Chapter Ten
The Image
In honor of Jean de Berg
Charlotte loved s*x, her kind of s*x: down and dirty, raw, hard, rutting, passionate s*x — the rougher the better. But she had never been whipped - till now. The very thought brought on an unbelievable thrill of anticipation.
The movement of his hand under the table is partially hidden by the drape of the fine linen tablecloth. Only after the waiter had brought their brandy and departed, did the hand move, then in a quite causal gesture, it dropped down to rest on the top of her leg, just below the hem of her dress. And there he lit it reside with a proprietary air, warming her: the exciting her, the man’s touch on her leg. The hand moves slowly, inching down her inner thigh, pushing the thin dress back well up her legs, before wedging its
