Taxi to Paris (28 page)

"Not from the beginning," she corrected. "From now."

"What's the difference?" I asked, resigned.

She said nothing. Her hands glided over my belly and unbuttoned my pants. I leaned back. "Don't," I pleaded. "Be practical."

"I am being practical," she whispered. "What's impractical about this?" She kissed me on the neck.

I moaned. "Everything. Absolutely everything about this is impractical."

She kissed me again. Her tongue traced the hollow between my neck and collarbone. I almost melted. I wanted to, I wanted her so much!

"I don't want to!" I leapt up. "I don't want to go through all of that again!"

I'd thrown her backwards by jumping up like that. She had to fight for her balance. I turned away from her. She came back to me and hugged me from behind. I stiffened my body, trying to resist her. But that was useless.

She caressed me with her voice, like she could so wonderfully well. "Don't think so much." She talked to me like to a sick animal. "Just let go." Now she began to caress me with her hands as well. She unzipped my pants.

I let her do it. "What are you doing down there?" I whispered with the last of my strength.

She laughed softly. "What do you think?" Her hand caressed my belly under the cloth.

I melted. "Please," I pleaded, however. "Think about this first!" I leaned against her. I couldn't say anything more. She pulled my pants down over my hips with both hands. When that obstacle was out of the way, she put her hands on my thighs and began to work her way toward the center. I thrust my hips toward her. She shoved both hands between my legs. My knees went weak. I raised my arms and wrapped them around her neck. My body was strung like a bow. I could tell I wasn't going to last like this very long. "I can't," I gasped with great effort. "Not standing up like this."

She didn't bother herself with my objections. "I'll hold you up." Her gentle reassurance lulled me momentarily into a sense of security. Her one hand stayed where it was; the other climbed up my thigh and between my legs from behind. She began to stroke me. From both sides.

I moaned. "Holy heaven!" She didn't let that disturb her. Why did I have to bear this standing up? There had to be more comfortable alternatives! Her caresses would have robbed me of my senses in any case. I moaned again. While she continued in front, she entered between my legs from behind. I didn't find that particularly comfortable. "Stop it," I commanded. "I don't like that."

"You will," she stated confidently. She reached deeper inside me. Even she couldn't have fingers that long! She stretched me wider and wider.

"You're going to hurt me," I worried nervously. "I'm too narrow."

She continued what she was doing. "No, you're not," she whispered excitedly. "Just wait."

She was going to rip me apart soon. This couldn't turn out well! I felt something touch me deep inside. I'd never felt anything there before. It felt like she was touching the inside of my belly. I cried out as the explosion overcame me. The tension in my groin increased the sensations to the point that they became unbearable. That was no orgasm, that was a volcanic eruption. She pulled out slowly. I collapsed. She held me up. As children, we'd played a trust game a little like that. I turned myself over to her hands.

"Fantastic!" I gasped, exhausted.

"And? Did it hurt?"

"At first it was ... a little uncomfortable," I admitted truthfully. "But then ... simply unbelievable!"

"I shouldn't have done that," she said suddenly.

Why not? Now it was all over, and she had my approval.

"I've never done that to a woman who's never been with men before."

Ah, true, I'd told her that. I became mistrustful. "Those were just your fingers, weren't they?"

"No, it was my hand." She seemed self-conscious.

"Oh, no!" My eyes flew open in surprise. "If I'd known that!"

"Then you would've tensed up." She took her hands away carefully, then hugged me. "It was only part of my hand, not the whole thing," she explained soothingly. She let me go slowly.

I felt so pleased and worn out, I could only imagine one place I wanted to be with her. I wrapped my hands around her waist and laid my head on her shoulder. "Come on, let's go to bed."

"No." Her posture suddenly became defensive. "That wouldn't change anything either." She tried to work herself free from my hug.

"Wouldn't change what?"

"The fact that I used you." It was almost as if she'd admitted that against her will.

"Used? What for?" I had no idea what she was talking about.

"For what I just did with you." I hadn't actually felt like I was being used - more like satisfied.

"I told you, that was fantastic." I tried to make a joke out of the whole thing. "You can use me that way as often as you like."

"That's not funny!" She was annoyed.

"So tell me what's so terribly sad about it." How was I supposed to know that? I couldn't identify any direct source.

She straightened and stared off to the right, through the window and at the nearby rooftops. Her chin made an almost perfect right angle with her neck. I saw her jaw biting the insides of her cheeks. "I came back a week ago." So she hadn't lasted much longer in Paris! "I went back to work immediately." She hadn't really needed to tell me that; I would've assumed it anyway. "The first few days, everything went fine. I wasn't too busy, so my clients all got everything they could ask for. But obviously, it still wasn't enough." She laughed self- consciously. "Once a pro, always a pro!"

I had never doubted her capabilities in this area, either. After the last few days in Paris, during which she had been such a completely different person, I felt doubly pained by the life she led back here, by the damage it did to her self-respect.

She continued. "Until yesterday, I thought I could go on that way."  Just like me!

I suddenly became afraid. "What happened yesterday?" I looked down at her arms. She didn't look like she'd been beaten. My frightened tone of voice rattled her a little.

"Not what you think," she reassured me. I exhaled.

She went on. "Yesterday, two women came over, a couple. I've known them for a long time. They come in now and then, not very often. I really like them. And they're always very nice to me."

Well, at least she had a couple of clients who were nice to her! I imagined what it might've been like if Karin and I had come to her as a couple. That must be odd. I never would've thought of it on my own. But I was sure there was a lot that I'd never tried before. I almost blushed. I remembered what she had just done with me. But that wasn't the issue at hand.

"And it was precisely because they were so nice to me that it was so awful." She spoke of it like something out of a dream. "With the others, I could shut it all out. I was just there, not really present, but with those two..." Her shoulders trembled a little. I saw them, saw how tender they were with one another. I almost had to run away. Then they wanted me to join in, as usual." She shuddered again. "They touched me gently. They tried to get me into it. I always used to like that, even though they're clients. But this time ... I couldn't. And I couldn't give it to them, either, even though I wanted to." She was silent for a moment. I thought that was all, but then she began to speak again. "I sent them away. I pardoned myself and refused to let them pay, even thought they wanted to. I thought it was just because they were a couple. I couldn't bear to see their tenderness with each other."

I could easily imagine that!

"But that wasn't it." There was more. "With the next client, I could barely concentrate. I could hardly force myself to touch her. She complained about the bad service." What a way of putting it!

Now she laughed, cheered up a bit by the memory. "I threw her out. I never did like her, anyway. But still, I'd never done that before."

That was definite progress!

"Then, a few hours later, I had another appointment. With that woman, I'd really never had any problems. She was fairly neutral to me. So I thought I could do it." She broke off. Then she said violently, "But I couldn't do it! I just couldn't do it." She was more surprised than dismayed. It scratched at her professional consciousness, at her work ethic. "I complimented her and begged her pardon. She was very understanding." What other choice did she have?

"And then..." What, yet another one? Hadn't she made enough attempts already? "Then I had to think about you. I couldn't do anything else." She laughed, somewhat dismayed. "The espresso machine ran all night." She was unbelievably sweet. "I drank coffee by the gallon."

"The rest you know," she concluded quietly. "I called you."

I had to think about my reaction with shame. "I -".

She interrupted me. "You couldn't do otherwise. I knew that. But I absolutely had to see you. That's why I came here." Now, she straightened her back, and her face became hard. "And then I used you to see if I was even still capable of bringing a woman to orgasm."

That was absolutely the last thing I was going to believe!

"Mm-hmm." I behaved as though I would seriously consider the possibility that that was how it had happened. "And you only came here to fuck me." Perhaps stating it brutally would bring her to her senses. That wasn't really my style.

"Yes." She acted hard and unmoving. "Just for that."

"You didn't think about anything else?" I recalled how she'd sat in front of my door in a miserable heap. How she'd spoken of yearning. That had been believable. This wasn't.

"No." She didn't want to admit it.

"Tell that to your grandmother," I replied carelessly.

"I don't have a..." She stopped short. "What do you mean by that?"

"Exactly what I said. As far as I'm concerned, you can tell it to my grandmother. I have one. But even she wouldn't believe it." That was short and clear. I was sick of beating around the bush.

She'd turned to face me again. "Why don't you believe me?" She was irritated.

I sighed. "I hate having to repeat myself like this, but if you insist..." I ticked off the reasons. "First: I love you. - Stay here!" I grabbed her by the sleeve when she tried to run away. "Second: You love me too, even if you continually refuse to admit it."  She shook her head, lips pressed together tightly. I didn't bother myself with that. "Third: That's why you can't sleep with other women anymore. Fourth: You want to sleep with me for the same reasons. That's more than normal. Quod erat demonstrandum!" That stupid high school Latin class had finally proved useful for something! I took advantage of her confusion. "So come to bed now," I told her. I took her hand and led her off to the bedroom.

She stopped in front of the bed when I let go of her, and looked down at it as though she'd never seen one before in her life. I had to laugh. "That is my bed," I pointed out. "Do you remember it?"

She said nothing. I brushed gently against her arm. "Go on, get undressed. I'll give you a massage. That'll make you feel better." I turned around. "I'll get the hot water bottle and the oil."

Although she still seemed rather skeptical, she began to unbutton her shirt. One could've ordered her to do that when she was fast asleep, and she would've done so immediately. Like almost everything her clients demanded of her. How could this continue?

At the moment, in any case, with a massage! I went to the bathroom and retrieved the necessary supplies. I filled the water bottle with hot water. Then I went back to the bedroom. She was still standing in exactly the same position by the bed in which I'd left her, with the one difference that she was now naked.

Had I really made the right decision with this massage idea? Didn't I really want something else instead? I savored the view of her naked beauty for a moment. I walked up behind her and kissed her between the shoulder blades without kissing her anywhere else. She yelped with surprise. Then I saw her shiver from head to toe, and a relief of tiny dots covered her skin. She laid her head back. Otherwise, she didn't move. "More," she whispered.

It was a good thing my hands were otherwise occupied, or I might not have been able to control myself! I swallowed my desire. "Soon. First the massage." She stood exactly as she was. "Please, lie down." I'd never imagined I would have to order her to do that. "On your belly."  Maybe that would cool her off!

But she seemed not to fear that position quite so much anymore, at least not with me. She lay down on the bed with complete self-assurance and stretched out expectantly. I stuck the hot water bottle under the blanket. She was warm enough already!

I took the oil and rubbed a little of it into my hands. "Hmm, that smells good," she remarked dreamily.

"Cinnamon and cloves."

"And a hint of musk," she stated knowledgeably.

I smiled. "I think that's probably your perfume."

"Could be," she replied, "but they mix so well. I hardly smell that anymore otherwise."

That made her smell even better! Her scent drifted over to me. The combination was really stunning. I had to begin.

I started by massaging her heels, very slowly and gently, for several minutes. Then I pressed my fingers carefully into the middle of her soles. I moved softly up to the backs of her knees and rubbed them gently. From there, I caressed the lengths of her calves down to her ankles. I stopped for a moment in order to climb into bed next to her.

"That's quite different from the last time." Somewhat bemused, she realized the difference.

"Yes," I confirmed. I knew what she was feeling, and she was going to feel even more of it soon. I traced her spine from her neck to the tops of her thighs, then once again to the base of her back. There, I pressed down a little with my flat hand.

"What are you doing up there?" She was moving her hips back and forth restlessly. I felt the blood rushing through her veins beneath my hand. She must have been feeling the same thing in her groin. Her reaction confirmed this. "May I turn over now?" she asked impatiently.

"Yes," I consented.

When she lay on her back, she said to me with a husky voice, "My breasts are burning." She glanced excitedly into my eyes. "I want you to touch them."