The Flower Shop Window

His hand is pushing my face against the window of the flower shop. The cold glass and my skin are glued together. I can smell yesterday’s roses and tulips. My breath leaves a dew on the see-through wall between me and nature’s finest.

He pulls down my strapless dress. I stand there, naked in the middle of the street that is buzzing with busy people during the days. It is past Midnight and the hot summernight’s air tickles my flesh. He squeezes my right nipple, cupping my breast and caressing it. My legs spread, my cunt wet. My heels holding me steady in place. “Don’t move.”, he gently whispers into my ear.

My face still pressed against the window, I hear him open his fly and drop his pants. No other sounds audible to disturb the symphony of passion we are about to write. I feel him pull apart my cheeks. I am eagerly awaiting him to use me.

A push and I hold my breath. Another push and I moan. His hands grabbing my hair, pulling my head back. My fingertips now finding balance on the cold glass. I open my eyes. I see him. I see me. Faces distorted on the dark see-through wall. Painting a picture of beauty and infinite desire. I am his.