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Woman in red dress, teasing with her legs slightly open.

There is this part of me, so natural and true, writhing free from all the censure placed upon it. Beauty within, your name is seductress: 

 seduction, seductive, seductively, seduce, seduced, seducing, seducible, seductress — 

a family of words scorned, rejected, and feared for the power they bestow women. It is a power many would rather we not awaken within ourselves, but rouse it, indeed I will.

Fun, this game of seduction — dare I say stimulating. It is a game on the banned list, but for the rebels among us, it’s a game of pleasure and of fantasies fulfilled. 

It is a game for those whose eyes long to be tossed across a room to land lust upon the world, to infuse people with it.  

The seductress, with her sensual teases, is a goddess. She is the designer of desire. Within her sultry eyes lies the power of creation, powers that forge   worlds within minds — worlds filled with passions and needs so seemingly real that within your own mind you might find yourself lost.  

Tonight I feel listless with the need to erect a world of my own making in your mind. Yes,  you, right there wherever you happen to be. These words are game pieces arranged just perfectly on this page for you, my trap set.  

I’m not doing this because I’m altruistic; I most certainly am not.  It’s quite simple, selfish really; I’m feeling playful and knowing that you’ve lost yourself in my own erotic utopia turns me on; it makes me wet. 

The trap I have set for you starts here: it’s raining heavily, a very sweaty summer kind of rain.  You’re walking down a city sidewalk. It’s evening.  It doesn’t matter where you’re going or why you’re there. It’s as if you’re in a dream and all that matters is the moment. 

The rain on the sidewalk glistens with the colorful reflection of neon lights, and the clouds above are glowing with an orange hue. It’s the odd sort of detail that you’d find in a dream, but it doesn’t bother you. It’s approaching dusk, which makes the lights more pronounced.  

You don’t have an umbrella, but you’re not bothered by the water as it slides down your face and soaks your clothes.  Just as you pass by the bright windows of a Ramen shop,  a sparkle of light catches your eye and you look toward the street.

Parked by the curb is a silver Rolls Royce. It captures your attention partly because the luxury of it seems completely out of place here but mainly because reclined coyly against the passenger door is a woman, and she’s staring straight at you with intense and desirous eyes. You let your gaze caress her curves, and it hits you, instantly, this realization that it’s me standing there.  You’ve never seen my full face,  but you know it’s me,  and you pause mid step to drink in my deep brown eyes and the shape of my cheekbones. 

Your eyes trail down to my defined collarbone and then further to take in the glistening red of my sheer soaked satin dress that clings to every curve of my body. You note with a twinge of longing the shape of my hard nipples raising the fabric at my chest. You harden in your pants, unable to contain the force of your want of me. Your eyes wander across every inch of my form until your gaze moves up and our stares collide,  mine unwavering as its intensity hits your senses.

Your self awareness returns to you, and you realize that you’re standing mid step and gawking. Awkwardness washes over you, and you think to yourself that you need to keep walking because Lila doesn’t know who you are,  but you just can’t seem to get your feet to budge because there I am,  right in front of you, this woman who until now had only lived in your mind and on the screen of your phone. 

And as you stand there, body motionless while your mind blows like a hurricane, I push my body off of the car. 

“I’ve been waiting for you,” I say slowly as I walk over. Standing now directly in front of you, I reach my left hand up to gently grab the collar of your shirt while the right one and that ring of mine trails from your shoulder,  nails dragging slowly down your arm to take your hand.  

“Come with me,” I say seductively,  my mouth only inches from yours.  

Releasing your collar,  I pull your hand. Our fingers lace together as sensations of pleasure dance excitedly up both of our arms at this first touch.  Your feet finally listen to you,  this time to follow me as I lead you winding down water drenched streets and alleys.  

We don’t say a word as the clouds glow above us. Feet on concrete, rain rushing down gutters, and the excited thrumming of our pulses are the only sounds that ring in our ears. I look back at you, strings of drenched hair are sticking to my cheeks and draping across my chest, which I can see you watching. Your mouth is slightly open as you look at me, almost disbelieving. I stop walking and turn toward you, my nipples inches from your pulsing body.

“Does this feel real?” I ask you as I drag my nails gently from your ear, down your chest, to rest on your belt. I can feel the warmth of your body as it crashes into my nerves. 

“So real, but how can this be? Where are we?” You say, leaning your lips closer to my ear and finally getting the nerve up to reach your free hand toward my waist to gently pull me closer toward you until our bodies are connected. 

“Does it really matter what this place is as long as it feels real?” I say, leaning into you more, delighting in the sensation of your warmth, and of the power in your body. “It does feel real to you, doesn’t it?” I can feel as you let your hand move up my side to trace the line of my breast with your thumb. Your touch breeds fire in my veins, and I let out a small breath. 

“So fucking real,” you breathe back to me. 

“Then don’t try to analyze it. Lose yourself with me,” I whisper into your ear right before I nip your earlobe and then back away to pull you down one more alley before we stop in front of a cement wall that has two doors in it. Each one has a carving intricately decorating the front. On the black door dangle a set of handcuffs, and on the green door, ferns and tall evergreens cover the surface.  

The rain has let up, but in its place the world is transforming into steam. Steam rises from the ground, from the grates in the road, and steam rises from my body, released into the air by the burning I feel inside for you. 

“I want you,” I say, pushing my body closer to yours. You grab my hips with both of your hands. Your fingers caress me lustfully. I can feel how much you want me; the evidence is pressing against the front of me as you pull me tight, but when you lean down to kiss me, I put a finger to your lips. 

“Pick a door,” I say. And you do, without hesitation, you turn me around and open the… 

Click a door to make your selection

Credits: Adobe Firefly AI was used to generate the images of the doors.

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