With New Eyes

You're wearing the black slip again. Sitting on the plush red stool in the middle of the room. Knees together, feet splayed to either side. Your head is titled down demurely, but you're staring straight at my bulging crotch from under your lashes.

-Show me.

You lift one hand to cup your breast, use the gentle fingertips of the other to push the satin aside, the nipple rising under the friction, flushed dark when it spills over the edge.