Vignettes of a Master (13 page)

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Jonah and Leticia discuss the art of talking dirty.

“Tell me, Leticia,” I asked, “Did you and your former boyfriend ever talk dirty to each other?”

Leticia blushed a crimson colour but then she nodded her head. “Sometimes,” she said.

I confess I was surprised. I leaned against the wall, folded my arms and crossed my ankles. “In what form did this dirty talk take?”

Leticia flapped her arms in acute embarrassment. “Jonah! You can’t just expect me to act out conversations I had with a former boyfriend. I don’t think I could possibly do that.”

“Why?” I asked. “Is it because you’re embarrassed, or because perhaps you don’t feel that what you were saying to each other was terribly erotic or terribly dirty?”

Leticia shook her head. “I just couldn’t act it out, and say it in the same way.” She folded her arms and became stubborn.

I nodded. Clearly, Leticia was defensive, and maybe inhibited by her inexperience and the inexperience of her former boyfriend. “Then tell me the nature of your dirty talk,” I attacked the subject from a different angle.

Leticia’s arms stayed folded, and her expression stayed defiant. She shrugged her shoulders. “We told each other what to do,” she said. “And in between that, we used a lot of
colorful language.”

I smiled thinly. “Did you ever use your imagination?”

Leticia nodded her head. “Of course,” she said and there was suddenly an angry flush of temper on her cheeks. “I assure you, Jonah, I have a very good imagination.”

I nodded, but the knowing smile stayed fixed on my face. “Leticia, dirty talk isn’t just using language and telling each other what to do. Dirty talk, when used by someone who is experienced, fuels a woman’s imagination with vivid, erotic images she may never have considered before. The true arousal of dirty talk is not in the bad words, it
’s in transporting a woman’s imagination to scenarios that are unexpected and intensely erotic. When I talk dirty to a woman, the first thing I say is…”

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Jonah talking to a clueless man about how to arouse a woman.

“To arouse a woman, you need to think like a woman,” I explained. It sounded so simple, and to me it was – but to the man sitting across the table from me, it was as if I had just spoken in a foreign language.

He shrugged. He looked disappointed. He had come to me expecting some magic bullet that would save his failing relationship with a wife who had become cold and distant to him.

“That’s all you got?”

I shrugged. “That’s all you need to know – if you understand it.”

The man still looked unimpressed. “So, all I have to do is think like a woman, right?”

“That’s right,” I said.

The guy looked blank, and I figured that if I didn’t spell it out for him he was going to be there for the next hour. I sat back in the chair and took a deep breath.

“For men, arousal is entirely visual and physical,” I said. “Men get turned on by pictures and images – that’s why so many pornographic magazines flourished for so many years, and it
’s why the internet is choked with porn – because it’s the only thing men need to become aroused.” I set my coffee cup down on the table and glanced around the restaurant. The wait staff were clearing away tables after the lunchtime rush.

“Women need to reach a sensual stage before they can reach a sexual stage. Women are highly sensitive – and by that, I mean arousal for women means stimulating all of their senses. Touch, smell, sound… all of those things compound together to arouse a woman so that a man can elevate her to the sexual stage. If you use touch and if you use the sound of your voice and if you can fuel her imagination and involve all her senses, she will become aroused.
”

The man looked like he understood, but he also looked like he didn’t like the answer. He made a face. “That sounds like a lot of hard work.”

“It might seem like hard work to begin with, but nothing is more rewarding than having a beautiful woman in your arms who is aroused and sexually turned on by you. The man who can create those feelings in a woman is a very powerful man indeed, because that kind of power over women can sexually enslave them.”

The man blinked and rubbed his chin. “Maybe… maybe it’s worth the effort after all.”

I nodded. “I assure you it is.”

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Jonah and Leticia confront Jason Luke in his office.

We were sitting side by side, Leticia’s chair close to mine, and across the broad desk, Jason Luke reclined smugly in a big, leather chair.

The desk was an antique piece. I guessed it to be over a hundred years old. It had carved legs and ornate iron fittings on the doors and drawers. The desk was polished and completely bare except for a large statue of the Egyptian deity, Horus, which sat in one corner. I glanced sideways at Leticia – she looked like a naughty student who had been summoned to the school principal’s office. I turned my attention back to Jason Luke and clenched my jaw in defiance. “You called this meeting, Luke,” I growled. “We’re here. So why don’t you tell us what this is all about?”

For a long time the author glared at me, and then his eyes shifted to Leticia as though she was far more interesting.

“I called you both here because I want to discuss the events that will take place in the sequel to ‘Interview with a Master’,” Jason Luke began thoughtfully. “I wanted to know what you guys had to say for yourselves, and what you think should happen in the follow up book.”

The bastard was looking at Leticia as though he was undressing her with his eyes. I was sure he was doing it to piss me off.

Leticia began to reply, but my temper flared suddenly and I stood up and planted my hands on the edge of the desk. “Everyone wants me to live, dammit, and everyone wants Leticia and I to have a happily ever after.”

Jason Luke turned towards me slowly as though he had forgotten I was even in the room.

“That’s not going to happen,” the man said with a tone of eerie menace.

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Jonah and Leticia reading the transcript of her interview.

Leticia brought the article up on her computer and leaned back in her chair for me to read over her shoulder.

The article was her first draft of an interview I had given her.

“It’s not normal for any journalist to show an article before it gets published,” Leticia explained. “We journos get quite defensive about our rights to publish, and the last thing we like is passing an article on to anyone for approval prior to publication – but I’m making an exception in your case because you’re so damned handsome.”
She smiled and lifted her face to mine. I smiled back and then rested one arm on the backrest of her chair and braced the other on the edge of the desk, so that my face was close to hers and I could see the soft, tender skin of her neck and throat and smell the scent of her perfume.

Leticia was wearing diamond stud earrings, and I suddenly had the overwhelming urge to nibble her ear.

I gave in to the urge.

I brushed my mouth across the lobe of her ear, trapping it gently between my lips. I sensed Leticia come alive as though little jolts of electricity had suddenly sparked along her spine. She sat perfectly still and I sensed she had closed her eyes. Her hands fell away from the computer and dropped into her lap.

“I want to fuck you,” I whispered, keeping my voice to a low whisper so the words vibrated. “I want to take you right now, over this desk.”

My hand slid off the back of the chair and tugged at the pins in her hair.

“Imagine it, Leticia. Imagine you bent over the desk right now and me behind you, running my hands up your thighs and hitching your skirt higher until I can slide my fingers inside your panties.”

Leticia let out a long sigh and slumped back in the chair. My mouth moved from beside her ear as I began to caress down her throat and across her shoulder. I tangled my fingers in her hair and tugged so that her face came up to mine and I covered her mouth with a hungry kiss
.

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Leticia asking Jason Luke about the Egyptian statues on his desk.

Leticia Fall crossed her legs and her expression became serious. She settled the notepad on her thigh and the pen in her hand was poised, ready to write.

“Mr. Luke, people know you as the author of
‘Interview with a Master’… but I’m sure many readers of my newspaper would like to know more about you.”

Jason Luke sat back in his chair and considered the young journalist with calm, steady eyes. “I am just a writer,” the author said, repeating a line he had used so many times before in previous interviews. “I am no kind of celebrity, nor do I wish to be. I do not discuss my private life with anybody – even attractive, ambitious, young jou
rnalists such as yourself, Miss Fall.”

Leticia smiled thinly. She narrowed her eyes, thinking quickly. “I understand, Mr. Luke, but if you won’t talk about yourself then perhaps you would be willing to talk about your interests. For example, I notice you have several Egyptian statues on your desk. Are they significant?”

The author paused for a moment and then nodded slowly. “I have a fascination with history, Miss Fall. For me, Egyptian history in particular is very interesting. The Egyptians were a highly civilized people and yet very devoted to a number of different Gods and Goddesses that ruled their religious and their belief systems. These statues that you see also serve to remind me that history always repeats, the mistakes we make today are the same mistakes people have been making for thousands of years, and although mankind has evolved dramatically over the centuries, we still serve many Gods. The reality is that these days our Gods are things like money and technology.”

Leticia finished making notes and then sat back in her chair and considered the author with a frown. “Before I came to interview you, I thought you were an arrogant bastard,” she confessed. “I thought you were just another writer who had enjoyed five minutes of success and let that fame go to your head. I misread you… I didn’t realize you were such a deep thinker.”

Jason Luke blinked, as though he was surprised at the young journalist’s admission. Then he shook his head slowly. “No,” the author said. “You were right. I am an arrogant bastard.”

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Leticia wondering what it would be like to sleep with Jonah.

Leticia Fall lay in her bed, one hand draped over her eyes, and the blankets a muddle around her body. She lay in just her bra and panties, thinking of what Jonah Noble would be saying if he were standing over the bed, lurking in the shadows like some sort of wild predator.

Predator?
She asked herself.
Is he a predator if his prey wants to be caught?

She imagined herself lying on her bed, perhaps tied at the wrists to the ornate, metal headboard. She imagined him hovering over her near naked body, a hungry look glinting in his dark eyes. She imagined his soft lips trailing from her jaw, down her neck
and towards her parted thighs. So strong was his presence that he was like a ghost lowering himself onto her body and she suddenly sat up, shocked by the vividness of her imaginings.

The thought sent a shudder up her spine and she was unsure if the shiver was a sensation caused by her pleasure
or a sensation caused by fear. What would it be like to make love to Jonah Noble? Would he laugh at her, say, as always, she was an inexperienced, immature woman stuck in a little girl world? Would he try to teach her to be sensual and passionate and erotic?  Or could he ever be a man that would simply make love to her, with little or no thought to how she made love back to him? 
No, she sighed. Jonah Noble was too set in his ways. For Jonah, making love was an art form, and no artist approached a blank canvas without first considering its potential and limitless possibilities.

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Jonah and Leticia in a bar watching other people.

“Leticia, learning to understand the secret signals of a person’s body can be very instructive and very helpful,” I explained. Leticia picked up her wine glass and took a sip then twisted the stem between her fingers to consider the wine more carefully.

“Really?” she asked over the rim of her glass.

We were sitting in a busy bar. I was nursing a tumbler of whisky. I propped my elbow casually on the counter and glanced around the room. The bar was crowded – there were lots of attractive, young women clustered around tables, and tight knots of men in the shadows around the edges of the room. Music was playing in the background so that I had to raise my voice and lean close to Leticia to make my words heard.

“Look at those two women at the table across from us,” I said. “See how the blonde has her legs crossed and her arms folded – she’s clearly not interested in what the other woman is saying, but you can see by the way the other woman is leaning forward how hard she is trying to be convincing. If you can read a person’s body language, it will often tell you much more accurately what the person is thinking than the words they actually say.”

Leticia seemed genuinely intrigued. She pointed to a woman who was leaning back against the bar with her elbows resting on the counter and a man who was standing close before her. “What about that woman?” Leticia asked. “What signal is her body sending to the man she is with?”

“She is saying that she is available,” I said. “She is also saying that she is perfectly open to his advances. See how she has her elbows resting on the counter, she’s doing that to show that she’s not blocked off from what he is saying, and at the same time she is thrusting her breasts out at him in a silent invitation. And see how her body is facing directly towards his? That means she’s not turning away or closing him off from her attention.”

Leticia smiled mischievously. “So what would a body language expert say about me at the moment?”

I considered Leticia for a moment and then smiled. “He would say you are incredibly aroused and desperate to be taken to bed for endless hours of sexual pleasure.”

Leticia looked truly shocked. “He could read that from how I’m sitting?”

“No. I’ve just decided that’s what’s going to happen!”