Out of the Night

by Janna

She preens in front of an antique oval cheval mirror, barely glancing at the reflection of the dark window behind her. As the night peeks in, she begins to undress - the silk blouse whispering softly as it slithers to the floor, the skirt skimming the stockings before pooling at her feet, the high heeled shoes abandoned for a few hours' respite, the delicate lace of a bra, barely substantial enough to leave a trace as it slides down her arms. The night is still with barely a whisper of a wind when out of nowhere, a figure steps out of the shadows; a dark ghostlike outline behind her. A strong arm encircles her waist, imprisoning her within the confines of an unfamiliar body. A hand is at her throat, fingers tightening ever so slightly, a soft voice breaking through the blinding haze of fear. "You should have closed the blinds."


Janna blogs at Tempests in Teapots.