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Temptress (standard:drama, 1289 words)
Author: SareAdded: Feb 20 2002Views/Reads: 2227/1374Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
A woman attempts to make sense of her emotions following devastating news from her lover.
 



DISCLAIMER: This story contains coarse language. 

Sometimes she feels like such a slut.  A virgin in real life, yes, but a
cyber slut. 

Sometimes she trades the label "slut" for "Temptress".  How she loves to
think of herself that way.  How many men on her string, under her 
spell, weak with desire for her - and a woman or two, as well.  The 
power.  Is it her power, though? she asks herself.  Isn't she just as 
much under the spell of this character she's created?  Doesn't she wish 
she could BE her alter-ego? 

She lays back in a tub of hot bubbly water, resting her head on the
ledge behind her.  Eyes closed, she thinks of her lover.  Of his voice, 
the rough rippling of it.  Of his laugh, the way it seems to settle 
between her thighs and quiver.  Of his words, how they slip through her 
ears as she hears them, through her eyes as she reads them, and anchor 
themselves in her heart and soul.  She thinks about the touch of his 
hands, what it must feel like, and of his body pressed tightly to hers. 
 Before she can arouse herself too much, she grabs the soap and the 
washcloth and begins to clean her body, slowly, deep in thought. 

She almost had an affair this week. 

So deceptively simple, to say it that way.  She almost fucked someone
else.  Does that sound better? 

He's a friend.  Call him Todd.  She likes him a lot - she has a lot of
respect for him.  They've been friends for a month or two, they talk 
nearly every day.  He knows her about as well as her lover does.  The 
past little while they've been getting more and more "friendly" with 
each other.  The other day she kissed him, and to her surprise, he 
kissed her back.  For days they kept it there... kisses... gropes... 
making out every chance they got.  Then one night, it got a little 
heavy... They were interrupted.  The next afternoon they tried again... 
his hand on her breast was as far as they got before Todd said no.  He 
said no.  She was stunned.  No-one had ever said no, quite like that, 
before.  She was hurt.  And she was angry.  Not the lightning fast, 
quicksilver shift in mood to which she and so many others - including 
Todd - have grown accustomed.  It was a slow burn that started between 
her legs and moved slowly outward, mingling with and finally replacing 
the aching desire that thudded through her body. 

She and Todd argued, almost fought.  He avoids confrontation like the
plague but that afternoon they argued.  She shaves her legs angrily, 
thinking about it.  They haven't talked about it since, though they've 
been in touch.  He's refused to discuss it.  Todd knows, though, that 
the next night, when talking to "him", her lover, she asked if he'd 
been with anyone else.  Todd knows what the answer was.  Todd knows how 
the answer filled her with disappointment and sadness, with anger. 

They're both glad they didn't fuck, now.  He's glad because he won.  He
not only resisted her temptation but won out over his own desires.  He 
wants her, they both know it, but he has self-control.  She's glad 
because if her lover ever asks her, she can still say no. 

Can't she? 

Finishing in the shower, she steps out, dries off.  She smoothes lotion
through her skin as she wanders to her room and the computer.  Turns it 
on.  Finds another friend, one who's hinted before that he's 
interested.  Call him Dan.  They end up making out.  She feels like a 
slut but carries on, feeling wetness stirring between her legs.  His 
hand, on her breast.  She wanted it there, loves what it's doing, and 
yet it feels wrong.  She tells herself that that's ridiculous - her own 
hand on her breast, still - her same hand.  And yet it isn't "his", and 
her body knows it.  She feels the bile rising in her throat, just as 
her would-be lover drops his hand to the top of her pants.  Panic fills 
her, mixed with fury.  Had his cock known the difference from one pussy 
to the next?  Had his hand felt different as he stroked himself for 
"her", than when he stroked it for her?  She swallows hard as her hands 
on the keyboard ask him to stop.  "I can't do this," she types.  "I'm 
sorry.  I thought I could, but I can't."  Dan's nice about it.  He 
kisses her cheek and tells her it's ok, he's glad they spent time 
together, they'll see each other again soon. 


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