Red Carpet Treatment
©2003 Elizabeth L. Clark

I dug my nails into the plush red shag carpet, moaning as she drove me insane with her touches. The room smelled of the pizza we had for dinner and stale cigarette smoke.

My skin bore the marks from her nails, painted with polish red as cranberries and the bright blue ink she has used to make designs over my aching breasts.

I screamed out her name and nearly passed out from the intensity of my climax. Our skin gleamed against the red carpet as she cradled me in her arms. I knew the night was far from over and smiled as sleep took me.