Back on the dance floor the smoke grew denser than winter fog in Venice. His hands got braver on her body as his immodest caresses were hidden in the haze. They found their way down her decolletage, warm hands cupping the damp skin of her breasts, causing her to moan with pleasure. He dipped her low to pause for a passionate kiss, supporting her back with his right arm while his left hand traveled up her thigh following the split in her dress. His fingers tugged playfully at the thin strap on her panties.

- Careful now, Morticia whispered.

She meant to sound strict but Gomez knew her too well and recognized the poorly hidden lust in her whisper. Her eyes were two dark pools underneath him, her lips parted in the most irresistible way. He pulled her back up again without removing his hand from her hip.

- Don't you dare.

Her nails in his shoulders sent pleasant stings of pain through his body adding to his increasing arousal. His pants no longer felt so comfortable.

Do it, her eyes said. Do it right now, or I'll kill you.

The brittle strap snapped in his strong hands. A shiver of expectation went through her body. He held her gaze while his hand crossed the bare skin of her voluptuous behind to repeat the process on her other thigh. Then he stood with her torn panties on display in his hand delightfully indiscreet with a triumphant grin on his face. He studied the piquant piece of cloth in his hand with great interest. Standing no more than forty inches from her, she could clearly see the expression on his handsome face as well as the shimmering layer of fluid on her torn undergarment. Excreted from her very own dark core, now visible for all to see, though nobody interrupted. Morticia wondered with lustful nervousness if Gomez was going to do something that most likely would have them thrown out, the way he did sometimes. She hoped so. She felt the cold air making it's way along the inside of her thighs cooling the hidden, swollen parts of her. The involuntary nakedness excited her, so did his teasing with her lingerie. He lifted the black piece of silk to his nose, closed his eyes and inhaled the scent of her desire. Morticia stood perfectly still, hip out and hand in side, seemingly cool and uncaring. But her legs quivered on top of her high stilettos. Her dark core contracted and a small stream of exquisite wetness made it's way down the inside of her thigh, when he started to kiss and lick the silk in his hand the same way he would do to her body.

Where there ever lovemaking free from game playing and torture? They where cruel to each other to keep the passion alive. Suffering heightened the pleasure, so they believed. Her body screamed for his touch, for him to take it further. Don't make me beg, mon cher. Do I need to crawl on the floor and beg for you to please me? No doubt you would have loved that…

Her feet hurt. She shifted her weight and crossed her arms giving him an inpatient look. Slowly, he levered the intoxicating garment from his face and hide it in the pocket of his brocade vest. Then he pulled out his golden pocket watch chain and studied it, smiling teasingly. It hit her that he acted exactly the way she used to do, driving him to the brink with lust before she gave in. What time is it, you cruel man? Time to drive your wife insane?

- Vous êtes cruel!

The French words escaped her lips without her control.

When she spoke his expression changed in a split second. Morticia shuddered with fearful delight as her husband approached her in one stride. He clasped his hands around her upper arms and drove her firmly, but quite gracefully backwards against the wall. His face was an iron mask, but his eyes glowed so strong with everything he felt for her. She felt an urgent need to look down, his eyes to powerful, her body to weak.

- Look at me, he demanded, with his mouth so close to her own it made her lips tingle with longing.

- I'm going to do indecent things to you, my love. His wet mouth brushed against her ear.

- Mon sauvage, she purred.

He growled like an animal and pushed her against the uneven stone wall, kissing her with all that burned within him. She felt like he was trying to steal the breath of life itself away from her, consuming her whole being with a kiss of fire. He loved her with a passion that bordered to violence. A naphthaline river that seeped through his veins, lethal and merciless. Oh yes, hurt me, she thought as he scraped her back against the wall pushing her up so he could access the parts of her body he desired the most. Her back burned and a wave of lust washed through the lower regions of her body as he forced her legs apart to rest on his shoulders.

The floor was suddenly awfully fare away, but she decided to trust him. He wouldn't let her fall. All the yoga practice had among other fine things given him a sense for adding elements of acrobatics into his everyday life. Still, he had never loved her in this particular way before: In a smokey nightclub full of people and non people, high up on the wall, her legs crossed over his strong shoulders. Gomez often went out of his way to find new and exciting ways to please her, living for pleasing his dark goddess, he buried his head under her dress to worship. The dress leaves some modesty, Morticia thought and that was her last clear thought for a while and also her very last time to worry about modesty for the night. Morticia was always a proper lady until she was not. And when she stopped to act like a decent upper class lady her husband were always to blame. She gave in to passion and the outside world disappeared with it's rules and social norms.

She didn't give a rip about who might watch them. Let them watch, the dead, the living and the undecided, let the sight turn them on, or make them angry, she didn't care as long as her beloved would continue using his tongue in just-that-spot. As long as she could keep him captured between her legs , he as much her prisoner as she was his slave forced to receive pleasure in public. That was the secret to their relationships- they were both equally obsessed and dependent on each other. All though they played with shifting the power every day, being switches and found of all kind of games, they both new deep inside that they were equally doomed to be hopelessly lost in each other for all eternity.

This is paradise, Gomez thought as he worked for her pleasure, hidden in the blessed darkness underneath her dress. She smelled so good. Expensive French perfume mixed with the primitive smell that was her lust for him. Her stilettos dug into his back as her pleasure grew stronger. He would not let her come, not yet, he enjoyed this to much to make a quick end to it.