With her leaning against the wall I kissed my way up her stomach as I stood, the warm water from the rainfall showerhead above tapping lightly on our skin. We parted lips to look at each other in the eyes lustfully. I lifted her chin to bring her face up to meet mine, my smile unchanging. I closed my eyes and inhaled deeply again, drawing in traces of perfume and sweat from the fabric. She poured the remains of the cup into the sink as she free hand reached for a towel. The tip of my tongue ran along her thigh, collecting rivulets escaping down the side. This piece is about Keith Frost a Master Chef at a 5-star restaurant in the Islands and a Special Culinary Arts Professor at St Abbot’s University, and his personal slave Shannon Labbe. She pushed her chest out some as I circled her areola with the cube, her hardened nipple in constant contact with it. Her thin lips puckered as she delicately spat the toothpaste into the sink.
