Program forlorn

She slips into black silk. Her new heels click across the floor. He walks in and stays quiet at first, just watching. The silence stretches. Then he leans close and his voice brushes her ear. Honey, let's stay in tonight. His fingers follow the straps, tracing the lace where it meets skin. She feels the heat rise under that touch. They forget the theatre, the plans, everything outside that room. He turns her, presses her forward, mouth hungry on the curve of her ass. She takes him between her lips, slow at first, then deeper, letting the wet sounds fill the quiet. He groans, pulls back, then slides into her ass, stretching her open inch by inch. She grips the sheets, heels still on, body rocking with each thrust. When he pulls out he spills across her face, warm and thick, and she blinks up at him through the mess, smiling.