Dawn Meadows

Emily Lockwood - A Night at the Cottage 4 of 7

Added 2020-12-05 03:11:36 +0000 UTC

The stranger's boots clapped against the hardwood floors as they stepped in out of the cold. The room was warm by unchecked fire blazing in the king's cobblestone hearth. And they would have felt it if not for the heavy black coat that adorned their body. The black pants, the black gloves, even the black knitted winter cap obscured them in mystery. But most of all it was their face. Their face kept secret behind a black platinum mask, polished to a fine finish. And it was fine, the way the orange firelight blobbed in molten reflection upon the shiny surface.

The stranger moved without hurry as they approached the bed. They regarded the fire for a moment before sitting down upon the bed next to the girl. She lay face down, head resting on an outstretched arm, with that long red ponytail cascading down her back, held in place by a precious sentimental green band. Emily Lockwood's breath came in unhurried timing, the cute bow tied at the small of her back on the back of her short blue dress rose and fell rhythmically.

The stranger's gloved head hovered just above the finely threaded material of the smoky pantyhose that stretched taut over her long and lean thighs. He allowed himself the moment of restraint before touching her on the back of her leg. Were it not for his black gloves, he would have felt the threaded texture of the nylon, felt the way the silky material slid like smudging gourmet chocolate over the creamy white skin of her legs. The sound as he teased at the stretchy nylon, always resisting to give, but always irresistibly giving.

Emily Lockwood murmured, but she did not wake. For she was dreaming of her adventure stories, the great girl detective. Oh the cases she had solved.

The stranger watched her dream but knew that the moment could not last forever. For there was work to be done.