“Go on, Ally,” I say, stepping even closer, letting her feel just what she’s doing to me. Showing her that, while I may make her feel small and meek, she has the power.
She inhales before sucking her bottom lip into her mouth seductively. Just like I taught her. “You smell so good. Like male and raw sex. Like sunshine and rainwater.”
“Yeah? And what does that make you feel?”
“Hot.” Her head lowers, but not before I see the red in her cheeks deepen even more. “And horny.”
A flash of movement or light, or maybe even a voice, catches my attention, and I look up to find ten sets of uncovered eyes trained on us, each one displaying varying degrees of shock and outrage. My mouth goes dry, and I feel the blood drain from my face. I step away, yet not so fast that they could misconstrue my retreat as a sign of guilt.
“You all did a wonderful job. And I’d like to thank Mrs. Carr for being a good sport and trying some of our more advanced techniques.” Without moving her body too much and revealing my massive hard-on to the rest of the class, I turn Ally around and remove her blindfold, keeping my hands chastely on her shoulders. She stays put, pressing her back and ass against my throbbing dick. I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from groaning.
“Let’s break for an early lunch, shall we?”
We wait until the rest of the class files out, before Ally turns back to face me. Her cheeks are still pink, and even her hair looks disheveled, like she’s been freshly fucked.
“Your mom was right,” she says, looking up at me with glassy eyes.
“My mom?” I frown.
“You should’ve been a movie star. You’re a damn good actor.”
I raise a brow. “Maybe I should be telling you that.”
Allison shakes her head and laughs nervously, looking down at her feet. “No. I can’t act. Not even a little bit.”
I pull her chin up, refusing to let her hide from me. “Then what was that?”
She shakes her head, her chin still secured between my fingers. Tears fill those wide eyes, and her lip trembles. “I don’t know. I don’t know what that was. I don’t know anything.”
Suddenly, the need to possess her body is a distant memory. Seeing her so shattered because of me, because of this…thing, this undefined attraction that has her just as fucked up in the head as I am, makes me realize just how careless I’ve been with her delicate emotions. She’s been hurt, and somehow, in some way that I don’t seem to understand, I’m hurting her too. I can see it, right in those sad eyes filled with tiny, drowning stars.
“Come here,” I say, wrapping my arms around her. She buries her face into my chest for just a moment before she realizes what she’s doing.
“No. No, I can’t do this. Excuse me…I’m sorry.” And with confused tears sliding down her porcelain face and a trail of fire at her back, the angel runs away from this lonely hell designed especially for me.
DAYS PASS. MAYBE a week.
It’s all the same. Work. Swim. Sometimes I drink. Seldom I eat. Either way, nothing changes. Allison doesn’t come at night. She hardly even looks at me. I feel like I’ve stained her, violated her in some way. Tainted her with wicked temptation. And for once, I’m relieved.
I couldn’t stay away from her, and she wasn’t put off enough by me to keep her distance. So maybe this was necessary. Maybe her physically seeing what I was capable of, was just what she needed to permanently close whatever space she had left open for me in her life. Now she can remove the placeholder. I’m no longer on the guest list.
That’s a good thing. That’s what’s best.
Still... it’s shitty.
Feeling like I had some sort of connection with someone, even platonically, was something I hadn’t experienced in years. Meeting her was like seeing a sunrise after being trapped in a dull, grey room with no windows. It was that first bite of ice cream on a treacherously hot summer’s day. Without her, all is drab. Muted. Tasteless.
Lonely.
But I’m not complaining. The brooding, lonely role is one I play well. I’m an island of one, and I like to keep it that way.
That’s why I couldn’t figure out why the usual excitement surrounding this particular day just wasn’t there. This one had always been one of my favorites. The housewives would be particularly uncomfortable. It tested each one of their boundaries and made them reevaluate their own desires. Seeing them like that – cheeks stained with embarrassment, mouths slack, squirming in their seats with arousal—was like living art to me. That raw emotion was what I lived for.
Yet, now, I feel indifferent about it, maybe even a little sad. Like doing this will be the proverbial nail in the coffin for Ally and me.