Backstage of Elegant extasy

Regina looks at the clock and makes a different choice. Instead of catching that play, she takes two steps closer. Her fingertips slide along my belt. She undoes the buckle, pulls the leather free with a steady tug. My breath catches. The room is quiet except for the click of the metal. She pushes my pants and briefs down in one motion and I step out of them. I stand naked in the center of the room while she stays dressed in her silk blouse and short skirt. I watch her face as her palm wraps around me and she gives my cock one slow, thorough stroke. No hurry. Just pressure and warmth and the slick sound of her moving over skin already leaking for her. My legs lock. Her wrist twists at the top of each stroke, thumb sliding over the head. I swallow. The light in the room has turned the color of dusk and her blouse clings to her breast as she leans in. She doesn't say anything. She just keeps stroking, steady, until my hips push forward on their own and my shoulders drop back. Her free hand comes up, traces my stomach, fingers light. She leans close enough that her mouth brushes my ear, a smile at the edge of her voice. "Cinema can wait." Then her grip tightens, rhythm starts again, slick and endless, and my thoughts catch on nothing but the simple fact of her hand around me.