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Sent To Thrill's Erotic Writing Competition - our teaser

06-08-2018   Competitions

The thrill of the chase

Jessica Bradley was sexy. Conventionally so. She had great breasts, big hips and a small waist. All of these things were no doubt contributing factors to the way men looked at her, drinking her in and mentally fast forwarding to the possibilities that might present themselves later that night.

But the overriding thing that turned heads and made any man in the room aware of her presence, was her confidence. Jessica held herself like a woman who knew her way around a bedroom. She knew it, and they knew it.

Jessica wasn’t interested in casual sex. She wanted the kind of passion that came with wanting someone so desperately that her entire body ached just at the thought of them. She knew that this was the sort of longing that needed to be cultivated.

What she really wanted was that moment of bliss which was the culmination of months of temptation. The climax of flirting and teasing, of knowing and wanting without actually putting those desires into words. She was always in control. She knew she could pretty much have any guy she wanted. The game was in getting their attention and holding it. Making herself the focus. Ensuring that in the short time they had together, she was all they could think of.

Working a man up in to a frenzy like this had certain benefits, she had realised. Causing a physical reaction at the very thought of you - sweaty palms, dilated pupils, a quickening heart beat - it made her feel like the only woman on the planet.

All she needed to do was to make them understand that she was open and ready to devour them, when the time was right. It was an aphrodisiac like nothing she had ever experienced. But it took time.

There had been five successful ‘projects’ to date. She worked away from home and had a lot of opportunity to meet different men, which was how she liked it. Volume and variety were the keys, she knew, to finding the right target. She didn’t have a particular type. It was more about the way these men made her feel. Powerful, in control, knowing with utter certainty that she would be the object of their desire fuelled fantasies on return to their day to day lives.  That was what drove her. The idea of their brief encounters, her breasts, her face, her sexuality seeping into their quietest moments, interrupting the hum drum, causing their bodies to react at the sheer thought of what could have been. Leaving them wanting more. It was intoxicating.

It would start with the eye contact. The introduction, exchanging names while eyes smiled and sparks few. Then she would quickly break away, seemingly disinterested, preoccupied with the day’s events. She would work the room, all the while keeping one eye on her prey. She would shine, engaging colleagues and networking her ass off. Her confidence brimming over as she led a seminar, advised on strategy, or shared an in joke with her captivated audience. Thinking all the while of her end game. Picturing his hands on her, their mouths coming together, tongues exploring every inch of each other’s body.

Later that day she would make sure that she saw him again. That they shared a lingering smile. That their hands brushed, that she leaned in, a little too close. For the most part that would be all it took to let her target know that the game was on. If he was still oblivious she would simply dial it up a notch, because for Jessica, the harder she had to work, the greater her thrill.

That was before she met James Willoughby.


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