I can't take credit for the following. A friend sent it to me. It made me giggle. I haven't read a bodice-ripper in awhile (not since I started to realize I was old enough to be the mother of the heroines in the books...)
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He grasped me firmly, but gently, just above my elbow, and guided me into a room, 'his' room. Then he quietly shut the door and we were alone. He approached me soundlessly, from behind, and spoke in a low, reassuring voice close to my ear,"Just relax."
Without warning, he reached down, and I felt his strong, calloused hands start at my ankles, gently probing, and moving upward along my calves, slowly but steadily.
My breath caught in my throat.
I knew I should be afraid, but somehow I didn't care. His touch was so experienced, so sure.
When his hands moved up onto my thighs, I gave a slight shudder, and partly closed my eyes. My pulse was pounding. I felt his knowing fingers caress my abdomen, my ribcage. Then, as he cupped my firm, full breasts in his hands, I inhaled sharply.
Probing, searching, knowing what he wanted, he brought his hands to my shoulders, slid them down my tingling spine and into my panties.
Although I knew nothing about this man, I felt oddly trusting and expectant. This is a man, I thought, a man used to taking charge. A man not used to taking 'No' for an answer. A man who would tell me what he wanted.
A man who would look into my soul and say .. . .
"Okay,ma'am,you can board your flight now."
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