Opulent
The door barely made a sound as she opened it, but her heels tapped out a steady patter as she moved across the marble floor. A hundred candles lit her way, placed carefully on the low walls that flanked the empty room. She reached the tiled courtyard, filled with verdant plants and a pond where koi swam languidly; that’s when she saw the trail of white rose petals. Breathing in the delicate perfume, she turned to the right and walked on until she reached the double staircase. Placing her hand on the large handrail she slowed her pace and climbed. Each click of her heels coincided perfectly with the beating of her heart and the soft inhalation of her breath. Though the day was hot, she was surrounded by cool marble and the heady scent of the rose petals.
Reaching the top of the stairs, the delicate petals drew her to the left and into a shadowed alcove. A quick right found her in an expansive room that was dark but for two distinct areas. Gazing to her left, she found a copper bathtub–already filled with scented water–lit from above by a chandelier holding at least two dozen candles. The light from it formed a golden pool and reflected off the metallic vessel. She turned to her right and took about twenty steps, finally stopping at the foot of a bed that could only be described as opulent. Six enormous pillar candles flanked it, setting it apart from the dark shadows. The bed’s four high posts were gilded with gold and carved with delicate flowers and fairies, and each was wrapped in lengths of gossamer that trailed down and onto the floor in every direction. The sheets were silk and seemed to ripple like water across the surface of the bed. Piled atop the sheets were furs the likes of which she had never seen nor touched, their softness a balm for every small injury that had ever troubled her soul.
She stepped back into the darkness and closed her eyes. She felt the room whispering against her skin and then a different power–one that played like an electric current, jumping here and there, teasing, arousing, igniting something within her. Without opening her eyes, she slid the slight straps of her sundress down her arms and let the dress fall away. Slowly, she banished the lace underthings and stood naked in the dimness. Her eyes still closed, she moved back in the direction of the bed, stopping when she felt the fur against her thigh. Climbing up, she nestled down into the furs as a shiver ran the entire length of her body. She lay still, the power of the room pressing in against her from all sides, and then she heard it.
Footsteps. Downstairs. Moving. Climbing. Coming.
She pushed against the room, freeing herself, readying herself.
Smiling softly, she needed no eyes to know he was there. She reached out her hand and opened her soul.
The Moonlit Pillow: The Erotic Writings of Skye Leroux 