1
Does he feel anything for me?
Does he not feel anything for me?
Kate stared at the flowing river from the embankment, letting the wind sweep up her long dark hair. It was cloudy today, and the trees were rustling in the wind, throwing off dead leaves for the cleaners to pick up. Barges floated in the water below, the people on them oblivious to her plight.
Rust O’ Brien. Enigmatic. Secretive. Completely aloof and completely mysterious. Completely gorgeous and completely sexy and everything a girl could ever desire.
She had his body, but she didn’t have his heart.
After a month of torrid sex almost every day in secret places – the club, his office, motel rooms, anywhere he could get her away from prying eyes – she had been more satisfied sexually than she had ever dreamed a woman could be.
The sex was frenetic, intense, mind-blowing. Her orgasm threshold was on a permanent nadir – so low that she was almost always spontaneously combusting. All it took from him to get her going was just a look.
Just one look, and she would wet her panties.
If she was actually wearing them.
Oh. She had it bad.
What did she want now? Were not all her orifices filled and expanded and pounded regularly into molten submission? Was not her pussy perennially sore from so much stimulation that she could hardly stand, let alone walk? Did her juices not flow copiously every day so that she wore an almost permanent stain on her inner thighs?
That was the trouble with women. The more sex she had, the more sex she craved. She could not get enough of Rust O’ Brien. She could not get enough of his beautiful face as he looked down at her while he fucked her; that firm, frantic thrusting of his hips as he slammed into her so hard until the bed and walls shuddered.
But now . . . she wanted something more.
That was all she was to him, she was certain. A body. A body he seemed to desire and crave just as much as she desired and craved him.
And yet . . . she did not have his heart. She did not have his soul.
She was his mistress. His sexual partner in submission and bondage.
But she wanted more. More!
Was she unusual in wanting more? Could he see the love in her eyes as she gazed upon him – a love she did not dare betray too much lest he dump her without so much as another word?
The only way I can still have him is to keep the status quo.
Until he tires of me.
Her heart wrenched in her chest. She could feel the physical pain of it turning uncomfortably, of her heart strings being tugged by her psyche.
I want more.
But she did not dare challenge what was between them. What if she tried for something more, and it backfired miserably? What if he threw her out on the street and asked her never to see him again?
Kate stared miserably at the water. At the tourists on the open barge. At their guide who toted a loudspeaker, telling them about the sights to be savored, about what else was around the river bend. She was paralyzed with indecision. Paralyzed with the fear of losing him should she decide to press for more. Paralyzed with the fear of losing him anyway if she didn’t.
She felt like throwing herself into the water and sinking to the bottom of the river, letting it cover the top of her head. That way, it would be peaceful. There would be absolute calm. They would find her body the next morning, and he would be sorry he hadn’t loved her more . . . hadn’t wanted more from her.
He would be sorry for a twinge of a second.
She laughed. She couldn’t help herself. Look at her! She was a basket case, pining over the love of a man no one could have!
At least she had him. At least she had his body. His rock hard body and his thick, long, erect cock.
For now.
That day on the embankment, contemplating wild thoughts of love and unrest, Kate had no idea how much her life was going to change.
Again.
2
The trouble with Kate was that she wasn’t completely comfortable with herself.
She wasn’t comfortable about her body or who she was. She was losing weight, and yet, she was afraid of losing weight because Rust seemed to like her voluptuous curves for what they were. She was afraid of losing her curves, because that was what he saw in her in the first place.
Imagine! She was eating ice-cream and all sorts of fattening things to keep her weight up! Was she the only girl in the world to do that?
She filed through the corridors to the library. She had an assignment due. Sometimes, she threw herself into her studies so that she wouldn’t think about Rust O’Brien all the time. Besides, she wanted to impress him in class.
I’m not just an overweight fuck doll, you know. I have a brain.
“Hey, girl!”
Oh no. It was her best friend and roommate, Michaela. Kate had been having a devil of a time keeping her affair with Rust O’ Brien under wraps, especially since she sometimes stayed out all night.