Sensuality (9 page)

Damn, two more shots to go and we’re through.

THIRD POSE: Juan asked her to lie back on the bed, knowing full well he wanted to join her. He then asked her to spread her legs with her knees bent. With her pussy fully open, Lydia felt a gush of wind enter and held back a moan. Her nipples were rock hard and she was ready for a good fuck. Then he walked to her and she hoped he’d at least noticed her. Opening up a satchel, he laid rose petals at various parts of her body, except her pussy, and he placed a soft scarf over her eyes. She listed as he brought the camera closer, she knew he was preparing for a close-up.

She looked like a caramel-colored honeysuckle, waiting for him to suck her juices. As her open pussy lay there, he saw the glossiness of it and felt the hardness of his dick. He could also see her hole, which made him want to taste, or at least put his finger in it.

Would tasting it be such a crime? he thought.
Dammit, Simon!

The more the camera clicked, the more her body quivered. Then he asked her to lick her fingers. “Lick them like you want to be licked.” [CLICK] “Good. Let me see more of your big lips.” [CLICK] “That’s what I like to see.”

Lydia was in heaven. Whatever she was doing turned her on so much that she didn’t want to stop. For the first time, she felt absolutely wicked, and didn’t care.

FOURTH POSE: This was the final shot, which suited Juan fine. He excused himself to get some more equipment and to give Lydia a chance to ease the dripping going on between her legs. When he returned, he had a medium-sized beach ball with him. After a few shots of her holding it over her head, he asked her to get back on the bed. Placing the ball at the head of the bed, he asked her to get on top of it. Once she did, she felt weird until Juan told her how sexy she looked.

Somehow, the image of her with that ball between her legs sent him into a tailspin. Then he had her turn around and lie on the ball, with her breasts hanging slightly over it. The lower her shoulders were, the higher her ass rode in the air, a sight that almost made him nut on himself. Before he realized what had happened, he ran out of his allotted amount of film, which meant their session was over.

On the way home, Lydia knew she had cum on her pussy. Just thinking about her session made it flow even more. She had started to cum and wanted to cum again.

Thinking again of how he had talked to her, how he had looked at her, made her wish that he had touched her. Imagining him inside her, she slid her hand inside her skirt and fingered herself into oblivion, trying not to get into any accidents on the way home.

Back at the studio, Juan scratched his head. He couldn’t remember the last time a woman had made him that hard.
He looked at one of the developing pictures in the darkroom and traced the lines of her silhouette. Not that it was right, but he would definitely keep a set of pictures for himself. He called Simon to report that he had behaved himself.

Walking through Smokescreen, Lydia went upstairs to find Simon and Pilar to let them know she was okay. Not seeing anyone, she walked into her bedroom and heard nothing but screams.

“What in the hell are you two doing!” she yelled.

“Nothing. It’s not what you think, Ms. Supermodel,” Pilar replied.

“You’re naked, in my damn bed!”

Pilar and Simon let out a giggle. Lydia had caught them knocking boots. Simon escaped downstairs.

“You couldn’t find anywhere else to fuck, Pilar?” she asked.

“I’m sorry, kiddo. You know Simon and I are always fussing. We got into one of our arguments, over you, coincidentally, and then next thing you know, we’re fucking. You cool with this?”

“Hey, that’s between you and Simon.”

“How did your session go?”

Lydia spilled the beans as the two friends laughed at all the crazy things they did.

“I guess you needed a Lydia moment.”

“Yeah, that’s all it was.”

Later that evening, a freshly showered Lydia was still picking at Pilar until they both heard a knock on the upstairs door.
They weren’t expecting anyone. Pilar opened the door to see Juan. He said that Simon said he could come over. Lydia had transformed into the conservative woman that had walked into his studio, wearing jeans and a white sweater.

“This is a surprise, Juan,” she said, but was referring to the heavy satchel on his shoulder.

“Oh, I’m going to do a last-minute job for a friend, but I got the first set of pictures and I wanted to see how you liked them.”

“I’m not in the mood to see myself in freak mode.”

“Too bad, because they’re the best I’ve taken in a long time.”

Sitting down on the sofa, he took out the pictures as Pilar, noticing the tension, excused herself to check on Simon. Looking at the pictures brought back memories for Juan.

Standing up, he had another confession. “You know, usually I am a consummate professional. I see women every day and they never faze me. But you were different.”

“Really?” she was puzzled.

“Yeah, as a matter of fact, it took all the self-control I had not to walk over to that bed today and touch, feel, and taste you.”

“But you didn’t.”

“No, but only because I promised Simon I wouldn’t touch you. I was under the impression that you were taking these pictures for Jarvis. I was hating on him big-time. But I just found out that you broke up with him.”

“See, Juan. It’s like—”

“Did you take those pictures just to see me?”

Lydia felt like a complete and utter idiot, or at least that’s
what Juan must have thought of her. How desperate he must have thought she was.

“That was one of my reasons, but not my only one.”

“I see,” was all he replied as he opened his satchel and began putting together his camera.

“What are you doing? I thought you had another job to go to.”

“I do.” He snickered. “I’m looking at her.”

Quickly putting the camera and the stand together, he pulled her up to him and kissed her until she could barely breathe. Then he bathed her neck with butterfly kisses, sending her into a song of moans, doing all the things he had wanted to do to her a few hours ago. Then she heard the first [CLICK] from the camera.

“Are you snapping pictures of us?”

“Yep, it’s on an automatic timer.”

He pulled off her sweater, unhooked her bra, and stared longingly at the breasts that had eluded him earlier. He put one in his mouth, pulling on the nipple while his tongue flickered back and forth across them. Repeating the motion for the other breast, he pulled them both together, sucking while she held her legs together, squirming. Juan sat on the sofa while she stood in front of him. After sliding her out of her jeans, he slipped the wet thong off of her body. All he could hear were moans while she rubbed his cock’s head in approval.

Spreading kisses across her body, he spread her legs just as she had done earlier. While she spread her legs for him again, he could see the milky juice sliding down the side of her thigh. Racing with his tongue, he met it on her skin and traced it back to the opening of her pussy where the rest of
her sweet nectar flowed. His tongue traced her second set of lips before it massaged her opening in circular rhythms. Laying her down on the table, he stripped naked while she stared at him dreamily. His silky hair glistened in the light. Everything about her Latin lover inspired sex appeal. Pulling her legs over his shoulder, he tasted some more of her and then held her clit in his mouth, sucking on it and releasing it only to suck on it again. While his mouth fed on her clit, his fingers found their way into her pussy and fucked her wall until her body moved in rhythm with his.

Lydia couldn’t concentrate on anything other than the erotic sensations, the double excitement Juan elicited in her. The moaning was so loud, she barely heard him unwrapping the condom before he entered her. Their bodies rocked back and forth on the table when Juan coaxed that wild, confident side out of her, rewarding her with passionate kisses until they both exploded together in a final climax. Their bodies shook with excitement. Reading her thoughts, he answered an obvious question.

“No, Lydia, I don’t make a habit of sleeping with models, or any other clients. It’s not good for business, any more than you make a habit of taking nude pictures with a whip between your legs for a photographer.”

“Ouch. But you have done it before.”

“Once or twice, with a lot of regret, because the women were using me either for who I knew or what they think I have.”

“So, why me?” she asked although she wasn’t sure if she wanted to know.

“Truth is, I’ve been crushing on you for months. That’s
why I’ve been coming into the Smokescreen just about every day.”

He knew that surprised her. Lydia never gave him a second look, maybe because of the way the other women flocked around him and because she was too intimidated. All he knew was that he had wanted her for a while.

“I thought you came in here because you and Simon were friends.”

“I know his brother, but Simon and I are just cool. We don’t go to the same parties, if you know what I mean. I would have approached you months ago, but Simon told me to back off. You were still dating Jarvis and he didn’t want me interfering. I respected that and kept my distance. Simon may be quiet, but he’s very protective of you and Pilar.”

Both lying there in their nakedness, Juan watched his brown-skinned beauty and hoped to God that this would be something he wouldn’t mess up. There had been women in and out of his life for a while, but Lydia was one he wanted to keep.

“So what happens now?”

“Now,” he said, kissing her on her forehead, “we get up, take a shower, pay your roommates for the crack in that coffee table, go over to my place for a late-night snack, make plans to go a movie tomorrow, and then take it from there.”

Lydia just stared at him, not quite knowing what to make of this man who had seen her well out of her box.

“Look, Lydia, for the record, I’m not here to hit it and quit it. I want to get to know you, the real you. Today was a lucky break. Maybe we shouldn’t have gone there so soon,
but you were looking so hot today I couldn’t help myself. But let’s see where this goes with us.”

The camera clicked once more as they lay there, the moon shining in on their bodies.

“Now that’s going to make a good picture,” Juan said.

“No, picture perfect,” she responded before kissing him one more time.

The drip-drop sprinkles are soothing. Right now, Marcus Jackson needs all the comfort that he can get. He can feel his right hand trembling slightly as he shifts into third gear, switching to the fast lane on I-75 headed north. He’s gotta get there, gotta get there quickly before his mind changes. A tingle works its way up his lower back, toward the top of his spinal column as he reminisces on what she had just said sixty minutes ago.

“Will you come, please? I need to see you,” she had said.

Those sweet words would forever caress his heart, yet haunt his soul for the rest of his natural life. He could never forget the immediate feeling of triumph and pleasure at hearing her soft voice yearn for his company.

“Will you come, please? I need to see you,” she had said.

The sporadic raindrops across the windshield begin to pick up pace—sprinkles turning into light rain, calming rain, mellowing rain. Marcus’s heart begins to quicken as he passes by Exit 50, Grand River, continuing northbound to
ward her. His brow moistens; his temples dampen. The palm of his left hand releases the steering wheel momentarily, leaving behind a wet streak. Yet he smiles, devilishly at the reflection staring back in the rearview mirror. He chuckles to himself and then speaks aloud, as if there was a passenger next to him.

“My god, what am I doing! This is insane. There’s gotta be at least twenty different reasons why I should just turn around,
now,
and go home.”

He waits for some spiritual response while the road ahead begins to shine with the new-fallen rain. He waits for something, anything, that would persuade him that the single greatest mistake in the history of huge mistakes is about to be committed. He waits, and as he waits, he remembers how soft and sensual her voice sounded over the phone.

“Will you come, please? I need to see you,” she had said.

That phrase spoken by anyone else could have meant anything other than what it meant as the words slipped from her lips. He knew what time it was. He knew what she was asking. The time for kids’ games and playful flirting had just taken the leap over that dreaded line of no return. Those spoken words had signified that. She was ready to have him. And he wanted her just as badly. The cold, hard admission of truth simultaneously sends a heat wave through his chest, down into his crotch, and a cold chill up his back and around his shoulder blades. He flinches.

“Holy shit. I’m really gonna do this! This can’t be real. I’m actually gonna go through with this.”

Light rain becomes steady rain. Marcus thumbs the knob for the wipers, and watches as the blades rotate back and forth. Mack Avenue exit ahead. Twenty minutes to go, still
enough time to change his mind. As if by magic, his mind’s eye focuses on the casual dress she’d worn today. The low-cut yet tactful trim of the box neck accenting the beautiful, natural curve of her neck, underneath the long dark locks of her silky hair. Her skin was smooth and the perfect shade of golden butter pecan. There were days when he’d imagined creeping up on her from behind, wrapping his arms around her waist, and gently kissing the nape of her neck. He could see the perfect curve of her bosom as the dress sashayed from left to right as she walked by him in the aisleway of the copy room. Marcus could feel his member pressing harder against his cotton boxers as he focused on the perfect shape of her behind, the way the dress simply slipped off the peak.

Her smile was intoxicating. He loved the look of her full lips but it was her eyes that captivated him. One stern look into her deep brown stare always seemed to make the backs of his knees lose strength. It wasn’t just one feature of this woman that entrapped him, it was the entire package. Marcus was in the moment now. The point of no return had been crossed over. There would be no turning back. He was going to do what he’d never dreamt possible before this day.

“Will you come, please? I need to see you,” she had said.

Behind the wheel of the speeding Mustang, Marcus replies, “I’m comin’, babe. I’m comin’. I am on the way.”

The rainfall picks up speed as Marcus passes by the I-94 interchange. The soothing sensation slowly takes on a raging storm effect. Visibility quickly decreases, and he downshifts for safety. That’s when Mia pops up inside of his head. Goddamn if that wasn’t the mind’s conscience at work, as if the onslaught of rain had somehow forced him to suddenly re
member the oath he’d given to his fiancée. He thought about what he’d told her right after Veronica’s call.

“Emergency meeting over in Ann Arbor, baby. Some new development after the associates’ meeting. I’ll call as soon as I get back into town.”

The words had dropped from his lips as if he was a seasoned liar. Why not, he’s paid well to sell people. It’s his job, and he’s good at it. The majority of his clients have already made up their minds by the time Marcus is brought into dealings. His quick wit had closed many deals, changed hundreds of minds, and sold people on what they wanted to hear. Why should his fiancée be any different? She’d told him that she loved him. Ouch. Damn, that thought comes out of the dark like a blind fist, smacking him so hard upside the head that he actually lifts his foot off the gas pedal.

“This is wrong. She’s gorgeous, but is she worth it?”

That’s when the phone vibrates on his left hip. Startling the hell out of him, he swerves slightly. Regaining control of the ’stang, he reaches for the Bluetooth earpiece protruding from his left ear, and taps the call button. An audible, soft beep sounds off and then…

“Hello?”

There is a silence on the other end that seems to last a dog’s age. He knows who it is. Still he plays it cool—despite the sweat forming under his arms. The rain is full throttle outside the car now, and lightning has joined nature’s dance.

“Hello, is anybody—”

“Hi,
papi,
” she says timidly. It would have been hilarious, actually, considering the type of woman she carries herself as during office hours. His heart skips a beat, instantly tak
ing him back to junior high school and his first real date behind his parents’ backs.

“Hey,” he replies, struggling to contain his composure. “I’m on the way, Ronnie. I should be there in—”

“Mark…what are we doing? Are you okay with this? At this point, there’s really no need to…listen to me. I’m babbling like a schoolgirl on her first date,” she jokes.

“Hey, that’s funny, ’cause I swear I was just thinking the same thing about myself,” Marcus replies.

That awkward moment of silence bridges the gap between small talk and the nitty-gritty. This time, it’s Marcus who steps up. He admits to himself right here. The two of them had danced around this for months now, both secretly hoping and lusting for things to take a turn toward that forbidden place. That time was here. That time was now. Marcus takes in a deep breath. His shaking hands steady, his throbbing heart slows ever so slightly. He focuses on the road sign ahead:
DAVISON FWY
—not too far now.

“Veronica, I’ve gotta be honest with you and I expect you to be honest with me. I’ve wanted this for quite some time now. I’ve been telling myself that it’s the wrong thing for me to do, for all the right reasons, and still I lie down each night clinging to whatever words were spoken between us during the course of the day. I think about the smell of your perfume as you walk by me—it lingers in the air long after you’ve left the room. I see the look in your eyes staring at me
that way,
when no one’s around. And I have to admit, the day you brushed by me in the conference room as we moved past Mr. Jenkins—”

Veronica chimed in, “I know, Mark. I probably shouldn’t have touched you, but…it was one of those moments,
you know? I didn’t realize what I was doing until it happened. Guess that’s
really
when I admitted to myself how much I liked you.”

“That was probably
the
defining moment for me, too. I didn’t want to admit it. Call it lust or whatever you wanna call it. That was
it
for me,” Marcus said.

Veronica sighs. She speaks in that sexy voice that Marcus has come to hear in his sleep.

“Well, that makes me feel better about going out and spending money on…you’ll see, Mr. Jackson. I want you to know that this isn’t the norm for me, Marcus. This is somewhat special for me. This isn’t something that I regularly do. Me being your boss and all, the whole situation is damn near the perfect drama. I just wanted to make sure that I wasn’t forcing you into a situation that you really weren’t prepared for. Do you know what we’re doing?”

Marcus shakes his head as he answers her question. “We are two grown people who know exactly what we’re doing. So of course it doesn’t make any sense, boss. But it feels right, so what else can we do about it? Call it an act of nature.”

“What about—” Veronica starts.

“I don’t want to think about her right now. She has nothing to do with us. Can you handle that?” he says.

His confidence is building. She seems vulnerable now. There is another long pause. Marcus watches the road; he barrels up I-75 at ninety miles per hour, passing the I-696 interchange. His adrenaline is high. What is she wearing at this moment? How long would it take to undress her? How much time would they have? What is Mia thinking right now?

“No!” he yells out, shaking the last thought.

“Are you alright, Mark? What’s going on?” Veronica asks.

“Nothing. Everything is as it should be. I should be there shortly. Do I need to pick up anything?” Marcus asks.

“Just yourself, hon. Just yourself. I’ll leave the back door open for you. Hurry,” she closes in that sultry, sensuous voice.

Marcus’s member throbs so hard, it begins to ache. “My God, I’m gonna do this,” he pronounces. Outside, the rain continues to punish the pavement around the Mustang as it veers off the eastbound Big Beaver ramp.

Moments later, Marcus makes a right turn onto Athena Drive, and there it is, just the way she’d described it, two houses up the block, on the left. He slowly pulls into the driveway, parking alongside the cream-colored luxury sedan he’d seen pull into the executive lot hundreds of times before. Marcus switches off the windshield wipers, turns off the headlights, and kills the ignition. The sound of the Mustang’s rumbling engine is replaced by the steady pelting of the rainfall against the soft-cover roof of the black convertible. The rain, though intense, is soothing. Marcus concentrates on his breathing. His soul is alive with both fear and anticipation.

The calm before the storm.
As he sits here listening to the rain beat against the car, he carefully looks over Veronica’s abode. The redbrick home seems to call out to him, inviting him to start the walk up the pathway leading from the driveway to the back entrance. He can see faint glimmers of light flickering throughout windows of the house.

“Candles. She’s ready for me. This isn’t just some fling,” he whispers.

He looks at his ring finger.

“Soon, Mia. Soon, but not tonight. Tonight’s not about you. God help me, tonight is about me,” he whispers.

Opening the door of the Mustang, he darts up the brick path, toward the rear entrance of the house, looking like a cat burglar making his way toward his next score. Somewhere inside, she’s waiting to be taken.

The back door is open, just as Veronica said it would be. Marcus slips into the house, then gently closes the door behind him while shaking the rain from his soaked suede jacket. Spying the coat hooks just off the wall-mounted doorstop, he slides the dripping jacket onto one of them. This is when he catches a whiff of that sweet, warm tinged fragrance. His member, already hard, stiffens up a notch more to the point of painful throbbing. He stares at the jacket, somehow afraid to look in the direction of the flickering light beyond the kitchen. His heart is beating a mile a minute within his chest. The click of heels against the tiled kitchen floor forces his breathing to momentarily stop. The smell of her perfume is stronger than ever. Marcus clears his throat, and settles himself down.

“I’m here, Ronnie. Just getting settled in. Your home is nice.” Marcus digs deep, reaching for whatever small talk he can muster.

“It reminds me of—”

“Hon, did you really come here to gibber with me, or to screw me?”

He glances up the stairs, three in all, and there she is, leaning against the wall of the adjoining foyer. Long black hair falls loosely over her left shoulder, as she tilts her head, accentuating the question. She licks her moist, luscious lips with a quick tongue flick, as she slowly strokes her thigh
with the tips of her French-manicured nails. Her butter-pecan colored skin glistens in the wan candlelight, with the sheen of some flavored oil, complementing the scent of her perfume.

Veronica’s caramel-colored camisole also falls loosely from her left shoulder, giving Marcus a ghost glimpse of her aroused nipples behind the thin teddy. The skimpy camisole stops just shy of her upper thighs, teasing Marcus with a peak of her honey pot. Damn…he can barely hold it together any longer. Veronica is drop-dead gorgeous. By the light of the distant candle, he can read the steamy look in her eyes as he gazes back at her. Outside, lightning flashes and a thunderclap rolls. The outside flash temporarily lights the kitchen, giving Marcus a silhouette view of Veronica’s slim figure underneath the teddy. Fear and uncertainty are instantly replaced with lust and heat.

“I thought that we could—” she starts to say, before Marcus interrupts on his way up the three steps, in one giant leap.

In a gruff voice, he cuts her off. “Don’t talk. Don’t say anything to me.”

He’s up the steps and into the foyer in a blink. His strong arms quickly but gently wrap around her waist from both sides as he pulls her toward him. She doesn’t put up a fight. Instead, she reaches out at the same time, wrapping her arms around his neck, simultaneously pulling him toward her own opening lips, and thrusts her pelvis toward his crotch. They collide violently, passionately. Her tongue darts in and out of his mouth with an uncanny speed. His hands slide down her waist, grabbing two palmfuls of rump. Her petite frame is easy to lift and Marcus does so with little ef
fort. Their mouths never slow the dance, as he lifts her from the floor of the foyer, a caramel-colored high heel pump smacks against the wall. She wraps both legs tightly around her lover’s backside. Marcus breaks off the passionate kiss, slinking the tip of his tongue down her chin, underneath her right jawline, straight for her earlobe. Veronica’s breathing heaves as he twirls the tip of his tongue into her ear. Her hands fall from his neck, down his back, up to his shoulder blades, back around his neck; she’s frenzied with lust. She tries to speak in between breaths.