Just One Night, Part 2_ Exposed(26)

Besides, I stopped Dave. And if he tries to touch me again, he’ll again feel the sting of my refusal. He will never get anywhere with me. Not by design or force. He is not invited.

But Robert is, and as his fingers travel down to the curve of my waist, my hips, his hands gently pull apart my legs, opening me up; I feel my body silently restating that invitation, reinforcing it with the dampness between my legs, with the erratic pace of my breathing. He lifts my leg, kisses my ankle, then slowly moves higher. Each kiss is a little different. Here, where the muscle of my inner thigh begins, he sucks, just slightly, and here, as he travels upward, his tongue flicks out to taste the salt on my skin. Here, as he comes closer to my core, the kiss becomes gentle, almost innocent, a direct contradiction to his clear intent.

I reach my hands into his hair, try to draw him higher, but he will not be rushed. He lets the anticipation warm me before his mouth reaches its destination.

But when it does, when I feel his lips wrap around my clit in an open-mouthed kiss, that’s when the kerosene truly meets the flames. I grasp the edges of the table, anchoring myself to its solidity. Again images of what was supposed to happen here flash through my head. Me, exposed, serving men against my will.

But the image comes crashing down as I feel his tongue press inside of me, penetrating me, then pulling out, then tasting again. His hand slips beneath my hips, lifting me for his benefit and mine.

There are no images anymore. I’m blind to all of it and like any blind woman my other senses are heightened. The feeling of his hands pressing into my flesh is a unique ecstasy. The flicks of his tongue are like jolts of electric delight; the sound of my heart beating is thunderous and beautiful.

My orgasm is almost luxurious in its decadence, like a fine champagne bursting from its bottle.

In a flash Robert pulls me forward. As he stands I remain laying on the surface of polished oak, my straight legs supported against his chest. I feel his erection against my thighs, eager for entry. I grant it by lifting my hips; his hands quickly reach to hold them in place as my back rises with them into the air.

He enters me again and moves slowly, the gratification of this steady, cadenced hypnosis. This is what it is to feel beauty, to experience the texture of bliss.

For a moment I think I hear music like I heard in my fantasy but it’s only our mingled breathing, his growls harmonizing with my cries of rapture as he drives into me again and again.

What if Dave comes home? What if he sees Robert making love to me in his house, on his table where I have served him coffee, where he would have me sit by his side, the perfect subservient wife.

He’d broadcast the news to the world, to my family, and to my employers.

But as Robert grinds against me, I find that I don’t care. This is my rebellion. It’s a day of sunshine amid a season of rain and I will not waste it.

And then the dance shifts. He releases me, pulls away, lays me flat on the table. For a moment I’m confused, disoriented. I’m not ready for this to end.

And neither is he. He pulls me up so now I sit before him as he stares. The intimacy of a look can have its own tender eroticism. I link my legs around him, lean my weight back on my hands. The summons could not be clearer. With a single thrust he’s inside me again but this time he reaches new depths. I cry out as he leans forward, his teeth nibbling my ear before his tongue seeks out the nerve endings there.

“He’s never going to touch you again,” he whispers as he speeds up his rhythm. The table vibrates with our movement but it’s sturdy and strong, stronger than the rules I once set for myself, stronger than the threats of my enemies, stronger than my restraint that crumbles the moment Robert enters a room.

“I am the only man you will ever make love to again.”

I feel myself tremble as my muscles begin to contract.

“I’ll have you in his house, in mine, in your office, in a thousand beds all over the world. But this,” and now he pushes into me with even more force, “this is mine.” Again I cry out as yet another orgasm rips through me. And I feel him join me, feel him coming inside me, feel him throb as he claims me in the only way a man can really claim a woman.

I stare up into his eyes and gasp the word, “Yes.”

We cling to each other for minutes that feel like seconds . . . or days. I listen to his breathing, feel his heartbeat, smell his cologne. . . .

“You’re coming with me,” he says. His voice isn’t demanding. He’s just stating a fact.

I run my fingers over the back of his neck and stare at the white walls of Dave dining room, silently saying good-bye to my prison.





CHAPTER 9





I DRESS IN THE CLOTHES I wore to work but before Robert and I leave Dave’s house, I fold up the offensive dress neatly and place it in the middle of the dining room table. Robert nods his approval. He doesn’t know about the note I put inside the flimsy fabric. A small piece of white paper with some words written in cursive: