Temptress

My favorite way to kill an afternoon is seduction. I practice it the way other girls practice their backhand or their French. I keep a running tally of boys who’ve stared at me like they forgot their own names. Last week I gave another one the show he’d been begging for in his head all month. I let the silk slide off my shoulders first, then the bra, until nothing was left between his eyes and my bare skin. He looked drunk before I’d even touched myself. The light from the window caught on my nipples and the wet shine between my thighs when my fingers found it. I spread my legs wider for the view, rubbing slow circles that made the lace edge of my panties stick to me. Every breath I took lifted my breasts just enough to make him lean forward. I took my time. I always do. Watching his face while I made myself come is better than any compliment he could say out loud.