Sudden Sex: 69 Sultry Short Stories by Tyler Alison

Author:Tyler, Alison [Tyler, Alison]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
ISBN: 9781573449618
Publisher: Cleis Press Start
Published: 2013-04-07T16:00:00+00:00

THE SCRIBE

Tabitha Rayne

I’ve just hitched up my skirt. I’m kneeling and the hem is up at my buttocks, almost exposing them, but not quite. The familiar tingling anticipation sweeps over my flesh as I part my thighs, just a little, and lift one of the implements laid out before me. I always start with the smallest—the finest.

I hold my breath and close my eyes, letting my head fall back, jaw slack, in the pose that signifies the beginning of my ritual.

I run the tip of the long, fine shaft up the inside of my thigh, swirling and sweeping as I go, imagining the pattern it makes on my skin. My hand is shaking and the hairs on the back of my neck bristle in delight. If you really concentrate on your body, you can feel which nerve endings are connected. For example, if you arouse or tickle the tiny fine hairs just at the corner of your mouth, it sends a tingling sensation to the inside of your elbow—if you follow the line and sweep just there, you can trace a path all the way to the heavenly dip and peak of your sex. I defy you not to try it now. Go on, let your hand reach to the side of your mouth, go on…

The door. I hear the door open. My thighs clamp shut in shame and I’m shuffling my skirt back down when he strolls into the room.

“What’s going on here then?” He sounds like he’s being jokey but I’m so humiliated and ashamed at being caught that I can’t read his expression. I have a flashback to the same scene when I was small, only it had been my mother who’d walked in then.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” she’d screamed in an explosion of fury, and I’d stared at my stained skin and cried.

“Nothing,” I stammer, gathering my pens and brushes to my bosom and scrambling to stand.

“Come on.” He stoops low and I surrender back onto my heels. “Show me.”

He stares at me with those eyes. Those artist’s eyes that scrutinize, study, absorb and analyze. He knows my body intimately, inside and out. I’ve posed for him a hundred times and lain down for him a thousand.

He eases the pens from my grip and lays them on the floor. His fingertips are cold as he gathers my skirt and pulls it up to my resisting fists that are balled into my lap.

“Please, let me see.”

I watch the curling ink come into view as I relax my hands. Hard black scribbles both adorn and sear my flesh.

“What’s this?” he asks with curiosity, not anger, and I feel I might tell him.

“It’s mine.”

“Your what?”

“My arousal,” I say. He slides his palms onto my thighs, tugging the fabric up farther, and sighs. I tremble, thinking he’s going to chastise me for marking myself so viciously.

“It’s beautiful,” he says, and shuffles backward so he’s on all fours staring at my work. He leans in and parts my knees, inhaling my dampening want.

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