Free Black Lipstick Kisses by Monica Belle Page A

worse.
    â€˜I’ve never really tasted anything quite like this before.’
    â€˜It’s exclusive, naturally. Only a little is made, and then only in the best years.’
    â€˜Oh.’
    He settled back, his eyes on me as he sipped at his own glass, apparently enjoying the spectacle of watching me eat. I felt rather as if I was in a goldfish bowl, but it beat scrubbing tags off walls, so I helped myself to some of the salmon, which actually tasted nice. Stephen took only a tiny sample of each food and had filled my glass before his own had really been touched. Presently he got up again and returned to the kitchen, then began to lay a table in the adjoining room, carrying through more glasses, crockery, cutlery, and three bottles of different wines.
    â€˜I don’t mind you getting me drunk, Stephen, but with that lot I really am going to be semi-conscious.’
    â€˜Nonsense. We don’t have to finish every bottle anyway, but each course needs its own wine.’
    As he began to cook, so he began to hum to himself, ‘Jerusalem’ of all things. He seemed thoroughly pleased with himself, doubtless confident that he had me where he wanted me. It was true, sort of, although far less because of the fuss he was making over me than the memory of how dedicated he was to my pleasure.
    Whatever he was doing in the kitchen it was pretty complicated, and he paused only once, to put on some classical music very quietly and dim the lights. The taste of the champagne had improved after a couple of glasses, and I finished it along with the salmon, leaving me feeling pleasantly mellow by the time he brought out two steaming plates. He even held my chair out for me to sit down at the table.
    It was an incredibly elaborate dish, and incredibly rich, with different sorts of meat and a dark red sauce, some unusual kind of rice, tiny peas and asparagus.The wine was equally rich, red and strong, and he poured with a generous hand, both for me and himself. I didn’t bother to hold back and I couldn’t help but be flattered by the effort he was putting into my seduction, and was soon playing my part.
    A delicious chocolate cake followed the main course, washed down with sweet golden wine, then cheese and port. By then I was completely mellowed out, ready for anything except that my tummy felt fit to burst. He had become ever more attentive and ever more confident as the meal progressed, also eager, and he was fidgeting with his empty port glass when I had finished mine. I stretched, deliberately making my dress tight over my braless breasts to show their outline and the twin bumps of my nipples.
    He smiled, trying to look cool and refined, but only managing randy. I got up, slightly unsteady on my feet as I crossed to what I had already worked out was the bedroom door. Within was a big, square room, the light already on to show a huge four-poster bed, furnishings much like those elsewhere in the flat and a wide-screen TV. I laid myself down on the bed, flat on my back, too drunk and too full to pose. My vision was swimming slightly as I took in my surroundings, all very neat and restrained. There were framed prints, maybe even originals – Beardsley but not rude ones.
    I heard the chink of glasses and Stephen appeared, a large brandy in each hand and lust written all over his face. All I could manage in response was a drunken smile. He put the glasses down and reached out to trace a slow line down my body, from my forehead, across the tip of my nose and my lips, over my chin and down my neck, between my breasts and lower,over my belly. He stopped just an inch short of my pussy, tickling me gently through my dress, then moved back up, to touch the stud in my tummy button.
    Relaxed, too full to respond, I let him explore, content so long as he didn’t climb on top of me. He was slow, and seemed fascinated with my piercing and the shape of my belly, stroking for ages before he at last moved to my breasts.