Читать книгу Take Me To Bed - Joan Elizabeth Lloyd - Страница 11

Jessica walked into the kitchen where Steph and Brian were doing a few last-minute things for the party. They had bought several party platters at the local gourmet food store and, while Steph filled a bowl with mixed nuts, Brian was dropping fresh fruit into the blender. Steph was wearing a white cotton halter-top dress with a navy belt and sandals. Brian wore identical colors, a white short-sleeved shirt, white duck slacks with a navy belt, and navy deck shoes.

“Did you two dress to match on purpose?” Jessica asked.

At the sound of her voice, Brian and Steph turned. “Holy cow,” Steph said while Brian just whistled long and low. “You look fabulous.”

“Now I see what I’ve always known,” Brian said, staring. “You are not only a lovely looking woman, you’re sexy as hell.”

“JessicaLynn,” Steph said, “you’re amazing.”

“JessicaLynn?” Brian said.

“We decided that the person you’ve seen for the past week is Jessie, but it’s time to let her sensual alter ego out.” Steph waved her arm at the gorgeous woman standing in the doorway. “This is JessicaLynn.”

“Actually, I’d prefer to be Jessica for the moment. I’m not yet ready to become JessicaLynn but this,” she swirled her skirt, “isn’t Jessie either.”

“Okay, what’s this name thing you two have got going?” Brian asked.

Jessica motioned for Steph to explain. “Jessie lives in the midwest. She’s a bit conservative and sexually repressed.”

“Steph!”

“Well, she is,” Steph said.

As Brian laughed, he asked, “And JessicaLynn?”

“She’s a swinger. She loves sex and games and fun.” Steph gave her husband a peck on the cheek. “Like us, darling.”

Brian looked at Jessica and, after a moment, said, “You’re telling me that you’re halfway there.”

“Not yet. I am telling you that I’m trying to open my mind to everything. But it’s a slow process.”

“Okay, Jessica it is,” Steph said.

“Well, lovely lady,” Brian said, crossing the kitchen and wrapping one bearlike arm around Jessica’s waist, “I like your new name and your new attitude. Will you dance with me?” He swept her into his arms and they twirled around the kitchen.

“You know, Brian,” Jessica said, laughing, “I never knew you were such a good dancer.”

Brian pivoted, raised his arm, and let Jessica twirl underneath it. “You never gave me a chance.” They danced into the living room and, gazing into her eyes, he bent her over his arm in a deep dip.

“You’re flirting with me,” she said, moving from his embrace.

“And why not?”

“Your wife, my best friend, is in the kitchen. Remember her?”

“Of course. But I know she told you about our unusual relationship and I’ve wanted to hold you for a very long time.” As he watched the confusion flash over Jessica’s face, Brian said, “Haven’t you ever thought about how it might feel to be in my arms?”

At that moment, the doorbell rang, signalling the arrival of the first guests. “Saved by the bell,” Jessica said.

“One last thing. I would never make you uncomfortable, JJ, I mean Jessica. You know that. I’ll back off any time you say. But you’re sexy and attractive and I enjoy playing with you, wherever it leads.”

Jessica smiled as she heard Steph’s footsteps in the hallway. “I understand, but it does make me a little uncomfortable.” When Brian looked crestfallen, Jessica added, “But it’s a nice discomfort.”

As they separated, Brian ran his fingertip up Jessica’s spine, then walked toward the hallway to greet their guests.

As the first couple walked into the living room, followed almost immediately by two more, Jessica remembered Steph’s words. I challenge you to figure out which couple we’ve swapped with. As she was introduced to each, Jessica had to admit that she had no idea who Brian and Steph had slept with. All six people were delightful, bright, interesting, and interested.

Chuck O’Malley worked at the same brokerage firm as Brian and his wife Marcy was the vice president of an international bank. They had a married daughter who was expecting their first grandchild in two months. “Of course,” Marcy said as she settled in the living room, “I’m only going to be a grandmother because I had Betsy when I was six years old.”

“I know,” Chuck said, “and Betsy’s only nine now.”

“Right!” Marcy said, giggling. “That makes me….”

Chuck snatched the drink Brian offered before Marcy could take it. “That makes you only fifteen and too young to drink.”

Pete Cross worked at General Foods as a research chemist and his wife Gloria was deeply involved in local politics. They had five children, ranging in age from seven to eighteen, and regaled the group with tales of their adventures in parenthood.

Steve Albright was the biggest, blackest man Jessica had ever seen. At six foot six, with skin that was almost blue, he was an imposing figure. In contrast his wife Nan was five foot one with cafe au lait skin that was stretched to its limit by her eight and a half months of pregnancy. Steve was a junior partner in a prestigious Wall Street law firm and would be a full partner before he was thirty-five. “Our first,” Steve said, lovingly rubbing his wife’s belly.

“And, if this pregnancy is any indication,” Nan said, easing her body into a soft chair, “my last. I waddle like a duck, I sleep sitting up and I haven’t seen my feet in six weeks. I’ve finally had to stop working, too.” Jessica’s ears had perked up when she learned that Nan had worked for a local real estate agency and would go back to work part-time after the birth of the baby.

“I’ve been wondering,” Steve added, “why they call it morning sickness. Nan’s been nauseated since day one, all day.”

“I think they call it morning sickness because it starts in the morning,” Nan said, sipping the glass of club soda Steve handed her and nibbling on the saltine crackers she always kept at hand. “But only a couple of weeks to go. The doctor says that little Stevie’s right on schedule.”

“You know it’s a boy?” Jessica said, her envy obvious to Steph.

When Jessie and Rob had married, she had wanted several children. Over the months and years, Rob had talked her out of it. ‘We want so many things. Travel, freedom. Kids would just get in the way,’ Rob had said. Jessica gazed wistfully at Nan’s enlarged belly.

“It’s a boy. Steven James Albright Junior.” She beamed at her husband. “But the doctor also said that he’s already over seven pounds. Another two weeks and he’ll never be able to get out the old-fashioned way.”

Steve winked. “He got in there the old-fashioned way.”

Over the laughter, Nan cocked her head to one side, paused, then said, “Oooohhh, yes. I remember. That sex thing. It used to be very nice, back when such a thing was possible.”

“Don’t give us that,” Steve said. “We’ve found ways. Oral sex has never been as pleasant.”

“Oral sex is always pleasant,” Gloria said.

“And we found the most delicious goo in a sex catalog,” Pete added. “I hate the ones that taste like fruit juice. This one’s cinnamon. Very spicy.”

Gloria winked. “Just like me.”

Jessica was amazed with the openness of the talk about sex. Rob had always found the subject distasteful, so it never came up in conversation with their friends.

As the group chatted in the large living room, the doorbell rang again. That must be Eric, Jessica thought, her palms damp. Not a date, Jessica told herself. Just a man coming to a party.

Eric Langden was about six feet tall with iron-gray hair and a well-trimmed, iron-gray moustache and beard. An architect, he had been divorced for five years. The group was obviously comfortable together and they all made an effort to draw Jessica into the conversation.

Over rum and fruit drinks that Brian whipped up in a constantly whirring blender, they talked for several hours about everything from world tensions to real-estate prices, from television shows and movies to crabgrass. When she stopped to think about it, Jessica realized that she hadn’t had such a light, tensionless evening in a long time.

“By the way, did anyone see Sally Jessie this afternoon?” Nan asked, sipping her club soda.

“Most of us have to work,” Marcy said. “And anyway, since when have you been interested in the adventures of dysfunctional families airing their dirty little secrets in public?”

“I’m practicing to stay home for a few months at least. You have to watch at least two hours of talk shows and an hour of soaps each afternoon to keep your daytime TV certification. Actually, there’s not much else on.”

“So which dirty little secret did Sally Jessie reveal today?” Steph asked. “Transvestite lesbian cannibals?”

“People who’ve had plastic surgery on their penises,” Chuck said.

“Women who’ve been fucked by Elvis’s ghost.”

“Couples who’ve been abducted by alien polar bears.”

“A family of seven who’ve lived at the bottom of a well for three years.”

“All right,” Nan said, holding up her hands. “Take pity on the pregnant lady, will you? The show was about sexual fantasies and it got me thinking. They had couples dressed up as their favorite fantasy. One was a pirate and his captive, one was an Arabian guy with his harem girl, you know. The nice thing was no one had a Barbie and Ken shape or anything. They were just regular people and very free with their conversation.”

“Sounds kinky,” Chuck said with a leer. “Like Gary’s party. Remember?”

“Who could forget that night?” Marcy said. “But that was before you guys moved here,” she said to the Albrights.

“We’ve heard about Gary’s parties,” Steve said, patting his wife’s belly. “We’re not up to that yet.”

When Jessica looked particularly puzzled, Steph winked at her and said, “It’s a long story. I’ll tell you at length sometime.”

“Actually, Sally Jessie was interesting. God I hate to hear me saying that. Talk shows and interesting in the same sentence. Ugh. But anyway, some of the people discussed how difficult it had been in the beginning to tell their wife or husband about their fantasy.”

“It must be for some people,” Steph said seriously.

“These days I fantasize a lot,” Nan continued. “I think it’s lack of good sex that does it. And I know it would be hard for me to share the details with Steve. I was just wondering whether any of you have fantasies and whether you tell each other.”

“You know,” Marcy said, “now that you’ve admitted to having fantasies that you haven’t shared, Steve will force all that sexy information out of you.” She twirled a nonexistent moustache. “Force you to tell all the yummy details, all those sexy four-letter words.”

Steve and Nan looked at each other, their look saying, ‘We’ll talk later.’ “I guess he will,” Nan said. “But now I’m curious. Do you have fantasies and have you shared them?”

As Brian poured another round of fruity drinks, he said, “I’ve shared most of mine with Steph, but I’ve kept one or two secret.”

Steph jumped in, “You have?”

“Yes. Telling a fantasy and acting it out, as we have, is delicious. And yes, we’ve acted a few out so you guys can all eat your hearts out. But it also takes the erotic edge off of it somehow.”

“What’s your favorite fantasy?” Nan asked Steph and Brian.

Steph answered, “He likes to pretend that he’s kidnapped me and taken me to a cabin deep in the woods. That way he can have his way with me in private.”

“Oooo, yummy,” Gloria said, winking at her husband.

“Would you like me to abduct you?” Pete asked. “I could have my way with you and you couldn’t object.”

“Why do you suppose so many fantasies revolve around being made love to forcibly?” Nan asked. “I’ve always thought it was evil somehow.”

“Rape fantasies aren’t about rape,” Brian said. “They’re about power. I love to have Steph under my control. That way I feel free to do some of the things I might not otherwise. I can demand. But I also know that Steph will let me know if I’ve gone too far.”

“And I enjoy being under Brian’s control,” Steph said, sipping her drink and enjoying the buzz she had developed. “I don’t have to worry about my reactions, what I’m supposed to be doing. I can lay back and enjoy things.”

Jessica sat there enthralled. She had never heard people admit to having sexual fantasies before, much less discuss the plot. “You sure do speak your minds,” she said softly.

“I’m so sorry, Jessica. Are we embarrassing you?” Nan said quickly. “You fit in so well with us that I forgot that you’re new to this little group. We’re pretty open-minded.”

“And openmouthed,” Steve added.

“I’m not really embarrassed.” Jessica paused then added, “Yes I am, but it’s a fun embarrassment. And I’m fascinated by the way you all talk about this stuff so freely.”

“Didn’t you and your ex talk about sex?”

“Rob? Not a chance. I think his only fantasy was to have a larger dental office. Sex for him was a routine. Releasing his precious bodily fluids. He wasn’t the creative type.”

“That’s sad,” Eric said. “How can you understand what you like and don’t like unless you try different things?”

His look lingered on Jessica’s face a bit longer than was necessary. She could feel the tingle deep in her body. “I never really thought about it. I guess we were pretty ‘missionary position’ and totally noncreative.”

“My ex and I had a dynamite life in bed,” Eric said. “It was out of bed that we ought like cats and dogs.”

“How about you guys,” Nan asked, turning to Chuck and Marcy. “Any sexual fun and games you’d like to share?”

“Actually,” Marcy said, “Chuck has the greatest hands. He gives the most interesting massages.” Chuck blushed and silently munched on a cracker and brie. “I guess,” Marcy continued, “that we’d show up on Sally with me dressed in a towel and Chuck in a white uniform.”

“Pete and I have a fantasy too,” Gloria admitted. “We haven’t acted it out, but we like to turn out all the lights and….”

“Hey, babe,” Pete said. “Aren’t we going to have any secrets left?”

“Not a one. We’re among friends. We tell a story in the dark. He’s a doctor and I’m his unsuspecting patient.”

“Babe…” Pete warned.

“Okay, okay. I’ll say no more.”

“Have you ever actually acted it out?” Nan asked.

“So far, no,” Gloria said. “But now that you mention it….”

“This conversation is making me very hot,” Pete said. “Anyone for a swim?”

“Not me,” Nan said, rubbing her belly, “but I’ll sit by the pool.”

“I turned the heater on just before you folks got here,” Brian said. He turned to Jessica. “Suits are optional. Some wear them, some don’t. Dealer’s choice.”

“I think I’ll put a suit on,” Jessica said, “if that’s okay. I’m not that liberated yet.”

“You won’t be upset if I don’t, will you?” Brian asked.

“I don’t think so. If I am, I’ll look the other way.”

In her room, Jessica pulled her three bathing suits from the drawer. The one she had brought from Ottawa, a one-piece floral print, held her in in all the right places. Too conservative and definitely Jessie. She held up the bikini that she and Steph had bought on their recent shopping trip. It barely covered any of her. She dropped it back into the drawer and compromised on a one-piece black suit that mock-laced up the front and left a panel of barely concealed flesh from waist to cleavage. As she wiggled into the suit, she realized that she was slightly drunk, totally relaxed, and very aroused. Her nipples were hard and showed prominently through the tight black fabric.

This sexual tension was a revelation. Poor old Rob, she thought. He would never do anything like this. He missed a lot, and so have I. Well, she told herself, maybe he experiments with bimbette. You know, I really hope he can. She shook her head. I must be mellowing, but I do hope he’s getting some good sex. I know I will get mine, eventually. Maybe sooner, rather than later. She fluffed her hair and, barefoot, she ran down the stairs.

When she arrived at the pool, all the patio lights were out with just the underwater lights to illuminate the soft mist rising from the water. Nan was stretched out in a lounge chair with Gloria and Pete sitting in chairs on either side of her. Everyone else was in the water and through the choppy surface it was impossible to tell who had clothes on and who didn’t. Steph and Steve were involved in a splash fight at the shallow end, with Chuck egging them on. Brian, Eric, and Marcy were hanging onto the ladder at the deep end, talking. Jessica found herself looking at Brian’s muscular shoulders and wondering what he looked like without a bathing suit.

Jessica walked to the deep end and dove cleanly into the eight-foot-deep water. She came up beside Brian, facing the side of the pool, holding on to the edge. “The water’s perfect,” she said, pushing her sopping red hair out of her face.

“So are you in that bathing suit. I could rape you right here,” he whispered, pressing his obviously naked body with its ridge of hard male flesh against her side. “You look so sexy.” He released the pressure of his body. “But I won’t rush you. I just want you to know that our time will come, eventually, if I have my way.” He let go, pushed Marcy under the water and together they swam to the other side, leaving Jessica with Eric.

“That suit looks terrific,” Eric said, moving nearer. “It’s actually more sensual than being nude.” When she was silent, Eric continued, “I’m sorry if I come on too heavy. You’re new to this crazy life we have here. But we’re just free spirits and we do what feels good and doesn’t hurt anyone else. I won’t embarrass you, but I would be less than honest if I denied that you turn me on.”

Remembering that Eric had been divorced for several years, she asked, “Were you and your wife swingers?”

“We had occasional flings, with each other’s knowledge, of course. We were very creative in the bedroom.”

“If you’ll pardon me for asking, what caused your breakup?”

“Money, mostly.” He pulled himself from the water and sat on the edge of the pool while Jessica remained in the water next to his ankles. As water sluiced from his torso she admired his body, substantial in his brief red trunks. “I made some, she spent more. She always wanted me to do things that made more money, I wanted to do things that made me happy. When I was offered a new job with a large architectural firm in the city at an unseemly increase in salary, she begged me to take it.”

“You didn’t want to?”

“Not really. Commuting was not my idea of how to spend three hours a day. And that job would have also meant weeks, even months travelling. I had commuted and travelled before and it took too much out of me. That’s why I took the job in Scarsdale in the first place. It was a small firm but we created some wonderful buildings.

“So we argued about the job. She whined about all the things she wanted out of life. I tried to explain that all I wanted was to stay in Scarsdale, enjoy my ten-minute drive to work, and have enough money to do the things that were important to me. And that wasn’t a big house, a maid five days a week, and trips to Europe several times a year.”

“What is important to you?”

“I love my kids. They’re boys, twins, and they were fourteen then. I liked being able to get to their soccer games and parent conferences. She wanted them in a private school. I like tennis and golf. And I like my friends.” He looked around the group. “I wanted to have something left at the end of the day, not get up at the crack of dawn, work, come home, eat, fall into bed so I can get up with the roosters and do it all again.”

“And your wife wanted you to take the city job?”

“She demanded. She gave me the ‘If you loved me’ bit and I thought about it and discovered that I didn’t love her. At least not enough to do everything the way she wanted. So we split. We still see each other occasionally, though not as much now that the boys are in college. I miss them, especially since they’re spending their summer together in Colorado. Anyway, Marilyn lives in Hartsdale, in a large condo I bought her, and I think she’s happy. But her happiness isn’t my responsibility anymore. It took me a long time to realize that nothing I did was going to make her happy anyway.”

“That’s a very grown-up attitude,” Jessica said.

“How about your divorce. Was it very difficult?”

Jessica told him about Rob and bimbette. “I find I’m becoming less bitter day by day. Being here has opened my eyes a lot.”

“And, if you’ll pardon my asking, was your sex life really as boring as you alluded to before?”

Jessica sighed and sipped the drink Brian had set on the edge of the pool for her. “I guess so. I’m not sure how much was his fault and how much was mine.”

“Why does it have to be anyone’s fault?”

“Not fault, exactly, but I’m just not responsive enough.” Why in the world had she admitted that? Now he won’t be interested. She looked at the glass in her hand and put it down. And she realized that she wanted Eric to be interested.

“Did he tell you that?” When she nodded, he said, “A sensual woman like you? He has to be a jerk.”

Jessica laughed and, bobbing in the warm water, moved slightly away from the side of the pool and kicked her legs. “Thanks for that. But why do you say I’m sensual? What do you know about me?”

“I know that your nipples are hard and it’s getting difficult for you to hold still.” When her cheeks pinked, he said, “And you’re blushing. I love that.” He grinned. “I know this is sudden, but could we get together one evening soon?”

“Is this a proposition, sir?” Jessica said, flirtatiousness coming easily from somewhere deep inside her.

“Maybe. I have to admit that I’d love to teach you how sexy you really are, but let’s start with dinner. It can progress as quickly or as slowly as we like from there. Or not at all, if that’s what we decide.”

Jessica smiled. This man was making a pass at her and she was revelling in it. “I’d love to have dinner with you.”

“Friday? I can pick you up here at about six?”

“Friday it is.”

“Did you have a nice evening?” Steph asked as she and Jessica tidied up the kitchen. They could see Brian, a towel around his waist, wandering around the pool area, stuffing plastic plates and glasses into a large black garbage bag.

“I had an amazing evening,” Jessica said. “Your friends are terrific people. I like them all so much.”

“I knew you would. They’re the greatest.”

“Okay. I think I’m ready for the big revelation. Which of them have you slept with?”

Steph laughed. “Couldn’t tell, could you.”

“Not a clue. Everyone’s so open and sexy. I’d sleep with any one of the guys.”

“So, my dear, would I. However….” She stuffed a large platter into the dishwasher. “Okay, okay,” she said, catching Jessica’s look. “Steve and Nan only moved here about a year ago and they were trying desperately to get pregnant. We discussed our lifestyle with them, and they were tempted. Isn’t he the most gorgeous thing? Makes me sweat just to think about those arms around me. Anyway, they didn’t want to confuse things. I hope, after the baby’s born….”

“You’re right about him. He’s got the greatest body.”

“That’s my Jessica talking. I think Jessie’s long buried.”

Jessica sighed. “You may be right. What about the others? Who did and who didn’t?”

“Pete and Gloria discussed it and decided that they didn’t want to risk the jealousy that they were both afraid would surface. They tried swapping once, many years ago, and Pete particularly found it very hard to deal with the thought of someone else making love to his wife. They go to most of the parties but they stay together.”

“So you’ve been with Chuck and Marcy.”

Steph just grinned as Brian walked up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist. “The four of us,” Brian said, “spent a weekend in the Adirondacks together last January. Get Steph to tell you about it sometime. It was incredible.” He nibbled his wife’s neck. “Just incredible.”

“Certainly was,” Steph agreed. “And, by the way, I also spent a creative evening with Gary about six months ago. I was sorry he couldn’t come tonight. He’s the sexiest man I know, with the exception of Brian, of course.”

“Is he very handsome?”

Steph thought about it. “Actually, not at all. He sort of reminds me of Ichabod Crane. He’s about six foot two or three and probably doesn’t weigh one fifty. Long legs, long arms, sort of like a stork. He wears mismatched clothes that hang on him. He always looks like he’s just lost fifty pounds and his wardrobe hasn’t caught up.”

“But you said….

“I said sexy and attractive, not handsome. There’s a big difference.”

“Like…?”

“He listens when you talk and concentrates like you’re the only one in the world who matters at that moment. He touches you, accidentally on purpose, if you know what I mean. A hand on your shoulder as you sit down, or a palm in the small of your back to guide you through a doorway. And he looks at you like he wants to make long slow love to you all the time.”

“Where was Brian all this time, while you were out with Gary?”

“I was here,” Brian said, walking through the large sliding glass door. “It doesn’t have to be a couples thing with us. I’ve had my…adventures too. Solo. It’s really okay with us.”

“And what did you think of Eric?” When Jessica blushed, Steph continued, “Did he ask you out?”

“We’re having dinner on Friday,” Jessica said softly.

“That’s great,” Brian said. “He’s one of the nicest people I know and you two should get along well.”

“I liked him a lot. He’s bright and so open about things.”

“Well,” Steph said, “I’m beat.” She closed the dishwasher and turned it on.

Jessica glanced at the clock on the microwave. “Holy cow. Is it really after one?”

“Yup,” Steph said. “Time sure rushes by when you’re having fun.”

Brian grabbed Steph by the arm and dragged her toward the sliding glass door. “Let’s go out by the pool so I can ravish you before bed.”

Steph giggled. “Weallll suh,” she laid on a thick southern accent. “What kahnd of a girl do you tahke me foah?”

“I know what kind of girl you are,” Brian said, still tugging. “That’s why I want to take you out to the pool.”

“Nighty night, Jessica,” Steph said as Brian dragged her out the door.

“Good night, folks,” Jessica said. “I love you both.”

Brian blew her a kiss and he and Steph disappeared into the darkness.

Upstairs, Jessica pulled off her bathing suit, took a quick shower, and collapsed onto her bed. Despite the late hour, she couldn’t sleep. Images of the people she’d met that evening and an image of herself so different from anything she could have imagined a few weeks before crowded her brain. Finally, she dropped into an exhausted slumber.

In her dream she rode on a merry-go-round. The calliope played random notes that didn’t combine into anything she recognized, but surrounded her and filled her head with erotic music. Multicolored lights winked and flashed in a primitive rhythm.

She was gloriously naked. The snow-white horse rose and fell between her thighs, cool against her heated flesh. She leaned forward and pressed the cool metal bar against the valley between her breasts, against her flaming forehead.

As the merry-go-round turned, Jessica closed her eyes and let the wind blow her hair until it flew behind her like the tail of the horse she rode. Up and down the horse moved, carrying her with it.

Suddenly, there was a man seated on the horse with her, the fronts of his thighs against the backs of hers. She felt the prickle of the coarse hairs on his legs against her delicate skin. Just ignore him, she told herself. But she couldn’t. When she started to turn to look at him, he placed his hands gently on the sides of her head, effectively preventing her from seeing who he was. When he lowered his hands to her waist, she didn’t try to turn again. Around and around they rode, his hands on her waist and his thighs against her legs.

Gradually, he leaned forward until the length of his chest pressed against her back. Hands splayed on her belly, he used the tip of his tongue to tickle the hollow just behind her right ear. Holding her against him, he bit the tip of her earlobe, then sucked it into his mouth.

As the erotic power of his mouth held her against him, he slid his hands up to cup her aching breasts. He filled his hands with them, weighed and massaged them. Jessica looked down and admired the contrast between his dark fingers and her white skin. She watched in fascination as the hands kneaded her soft fullness and moved ever closer to her fully erect nipples. Squeeze me, she whispered to herself. Pinch me. Make me feel you.

“I will,” the man’s voice breathed into her ear. “I will give you everything you want. But at my pace.” He caressed her breasts lightly. “Just ride the horse. Feel the wind in your face. Close your eyes. Feel.” His fingers reached her nipples and he held the left between his finger and thumb. “Feel.” He pinched and pulled, causing a sensation that was almost pain.

Erotic heat knifed through her body, stabbing deep into her secret spaces. Don’t stop, she thought. Oh God, don’t stop. She wanted to tell him, say it out loud, but she couldn’t. The words echoed in her head.

“You don’t have to say it,” he whispered. “I won’t stop.” One hand pressed her belly and forced her buttocks to cradle his mammoth erection. The other hand shifted to her right breast, grasping it tightly and twisting.

“You’re hurting me,” Jessica said, not sure whether it was true.

“No, it doesn’t really hurt although you think it should. It gives you pleasure; hot demanding pleasure. It makes you hungry. So hungry that you are being devoured by it. Aren’t you?” When she remained silent, he moved his hips so his cock slid more deeply into the crack between her cheeks while his fingers worked on her nipple. “Aren’t you?”

“Yes,” she sighed. “Oh yes.”

He shifted his hips and lifted her body. Suddenly his cock was touching her hot, moist entrance. “You want this,” the voice whispered, the heated breath tickling her ear. “But you’ll have to take it.”

Between Jessica’s thighs, the merry-go-round horse continued its unrelenting up and down movement. She supported her weight on the stirrups and held herself above his cock. Her thigh muscles quivered from the effort of holding herself up.

“Take it,” he whispered. “Let your body go. Take what you and I both know you want.”

Yes, she admitted to herself, she did want this. Slowly, she lowered her body so she filled herself with his cock. The merry-go-round went faster and faster and with each note of the calliope the horse rose, carrying him deeper inside. She rode him, synchronizing her movements with the rhythm of the horse. Her mind splintered, sensations darting from the fingers on her nipples to his mouth on her neck to his cock, filling, caressing. Faster and faster she rode until she was a bubble about to burst.

And burst she did, a million colors surrounding her. The lights of the carousel flashed, penetrating her lowered eyelids. She screamed, but then couldn’t get her breath. She flew, then plunged with the horse and the man beneath her, the wind unable to cool her body. On and on they rode, climax after rending climax, until she collapsed.

Jessica awoke in a pool of sweat, the sheets tangled around her naked body. Her breathing was rapid and her heart pounded. She could almost hear the music and see the lights. She lay in the darkness until her body calmed, then took another shower. Afterward, she climbed back into bed and slept dreamlessly until morning.

Thursday evening Eric called and he and Jessica talked for almost an hour. “About tomorrow evening,” Eric said. “If you agree, there’s a concert at a place I think you’d enjoy called Caramoor. There’ll be a small jazz group playing in a part of the estate called the Venetian Gardens. I thought we’d have a little picnic on the lawn before the music.”

“That sounds lovely.”

“Great. Wear jeans and something long-sleeved. It’s supposed to be cool and it does get a bit buggy. I’ll bring the dinner and the bug spray and pick you up around six.”

“I’ll see you then.”

Jessica flopped back onto her bed. She was both jittery and excited, looking forward to the following evening with a combination of terror and delight. Okay, she thought, jeans. She mentally flipped through her small collection of clothes and selected a soft buttercup-yellow silk shirt. Should I take a jacket? It’s only a picnic. But it might get cool later in the evening. But I might look pretentious. Sneakers? Maybe loafers? Or what about sandals?

That night and most of the next day while Steph was at the hospital, Jessica selected, discarded, and reselected. She sat in the garden room and tried to read, only to get up and pace around the pool. “This is ridiculous,” she said aloud. “I’m acting like a kid on her first date.” Then she grinned. “I am a kid on her first date.”

At about four o’clock, she soaked in a tub and managed to relax for a short while. Then she put on the clothes she had selected, changed her shirt, then changed back. At six o’clock, Jessica was dressed in the outfit she had first selected, yellow shirt, soft, well-washed jeans she had had for many years, tennis shoes, and socks. Then, at the last minute, she added a fitted denim vest.

She put her hair up, then held a pair of earrings near her ears. She discarded them and picked another pair, which she also dropped back into the drawer. Something bigger, she thought. But it’s only a picnic. Maybe no earrings. She settled on a pair of medium-sized wooden hoops. She gazed into the mirror, smiled, added blush and lipstick and hurried downstairs, glad the house was empty.

As she heard Eric’s car in the driveway, Jessica stood inside the front door debating whether to open it and walk outside or wait for him to ring the bell. You’re jumpy as a cat, she said to herself, turning the knob in her right hand and pulling the door open. Eric stood with his hand poised above the doorbell.

God, he’s sexy, she thought as he stood, openly appraising her. He was dressed in tight jeans and a white tennis sweater with the sleeves pushed up to the elbows, showing off well-muscled forearms. He wasn’t gorgeous and she doubted that anyone would stop in their tracks and stare at him. But there was a gleam in his eyes as he looked her over that created a small flutter deep in her belly. His eyes lingered on her breasts as they pressed against the silky fabric of her shirt, then wandered lower to her narrow waist and full hips.

“Very nice,” he said. “Although I’ve seen you in a bathing suit, I still enjoyed speculating about the way you’d fill out your jeans.” As she colored, he continued, “You’re blushing again.” He used the knuckle of his index finger to raise her face, then he dropped a light kiss on her lips. “It’s sort of virginal. I love it.” Then he took her elbow and guided her out the door.

Together they walked toward the driveway where Eric’s vintage BMW 2002 was parked. Bright red with slick black leather upholstery, it was in mint condition. “That’s some car,” Jessica commented.

“I love old BMWs. I found this one about a year ago and I had it restored. It cost more than buying a new one and it’s silly of me, but I get a kick out of it. Drivers of these old cars flick their lights at each other in recognition and I like that kind of camaraderie.”

Jessica stroked the supple leather seat beneath her, silently wondering how he could afford to ‘restore’ a classic car like this one. Did architects make that kind of money?

Eric and Jessica passed the next twenty minutes in comfortable conversation, driving along the tree-lined roadways of Westchester County. They arrived at Caramoor, passed through the big iron gates and drove to a grassy parking area. He helped her out of the car and, arm in arm, they walked along the dirt pathways toward a small picnic area. Before they arrived at the tables, however, Eric turned into a small area of lawn surrounded by a low hedge. In the middle was an old fountain, now filled with flowering plants.

“By the way,” Jessica said, her stomach reminding her that she hadn’t eaten since breakfast, “you’re not carrying any basket. I thought you mentioned dinner.”

“I did.”

They approached a large plaid wool blanket spread on the lawn under a large maple tree, set with fine china plates, full settings of silverware, and crystal champagne flutes. Each place setting was accompanied by a white linen napkin and a red leather seat cushion.

But it was the man who stood beside the blanket who caught Jessica’s attention. He was immense, probably over two hundred and fifty pounds, but well muscled with a long golden ponytail and a heavy gold hoop in one ear. He looked like he might have been a football player or a prize fighter, with gigantic hands and a face that looked like it had taken a punch or two in its time. Beautifully groomed, the man wore tan slacks and a forest-green polo shirt. He was obviously waiting for the lady he would share his feast with.

“Isn’t that lovely,” she said to Eric. “What an elegant presentation.”

“Why thank you,” he said, approaching the blanket. “I’ll tell Timmy you’re impressed.”

As Jessica turned to Eric, puzzled, the man near the blanket said, “There you are, sir. I was afraid the food would get warm.”

“Not to worry, Timmy,” Eric said. “I know better than to keep one of your sumptuous meals waiting.” He turned to Jessica. “Jessica, this is Timmy Whitmore. He’s my right-hand man and my chauffeur when I want one. He’s in charge of my house and he’s the best damn cook in the county.”

Timmy inclined his head slightly. “It’s nice to meet you Ms….”

Totally nonplussed, Jessica answered automatically. “Hanley. It’s Jessica Hanley.” She turned to Eric who looked sheepish. “Didn’t you say you were a modestly well-off suburban architect who used to argue with your wife about money?”

“I did, didn’t I. I know that I owe you an explanation but can it wait until after dinner? Timmy’s meals are always works of art and he gets very huffy if his food isn’t presented just so.”

“Of course it can wait,” Jessica said. “But you’ll have to give me a moment to adjust.” Eric held her arm as she settled onto one of the leather cushions.

With a flourish Timmy pulled two plates from a hamper a few feet away and set one in front of each of them. Artfully arranged on fresh lettuce and watercress were half a dozen of the largest shrimp Jessica had ever seen, with a dollop of dill sauce and a few small toast-rounds on the side. “Good grief, Timmy,” Eric said. “These shrimp look like they should have saddles.”

“I know,” Timmy said, looking downcast and a bit irritated. “I tried to get U12s but all they had were U5s. They’re really too large to be as tender as I’d like, but the man in the fish store swore that they were superb. If they’re not….”

Eric tasted one. “Well, Timmy, your man was right. They are delicate and crisp, cooked exactly right. Not chewy at all.”

Timmy beamed, the smile giving his singularly unattractive face an appealing glow. “Thank you sir.”

Feeling like she was in the middle of a James Bond movie, Jessica speared a shrimp with a slender shrimp fork and tasted, then dipped the shrimp into the sauce and took another bite. “These are delicious,” she said and watched Timmy’s smile grow still wider. “I make cold shrimp often, but with cocktail sauce with extra horseradish, or a cold mayonnaise. I’ve never made anything like this sauce. It’s wonderful.”

“Thank you. I’ve met only a few people who appreciate shrimp with mayonnaise,” Timmy said.

While they ate in silence, she watched Timmy deftly open a bottle of Dom Perignon and fill two flutes, each half full. “This meal is delightful,” Jessica said as she lifted her glass.

“And the company is a perfect complement,” Eric whispered, holding her gaze until her hand shook. He lifted his glass and touched the rim to hers, enjoying the single clear note it produced. “To an enjoyable evening, the first of many I hope.”

“To an enjoyable evening.” She sipped the wine, knowing she was already intoxicated.

When they had finished their shrimp, Timmy whisked the plates away and replaced them with larger, prearranged dinner plates. “I made cold smoked breast of duck with a chilled pasta primavera.” Moving with surprising grace for such a large man he placed a sauceboat on the blanket. “There’s a light vinaigrette for the duck.” He placed small bread plates, each with two tiny hot rolls, beside Eric and Jessica. Jessica was amazed that the surface of each butter pat was covered with a tiny staff and notes of music. “These are beautiful, Timmy,” she said.

“I enjoy doing that. You might call it a hobby of mine.”

“That’s along with cake decorating and baking the most delicious breads you’ve ever tasted.”

“Actually, I once worked as a food stylist on photos for a cookbook,” Timmy boasted, removing the champagne glasses and replacing them with white wine glasses. “I have a sauvignon blanc from Chili, 1992. It will go perfectly with the duck and was very reasonable.”

“Timmy haunts the local wine stores.”

“I found this one at Zachy’s actually. It was so well priced that I bought us a case,” Timmy said.

“Jessica?” Eric asked.

“If Timmy recommends it, how can I argue?”

Timmy beamed as he uncorked the wine and poured a small amount into Eric’s glass.

“Anyone can find a good fifty-dollar bottle of wine,” Timmy said. “I can find a good bottle of wine at under ten dollars. What do you think?”

Eric tasted and nodded. “Right as usual.”

Beaming, Timmy handed Eric the cork and half-filled each glass. “Keep the cork,” Eric said, handing it back to Timmy, “and you can recork the bottle before you leave. If we finish even half of this wine, I’ll never be able to drive home.”

As they ate, they made small talk. “Do you know why the host breaks the wine cork?” he asked.

Jessica took a sip of wine to moisten her dry mouth and tucked her legs underneath her. “I always wondered why the waiter hands it over, but I didn’t want to sound as unsophisticated as I felt so I never asked.”

“Most of these rituals are left over from the dim past when there was a real need for precautions. Now it’s mostly just snobbery and uptight people who like to make a simple glass of wine into a Japanese tea ceremony.” He reached out and Timmy handed Eric the cork which he in turn handed to Jessica, his fingers lingering on hers. “You’ll notice that the imprint of the winery is on the cork, with the year.” He laid the cork in Jessica’s palm, rubbing the rough surface along her skin. “In the olden days unscrupulous people used to fill an empty bottle with jug wine, then recork it and sell it as the expensive stuff. So, rather than break the expensive bottle so that wouldn’t happen, they broke the inexpensive cork.”

“Oh. That makes sense.” She held the cork under her nose. “Why do they smell the cork?”

“Before wine was sterilized, pasteurized, and otherwise purified, occasionally bad yeasts would get into the vats and, instead of fine wine, you’d get fine vinegar. Actually the word vinegar is from the French, vin meaning wine and agre meaning sour. And if the wine was sour, you could smell it in the cork.” Eric smiled. “These days, wine is never sour and there’s no need to smell the cork. The only ones who sniff it are those who want everyone to think they know something.” He reached over and wrapped his long fingers around Jessica’s then slowly drew the cork from her hand.

As his fingers slid from her hand, Jessica’s breath caught. She gazed at the attractive man who sat across from her, then looked at her plate. She lifted a small forkful of the duck to her mouth and tasted it, unsure of whether she’d be able to swallow. To break the tension she was feeling, she said, “This is very unusual, Timmy. I really like it.”

“I’m so glad. I didn’t know anything about you or your taste in food, so it was difficult to plan the meal.”

“Well, Timmy, I’m easy. I enjoy tasting new things and I can’t imagine anything that you created that I wouldn’t like.”

Eric gazed into her eyes. “I’m glad you enjoy trying new things, Jessica.”

The food turned to cardboard in her mouth and she sipped her wine to moisten her lips. Although it was difficult for her to eat with Eric’s hot gaze on her, she couldn’t insult Timmy so she finished every bite along with two glasses of wine.

“I’m so glad the meal pleased you, Ms. Hanley,” Timmy said as he removed the plates and the wine glasses. “I have a triple-crème blue cheese and fruit for dessert. There’s coffee and I’ve taken the liberty of opening a 1971 Chateau D’Yquem. It will go superbly with the cheese and fruit. The pears are especially good.” Leaving the platter with the fruit and cheese, china mugs for coffee beside the filled carafe, the decanter, and new glasses for the sauterne, Timmy efficiently packed everything else in a hamper. “I’ll be leaving, now. I’ve left a small basket over there,” he pointed, then lifted the heavy hamper as though it weighed nothing. “Everything should fit quite nicely.”

“Timmy,” Eric said, stretching out on the blanket as people wandered through the gardens around them, “you’ve done a wonderful job, as usual.”

“Thank you, sir,” he said, “and it was so nice meeting you Ms. Hanley.”

“Thank you for the wonderful meal, Timmy,” Jessica said. “I don’t think I’ve ever had better.”

“Good night,” Timmy said and walked toward the exit with a surprisingly light step for such a big man.