Re: All the world is a stage; adult
Dorothy had been raised with wealth from the cradle. Silver spoon and black patent shoes, and she'd never wanted for money. As a result, Dorothy never even thought of cost. She judged everything via quality, and she preferred high thread counts and designer labels, clothes tailored and not ready made. These things helped a lackluster diva appear to be more than she was. Her clothing entered first, and she entered second, and it was a divertissement employed by women since the advent of time. To amuse and distract with the fall of fabric against a breast, or to brighten the face with a splash of color at the collar, and these accoutrements took coin, yes, but the wealthy took them as a given, and they didn't wonder from whence the coin came.
The woman sans slippers had stopped attempting to figure her playwright. Her 2s and 4s were gone, and she was nothing, bared before him, and this would be nothing after. She knew that, and she felt the exquisite pang of it. It was just as the ending of a theatrical, the moments before the final curtain and the breaking of reverie. It made it better, and it made this entire facade more than it truly was. Two people fucking, and neither of them with any true interest in the other, not beyond the reflection they offered. Glimpses of themselves as they wanted to be, and that was just theater smoke and lights so blinding that vision was obscured.
She was much too modern to consider the need for valets, though she'd a maid since infancy, a wet nurse, grooms in the stables and a butler to sigh fondly every time she trounced in and out the door. She had all these things, but none of them now, and she pulled at the stays of his trousers and finished her liberation of him as he hauled her forward.
Dorothy was no aggressor, but she rode him like a dream, his scent obliterating the cheap cologne that still clung stubbornly to her skin. She suspired like a pleased thing when she took his cock inside herself, and her hands slid slow along his shoulders, elbows crooking there and fingers loose in the mess she was making of his hair. She undulated against him once, slow encouragement and lazy.