowly tracing the patterns on her golden dress that she had chosen for the night.

How calm she had been. How unsurprised. If she had trembled, it had been a part of her design. Her little sigh, her breath tickling his ear, all her own inevitability. Then she had spoken only once, she had said only once, and she had asked for only one thing: for him to take off her dress.

He knew that it had been him who had slid her zipper down slowly, him who had spun her back towards him suddenly so that he could drag it all the way down. Him who had kicked her dress away. Him who had been unable to stop until her bra was off and then the rest of it too. He was sure it had been him.