Where the hell did she go?'
He sipped his whiskey and stared out the window.
She'd never been gone this long before; he didn't know when or even if she was coming back.
He paged through the half-finished files on his hard-drive. Nothing called out to him, nothing that he wanted to work on at the moment. Sighing, he set the glass aside and opened a new document. A clean slate, the empty page stared back at him.
His muse was a fickle bitch; she'd left him a few weeks ago and there was no sign of her. He'd been slogging away on some really dreary stuff, hoping that she would make another appearance. Maybe tonight.
Henry closed his eyes and rubbed them. Leaning back, he let his mind wander.
Suddenly, he got a mental whiff of smoke and French perfume. He followed it. From where he stood, he could see a dressing table, a circle of light in a darkened room, the smoke from a Gauloise drifting up into the air, the cigarette resting in a crystal ashtray on the table.
Henry stared at her, sitting at the table. She was clad in a sheer, pale-yellow peignoir. Thick auburn hair fell to the middle of her back in waves. She separated a handful and brushed it with a pearl-handled brush. He imagined the feel of her hair in his hands, like silk running through his fingers.
Her skin was smooth and brown. He longed to touch it. Picturing the sleeve of her robe fall from her shoulder while she brushed, he felt his cock stiffen. Henry adjusted his pants and returned his thoughts to her. He could smell her perfume as he bent to kiss the nape of her neck, just behind her left ear. Her skin was warm against his lips. His tongue traced a path to the top of her spine.
She tasted of lavender flowers, the sun, the sky. Henry could see her breasts as he looked over her shoulder. They were small, the dark tips visible under the thin silk of her gown. He imagined slipping the straps of her gown off her shoulders, revealing her breasts. Would she sigh as he stroked them, the palms of his hands brushing across her hardened nipples before he cupped them and squeezed them possessively?
He unzipped his jeans and freed his hard cock, wrapping his palm around the shaft and dry-stroking as he imagined her sighing, the sound she would make when he rolled first one and then both nipples between thumb and finger, pulling and pinching as she leaned her head back against his chest. A drop of liquid glistened at the tip of his cock and he spread it over the skin of the dark head, before wrapping the hot flesh in his fist again.
She spread her legs as his hand slid down her belly and pulled up the edge of her gown. A nest of auburn curls under his fingertips drew him. He could smell her sex as the warm, earthy scent rose and mingled with the perfume and the smoke.
The edges of her cunt were moist and swollen as he slipped his fingers lower, gently teasing her lips apart. He stroked himself faster, feeling his balls tighten, heat growing in his sack as he pushed his fingers into her pussy. She shifted under his hand, opening herself to him as he fucked her faster, two slick fingers in her cunt and his thumb circling her clit. Henry matched the pace of the hand on his cock with the picture in his mind.
She was groaning now and quietly urging him to go faster, fuck her harder. He could almost feel her tense up and press against his hand as her orgasm approached. His balls contracted and he felt the hot come flow through his fingers and over his hand as he squeezed the head. In his mind's eye, she came, too, shaking and crying out with each thrust of his fingers into her pussy.
The heat from his belly spread outward in a growing circle, relaxing him. He dropped his hand and leaned back in his chair, reaching out to pick up his glass of whiskey and take a sip. The scent of her perfume lingered in his head. Cleaning up with a few tissues, Henry zipped up his jeans, then leaned forward and started to type