And then… another memory rises, like a ripple through still water.
Now, I find myself reclining on an exquisite Victorian-style couch, nestled in the heart of a grand, dimly lit bedroom. Velvet drapes hang heavy over tall windows, and the flickering golden light of enchanted lamps casts a warm, intimate glow over the room.
The air is thick with fragrance.
Jasmine. Lilac. And something deeper, darker… like crushed roses soaked in moonlight. It clings to each breath I draw. It's heady, almost overwhelming.
Tch…
I should've chosen something lighter.
But… what's done is done.
I rest languidly on one side, my body draped in the thinnest, most scandalous nightgown I've ever worn.
The fabric is black color but very thin, so delicate it glides against my skin like morning mist. Beneath it, my the faint silhouette of my undergarments peek through: a sleek, black lace bra cradling my chest, and soft, silky black panties that hug low at the hips.
