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I'm a quick study." Laughing, "How do you want yours?" In a moment of boldness, he licks my chest. Right above the shirt line, licking the swell of my breast. He sprinkles salt on me. "Let's see how much you like it!" Grinning, he takes the shot and hammers it down. Tilting his head, he slides his tongue across my chest. I gasp, breathe deep, my chest heaves under his hot mouth. He's not done. He licks me again, thrusting his tongue below the top of my shirt. Down far into my cleavage. He sticks his tongue right down, touching the front of my bra. My head is back, my mouth open, eyes are closed, I moan. A deep throated moan. My hands rising up to his hair, I push him harder into me. Not caring about the people watching. His tongue, curling in the hollow of my chest, he grabs my arms, and pins them to my sides. Raising his head, he licks me in one swipe, from hollow to chin. Tracing my lips with his tongue, finally kissing me. My breathing is shallow, my heart racing, his arms. Our coffee mornings grew into lengthy lunches, organizing car share for our kids changed into organizing gym classes, and the occasional swapping of magazines spawned a fully fledged book club. We read mysteries, we read thrillers, we read avidly, and with each new book, we dissected and discussed. I suppose that it was books that created the spark; the desire for some passion in my life. We of course read E. L. James. The trilogy had received too much publicity for any self respecting woman’s book club to ignore. I had no inclination to investigate BDSM or find out if I had a dark side, but it did make me wonder if there was more to sex than the rather perfunctory ritual that Tom and I now occasionally performed. Tom was the only man that I had ever been intimate with, and I had always been content that it should be remain so. This yearning for something more did lead to my adding romance to my reading repertoire; not your everyday Mills and Boon, but books that explored the deeper.
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