Читать книгу Amorous Woman - Donna George Storey - Страница 9

Brad looked different when we were alone. It was his eyes. They’d grown warmer, the soothing, reliable blue of a California afternoon. I didn’t fool myself into thinking it was genuine attraction. He was clearly the type who went for arm ornaments—slinky blondes with melon breasts like my cousin Caroline. But the lack of possibility between us had definite advantages. It meant I could relax and have a little fun.

‘So, I’m getting the impression you’re not looking forward to your new assignment.’

He sighed. ‘Not really. To be honest, I don’t think the business environment is going to turn around any time soon. Plus they want me to stay over there for at least two years. It could get pretty lonely.’

‘Would you like a little advice on how to penetrate the mysteries of the Orient?’

He shrugged. ‘I’m not one of those guys who has a thing for Asian women. Of course, I’m not against it either, it depends on the person. But two years is a long time not to have a . . . relationship.’

I was amused to see a blush rise in his cheeks. It was hard to imagine him as a sexually desperate man, but then my mind handed me another image: Brad’s handsome face glistening with beads of water, neck arched, and mouth half open in a moan of private ecstasy. The hot spray of the shower would turn that blond hair to deep gold. I could see it shining wet against his flushed skin as clearly as if I were there with him. Of course, I couldn’t resist lowering my gaze for a peek at the real action below—his thick cock rising from the corona of wet curls, the steady jerking of his fist, the plum-colored cock head swelling and straining as he neared release, and finally the jets of semen spilling over his hand into the swirling water at his feet. I even rewound the tape a bit to put myself in the scene, kneeling to catch his spunk in my mouth. When I was turned on, cum tasted like a bowl of ceremonial green tea to me, grassy and bracing.

I took another swig from my glass and pretended it was the flavor of the beer that caused the faint sigh of appreciation. Fortunately, when I looked up, Brad was in his designer suit again, hair dry and combed, a faint frown of worry still creasing his brow.

I considered telling him the good news, that outgoing, blond foreign men can usually find plenty of Japanese women interested in an exotic fling. But Brad brought out my contrary streak.

‘Well, you can always pay for it,’ I said with a wicked grin.

His frown deepened, which was just the reaction I was hoping for, but a moment later the corners of his mouth lifted in a strange smile. ‘Ah, yes, Sensei, but don’t we all pay for it in the end?’

For a moment, I was speechless. Then we both laughed.

‘I’m sorry, it wasn’t personal. It’s just that most Westerners think all Japanese women are beautiful geisha-girl prostitutes with a menu of exotic sex tricks tucked up their kimono sleeves.’

‘Well, I don’t believe that and even if I did, that’s not what I want.’

‘What do you want?’ To my surprise, I was curious to hear his answer.

‘You’ll laugh, but I’ll tell you anyway. I want to find true love.’

‘Oh, is that all?’

‘See, you did laugh.’

It was more of a dismissive snort, but he was right, these days I did find the idea of romance absurd. ‘Well, I wish you the best of luck,’ I said, raising my glass.

Brad studied my face, his expression softer. ‘What do you want, Sensei?’

‘I don’t know. I used to think good sex was all I needed.’

‘Oh, is that all? An attractive woman like you could have your pick of guys day or night.’

‘You weren’t listening.’ I shook my finger at him like one of those ancient librarians at my high school. ‘I didn’t say sex, I said good sex. If you think any sex is good sex, you aren’t paying attention.’

‘You know, Sensei, I’ve been trying my best to pay attention. Even though I’m not the teacher’s pet.’ Once again I was speechless. Had I been that obvious in my preference? It’s not that Brad didn’t have his charms. All that drive and attention to detail surely translate into bedroom skill. He’d be one of those octopus lovers who could do four things at once—one hand tweaking my nipple and the other strumming my clit, his tongue circling the other aureole, while his muscular ass drove his cock into me with perfectly timed strokes. He’d have a naughty playful streak, too, a taste for bedroom games. He’d tie my wrists and tease me, make me beg for it, then, with equal grace, turn and tilt up his perky bottom to my lusty school marm who had a very special punishment for bad boys. Best of all, I wouldn’t have to scrawl come-on lines on a business card to make it happen. I’d only have to glide with the current.

But suddenly I was tired, so tired. ‘I can see you’re paying attention,’ I said, my voice sounding thick and blurry. ‘That’s the key to good sex, isn’t it? At the beginning anyway. But then you cross over to that place where you don’t have to think anymore. All the differences between you melt away, and you’re tot­ ally in the moment. That’s when it’s good. Beyond good. There isn’t even a word for that feeling, is there?’

‘It’s unusual to find a woman who’s so comfortable talking about these things.’ Brad leaned closer. I thought for a moment he was going to take my hand.

‘Don’t get the wrong idea now.’ I laughed, but didn’t move my hand away. ‘Just because we’re sitting here talking about sex doesn’t mean I’m going to sleep with you.’ Although, in truth, it usually did.

‘I know,’ Brad said, his smooth voice slipping down my spine to pool in my belly like warm syrup. ‘On the other hand . . .’