Thor'sday Night - Paranormal Erotica (18 page)

The buzz of an incoming call drowns her out.

‘Carol, I have to go, I’ll call you
tomorrow!’

‘Okay. I love you, Carmen.’

‘I love you too.’ Clutching the towel against
her heart, she drops onto the edge of the bed and presses flash.
‘Hello?’

‘Listen carefully.’

Her eyes close from the blow of desire
paradoxically delivered by his soft voice.

‘This is what I want you to do.’

She had read about stuff like this and always
thought it rather silly of the woman to be so turned on, but Carmen
discovers now as she leaves her apartment that silly is the last
thing she feels. She never realized what a natural part of her
underwear had become – her cozy cotton armor against dirt and
germs, a pure, virginal layer of processed plant fibers like a
clean bandage over her mysterious feminine wound. Maybe its absence
now is what’s making her feel so unusually vibrant and alive as she
runs down the stairs of her building, and walks briskly towards the
street and her car. She is aware of the breeze in a whole new
stimulating way, and of the firm, cool vinyl inside her car, when
her short skirt hikes up an indecent amount as she sits down. The
extremely high-heeled boots she is wearing were gathering dust in
the back of her closet. She bought them on impulse years ago and
never wore them until tonight. She had everything she needed to
comply with Jay’s instructions – a black garter-belt, black
thigh-high stockings, black knee-high leather boots, a short black
skirt (preferably also leather) and a black bra beneath a tight,
low-cut shirt of her favorite color. She chose violet.

An incoming cold front has chased away most of
the clouds and smog, and the night sky above her shines like black
glass that has just been cleaned. The stars look brighter, closer
to the earth, and seem a reflection of her own excitement as she
allows this man to lead her into uncharted spaces of her
sensuality.

When he told her to meet him at a restaurant in
Coconut Grove she suppressed her anxiety, but it is not so easy to
do once she reaches the dark back streets leading to Cocowalk’s
luminous strip.

His directions were brief but exact. She has no
problem finding her turn, and she spots the restaurant right away
on her left while searching for a parking spot. Luckily, another
car is just pulling out of one just a few yards away.

She shuts off her engine, switches off the
headlights, slips her keys into a palm-sized black purse, checks
her make-up in the mirror on her visor, then waits for a group of
people to walk by before she self-consciously stretches her leg out
of the car. As her boot glimmers beneath the streetlight, she
thinks about the way oriental men bound the feet of little girls so
their toes grew towards their heels and they could only take
dainty, mincing steps for the rest of their lives. At least western
men are a bit more subtle: they impale women’s sole’s on stiletto
heels, balancing most of their weight on their toes so their hips
have to work harder. But this is no time to be entertaining
feminist thoughts, not when the eyes of all the men who catch sight
of her widen in disbelief. They seem able to sense in her a
combination of factors that blow their minds, like an advanced
equation in physics they can’t just do in their heads.

The restaurant is as dark inside as she had
hoped it would be.

She walks carefully down a short flight of stone
steps into the bar, an atmospheric cellar of dark wood and
torchlight. She has never been here before, yet the place feels
viscerally familiar, the rock walls and firelight evoking castle
dungeons and dangerous, forbidden passions…

Her silver Thor’s hammer earrings brush the
sides of her neck as she searches the shadows for the cold flame of
Jay’s hair. Despite the fact that it is only Tuesday night, the
place is filled to capacity, yet at the same time it feels
painfully empty because she doesn’t see him anywhere.

The circular bar is like a cavern, hung with
crystal glasses and the colorful stalactites of liquor bottles worn
perfectly smooth by the flow of alcohol through the centuries. They
make her think of unholy pipe organs, expertly played by two men in
romantic long-sleeved white shirts and black vests.

She spots two stools being vacated by a couple
whose coaster is flashing in the man’s hand like a red-hot ember.
She quickly claims one, keeping her legs tightly together.

One of the bartenders hones in on her at once.
‘What can I get for you, miss?’

‘A Bombay Sapphire martini, please.’

‘Straight up?’

‘Yes, with two olives, please.’

‘I’ll have the same.’ Jay takes the stool next
to hers, and immediately slips his hand between her clenched
thighs.

‘Stop it,’ she whispers.

He removes his hand, to pluck a nut from a small
dish the bartender places in front of them. ‘How much, baby?’ he
asks casually.

‘How much what?’

He selects a smoked almond from the dish, and
gently thrusts it between her full lips. ‘How much for a few
hours?’

Her body reacts to the salty smoky flavor with a
lightning flash of hunger. ‘It’s all night, or nothing.’ She smiles
at the handsome bartender as he returns with their drinks. She
picks up her glass and sips the cold gin’s pure intensity, a
complexity of flavors perfectly blended. Her stomach is empty, so
the alcohol’s warmth branches swiftly through her veins. ‘If you
take me for the whole night,’ she holds Jay’s eyes over the frozen
horizon of her glass, ‘you get a discount.’

He looks down at his drink, and stirs it with
the olive-impaling toothpick. ‘How much of a discount?’

‘Six hundred for the whole night,’ she
improvises.

He sucks off the olive, and chews it
thoughtfully. ‘It’s tempting,’ he concedes.

She touches her glass to his. ‘All night,
then?’

He takes a decisive sip. ‘No. I’ll give you two
hundred for two hours. Take it or leave it.’

The gin is sharpening her appetite almost
painfully. ‘If you can’t spend the whole night with me,’ she turns
to face the bar, ‘you can’t have me at all.’

‘I was wondering when you’d insist. All right,
but you’ll just have to take a credit card.’

She laughs.

‘So,’ copying her pose, he rests his elbows on
the bar and stares down into his drink again, ‘what do I get for my
money?’

She eats her olive. ‘Anything you want.’

He asks quietly, ‘You don’t charge extra for
some things?’

The stab of excitement she feels is much
stronger than her hunger pangs. ‘No.’

He looks at her. ‘You’re not afraid to let a
complete stranger have absolute power over you?’

In the dark bar his eyes are eclipsed moons
whose gravity she feels even more strongly because she can’t brace
herself by trying to read his thoughts. ‘You’re not a stranger,
Jay. I feel as if I’ve known you… I don’t know, for a long
time.’

‘Where do you think you know me from, Carmen?’
he asks soberly.

‘I’m not sure…’

‘You were trying to tell me something the other
night.’

‘Yes.’ She finishes her drink.

He pulls out his wallet. ‘You asked me if I
believed in destiny.’ He tosses three five-dollar bills onto the
bar. ‘Did you mean reincarnation?’

‘Maybe. Part of me believes – no, part of me is
absolutely sure – that my soul has been around for a long time. Yet
another part of me knows it’s stupid to pretend you can be
absolutely sure about anything. Dogma takes away the mystery, and
that’s all I’m really sure of, that life and consciousness are an
incredible mystery.’

‘I’ll follow you,’ he says.

‘Follow me?’

‘There are phones in the back past the
bathrooms.’ He glances at his watch. ‘You’ve been on the clock for
five minutes now, and I intend to get my money’s worth.’

She laughs, and then whispers anxiously, ‘You’re
not serious, are you?’

He pulls her off the stool, takes her by the
shoulders, and turns her around. ‘I’m dead serious.’ He gives her a
gentle shove.

She understands now why he didn’t want her to
wear any panties as she starts walking in the direction he
indicated. She tells herself he is only teasing because it helps
her control the panic rising inside her. There is no way she can do
this! She wants to please him, but he is going too far now. The
mere thought of letting him fuck her in public makes her stomach
clench around an intense anxiety – mingled with something else. She
can’t believe it, but how warm her pussy feels is undeniable
evidence that she is also turned on despite herself.

She reaches the corridor that opens onto the
bathrooms and ends in a shadowy alcove of public phones. She is
sorely tempted to push open the door of the ladies’ room and
escape, yet she keeps walking. She prays that someone is on the
phone, but all the little private booths are empty.

Jay says quietly, ‘The last one on the
left.’

She enters it obediently, and braces herself on
the phone box as he moves in tightly against her. He caresses the
hair away from the nape of her neck, draping it forward over her
right shoulder, and his lips brush her skin as he lifts her skirt
up around her hips. She moans softly, her tense fear of being
discovered warring with her body’s languid response when she hears
him unzip his pants. Then his fingernails rake lightly up the back
of her thighs as his firm mouth presses down on the sensitive space
between her shoulder blades. He bites gently, sending a shiver down
her spine that intensifies the delicious shock of his full erection
filling her cunt in one swift, hard thrust. He braces himself on
her hips as she gasps in rhythm with his urgent penetrations,
closing her eyes, willing herself not to cry out as she finds
herself exquisitely torn between her desire that he come fast so
they won’t be caught and never wanting him to stop. He groans with
effort and pleasure, pumping his hips against hers and driving
himself towards an orgasm with breathtaking power and speed. She
has to bite her lip to stay quiet it feels so good to have his hard
dick pulsing inside her while out in the open like this, to be in
the throes of a totally intimate experience in public. But then she
forgets where she is completely for a few violent seconds as he
jams his load into her and all she is aware of is the luscious
feeling of his hot spunk pouring into her cunt.

He pulls slowly out of her drenched pussy, and
only relief that they weren’t caught consoles her for the loss of
his still firm penis. That was only an appetizer, she is primed for
a full course now, but it was still incredible, like nothing her
emotional palate has ever tasted before. She feels weak in the
knees as he smooths her skirt down before zipping up his pants, and
when she turns to face him she sees his heart glowing and pulsing
in the black space of his shirt like a sun about to nova.

‘I believe,’ he slips the flashing coaster out
of his pocket, ‘our table is ready. After you.’

She feels his eyes on her legs all the way to
the hostess’ station, and wonders if he can detect the glimmer of
his sperm trickling down the insides of her thighs. Considering
where she is, the sensation is humiliating, yet it is also so
arousing all she is truly aware of is the freshly used space
between her legs burning like the torches around them, at once
passionately and contentedly.

The hostess smiles at them. ‘Westgate, party of
two?’

‘That’s us,’ Jay says.

Feeling wickedly smug, Carmen returns the other
young woman’s smile.

They are lead to a small booth where they have
to sit across from each other.

Their waitress appears at once, her long blonde
hair pulled up in a ponytail. ‘Can I get you something to drink?’
She is pretty enough for Carmen to resent the way Jay smiles up at
her.

‘Not yet, thank you.’

The girl leaves.

‘I’ve never been here before, Jay. I love the
atmosphere.’

‘I wish I could take you home to my dungeon, but
this is the best I can do, for now. A condo on Brickell avenue has
its limitations.’

‘I’ve never done anything like that before,’ she
confesses.

‘You did very well.’

Glancing over his
head at a flickering gas lamp, a wave of
déjà vu washes over her. ‘Wow.’

He arches an eyebrow. ‘Wow?’

‘
Déjà vu, big
time. Firelight, shadows, and your face…’

‘Maybe I tortured you to death in a past life.’
He opens his menu. ‘Maybe I was an officer of the Inquisition and
you were an accused witch, or something to that effect.’

‘No, you were a Viking,’ she says with
conviction.

He studies the selection. ‘Because I have red
hair and I gave you Thor’s hammer earrings?’

‘Of course not,’ her pride bristles, ‘I’m not an
idiot. It’s more than that.’ She pauses to look at her own menu.
‘What do you recommend?’

‘It’s all good.’

She suppresses a pang of guilt at desiring the
most expensive item on the menu, but it’s what she wants. ‘I’ll
have surf and turf, the Filet Mignon and lobster with a loaded
baked potato and a Caesar salad.’

‘A woman who knows what she wants.’ He closes
his menu, and lays it on top of hers. ‘However, that poses a
problem as to what wine to have with dinner. We’ll just have to
order two bottles, a white and a red.’ He sits back, relaxing into
the cushy seat. ‘How does that sound?’

‘Like heaven. What are you having?’

‘Strictly turf. I can’t stand seafood. I would
have made a terrible Viking.’

‘Or maybe you hate seafood now because you ate
so much of it once. Or because you drowned.’

He grins. ‘You mean somewhere at the bottom of
the ocean fish are darting in and out of my skull’s empty eye
sockets, and that’s why the sight, smell and taste of fish makes me
ill?’