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"Okay.," she said, very quietly, "but I'm really scared about this." Tawny, if we're going to be married, you're going to have to put your trust in me sometime. That's what this is all about." (Bull shit it is, honey. It's just part of the plan, but it's going to be pleasurable for both of us,...eventually.) "If you can't trust me, then we ought not to be getting married, right?" Her response was a little pout and a lot of nodding. The words tumbled out again: "Okay, but I'm just really scared." I assured her: "This is just like a private wedding vow, that we won't exchange in front of other people. It's just between you and me. If you're going to be my wife, I need your consent okay?" She looked at me and nodded again. I told her to repeat after me: "I consent to wear the marks and rings of..." and she did.And now for the grand finale. (Drum roll maestro, please?) I still had the engagement ring in my hand. I got down on one knee and looked her in the eye. I said: " You've agreed to. It was about ten minutes later... Wrapped in a couple of damp towels, an exquisite vision of loveliness came slowly floating down the long, shadowed hallway towards me. One long, bare arm was cocked above her head, balancing the turban about her wet hair. The slim fingers of her other hand held the horizontally striped folds of the second towel about her tall, lanky beauty. There was the barest suggestion of an impish smile playing at the corners of Shannon's mouth as each gliding stride displayed the smooth length of an incredibly pale leg. The intermittant glimpse of damp, red-gold curls, coyly peeked from under the split of the towel as she sashayed from her bath. My gaze shuddered up each long, graceful curve as she approached until I was lost in the dialated, dark pools of of her glittering, green, upturned eyes.Wrapping my arms about this humid beauty, I was engulfed in the light, yet musky odor of her cleanliness. Our lips met in a soft, exploratory caress, the sweet softness.
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She came upon a jazz bar with the slow notes of a saxophone and dimly lit room visible from the window. It drew her in. She swung open the heavy mahogany door and stepped inside. It was an instant sanctuary for her dark mood. There was low lighting so you could only see a person clearly if you were a few feet from them. There was a sparse crowd with low energy, private tables, and all dark wood. A dark bar lined one side where the only light was behind the bottles of liquor. Laid back musicians were on stage with saxophones, cellos, pianos, and flutes. Music that strokes the clitoris of the ears and mind.She strolled to an empty small table in the back corner. Peeling off her wet coat, she dropped it on the back of her chair and sat down. She adjusted her damp sweater and felt her nipples scrape against the wool through the scratchy lace. Her clit twitched. She mentally told it to fuck off, she wasn't in the mood.A young waiter took her drink order and within a couple of minutes she.

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