Allure of the Vixen (7 page)

I dragged my tongue across her clit again, this time
a little slower, catching the ridges, pushing down. Pam wrapped her fingers in
my hair, not pulling, just connecting with me.

I started down again, shoving my tongue as deep as I
could, like I was fucking her, in and out, the movement sliding my body and my
cock against the sheets, making me even harder, wondering if I myself could
come just this way.

As I started back up, fully intent on focusing on
her clit, she suddenly grabbed my shoulders and pulled me up, surprising me.

“I’m too close,” she said. “If you do that again,
I’m going to come.”

“Anything wrong with that?”

“I wanted to try something else, if you are ready.”

I was on top of her now, and she reached down for my
cock.

Pam smiled. “I see that you are.”

“What do you want to do?” I had a feeling anything
she thought of would be fine with me.

“I want to see if I can come by just sucking on
you.” And without waiting for an answer she pushed me upward, so that I was
straddling her face. “That is, if you are willing.”

“Let it never be said that I would stand in the way
of science.”

“So I’m an experiment now?”

“It sounds like I am.”

Just as she opened her mouth to take me, my phone
rang.

Pam stopped, and before I could help myself, knowing
it was unbelievably rude and obnoxious, I glanced at the screen.

Joanne.

I hovered, not just physically, but torn inside.

“Is that someone you need to talk to?” asked Pam.

She looked up at me, guileless, demanding nothing,
offering everything, at least for this night.

“Not tonight I don’t.”

 I reached over and turned off the phone.

The following week I was back in the city.
I hadn’t returned Joanne’s call or even texted her. I wasn’t sure just what I
wanted, except I wasn’t going to be her sex toy.

The first day I was slammed busy in the office,
mostly behind closed doors and in conference rooms. I didn’t see Joanne, but that
wasn’t unusual—it was rare that I would run into her in our large set of
offices, on multiple floors of a high rise building.

Still, her aura was there, her presence. I knew that
somewhere, not far away, she was walking around, men were checking her out. I
tried not to think of what she was wearing, or not wearing.

Or who else she might be fucking.

I had no reason to be angry at her. But something
about the whole situation, as exhilarating as it was, made me hesitant. Or made
me think I should be. It was too easy. And too dangerous.

Not only because of the office policy, but it
wouldn’t be the first time some woman had tried to hook me, more interested in
my money than me. I had a few friends who had suffered that fate, and it hadn’t
turned out well. One guy told me of a woman who claimed he had gotten pregnant,
just to snare him.

Joanne and I hadn’t used a condom. I had just
assumed she was on birth control, and the heat of the moment had overcome my
usual sense.

The next day I was sitting at my desk, two other
people with me in a meeting, and my phone rang. I glanced at the internal ID,
the call was coming from a conference room on Joanne’s floor. I let it go to
voicemail.

Later, when I checked, there was no message. This
happened twice again that day. Late in the afternoon I got a text on my cell
phone.
Talk to me,
was all it said.

I went to the gym instead, pounding out the reps,
burning off energy, trying to burn off desire.

That night, I lay on my bed, sorting out my mood and
my reaction. It was time to decide what to do. On one hand, a relationship with
Joanne could be a lot of fun. Joanne claimed she didn’t want any attachments—that
was the message in her warning about not falling in love with me. She seemed
discreet enough, not the type to broadcast her dalliances around the office.

But I barely knew her. For all I knew she was a gold-digger.
Or even if she wasn’t, she’d drop some hint, or we’d be caught standing too
close, and someone would start to talk. Shit, she might be sleeping with
someone else in the office already.

Alluring as Joanne was, as good as the sex had been,
it was too dangerous, too perilous, even for me. And that was saying a lot, I’d
taken my share of risks. There was no upside in it, besides the sex, and how
much better could that really get? That was the problem with great first time
sex—if you had bad first time sex, you didn’t want to repeat it. But if it was
great, and with Joanne it had been incredible, you wanted to do it again, and
again, but it was hard to imagine it would be even better. Such an irony.

 I decided to cut it off with her, although I’d
always wonder where it might have gone, and whether I’d get past her rules, her
limitations on what kind of sex she would be willing to have with me. I didn’t
need that either, frustrated by her limitations.

I had decided, but I can’t say I slept well that
night.

The next morning I woke later than usual. I
made some coffee and jumped in the shower. I had just finished shaving when I
heard the apartment buzzer.

A little surprised, I padded to the foyer in just my
boxers. I had lived in this building for two years and I could count the number
of times on one hand that someone rang my bell—big city neighbors were often
anonymous, half the apartments owned by Europeans who only came to the city a
few weeks a month.

I was expecting the building superintendant, he’d be
the only one to ring this early. Maybe something wrong with the gas.

I peered through the peephole as I unlocked the
door, expecting to see Hector’s hair and beard. I saw the hair just fine, but
the skin was as smooth as a marble statue, the eyes daring me to avoid her.

What could I do? I opened the door.

Instead of brushing by me as she had done the first
time, she waited in the hall.

“Joanne,” was all I said.

“You didn’t return my calls, I had to see you.” She
was dressed for the office, her usual chic take on business clothes. This
morning it was a tailored but not too tight black skirt, a few inches above the
knee, her legs bare, the beautiful southern Mediterranean olive skin more
refined than stockings. A royal purple blouse, making her bright green eyes
pop.

“I was going to call you today,” I said evenly.

“Here I am.”

“So I see.”

She gave me a serious once over. “Do you always wear
the same kind of underwear? We’re going to have to change that if we are going
to keep sleeping together.”

“About that.”

Joanne cocked her head. “Are you going to dump me in
the hallway, or are you going to invite me in? I don’t have much time, I have
to get to the office.”

I should have done just that. Shut the door in her
face. Maybe standing there barefoot in just my underwear, trying to control
myself, made it a little hard to have a serious conversation. I stepped aside
and let her in.

In the narrow foyer she turned to me. “I didn’t think
you were the type to fuck a woman once and then blow her off.” Her voice wasn’t
angry or accusatory.

“I told you, you don’t know me.” My mind flashed on
Pam, I’d probably do exactly that to her.

“You can’t say it wasn’t good with me, I know it
was.”

I had a hard time with my breathing, standing so
close to her. She must have sensed my difficulty, but instead of giving me some
space she took a step closer. “I never said that.”

“Then what is it? Is it some woman?” She edged even
closer. The way she said
woman
was almost a sneer, daring me to tell her
another woman was as good as Joanne was.

My eyes darted away on their own accord. What
business of it was hers? Who would it help, bringing up my vague suspicions of
women after my money? I’d sound like a paranoid fool.

Joanne stood on her toes, her lips just inches from
mine, her eyes pulling me in. “I know you still want me,” she said, a statement
of fact, her voice full of certainty.

Alarm bells were going off in my head, but my heart
was skipping beats, my body responding, telling my mind to go to hell. Joanne
brushed her lips across mine, not a kiss, maybe hoping I’d give in, but I
resisted, staring her down. Her eyes hardened, and then she upped the ante, she
shifted her leg, our bare skin touching, the effect instantly making me hard. Even
though I couldn’t see her legs because she was too close, I knew what they
looked like, I knew what they felt like, I had been dreaming of them for a
week, for months even, and now with the knowledge of what lay beneath that
skirt, I was helpless.

I grabbed her under her thigh and lifted it around
me as I spun her against the wall. I pressed my mouth against hers, and then
everything happened very fast, our mouths opened, our tongues fought, her legs
wrapped around me. I hiked up her skirt, my hand squeezing between her and the
cold plaster wall to grab her tight ass. Her bare ass. No underwear at all.

She was shoving down my boxers with one hand as I
used my other hand to lift her up against the wall. She caught the hem of my
shorts with her shoe, dragging them down, scraping me roughly with her heel, a
pain that wouldn’t register.

“Hurry, hurry!” she breathed.

She pulled her skirt up around her waist and spread
her legs, and was now helplessly pinned against the wall. I didn’t wait, my
cock probing violently for her opening . She shifted her hips and then grabbed
for me, guiding me into her, her pussy wet and ready.

Her hands went to my ass, pulling me in, even as I
pushed, my first thrust slamming her roughly against the wall. I lifted her
legs, and she hooked her heels behind my calves, she was leaning in to me,
holding on for dear life, and I slammed forward again, her ass hitting the wall
hard.

Her eyes were open and on me, just like they had
been the first time. I fucked her hard, driving her against the wall, thinking
any moment whoever lived in the next apartment would start banging on the
walls, or maybe call the super.

Fuck them.

“Hurry, hurry!” she said again, her voice rising in
pitch.

I didn’t know if she meant she wanted me to fuck her
harder or finish, so I worked on doing both, drilling her to the wall, her
pussy pulling at my cock with each stroke, those wonderful legs wrapped around
me, grabbing at me in desperation and need.

I felt her start to shake, she was getting close, so
fast, I should have denied her, pushed her to her knees, see if she’d suck me
then, whether she’d pay that price for me to get her off.

Sucking me, the way Pam had sucked me.

Joanne must have seen something in my eyes, a blaze
erupting in her iris, I’d never known green could seem so much like red. “You
were with another woman, weren’t you?” Her voice again certain, a statement of
fact, not an accusation.

I grunted and kept fucking her.

“Say it! You were with another woman!”

“Yes,” I growled, my voice reverberating in the
small foyer.

“Bastard!” She yelled, but she kept fucking me.

“And you,” I muttered, “were you with another man?”

I wasn’t sure I wanted to know the answer, my voice
wasn’t as certain as hers had been, even I couldn’t pull that off.

Joanne looked me right in the eye, the hot green
searing. “Yes!”

I rammed my cock into her as hard as I could.

“Yes. Yes!”

A picture hanging on the wall crashed to the floor.

“Did he fuck you like this?” I demanded.

“No! No other lover fucks me in my pussy, only you,
only you come in me, come in me now, I want it in me. . .” Demanding,
alluring, threatening, promising. But not pleading.

She squeezed her muscles around my cock, and I shot
my load deep inside her, her legs tight around my back, squeezing me like a
tube of toothpaste, forcing out every last drop of my seed.

Only then, after I had emptied myself, did I feel
her start to shudder, her lip quivering, her eyes rolling back in her head, and
I watched in amazement as her orgasm overtook her, her features shifting before
me from passion to pure ecstasy.

After long moments she opened her eyes. “Now, about
your underwear.”

That’s how it went for a few weeks. Always
at my place, almost always at lunch, sometimes early in the morning. Joanne in
a hurry, to be fucked, to get herself straightened up, to get back to the
office.

I’d given up any thoughts of avoiding her, of
breaking it off. Like a firecracker, a big one, our flame had been lit, shot
off into the sky. It would flash and burn, spectacularly, and then die off in
the darkness, perhaps the remnants to be discovered some day far in the future,
the glory relived only in memory.

Or in fantasy.

A few days after that time in the foyer, I had
texted her, telling her to meet me the next day. I wanted her, but I also
wanted to see if she’d try to get back at me for leaving her hanging, if she
would ignore my message.

Surprisingly, she didn’t. Her response, almost
immediate, said,
I want to, but I can’t tomorrow. Friday instead.

What was she doing the next day, that she couldn’t
be with me? Something at work? Or maybe someone else, the other man she had
been with.

I had no right to ask. But I wondered just the same.

During one of our lunch hour trysts, lying naked on
the bed, after we had finished, Joanne reached down to her bag and pulled out a
small package.

“I have something for you.” She placed it on my
chest.

I pulled the ribbon, and out tumbled a very thin
pair of blood red silk boxers. They were so light I was able to crunch them in
a ball and hold them in my palm.

“You’re going to start dressing me now?”

“I love the rest of your clothes. You look better in
your suits than any man I think I’ve ever seen.”