LSF Publications: spanking fiction ebooks

The Crystal Ball
Irish Cream Liqueur

Think of a bottle of Irish cream liqueur. Consider its promise of sultry decadence without falling foul of social norms. Picture in your mind's eye the warm color tones of the label and the liqueur, painted in shades off a rich, golden palette; patterns that blend as they swirl, an illusion of motion, airbrushed to look quite static. Using your imagination, savor the delicate sip which delivers that delightful yet subtle blend of tastes, one that simultaneously tantalizes yet satisfies, piques yet soothes, calms yet arouses. Imagine swooning as the sensual elixir caresses your lips and your palate, every contact with the creamy potion satisfying a sensual need.

It's a sensory experience that oozes dreamy eroticism, caresses your senses, calms yet arouses.

I like to think of my entering into her apartment as being a 'Baileys experience', from the deep piled cream carpet that cuddled my toes, to the warm cream-colored walls topped with ornate crown mouldings. A fire glowed in the hearth, radiating gentle waves of heat to warm and comfort, embrace and seduce. There were off-white, deep leather chairs, bookshelves with leather-bound books, display cabinets with exotic displays - glittering lead crystal vases filled with cut-glass beads, Waterford crystal ornaments sparkling with life, and a brass clock with its mechanism whirring around.

Anastasia herself was the epitome of grace and old fashioned charm. Her appearance was graceful, chic and stylish. Long bangs swept to the side of her head in a blond, curly bob, while a few stray wisps demonstrated a refreshing will of their own. Anastasia's fair complexion offered an unblemished canvass. Glossy, moist lips hinted at a seductive spirit; deep, intelligent hazel eyes expressed her inner soul - intuitive, sensitive, dominant yet compassionate. Teardrop sapphire earrings sparkled in the soft light, a glittering diamond choker circled her graceful neck. Her deportment and movements exhibited ballerina-like grace, her manner and expression conveyed as much as her words.


The Crystal Ball

She invited me to sit at the round mahogany table, a central pedestal and turned legs accentuating its elegant simplicity. A black cloth covered its surface, a flawless quartz crystal ball stood on a rosewood stand at its center. It seemed to have a way of pulling my attention towards it, the tantalizing and elusive gift of prophecy on offer.

"Will it be able to predict my future?" I asked in a wishful tone.

Anastasia's laugh was like the tinkle of delicate crystal bells, cheerful without being frivolous, laughing at me sans malice.

"No, Adèle, it is your mind that will create the future, not the ball. For wherever your mind goes, your body is sure to follow. Only you can create the future for which you yearn."

I looked at her, a smile flitting across my lips. I was smitten with her beauty and bewitched by her charm. She was so self assured without an ego, so assertive without an attitude.