Her smile is a playful flash of plush lips and pearly-white teeth. You love the way she smiles, the way it seems to widen and flood the already beautiful room with opulence and grandeur. She walks- no, Lara Croft never walks, she struts- across the red-carpet foyer, passing by a rather tall advertisement board gilded in silver.
Kiss That Good life Goodbye
Tonight,
Madrid City Opera House
10:00 PM
You let her come to you; after all, she was the one to extend the invitation. Around her people are milling and flowing around her like a stream of ugliness breaking on her boulder of beauty. The riff-raff around her were adorned in expensive fabrics and glittering jewels, but all the frilled dresses, dangling pearls and glinting gold does little to outshine Lara and her stunning ensemble.
A gorgeous pyrite-hued halter-top dress flows down her towering six-foot, ultra feminine frame. It’s one of those dresses that is backless (and very nearly assless) and as the fabric passes around her neck, it splits and cascades loosely down over each beast, only to join again just below her navel. The dark green fabric was not only very thin and delicate; it was also very sparse and left very little to your imagination. A stray breeze might have been enough to expose a nipple. There is a long split down the left side of her leg and as she strides towards you your eyes are constantly assaulted by her golden, sculpted leg. She manages to navigate the throng of well-dressed bodies and makes her way to stand in front of you. You are equally as tall as she is and because of the noisy lobby she has to get very n near to you in order to say hello.
“I’m glad you came.” She offers her ungloved hand; it is adorned with several pieces of sparkling green jewelry. One of her bracelets looks to be a solid thick hoop of jade gilded by tiny ornate silver squiggles that remind you of some oriental language.
“Me too,” You manage to mutter, quickly taking a breath and almost wishing you hadn’t. Normally a deep breath calms your nerves, but this time your lungs fill with Ms. Crofts scent and you nearly palpitate. You are so close to her you can see the moistness in her skin and lips. She has a light blush on her cheeks and a darker pallet around her eyes.
You fight down a gulp and take her hand.
“We’ve been playing phone tag,” you say, then smile, “hell, county tag, for so long now I was wondering if you would ever make good on your promise.”
“Well, a girl’s got to travel or the world seems so boring.” Lara say’s with a smile, “We have only a moment before first seating.”
In the first few moments of conversation you realize how much you missed her voice. The accent is just as crisp and refined as you remembered, but there is something more that you hadn’t remembered hearing before. Was it nervousness? Trepidation? No, it couldn’t be, Lara Croft is not afraid of many things, least of all a man.
“The box is this way,” she says to you, pulling your hand and hooking her arm in the crook of yours, “You can tell me all about South Africa along the way.”
As you two find the lift which will take you to the upper deck of the Opera House you begin to talk freely, mostly about the last two months that you have been out of contact. She makes many references to your near misses, touching your skin softly with the palm of her hand.
“Twig told me you went through Chicago two days before I arrived. I was almost tempted to phone your pilot and make him turn the plane around.”
“You should have,” You smile, perhaps a little too forwardly, but she doesn’t seem to mind. You two are now in the elevator and are sharing it with many other people. You don’t talk, but you don’t take your eyes of one another either. You feel isolated and alone, as if the back corner of the elevator were a separate world where only you and the ravishing Ms. Croft existed.
Her hair isn’t in the long braid you are used to seeing her in. It’s long and flowing down her bare back. Her bangs are pulled back and fastened down with a thick band of fabric that matches the stuff her dress is made with.
The elevator dings and the people disperse, leaving you two in the elevator.
A while goes by, the doors try to close twice but you keep putting a foot between them.
“Our box is down the hall,” Lara smiles, not breaking eye contact with you, “That way.”
You don’t want to move, you want to let the doors of the elevator close and press her back against the wall, take fistfuls of her hair and just kiss her. Something in the way she is looking at you suggests she wouldn’t put up a fight…but still.
With a small laugh Lara tugs you through the door, “I swear, sometimes you act in the strangest ways.”
“I don’t think you understand how good you look tonight,” You say, testing the waters of flattery. She responds well.
“I think I might have an idea, love.”
The box is third in the upper row and is lined with thick black stage curtain. All but two chairs have been removed and a small silver tray on a rolling trolley holds a crystal bowl of ice and a tall square bottle of amber liquid.
“Lara,” You smile, “You remembered.”
“The finest Canadian whiskey,” She grins, letting go of your arm to pour you a small glass, “Strait up, no?”
“On the rocks, thank you, Lara.”
You lean your back against the high wooden rail and watch her pick out three cubes of ice with a pair of tongs. You wouldn’t have cared if he had used her toes, but Lara is always the picture of class and sophistication, even in the privacy of the booth and with close friends such as yourself.
She hold the fragrant glass out to you and you take it gratefully, “What are you drinking,” you ask, nodding to a second, much larger bottle on the tray.
“A vintage from my private collection, perhaps you will try a sip later.”
“I would love to.”
She pours a serving of ruby red liquid into a long stemmed glass and comes to stand beside you, looking down to the hundreds of people taking their seats.
“Gosh, this is higher then I remembered.”
“Did you bring your grapple, just in case you fell?” You joke, “Or your pistols? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you without them.”
Lara giggles, teasing a fold of fabric near her breasts with a finger. “It would be kind of hard to smuggle in a grapple, let along my guns, wearing this dress.”
“Hmm, indeed,” you smile, trying not to let her know what you are thinking.
“I haven’t been here since I was very young. I’m very happy I could come back.”
“I’m happy you invited me.”
She smiles and twirls, motioning to the chairs, “Could you be a gentleman and move those a little closer so we can sit?”
“Of course.”
In a second you’ve repositioned the chairs, making sure they are near enough the rail to make viewing easy and close enough that Lara would feel your arm against hers when she sat.
It went further then mere arm touching however.
As she sits she curls her fingers between yours as smoothly as if she were putting on a pair of stockings, and leans back in her chair, smiling at you, giving you the full flash of teeth, cleavage, side cleavage and abs.
It’s more then you can take and your eyes linger on her abundant chest.
The igniting blast of notes from the orchestra pit causes Lara to turn her head and thankfully covers up your moment of forgotten decency.
The melody is faintly familiar, a strong melody of strings that reminds you of the Canadian Rockies, but you don’t have the power to avert your attention from Lara. It’s as if your mind is a sponge and it’s swelled so fat with the images of Lara’s soft skin, captivating lips and teasing auburn hair that it might just pop.
Something does pop…and it’s not your brain.
You take a sip of the whiskey, tasting the heavy wooden flavor of the brewing cask, and the shot of fire going down your throat is enough to burst Lara’s spell.
The two of you don’t talk for the first scene, but during the second she leans into your shoulder and whispers in your ear,
“Having fun, darling?”
You nod, turning your head so that your noses are inches away from each other. You know that most men would have played it cool, acted as if they were not affected by her overwhelming beauty. They would have kept looking down at the show and grunted their approval. Those men would have been fools.
Lara Croft deserves every bit of attention, and you are prepared to give her all of yours.
“Yes,” you nod, “The tune is catchy.”
Lara’s smile cuts through the deep shadow of the upper box and strait into you pants. In a smooth motion she simultaneously leans into your ear and reaches across you lap.
“If you insist in tapping out the beat you should at least keep it even and not half a beat ahead.”
Her hand rests firmly on yours, stopping the completely subconscious (nervous maybe) tapping.
“I had no idea,” you insist, turning your lips into the mass of her sweetly fragrant hair. And then you feel something pleasantly unfamiliar on your neck. Lara Crofts lips.
She starts sucking on your neck; firmly using her lavish lips to not only make you blush but to also send jolts of pleasure into the extremities of your body. Inside your polished black shoes your toes curl and your fingers instinctively tighten around hers. She moans softly into your shoulder, fighting against your stiff white color to taste more of your skin.
Words are not needed, not now. Your passion swells along with the music and quickly you take her face in your hands kiss her fully and firmly on the mouth. She tastes so fucking sultry, fresh and hot. You are painfully aware of her hand traveling up the smooth fabric of your leg. Her fingers are splayed as wide as they can, spearing upwards against your belt, her thumb and pointer finger shamelessly grazing the swelling shaft of your cock.
“Don’t fight me,” she whispers, deftly flicking he latch that holds your waistline together, “It’s not often I am overcome with desire so much that I risk a public spectacle. The tabloids seem to love me.”
“I know,” you chuckle, “I saw your ass last month in US weekly.”
“Well,” she sighs as she tugs your zipper down, “I blame the weather for my lack of clothes and thank my lawyer for keeping the rest of the shots out print. They’re locked away back at the mansion. You can imagine that they were quiet scandalous.”
You think that this is even more scandalous. She has started to pull down the elastic of your briefs now and you cock is happy to be out and in her grasp.
Even in the darkness you can see her perfectly; her classically beautiful face, her tight, powerful body, the swell of her breasts and the dark valley of cleavage between them.
Lara is very entertaining to look at and every eyeful sprouts a garden of erotic notions in your mind. You imagine just what she might be able to do to you with those porn star breasts and Olympian body.
Presently, she shows you.
Sliding from her chair and pulling the hem of her dress up to her knees, she kneels down in front of you, between your thighs.
Her hair catches a stray beam of light and lights up with a chrome-like shine. The great mass of it fans out across your lap as she poises her lips above the tip of your cock.
She allows you to get a good look just before she tilts her head forward and curtains of hair fall down to block your vision.
Her tongue rubs wetly along the base of your head in a firm, slow motion. The music from the pit suddenly quiets into a flute solo and in the break you hear wet, secretive sounds coming up from your lap.
She settles her mouth down over your head and quickly begins to suck you off. Her hands drift up your calves and around your knees and then up your thighs, meeting yours and entwining. With Lara down on her knees you can look down past her bobbing head at her bare back and see, just before the fabric of her dress makes it cross, the soft split of her ass.
As her mouth travels up and down your granite cock you squeeze her fingers and shuffle down in the chair a little more. Lara laughs softly around your cock and pops off for a minute to tug your pants down a little more so they don’t pinch your balls against the base of your dick.
“Comfortable?”
“Very.”
She takes your cock again with one hand and lifts it against your belly, attacking your balls with your mouth. She sucks on one nut, slowly, incredibly softly, then quickly moves her lips the other. She then burrows her tongue deep under your sack and wetly rubs your perineum, beginning t jerk you off quickly.
You grab her hair and pull it away from the action and politely hold back a laugh when you see that your balls are draped over her nose and nearly blocking out her vision. She looks up at you over the smooth pink flesh and raises an eyebrow.
Her fist is still tugging strongly on your cock, that giant jade hoop is banging around against your thigh.
With a final wet kiss and a lick she slides herself up off her knees. She keeps her body pressed against you however and your cock slides up into the soft pressure of her cleavage. She lets out a small giggle when she sees the flare of arousal in your eyes.
“Do you like this, then?” She asks, sliding up and down you cock with her breasts, “my nipples are really hard.”
“Really?”
“Beyond belief actually, here,” she pulls the draping swath of fabric away from one breast and takes one of your hands and places it over her nipple. Indeed it was very hard, perhaps as hard as your cock.
“Do you like it when I do this?” You ask, pinching the dusky pink nub between your fingers. Lara gasps loudly, obviously responsive to the stimulation. She closes her eyes and lets you pinch her harder, rubbing up and down your cock. Her ass starts to wiggle and she presses her thighs together, trying to trap the heat escaping from her pussy.
She squirms and rubs her cleavage along the length of your cock until you are nearly bursting with orgasm. You bend down and kiss her smoothly on the mouth, rolling your tongue against hers.
“Lara, you are going to make me cum,” you warn.
“Good, I hate to disappoint.”
She squishes her mammoth breasts together, putting more pressure on your cock than your brain is willing to accept. An orgasm begins to build inside your balls with the force of a steam engine. Soon the dull ache becomes sharp and electric and your eyes begin to flutter. She doesn’t even blink when your vertical cock starts to blast cum all over her chin and throat. It dribbles like a thick, goopy river back down between her breasts, pooling against your throbbing, energized cock.
She gasps softly as the last jet of cum frescoed her neck, and then begins to slurp up the splatter with her delicate lips. Parts of her dress have been stained in the explosion but she didn’t seem to mind. It was the glistening rivers of cum that she was worried about and in a matter of thirty seconds she had spooned her chest clean with her fingers and licked them clean. There was a linen napkin on the drink tray and you use it to clean up the soft underside of her jaw. She smiles at you sexily as you tend to her and she begins to laugh, basking in the unusual attention.
“I ought to hire you to be my butler,” she jokes, standing up and taking the salty smelling napkin from you.
“You couldn’t afford my services,” you respond, gliding your palm up the side of her thigh and cupping the gloriously strong curve of her ass. The gossamer fabric bunches up around your fingers as you squeeze and Lara gasps, falling into your lap. Her chest smells like cum and perfume but the scent is not off putting at all. You kiss her neck and tease her nipples with your teeth.
“I feel like such a whore,” she moans quietly, pushing herself off your lap, “take me someplace private.”
“My plane is parked on the tarmac; we can go anywhere you wish.”
“England,” she smiles at you, quickly adjusting her dress and arranging her hair, “I want to show you my Manor.”