Private Tea Party

Her lips were soft, tasting faintly of berry tea and sugar, but beneath the sweetness was a frantic energy. Alice kissed like she did everything else in Wonderland: with a **** need to find the bottom of the rabbit hole.

When I deepened the kiss, sliding my tongue against hers, she made a small, muffled sound, half gasp, half giggle. Her hands flew up to tangle in my hair, pulling me closer, as if she were afraid I might vanish like the Cheshire Cat if she let go.

I broke the kiss, pulling back just enough to look at her. Her eyes were spinning, wide and glassy.

"Oh my," she breathed, touching her lips with a finger. "That was... decidedly un-birthday-ish. It felt quite like falling, but without the thump at the end."

"It's called passion, Alice," I murmured, running my hands up her arms, feeling the softness of her pristine pale skin.

"Passion," she tested the word, tilting her head. "It sounds red. Like the Queen's face, but... warmer. Less shouty."

She looked down at where my hands were resting on her waist, then back up at me with a mischievous glint.

"You know, the flowers always say that a lady should never let a strange man touch her waist before tea. But since the tea is already spilled..." She leaned forward, whispering conspiratorially. "...I suppose the rules have gone on holiday."

I smirked. "The rules are whatever I make them."

I reached for the back of her dress. The zipper hummed softly as I pulled it down. The blue fabric loosened, slipping off her shoulders.

Alice shimmied slightly, letting the dress pool around her waist. She was wearing a simple white camisole underneath, delicate and laced with ribbon. It was innocent, yet the way her chest heaved against the fabric was anything but.

"Curiouser and curiouser," she whispered, looking down at herself. "I feel... exposed. Like a tart without its crust."

"You're beautiful," I said, tracing the line of her collarbone.

"Beautiful?" She frowned slightly, as if trying to solve a puzzle. "The mirror usually just says 'rude' or 'smudged'. It never mentioned beautiful."

I moved my hand to cup her small, but firm breast through the thin camisole.

Alice gasped, her back arching reflexively. Her legs, dangling off the table, kicked out, her heels thumping against the wood.

"Oh! That's... that's a new riddle entirely!" she exclaimed, her voice jumping an octave. "It sends little shivers right down to my toes. Like stepping on a very cold floor, but... hot?"

I thumbed her nipple. It hardened instantly under the cotton.

"Does that have an answer?" I asked, watching her face flush pink in the lantern light.

"The answer is..." She bit her lip, her eyes fluttering shut. "The answer is 'more', I think. Yes. Definitely more."

I pulled the camisole up and over her head. She lifted her arms obediently, tossing the garment onto the pile of broken china.

She sat there, bare from the waist up, bathed in the soft, multicolored glow of the paper lanterns. Her skin was pale as cream, her breasts small and perfect, tipped with rose-pink nipples that were begging for attention.

She looked down at herself, then at me.

"I feel very heavy," she murmured, a dreamy expression crossing her face. "Usually I feel light enough to float away with a dandelion seed. But now... I feel stuck to the table. Is that you, Ray? Are you holding me down?"

"I'm anchoring you, Alice."

I leaned down and took one of her nipples into my mouth.

Alice cried out, a sharp, surprised sound that startled a sleeping owl in the tree above. She grabbed my head, her fingers digging into my scalp.

"Ah! It's... it's like electricity!" she babbled, breathless. "Like... like lightning striking a teapot! Oh, Ray, it's terribly improper! Do it more!"

I moved to the other breast, swirling my tongue around the sensitive peak. Alice was writhing now, her logic completely unraveling. She wasn't analyzing anymore; she was feeling.

"The Hatter never mentioned this..." she panted, her head thrown back. "He talks about ravens and writing desks... but he never said anything about... this..."

I moved my hand down her stomach, past the bunched-up blue dress at her hips. I found the hem of her petticoat and slid my hand underneath.

Her thighs were smooth, warm. I found the top of her white stockings and the bare skin above them.

Alice flinched, her legs clamping around my hand for a second before relaxing.

"That is strictly private property!" she squeaked, though she spread her legs wider for me. "The sign says 'Keep Off the Grass'!"

"I'm not on the grass," I whispered, my fingers brushing against the cotton of her panties. "I'm exploring the cave."

"A cave..." she sighed, her head lolling to the side. "With a dragon inside? Or a treasure?"

"Let's find out."

I slipped my hand inside her panties. She was wet. So wet it soaked my fingers instantly.

Alice’s eyes snapped open. She looked at me with pure, unadulterated wonder.

"Oh," she whispered. "I'm melting. I've turned into butter. I shall slip right off the table."

"I've got you," I promised.

I began to rub her clitoris.

Alice stopped talking. Her mouth opened in a silent 'O'. Her capacity for riddles vanished, replaced by short, sharp gasps. She leaned back on her hands, her head falling forward, watching my hand work between her legs.

"It's... it's a circle," she stammered, trying to make sense of the sensation. "It goes round and round... and it's getting tighter... like a watch spring..."

"Let it wind up, Alice," I said, increasing the pressure. "See what happens when it snaps."