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She simply ignored him and left the room. It was a full half-hour before anyone else arrived. This time it was, as predicted, someone to apply his make up. She spent a great deal of time getting his face just right. Using an astringent or some such cream to clean his face thoroughly before she started the transformation. She even seemed to have some sort of colour chart, which she was working from. Brian had little or no idea what she was using, but she seemed to need almost every article in her case. Foundations cream, blusher, powders, eye shadows, mascara, lip stick, lip gloss, eye liner in fact a whole array of items passed before his eyes before she finally nodded her approval and left. The next arrival was empty-handed. Brian wondered what tortures she had in store for him, but he wasn't left wondering for long. Opening the cupboards and drawers she produced a complete outfit for him to wear. After stripping him naked, she fitted a new white lace corset around his body and. Without willing it, his back arched into her. God, how he wanted her. She set him on fire. For nine months his dreams had danced around this, leaving him feeling empty and unfulfilled, and with damp sheets. Tarren gripped the waist of his trousers, tugging at the drawstring. Standing, she slid the rough material past his hips and off him. Springing free of his nightclothes, his body beckoned to her, standing strong in the early morning moonlight streaming through the window. She caught his eye and smiled again. He felt as if her smiles had always been just for him, a secret they had shared. A faint shrug of her slender shoulders and her nightdress lost its perilous hold, falling in rippling folds to the floor below. Like a statue carved in ivory she stood before him, every detail of her standing out in stark relief, every part of her perfect. With the graceful ease of a detached shadow she floated back to his side and remained, poised, above him. Her eyes traveled across him as if.
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