The notes from the saxophone drift into her window. She stretches languidly atop the bed sheets, laying Anais Nin’s Three Little Birds face down beside her. The sultry rhythm dances across her body, further arousing the parts of her the erotica had stirred.
She closes her eyes and falls into the bluesy sound. Although it was nearing midnight, the steamy city air had not cooled. She lay in a thin camisole, sweat beading on her body. She pictures the man behind the mouthpiece. She had watched him many a night, playing herself as he played his instrument. He is the epitome of male, all sex and hardness.
Tonight, he would be shirtless, standing on his landing one floor down and across, leaning lazily against the brick wall. The city lights glistening over the drops of sweat resting on his tight abs, his pants low on his hips, shadows in the defined hollows below his waist. His hair would sway ever so gently in the light breeze that had just begun to stir, trailing his shoulders. His eyes closed as he sensuously caresses the brass, enticing the slow notes to make love to the night.
The sounds of the trains and car horns below begin to fade. It is just her and her dark, handsome stranger and his saxophone. She indulges in the sensations, the notes enticing her fingers into becoming his fingers to gently caress her neck, her throat. The rhythm whispers promises of body’s entangled, slow love all through the night.
Her belly grows knotted with want for release, her core quivers in anticipation as her hands, his hands, slide temptingly down her belly, encircling her waist, and lower. The sensations became unbearable, her breathing comes faster, the pain of wanting growing intense. He removes her of drenched satin.
She gasps at his fiery touch, hotter than the blazing night. His head dips, trailing his lips down her neck, her chest, belly, lower...his silky hair tickling her thighs. Tasting her gently with his soft, burning tongue. She moves her hips to direct him to where she needs him.
He obeys and gently torments her with his hot tongue in rhythm with strong hands. She buckles with need.
Her breaths come in tempo to his skilled rhythm. She shudders as he lessens the intensity. Her body quivers and shakes violently as the waves hit her hard. He folds her into his arms as she curls into them, trembling. Her breathing slows and her heart beat begins to return to normal.
The night is just as hot. Only, calm now. Steadier. She is one with the night.
It was then that she realized the music had stopped. And a shadow had darkened her apartment.
She opened her eyes to find the beautiful stranger straddling her windowsill, saxophone in one hand, the other hand adjusting his jeans. He had watched her. A new fire flamed bright within her.
An original short by me, previously published elsewhere, I own all rights.
Image via Creative Commons
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