At His Mercy

35- Adam

It's whimsical and I don't like it. It's not the frilly outfit per se that has me gritting my teeth. It's more like the fact that she looks drop dead gorgeous in it and the feeling of pride which it involuntarily illicites from me is becoming a common response.
It irritates me more than it should.
A  frilly organza skirt sits on her tiny waist and match shirt makes thinking impossible around her, clinging in all the right places

I take the stairs two at a time. We're running late for a fundraiser, I've decided to try a different approach. I've asked mum to invite a list of very important officials. Hopefully this will help get the right people connected and more importantly spike some interest in the project.
Something inside me disagrees with bribing or being bribed by anyone- Unfortunatly it seems the norm here. The reality.  I just won't do it and that means the project is dead in the water  unless we play it right and get the right type of exposure.

There will be a few famous faces, which always helps. As well as National newspapers, bloggers and fashion society magazines. So it should all help. Mum has been busy for the last month, doing what she does best: planning a gala to end all galas with her friends.
They've organised an auction, fashion show and meal in super fast time. Ofcourse it helps they are all desperate housewives. Apparently mum and her group of friends have pulled in every favour possible to make this happen.
When mum said she was going to sell tickets for an eye watering sum, I was concerned she was being too ambitious. But it turns out the wealthy are wealthier than you think.
Would I shell out that much? Yes, and I'd have to buy at least 2 or 3 tickets. So I guess it does make sense.

My mother thinks the more the tickets cost the more people will want to come. It's a show of wealth and exclusivity. I suspect she's right.

There is only a month left for our arrangement and as I enter the room, I'm reminded of the fact that in a few weeks Aya will be gone. She stands there in all her pink and white frills and makes me gasp in wonder.
She is the wonder of my world and very soon-will no longer be in it. The thought makes me ache. She makes me ache in longing. These last few weeks -the need for her hasn't been sated, if anything, it has been fuelled further and the fire that had simmered away through all those years of absence is now a raging furnace of flame in the night sky.
Everything about her is so enigmatic. She smiles a cheeky smile which is so at odds with the woman who was on her knees last night.
I come up behind her, sliding my arm around her waist, pulling her back into me. She gasps in suprise as she falls unexpectedly into the solid wall of my chest. ' God, I want to fuck you so hard in that skirt!' I say, and that is the juvenile strategy I've adopted to cope with my obsession with her. Redirecting any affection I feel, to pure lust. Perhaps if I show her I am more concerned with her body she may just let down her guard a little. Be less wary of my affection for her.
She smiles over her shoulder at me and reaches over to pat my face. 'Good,' she says, ' hold that thought till we get back!' then she gives me the most seductively slow smile ever, I swear my mouth goes dry.
The honeyed pools of mystery and simmering desire are a hedonistic nightmare. I'm hard just thinking about sinking into her tight heat and the anticipation is torture. it makes me grit my teeth and  I smile slowly, hoping to release some of the tension building inside and  hide the effect she is having on me. I try a half grin.

This time next month she'll be gone. The though sits in my gut like lead.  I turn to leave, hoping  my face wont deceive me, I catch the look of relief on Aya's face in the mirror on the wall.  The bright smile has slipped away and in its place there is an unmistakable look of regret or is that sadness. . .