The touch when Isla handed Megan her drink was electric. Hurriedly the young woman had to bring her other hand up to steady the glass so she did not spill. It suddenly felt overwhelmingly warm in the room and Megan had to hurriedly wipe away the perspiration that was beading on her forehead.  Her eyes lift to meet the tall punk woman's and she bit her lower lip hard. She desperately wanted a drink to cover her nervousness but did not want to pull her hand back.<br/><br/>She felt herself getting lost in those eyes. Her nervousness was blocked out by the rapid pounding of her pulse in her ears and the rush of rising heat. Reason was fighting a losing battle with desire. Her desire cried out to Megan to submit to this woman, to let her do whatever she wanted and to obey. Her curiosity chimed in to remind her that this was a once in a lifetime chance to experience this. It also had to point out that deep down; this might be what she had been chasing for a long time.<br/><br/>She wanted to cast off the shackles of her tightly controlled life and to trust herself to another. Sure she and Isla had just met but the woman had any number of opportunities to take advantage, to mislead her, and she had not. Megan could not deny that she found the punk girl alluring and that she was definitely as skilled as she claimed. The dampness between her thighs attested to that. Logic and reason had only one point but it was enough to scare the hell out of her all over again; If Isla could have her so turned on with only a few teasing touches and some words whispered hotly into her ears, what would happen if her full attention was devoted to her new plaything? Megan bit her lower lip again and resolved that she had to know if Isla was more talk than action... and that the thought of being this beautiful woman's plaything only made the heat she felt flare up further.<br/><br/>Finally their hands parted and Megan ran her hand through her hair, tucking that same strand of hair behind her ear, only to have it almost immediately fall back where it was. She wallowed hard as that smoldering gaze was brought almost level with her own. Frozen, she watched the punk woman slowly down her drink. The feeling of being prey was overwhelming and Megan squirmed, slipping a little of her drink to have it run over the backs of her fingers. All the training to distance yourself, to show no emotion, was forgotten under that intense gaze.<br/><br/>The slow motion of her setting down her glass was met with Megan bringing hers to her lips and drinking it as quickly as she could without losing her dignity. She fumbled with it when she felt the feathery touch of thumbs along her outside of her legs, sliding further up, hooking on the hem of her dress and raising it a little. She manages to get her glass onto the small side table and her hands hover in mid air. She has no idea what to do with them and after a moment they latch onto the cushions. Megan's firm, perfectly toned thighs press together hard in a vain attempt to smother the heat.<br/><br/>The question was asked so nonchalantly that it brought Megan up short. She had just assumed that Isla would keep going as she had been. It was utterly frustrating. She spoke for a living, her words swayed people every single day and yet now, when she only had to have the courage to blurt out one sentence that Isla wanted to hear, she could not seem to speak. The amused smile only made her feel more bumbling.<span style="color: indigo"> "Well... I-I just w-want... I..." </span>she cursed softly under her breath and with each moment of stammering and uncertainty her expression became more pleading.<span style="color: indigo"> "I want... want to talk." </span>she finally managed.<span style="color: indigo">"A-about you 'art'. About y-you..."</span>Again her voice faded to a whisper.<span style="color: indigo">"...breaking me..."</span><div class="messageTextEndMarker"> </div>