He was silently begging her to be consumed. One by one the waiters passed in front of her with platters of food, salmon mousse cucumbe and papaya infused with port wine. Silver and gold platters with fresh Lobster tail poached in buerre monte and beef Wellington. Even raspberry and white chocolate cheesecake did nothing to entice her. “Are you not hungry?” a voice asked. But she had no appetite. She didn’t feel hungry. Numb, maybe. Dead inside, maybe. But not hungry. “No,” she whispered. He snapped his fingers gesturing for the man in a waiter’s suit to bring him the platter with the most beautiful yellow diamond necklace. He took it from the tray and clasped it around her neck. He caught his breath to be standing so close to her. His eyes closed as he inhaled the light scent of flowers from her hair. And in that moment she knew that he would have her and the only power she held over him was his obvious hunger to have her. She would use that. It would be her escape to freedom. One. Every sound seems amplified. I notice that the rungs are quite far apart. "Erotic photography techniques is way up there," you point with a dart of your eyes, "just give me a minute and watch carefully, um, that the ladder doesn't move." You lift your skirt slightly to free your legs to climb the first two rungs of the ladder. I spread my stance, placing my feet on either side of it and I hold the sides firmly as my chest and torso faintly brushes against your body. You linger for a moment, almost imperceptibly pressing your body backwards into mine before you climb the next rung. This step brings the bottom of your skirt level with my eyes. I gaze down your toned legs, admiring the velvety smoothness and then back up, taking a deep breath. As you turn sideways and raise your leg to climb the next rung, I hope to catch a glimpse of your panties as your skirt rides up your legs. Your leg muscles flex and the skirt inches up along your velvety leg. As your foot reaches the next rung,.
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