The Ribbon

He watched her intently. Even with her back turned to him, her beauty was undeniable: the delicate skin, the cascade of gravity-defying hair, the elegant slope of her slender back. She couldn’t escape the pull of his probing gaze.

When she finally turned to face him, he was breathless. She was even more beautiful than he had imagined. He approached her, hesitant, his heart pounding. Her eyes met his, and a soft blush crept across her cheeks. As they talked, he noticed her fingers playing absently with the black ribbon tied around her neck. He brushed it off as a nervous tic.

On their first date, she had worn a silk ribbon that perfectly complemented her loose pants and flowing blouse. He admired her sense of style—it was just another facet of her charm, along with that radiant smile.

During their first night together, she had surprised him. "Be subtle," she whispered, eyes gleaming. “Make love to me.” The long black choker around her neck draped across her chest, rising and falling with her breath, drawing his gaze. He reached to untie the ribbon, but she caught his hand. “No,” she said softly, a shadow crossing her face. “You’ll regret it.” Before he could ask what she meant, she kissed him deeply, and the moment slipped away.