I was naked still, laying on his lush carpet. I’d borrowed a quilted down blanket from the back of the couch nearby to keep me warm through the night and provide a moderate amount of cover, but who was I kidding? If Jeremy walked in right now, he’d know what happened. And then what? Did I want him to know? Maybe Asher did this often. Maybe he seduced women, convinced them of one thing or another, lured them to his home under the guise of modeling for his photography, and slept with them. Then, after, he kicked them out. It seemed like a typical thing for a man to do. It had never happened to me before, but I had friends who went through similar situations.
But, why? I asked myself this question over and over again. What was wrong? Why did he want me gone? His marriage, yes, but he must have wanted it, too, must have wanted to sleep with me. His photography wasn’t of the needlessly erotic sort, at least as far as he mentioned, but the pictures he took of me were racy enough to show up in any men’s magazine. Though, of course I didn’t quite think I was attractive enough to pull something like that off, but Asher did. Or, he said he thought I was. I needed to remind myself that there was a big difference between what someone said and what someone actually thought.
I needed to do a lot of things, and yet in the warm, morning light, a hint of sunshine tingling across my bare forearm as it peeked out from beneath the blanket, I couldn’t think of any of them. I wanted to lay there all day and forget everything. I wanted to remember last night with Asher, to relive it, to memorize every part of it so I would never forget.
My body shifted beneath the blanket, fidgeting. Everything felt so nice. The carpet tickling across my skin and the feel of the quilted blanket caressing across my stomach and the tops of my thighs and between them and on my breasts. Without thinking about it, I let my hand nestle between my legs and tease at my lower lips. When I realized what I was doing, I also realized I was aroused.
I wanted to masturbate so much. Actually, I wanted Asher to return, apologize, whisper adorations into my ear and beg for my forgiveness, then take me again right then and there in his guest house, but I knew that wouldn’t happen. I thought of it, though. More and more, how he would touch me, what it would feel like. The expression on his face and the love in his eyes. My body tensing under his exquisite touch.
Right now my body tensed under my own touch, but it wasn’t quite the same.
Knock, knock, knock.
Too wrapped up in my fantasy, I didn’t hear the person knocking on the door. My fantasy unraveled as I built myself up to a hasty climax and let the feeling of it drift over me like a light, summer breeze.
Knock, knock, knock.
The second time they knocked, I had a delayed reaction. I lay there, still and calm, delighting in the wonderful feeling of ignoring all my problems. But, then, the knocking. Someone was at the door. My God! I was naked, hidden under a blanket, with my clothes scattered on the floor. I panicked and jumped up, dressing as fast as I could.
…
What was he doing? What had he done?
Asher didn’t know. Out of all his years of marriage, he hadn’t even entertained the thought of cheating on his wife. Beatrice wasn’t unfaithful to him, either; at least as far as he knew. They rarely saw each other now, only in passing for a few days of the month when she returned from her trips. This bothered him, but what was he supposed to do about it?
The answer, he knew, was not to cheat on his wife.
Should he tell her? He had to. It was the only option, despite the fact that he dreaded it. And, then what? Divorce? Or not? Would she care?
He loved Beatrice and he wanted the best for her. But, he wasn’t in love with her. Actually, at the moment, he had no idea what he was. Loved, in love, loved by someone, absolutely abhorred by everyone? They all seemed about the same right now.
Jessika had him completely undone in only moments. He hadn’t expected that. What little he knew of her, he thought he’d understood, but apparently not. With only a few simple actions, a couple of fairly innocent seeming moves, she’d lured him towards completely giving in to temptation. Though, in all honesty, he doubted she did it on purpose. She’d seemed… confused?
Asher didn’t blame her for anything that happened. He was a grown adult, a powerful businessman, and he knew to take responsibility for his actions. After their time in the car, driven home by his driver, Jeremy, he knew he needed to be careful around her. And, yet, when everything came crashing down, he lost himself.
But, God, she was so attractive. He couldn’t place why, but he knew it when he saw it. The curve of her hips and the way she squirmed on the carpet in his guest house. She seemed so out of place and unresisting, knowing nothing of what she should do but doing it because he asked it of her. Her skin, her touch; she felt soft and delicate and unsure but wanting to try more for his sake.