One night in Paris
Written by: Kits
Her skin was alabaster pale against the scarlet sheets. The air was redolent with the smell of sweat and sex.
He lay on his side without looking in her direction.
She took a cigar out of the holder and lit it. The pungent smell of the Cuban inflicted itself on the warm air in the bedroom.
She raised her hand and ran it across his lower back possessively, ‘Coffee?’ she asked.
He shook his head, the movement barely discernible with his glossy blonde hair shimmering in the half lit room.
She rose from the bed, the sheet falling off her body and headed towards the kitchen. Black coffee simmered hot and fresh. The cups and saucers had been left freshly washed for her. The maid always knew what to expect when she wore that lil red number, she smilingly thought to herself.
She poured out the coffee into two cups and took them out on a tray with the spoons entwined.
She stopped at the bedside and asked again, ‘Coffee cher?’ The boy looked up at her, his near black eyes glowing with dislike. ‘I said no, how many times should I say no to you? Last night was bad enough!’
She took a step back. She hadn’t expected this. Last night had started harmlessly enough. A one night stand – some fun, flirting, sex. Just a girl having some fun. Simple right?
Apparently not. The coffee tray fell as if in slow motion. Her fangs came out as she leapt on the boy.