The red satin of her panties shimmered in the gleams of yellow light, as her full bottom quaked in a bold taunt at my weakness. I pushed my wire-rimmed glasses up the bridge of my nose, eager to capture every blessed moment of the vision she offered. I dropped my notebook off my lap, onto the grungy floor, but paid it no mind as I refused to relinquish my impassioned stare. Her thumbs slipped under the crimped elastic waistband. I held my breath.
Lord Malinov, Flowers of Malinov