Space
24 Ymiden 716
She stood in the doorway, a vision, cut with killer curves and dressed in too little fabric, sunshine trapped in the wavy tresses of her yellow hair, taking that same warmth with here wherever she went. Through a thin gap in the curtains where they had not been drawn properly for the evening, the peppered light of one of Treid's moons sliced the dimly lit room in two, making the figure in the doorway appear no more than a silhouette, the outline of her sharp nose, full lips, and long, ladylike fingers promising dangerous things.
Her movements were slow and predatory, she was a wolf treading unfamiliar terrain, watching and listening to the night. Malcolm sat up on the bed, transfixed, bewitched by the ghost. You shouldn't be here, he thought as she padded towards him and crawled up the length of the bed on hands and knees to draw cool fingers across the tops of his legs, avoiding the skin while through leg hair pricked like nerve ends her message rang clear, as too did her intentions. This wasn't business, just pleasure.
As silk rolled away from flesh under guide of practiced fingers, old lovers tied new bounds with feverish kisses and hungry hands, their wears discarded haphazardly on the bed and floor where hot flesh found willing home, and familiar scars did bend to an old foe.
