The Finer Things in Life

One glance tells you everything. Thalia likes the good stuff. She likes it served hot and slow. Right now she has both on her mind. She steps closer, barefoot, hips rolling like she knows exactly what she’s doing. Her fingers drift down the front of her dress, tracing the line where fabric meets skin. A little smile, then she pulls the tie at her waist and the silk parts without a sound. Underneath there’s nothing. Just her body, bare and already warm, and the soft glint of a chain that runs from one nipple to the other. She gives the chain a gentle tug, bites her lip when it tightens. The tension travels straight down between her legs. She wants you to watch. That’s the whole point. She turns slowly, letting you see the curve of her ass, the faint red mark where the chain has been resting. Then she bends forward over the table, palms flat, legs apart. Food waits on fine china, wine sits untouched, but her attention is elsewhere. It’s on the heat building between her thighs and the way your eyes feel on her skin. Her hand slips between her legs. Two fingers part her folds, show you how wet she already is. She circles her clit once, twice, then pushes inside. A quiet moan escapes, quick and real. She fucks herself lazily, hips rocking, chain swinging with every thrust. Every so often she pulls the chain again, mixing pleasure with the soft bite of pain. She glances back over her shoulder. Her voice is low, almost lazy. “You coming over, or should I keep going without you?”