A Sip of You(61)

I glanced at the table again, wondering at the skill of a man who could wield such a dangerous knife to create such beauty. A warrior who carved art from shrimp and yellowtail and soft shelled crab, and then draped it so sensually over women’s privates.

“I wanted you to experience this, Catherine. As an artist and food photographer, you’d appreciate it, I knew. Plus, it’s undeniably sexy and that’s something we can both appreciate.” His eyes were a hot and hungry grey as he looked at me, the unmistakable color of arousal that I’d come to know so well. The heady sensuality of this private dinner was getting to him too. I gave him a knowing smile.

I took a few test photos to gauge the light, and then I began to shoot. I wanted to focus on the curves and angles—the way a long, lean thigh was accented by Junzo’s culinary mastery; the way a feminine back dipped into a valley before rising to a plump buttocks, four perfect sushi rolls nestled neatly in that arc. For some time I was completely absorbed. It may have been minutes or even a quarter of an hour. Then I became aware of William watching me, studying me like I was studying the models and the food. His eyes were dark and stormy, his lips slightly parted.

He rose and stood by my side, his hand on my hip. He was warm in the cool room, and I welcomed his heat. “You can get closer,” he murmured. “No need to stand apart like an observer. You can touch.” His hand slid up my back. “And taste.”

I shivered at the promise in his tone. He lifted a pair of chopsticks from the table and, with perfect form, picked up a sushi roll from the small of the woman’s back. “I think this is crab with daikon radish.” I watched as he opened his mouth wide and slid the round roll inside, closing his lips and his eyes, obviously savoring the taste. He swallowed. “I’ve ruined your symmetry now,” he said, his mouth back at my ear. And he had, as he’d taken the roll from the center, which left a gap in what had been a perfect line. “But I want you to notice something else.”

I lifted my camera and angled it on the woman’s back.

“She hasn’t moved, but she can’t control every response. Do you see how her skin pebbles where the cold roll has been removed?” His hand caressed my arm, encouraging me to move closer. “Warmth floods her skin and makes the chill of the other rolls that much more noticeable.”

I shivered from the caress of his breath on my neck. I snapped several shots, pausing when I felt his hand, light and teasing, on the small of my back—on the same spot where he had removed the sushi roll on the model.

“I don’t enjoy eating alone,” he said, approaching the table again. I watched, almost breathless, to see which of the delectable choices he would pick for me. His hand hovered over the thigh of the model who lay on her back and then he moved up and up to her taut abdomen, adorned with perfectly round rolls of bright orange surrounding a bed of white flecked with green. He didn’t touch her and his hand wasn’t even close to her skin, but through the lens of my camera, I saw the way she tensed almost imperceptibly. My own body tensed as well. I knew what it would feel like if William touched me there. I could imagine it, and I felt heat flooding between my legs in anticipation.

Finally, he lifted a roll from her belly, and I snapped a shot that captured the subtle surge of pink that flooded her skin as the roll was removed.

“It’s a salmon roll, with unagi and tamago. Taste,” William said, his hand cupping the nape of my neck. I lowered my camera, opened my mouth, and allowed him to feed me. It all but fell apart in my mouth as the sweet flavors of the salmon and eel, balanced by the tang of the rice, exploded across my tongue.

When I opened my eyes, William was watching me. He arched a brow. “Delicious,” I said. “Much better than the California rolls I get at Whole Foods.”

He gave me a chastising look. “Sushi is much better if you don’t buy it from the grocery store.”

I smiled. “I bet they’d sell more if they displayed it this way.”

He laughed. “Undoubtedly, but then someone might get arrested.” He handed me my glass of wine, and we both drank. “Here, let’s try the sashimi next.”

Paper thin slices of fish had been arranged into a delicate rose that covered one breast on the model lying face up. Using chopsticks this time, William lifted one petal, revealing a sliver of skin beneath. He dipped the tuna in a wasabi sauce and brought it to my mouth. I opened for him, tasting the smooth, silky flavor of the tuna along with the heat of the wasabi. The tuna was slightly warm from the model’s body, but still cold enough that I could imagine how it must have felt against her delicate skin. I felt a drip of the wasabi on my lip, but before I could lick it away, William’s thumb brushed against it. He licked his thumb, taking the bead of sauce into his mouth. “My turn,” he said. He turned and lifted another petal of fish from the model’s breast, this time revealing her nipple.