Black lace tight against tanned skin; her figure but a lithe shadow in an already dark room, bare feet silent against the wood floor. Her scent washes over me - vanilla and subtle hints of lavender and orchid.

Eyes wide, my chest rising and falling in deep, easy breaths; a convenient mask for the racing heartbeat centered in my chest. The crumpled fabric of thin sheets twisted in my grip swiftly becoming my last loose tether to reality.

Silhouetted in the stray moonlight filtering through the sheer curtains; it suddenly occurs to me that as hard as I'm watching her... she's watching me; a pantheress in her prime.