Stranger (11 page)
“With bated breath.” He has me on a rollercoaster ride and I soar with it.
“I love that hot breath, along with the all those little sounds you make, how delicious you taste, and all the hidden little curves of your body. See you tomorrow at 6:00, baby.”
He has completely seduced me in two minutes. “I’ll be looking forward to it,” it comes out as a squeak.
“Not as much as me. Bye.” There is a definitely a smile in his voice.
“Bye, Marco.”
I sit back on the couch completely turned on and my blood is rushing thinking of his touch. The frustration from the thought of not being able to masturbate to release this ache he’s given me is mixed with euphoria at the same time. I’m sure he’s done it on purpose knowing this is exactly how I would feel. I’m never going to make it until tomorrow night.
I walk into the yoga studio at 6:50 seeing Janie’s already there laying down her mat so I move towards her and put mine down next to hers. The room is full with a wide variety of people, mostly women but a couple of men as well, since yoga is not considered only for hippies and gurus anymore. The young professionals are easy to spot since they’re clad in designer everything from head to toe with perfect artificial nails, tan, and sometimes breasts. The spiritualists are just as easy to identify because they look like they’re already tripping on the yoga high. If you’ve never gotten high from yoga you are seriously missing out on something wonderful. To me, it’s the feeling you get when your orgasm is building, it’s sensual, warm, and titillating and it carries you away. If that doesn’t get you addicted, nothing will.
“Hey you! How’s your week?” I greet her feeling I must look like the cat that ate the canary and it was good, its feathers are probably still sticking out of the sides of my mouth.
“Hey! It’s good, getting ready for a marathon that’s going to include the soccer players from UNCW as some friendly competition. I LOVE soccer players. I can’t friggin’ wait!”
I laugh at her as she’s practically salivating at the idea of all those hot guys sweating alongside of her. She does appreciate a fine looking man.
“You got anything planned for the weekend, Elizabeth?”
Time to come clean. I can’t keep the smile from sneaking up on my face as I anticipate her reaction...this is going to be priceless.
“You remember that hot guy from the bar the other night?”
“The one that looked like he wanted to fuck your brains out right there on the bar? The hottie?”
I’m smiling remembering her accurate description of him that night. “Yes, him.”
Both of her eyebrows shoot up. “What about him?”
“I’m going to Thalian Hall with him tomorrow.”
“You’re kidding me?!” The look of surprise on her face is absolutely worth the wait to tell her.
“Nope, he followed me out of the bar the other night.”
“What?! And you didn’t tell me!” She’s almost screeching.
From the front of the room, the instructor greets the class in her airy salutation with melodic chants floating in the air in the background.
“Namaste’.”
And we all repeat, “Namaste’.”
I turn to whisper to Janie, “Oh, and he asked if you could video tape me doing yoga so I can send it to him.”
“Holy shit!” She hasn’t even gotten on her matt yet.
“And no, you’re not!” I whisper a shout back at her.
“You are so telling me
everything
when we get out of here!” She whisper shouts back at me.
The instructor is looking right at us along with everyone else in the room. Janie’s glare at me says, ‘I’m going to kill you for not telling me!’ and I can’t help but chuckle at her.
“Let’s begin with the sun salutation.”
Janie gave me a ride back to my apartment after class and we’re sitting Indian style on the couch with two bowls of new cookies and cream ice cream on our laps. I’ve told her how I almost fell on the sidewalk and he came up behind me and caught me, all the way through the events this morning. I leave out the more graphic details though, wanting to keep them tucked secretly away in my little private memories box.
“And you don’t want to know what he does with this,” I finish, holding out the bowl.
“Ew, I’m eating sex ice cream?!” She scrunches up her face.
“No, this is a new one.” I laugh at her as the blush creeps over my skin.
“Then yes I do.”
“Sorry, not going there,” I tease wiggling my eyebrows at her.
“You suck!” she pouts like a little kid as if someone took her favorite toy and that makes me laugh harder.
After we’ve scraped all that we can from the bowls we take them back to the kitchen and rinse them out in the sink. Leaning back against the counter she starts to ask me more questions wanting to know the inside details.
“So you’re seeing him?”
“I wouldn’t say that exactly. We’ve been having sex. I don’t know anything about him and he doesn’t know anything about me. No attachments, no trails.”
“Hhhmm, I get it.” Oh, brother, she’s doing that thing with her eyes at me saying, ‘I know what you’re not telling me’.
“You know, Elizabeth, you won’t tell me what you’re afraid of that makes you keep hiding.”
My brow furrows knowing I have to go there but dreading the answers she might give me. “Have you heard from Santino, Janie? Are you still friends with him on Facebook?”
We’ve never discussed the details of him leaving and I am so grateful to her for not pushing me to tell her and honestly I’m amazed at her patience. For two years of my life she was right by my side listening to me go on about how much I loved him and how I knew he was the one. Santino and I didn’t tell her when he was landing here and we met her for lunch to surprise and to thank her for helping me with the immigration paperwork. She was there for the wedding then two and a half months later he was gone. I stayed away from her for a year after that, pretty much everyone unless I had to associate with them. It was just after that first year he was gone that I started on the Safe Haven project and met Elsie. I guess Janie knew me well enough and figured I would tell her when I was ready. Maybe I’m almost ready.
“I haven’t heard from him but I don’t know about Facebook, I don’t see his name but there are some people I haven’t met in person.”
She looks at me with caring and concern. She probably thinks I’m missing him and that I’ve been holding out for him to come back. Yeah, I have but not in the way she thinks.
“Ok.”
“If there is some shit, Elizabeth, you need to get it straightened out so you can move on. It’s been too long and you’re obviously not the only one that’s gonna get slammed when it finally hits the fan.”
She doesn’t know how right she is. And this gives me a cold slap of my reality reminding me that I need to back off of Marco no matter how much I want to dive deep head first into him. I’m walking around in the shadows along the edges with Santino hiding with Marco now, avoiding the fact that I have to move in one direction if I want to get what I want. I know there are mine fields if I go a certain way, ignoring the fact that they’ll go off sooner or later.
Friday night 6:00. I stand back and look at myself in the mirror and give the reflection a final review. I chose a demurely sexy short satin backless dress with long sleeves that hug my hips. My hair is up in a French twist giving the back full effect. The dress hints at falling off my shoulders at any moment promising to expose my naked breasts. I fantasize about Marco pushing me up against a wall letting the dress slip down as he pulls my swollen pink nipples between his lips and teeth. He hasn’t even gotten here and I am so turned on already I’m aching.
The doorbell rings and I slide on my Jimmy Choo’s. My heels click on the hardwood floors matching the pounding of my heart as I walk to the door. I open it and I’m speechless. He’s stunning in his casual tuxedo standing there with one hand tucked in his pocket and his head cocked to one side. No man should look this good. Slowly he lowers his look to my feet and scans up my body, to my lips and stops at my eyes. His lips lift seductively up on one side.
“May I come in?”
I blush realizing I was gawking at his delicious appearance. “Oh, yes, please, excuse me.”
“No problem. I just didn’t want the old man next door having a heart attack watching me say hello to you the way I want to.”
If he was any sexier I would be a blubbering idiot. There’s and instant inferno inside me as I step aside to let him in. The door closes behind me and he turns to face me.
“Turn around.”
My heart rate spikes instantly as I turn. He leans into me as his heavy breathing is by my ear mixing with the sound of my pounding heart.
“Put your hands on the door.” His voice whispers low and commanding.
His fingertips are caressing my shoulder and his hot breath is on the back of my neck. Resting my forehead against the door I’m silently pleading for him to run his lips all over me.
“Do you know how badly I want to fuck you right now against this door? Pull that beautiful ass of yours against me and bury myself deep inside you.”
My ass involuntarily pushes back onto him begging him to do it. His hardness is against me as his fingers slide down my spine and his teeth press lightly into my neck leaving a mark for everyone to see and I love the thought of it.
Sliding his hands forward inside my dress to my stomach I press harder into him as my body goes rigid. One of his hands travels to my breasts, his thumb on one nipple a finger on the other and he’s playing with both. The other hand dips below my panties possessively cupping my sex, sliding his middle finger inside of me as the heel of his palm rubs my clit. He begins to fuck me with his hand and I push down on him, fucking him back. Our bodies are pressed tightly against each other, his pushing me towards the door, mine into him.
“So wet already, baby. Miss me?”
“Yes, Marco.” I can hardly get the words out.
My walls begin to clench on his fingers working me towards cumming when he stops.
“Don’t stop, please,” I moan arching my back.
“You don’t know how hard it is. But I have other plans for you tonight, love.”
He pulls me against him as he straightens himself. Turning me to face him and staring into my eyes he licks my juices off his fingers.
“I love how you taste, Elizabeth.” He pulls me in and claims my mouth.
“Let’s go, baby,” his voice is deep and gravelly and his eyes are full of desire.
Tonight Marco has a black Lincoln Towncar waiting for us, the kind used by car services for professional accounts that require formal transportation when a limo is too much. I look at him with a curious expression.
“I thought it would be more convenient to have a driver so we don’t have to walk all across town.”
“That’s very thoughtful, thank you.”
He holds the rear door open waiting for me to get in and as I do I glance at one of Mr. Jones’ windows. I could swear that I see the curtain falling just as I look. That’s very strange. Marco follows me into the car not seeing what I saw. I decide not to say anything thinking I might just be imagining things.
“Good evening, Miss Elizabeth. Ready for dinner, Marco?”
“Yes, please, Joe. Thank you.”
“Good evening, Joe,” I greet the driver and I see he’s wearing a jacket and a tie, impressive. Joe’s probably in his sixties and has no southern accent. From what I can tell from his face he looks like a happy go lucky kind of guy with a hint of seriousness about him and I like him instantly.
He pulls up to Circa 1922, just a few doors in from the corner of Front St. and Market St., the minimalistic elegant façade glowing from the soft interior lights. The décor is low key Southern elegance with pops of modernism exhibited in the original artwork hanging on the brick walls. I don’t know why but I get a sense of the New Orleans bayou here, maybe because of the antique wrought iron railings used as dividers between the tables along the walls and those at the center of the room.
Marco gets out first holding out his hand to guide me. He whispers close to my ear, “You are the loveliest woman here, Elizabeth, envy of both men and women,” and his hand comes to rest on the bare flesh of my back sending electric shocks through me.
I tilt my head towards him and he comes closer. “You are the epitome of beautiful seduction, Mr. Kastanopoulis.”
“It’s because you bring out the animal in me, Elizabeth.” His fingers stroke my skin softly as his nose caresses my ear.
We’re standing in front of the maître d’ now and our flirting has to come to a halt.
“Good evening, sir, madam, do you have a reservation?” Even though this guy is a bit too full of himself he can’t help but put his cocky tail between his legs with Marco in front of him, his presence commands respect.
“Yes, Kastanopoulis.”
“Thank you, right this way.” Mr. Attitude maître d’ turns and leads us through the dimly lit room towards the back of the dining room as Marco keeps his hand possessively on my lower back not breaking the flow of electricity charging between us. I feel beautiful with him, constantly in a state of arousal. Nina Simone’s sultry voice is filling the air as she rasps out the words to I Put a Spell on You, Now You’re Mine. How appropriate.
The table, again, is intimate and to the side of the room against the wall. I’m beginning to think this is not coincidental. He pulls my chair out waiting for me sit then seats himself next to me. As if by magnetic attraction his hand automatically rests on my upper thigh hidden by the tablecloth with his fingertips just grazing the inside of my leg not moving. By their own will my legs want to instantly part and give him access to move up and stoke the smoldering embers in my groin. He doesn’t move and the ache only grows with the need for his touch.
Tonight we have a waiter, a handsome college guy, not as cocky as Mr. Attitude, who probably has a different girl under him every night. He looks respectfully at Marco then his eyes go to my hardened nipples clearly visible through the silky fabric. I don’t know if Marco noticed, I’m sure he did, but when he speaks he immediately commands attention.
