T H E  R E D  D O O R .

The instant he walked through the red door he knew he made a mistake. He cpuld smell her wild flowery scent beckoning his gaze. Surveying the room he eased through the other patrons gathered at the brink of courtship with one of her Lady’s divine creations. There was only one designed for him and as if by magic she appeared in his vision like a beacon of light.

He trailed her body from head to feet admiring the wah her hands lay delicately across her lap; the way her long red hair flowed down her back and her gentle laughter as she chattered admist the others. Years had flown between them as they lived with only thoughts of one another. He had often imagined her in the still of the night, as the warmth in his bed or the sugar in his refined English tea.

There was a moment her eyes met his intrusive stare drawing him in with invisible reins as he gliding through the dancers he avoided her presence. A new tune begun from the orchestra as he settled by the bar unaware she had moved, until; There she was standing before him her heaving bosom rising with every breath as she smiled sweetly.

“Its been a while.”

“That it has.” He reply reservedly placing his glass on the bar.
.
Her eyes fluttered and thr dimple in her cheek formed slowly.”I hardly see you these days!” she exclaimed.

He nodded unsure of a fitting answer and gald she continued without missing a beat.

“Tell me how do you mange to avoid these tedious events?”
“I desire an element of solidarity at times.” He offered.

The room had grown warm as the movement of her lips enchanted his eyes, her red rouge matching the colour of her distinctive hair.

“That must be quiet lonely.” She replied
.
“Were is Gerald.” He asked, hoping he was near as everything about her made him weak and open to her bidding.

She was his poision and Gerald was the antidote.
.
“Haven’t you heard?” Waving a ringless hand she giggled ” Poor Gerald could not keep up. You see there is one thing I’ve desired more than anything!” She uttered, breathlessly.
.

Pulling at his stiff collar he cleared his throat. “Which is?” He asked nervously.

“Control!” He blushed as she basked in his discomfort. “I don’t want to be Mastered, I want to be the Master!” Standing she strided across the three feet that separated them with an air of elegance and calm she leaned in and whispered “Tell me after all these years can you be mastered.”
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© W O R D B E R R Y
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Published by Word Berry

I'm beautifully me...all my imperfections and accomplishments make me...

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