Open Invitation

by Tiffany White

  Withdrawing the contents, she saw there was something inside besides stationery to account for its thickness. The yellow legal paper containing his fantasy was wrapped around several layers of slick pink gift tissue.

  Setting the fantasy aside for a moment, she unfolded the tissue, uttering a small gasp of delight when she saw what it contained. A string of tiny diamond chips twinkled in an exquisite gold anklet.

  She couldn’t keep it, of course, but she was too much of a woman not to try it on. Impulsively, she lifted her foot from the water, bending her leg at the knee. When she had the anklet fastened, she raised her leg high in the air to admire Kyle’s gift. Pale pink polish on her toes peeked out from dollops of suds as the soapy water sluiced down her leg.

  Resting her leg on the spigot, she admired the anklet’s sparkle as she turned her foot this way and that. Then she picked up the yellow legal paper covered with Kyle’s bold scrawl and began reading.

  Amanda, sweet,

  I’m picturing you now as you lie back in a tub of warm, soapy water, trailing a slippery sponge over your body. The room is fragrant and steamy, lulling you into sensual lassitude as you admire the diamond trinket twinkling on your delicate ankle. You have tried it on, haven’t you?

  The anklet is all I want you wearing when I come for you, except perhaps a robe when you open the door to me.

  While you wait, lie back and let me entertain you with fleeting images….

  It’s winter. Listen to the wind howling across the frozen field and through the barren trees. I can just see you now, coming through the clearing.

  You look so snug and warm with that fur lap robe tucked around you as you drive your pretty two-horse carriage down the road.

  You turn suddenly at the whinny of my horse. You do see me, don’t you? Sitting astride my black stallion at the crest of the hill.

  I’m wearing a long, black coat and a black Stetson. See the frosty breath of my horse as he stamps impatiently, anxious to be off. Watch as I rein him in and turn to descend the hill.

  Are you going to follow me down to the other side of the hill? You will, if you ‘re the woman I think you are.

  Don’t be startled because you don’t see me at first, only my horse grazing on a patch of scrub grass. I’m over by the big tree in a fur-lined sleeping bag that’s half-unzipped. Enough so that you can see I’m naked, my body hair running rampant over my hard chest and lower still.

  Don’t you want to join me, Amanda? Or perhaps you’d prefer a warmer setting….

  In that case, it’s summer now. The air is hot and still. Nothing moves save the ceiling fan circling lazily over your bed. The air in the room is hot and stifling.

  As you toss and turn restlessly beneath the mosquito netting canopied over your bed, your thin, white cotton gown clings damply to your thighs.

  Unable to sleep, you go down to the parlor for a mint julep and stand sipping it in the dark. The glass is cool and wet as you rub it across your flushed cheek.

  Suddenly you hear a noise outside the window. You look out through the space between the gauzy curtains fluttering listlessly on a stray, feeble breeze.

  Do you see me silhouetted in the flare of the match I’ve just struck to light my cheroot? I’m slouched against the veranda railing, shirtless and shoeless. I can’t sleep, either, but it’s not the heat that’s bothering me.

  My bare chest is sweat slicked, and as you watch, a trickle of sweat slides down to my belly. Your eyes linger, noticing how the faded jeans I’m wearing outline my sex. It’s plain that I’m aroused. The pupils of your eyes grow soft and wide as you also notice my jeans are unsnapped. Looking up, you see I’m watching you.

  Will you respond to the dare in my eyes…?

  Amanda’s eyes drifted closed and the yellow paper in her hand slipped into the water as she became lost in the fantasy.

  Moments later her eyes were jerked open by the insistent appeal of her doorbell. Her gaze flew to her watch on the vanity. It was only six-thirty. Kyle wasn’t due to arrive until seven.

  The rat! He’d purposely timed it so he would catch her in her bath. That was his reason for wanting her to wait to read his fantasy. Now she had no choice but to open the door to him wearing nothing but her robe and the glittery anklet, as he’d wanted.

  How long had he been ringing the doorbell? she wondered as she dried off quickly and pulled on her satin robe.

  “Amanda, sweet,” she heard him calling as she hurried to answer her door. “Let me in or I’ll huff and I’ll puff and I’ll blow—”

  She pulled open the door.

  Kyle was standing there laden with packages. She recognized the hem of his white denim cowboy duster and the silver-tipped boots he’d been wearing when she’d first met him.

  “What’s all this?” she asked as he staggered in the door, trying to keep the packages on top of the stack from their sideways slide.

  A muffled response came from behind the pile.

  Amanda reached to remove the top packages hiding Kyle’s face.

  “Told you I was going shopping,” he said with a wink.

  “But…”

  The look in his eyes stopped her protest as his blue gaze raked over her disheveled appearance. Her top knot was half-undone, its dark tendrils clinging to the still-damp skin at her throat. The beginnings of a smile tugged at his lips as he sought out her right ankle.

  The diamond anklet he’d given her glittered there, matching the satisfaction glittering in his eyes. “Good.” He nodded. “I see you followed my directions.”

  “As if I had a choice…. You had this all planned out to the second, didn’t you?”

  He gave her the point, looking very pleased with himself. “Planning is what separates the men from the boys.”

  “Is it?” she commented, studying him and the packages while he stood before her grinning ear to ear.

  “What is all this?” she asked, not sure she wanted to know.

  “Come with me and find out,” he answered over his shoulder, climbing the steps to her bedroom.

  “I’m waiting….” he called down when she didn’t immediately follow him up the stairs.

  “Amanda Butterworth, you are never, ever taking another dare as long as you live, do you hear me?” she admonished herself under her breath as she stood at the bottom of the stairs contemplating what taking this dare had gotten her into.

  “A-man-da….”

  “Okay, okay. I’m coming. Keep your pants on,” she muttered, then giggled nervously, realizing the inaneness of what she’d said. Taking a deep breath, she began the slow climb up the stairs to her bedroom, where he waited.

  She saw him when she reached the top of the stairs.

  He sat on her bed as though he belonged there. His long legs were crossed carelessly at his booted ankles, and his back was braced against her brass headboard. The packages he’d brought were scattered on the bed at his feet.

  When she hesitated, his eyes narrowed.

  She approached the bed and added the two packages in her hands to the pile at his feet, then moved away.

  Gone was the teasing man she’d opened the door to. In his place was a silent, watchful one. One who looked rather dangerous, she thought, her heartbeat speeding up.

  “Undo your robe,” he said quietly.

  “What’s in these packages?” she asked by way of diversion, moving to open the closest one.

  “Undo your robe,” he repeated with quiet authority.

  “Close your eyes,” she answered impetuously, stepping back from the bed.

  He shook his head. “Uh-uh. I want to watch. That’s what this is all about.”

  “That’s your fantasy?”

  He nodded. “Get dressed in the things I’ve bought you, and I’ll take you someplace special.”

  “That’s all? You just want to watch me dress?”

  He nodded.

  She considered him. He didn’t smile. No flirtatio
us wink. Nothing.

  “Undo the robe.”

  Biting her lip, she lifted her hands to untie the belt cinching the waist of her pink satin robe.

  “Move.” He motioned, positioning her in front of the large mirror over her dressing table. She stood facing him, her back reflected in the mirror, as she waited for his next instruction.

  “Shrug and let the robe fall.”

  The robe whispered to the floor, leaving her naked before him.

  “You’re very beautiful,” he whispered hoarsely. In no other way did he react to her nakedness. His eyes only left her once, flickering briefly to her reflection in the mirror.

  He nodded to the pile of packages at his feet. She looked down and back at him. His eyes locked with hers.

  “Now get dressed,” he instructed. “I want you to take your time. Pretend I’m not even in the room. You’re alone, understand?” he asked, his voice sensual and compelling.

  She nodded, her eyes soft and wide.

  He waited.

  The silence in the room was deafening.

  She walked to the bed and began opening the packages scattered by his booted feet.

  To her surprise, there wasn’t a single scrap of black lace or leather. In fact, quite the opposite. Each item she withdrew from the pastel tissue in gift-wrapped boxes was frilly, demure and white.

  And each item would fit, she was sure. Kyle Fox was the kind of man who would know how to gauge a woman’s size with his practiced eye. It was a knowledge that didn’t annoy her. There was something endearing about a man who enjoyed looking at a woman, enjoyed buying her pretty things enough to develop a discerning taste and style.

  Picking up a flat, slim box, she unwrapped the tissue from an eyelet-and-ribbon-trimmed garter belt and a pair of pale silk stockings and entered Kyle’s fantasy.

  His fantasy didn’t surprise her. He wanted to watch her perform an intimate ritual for him. His participation would be from a distance, allowing him to maintain the aloofness he so valued…allowing him to keep his feelings hidden. They weren’t so different, he and she.

  As Kyle had instructed, Amanda pretended to be alone, but every move she made was designed to pleasure him. She meant to arouse him, to give him something better than any fantasy. If she did indeed go to New York, she wasn’t going to be so easy to forget.

  Instinctively she played to the mirror above her dressing table as Kyle sat fully clothed on her bed watching her. The contrast of his clothing with her nakedness excited her.

  Every fiber of her being tingled with the thrill of doing something forbidden. Every inch of her flesh felt him watching her. She shivered and a faint flush crept over her pale skin as she fastened the tiny hooks and eyes of the garter belt.

  Taking a seat on the plush vanity bench before her dressing table, she raised one shapely leg, bending it at the knee. Bunching one pale stocking in her finger-tips, she slipped the puddle of silk over her prettily arched foot, being careful not to snag the sheer stocking on the slim circlet of flat diamond chain lying against her ankle.

  Then, straightening her leg above her head with the grace of a dancer, she eased the filmy silk up the contours of her sleek calf, over her knee and on up until the top of the stocking rested snugly on her firm thigh. Placing a hand on either side of her ankle, she smoothed the silk with deliberate leisure up her leg again, tugging the stocking top to secure it

  She followed suit with the other stocking, all the while feeling the warmth of Kyle’s gaze on her. Posing made her feel as lascivious as a centerfold model, except Kyle’s eyes were the camera recording her every move.

  Her cheeks felt feverish and her hands trembled slightly as she caught a glimpse of Kyle’s heavy-lidded gaze in the mirror. She steeled herself to ignore him as he’d requested.

  When she stood, her fingertips barely grazed the tops of her stockings. She watched herself in the mirror while she adjusted the eyelet-and-ribbon-trimmed garters caressing the stockings on her sleek thighs.

  Pivoting slowly to face the bed, she turned her head over her shoulder, then stood high on tiptoe tilting her softly rounded hips slightly forward so she could check her reflection in the mirror.

  To keep her balance, she braced her hands on her hips, the resulting arch of her back thrusting her pretty breasts even higher. As she tried to check the backs of her stockings, her toes wavered slightly in the difficult pose.

  Finally, satisfied that her stockings were straight, she went down from her toes and reached to pick up the shoe box on the bed. Opening it, she found a pair of old-fashioned white kid boots beneath the tissue. It was a style that was once again trendy. The dainty boots had two-inch heels and laced up to the ankle.

  Dropping them to the floor before her, she toed her feet into the soft boots inch by inch until she worked them on. Then, with her profile to the bed, she placed one booted foot up on the plush vanity bench. When she leaned down to lace up the boot, her full, upturned breasts swung forward, grazing the tender inside of her arms. Her already puckered nipples pebbled instantly into hard arousal. She gave out a little gasp at the corresponding tightening in her groin and the moistness gathering there, then forced herself to concentrate on finishing lacing the boots.

  Behind her she heard Kyle take a deep breath when she unstopped the bottle of Pleasure perfume on her dressing table and began trailing the fragrant glass stopper between her breasts and just above the patch of soft fuzz between her legs. The heavy, sensual scent she’d sprinkled over the letters she’d written Kyle wafted around the room, triggering erotically charged images from those fantasies…and the ones he’d written her on the yellow legal paper. Intimate images shared only by the two of them. A special secret they shared, bonding them together as one.

  She smiled with her eyes as she leaned forward to pick up a tube of shiny pink lip gloss from the tray on her dressing table, puckering her lips into a provocative pout to apply it. The look she gave the mirror was sultry and inviting.

  A bedspring squeaked as Kyle shifted his weight. Still he didn’t get up, continuing instead to sit and watch.

  Suddenly it was a challenge to get him to react to her. Her promise of never, ever taking another dare was forgotten.

  Turning, she picked up the white box from the bed, recognizing the embossed signature on top. It was from an exclusive shop. Inside was a silk charmeuse camisole trimmed with Versailles lace.

  Moving back to the mirror, she raised her arms above her head and slipped the narrow shoulder straps on. The filmy camisole fluttered down to settle over her breasts, the shadow of her nipples poking at the fabric with slinky temptation.

  Amanda left the tiny satin-covered buttons unfastened so the camisole moved as she did, slipping and sliding back and forth lovingly as it clung to her cleavage, promising more than it revealed.

  Kneeling on the plush vanity bench and knowing how provocative her saucy bottom looked resting on the heels of her soft white kid boots, she began applying her makeup with a light hand. Checking the shading of the pink and pale blue shadow she was applying to her eyelids had her rocking to and fro as she leaned in close, then pulled back to study the effect in the mirror.

  The bed squeaked again.

  Well, at least she knew she was keeping him awake, she thought with a secret smile. But he wasn’t losing control, and it was beginning to annoy the hell out of her.

  The style of clothing he’d picked out for her to wear seemed to call for an old-fashioned hairstyle, so she began repairing her topknot. Each time she reached up, her camisole would shift. Occasionally there would be a flash of her nipple, and then the silky material of the camisole would slide to quickly conceal what it had revealed.

  Behind her, Kyle cleared his throat but said nothing.

  She was so turned on she could barely breathe. How could he continue to just sit there and watch?

  Why didn’t he say something? Do something!

  Never mind their differences—she
wanted him.

  Her eyes narrowed as she looked in the mirror and watched herself slowly fasten the tiny buttons of the frilly camisole, then tie the narrow slip of ribbon at the top into a sweet bow.

  She didn’t feel sweet. She didn’t feel demure. She didn’t feel like wearing all this white frilly stuff.

  What she felt was wicked and sexy.

  She felt like black lace and leather.

  Frustrated, she picked up the silver-backed antique brush from her dressing table and smoothed an errant dark tendril back into place. Then, standing, she went to the bed and took the matching silk charmeuse tap pants with fluted edges from the same box that had contained the camisole.

  Facing the mirror, she bent from the waist and stepped into the tap pants, then began pulling them up her long legs. Halfway up, her eyes lingered on the antique silver brush at eye level on her dressing table.

  That’s it, she decided. She’d reached her breaking point. Kyle was going to move, all right.

  Abandoning the tap pants in a tangle at her knees, she picked up the hairbrush. For the first time, she looked directly at Kyle’s reflection in the mirror above the dressing table, and their eyes locked. Holding his gaze, she lowered the brush and began a slow, rhythmic ritual, brushing the soft, downy fuzz between her legs.

  He moved.

  Bolting from the bed, Kyle reached her side in two long strides. His hand clamped on her wrist, stilling the brush.

  “Think you’re pretty cute, do you?” he asked, his voice all husky whisper. Before she could answer, he took the brush from her and pulled her over his knee as he dropped to the vanity bench.

  “What do you think you’re doing?” she demanded, squirming in his lap, letting out a small gasp as she felt the evidence of her successful seduction press against her soft belly.

  “I’m giving you what you’ve been asking for,” he answered, giving the brush a quick flick of his wrist to apply a few playful slaps to her inviting bare bottom.

  “Now behave yourself and get dressed,” he instructed, setting her back on her feet before he rose and headed for the stairs.