She looks in the mirror, blushing at her own reflection, and wonders if she can do this alone. As her hands touch her face, her fingers slip down her neck and around her narrow throat. She wants something. Still looking at her own reflection, she can’t help but notice how the tips of her shoulders blush with each gasp as her fingers move over her round hips.
There is one and then another. Those naughty thoughts that creep into her mind, taking over as if they own her, causing her to be less than sensible … fully aware of being satiated. She has no pride, some might say, because a lady would never have such thoughts.
Whoever branded her as a lady had it half right …
© Catherine Evermore. All rights reserved.