©Tanya Grout

The rich ruby of her lips, the severe pinch of her waist, the stocking that shot a thick onyx thread up the back of her sweet leg, a leg that swung provocative over a chair, her fine stiletto piercing the air: all had their place in his mind. He would hide in the wings for her, sweating into his clerical collar. God had left him now – a peep in the shadows: dreaming, regretting, praying, planning…


© kym darkly


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