Zane was taken by the spectacular display of the rainfall, but he was even more taken by Giselle. He watched her move about, all the while being in awe of the confidence she exuded. The pulse of the music’s beat almost matched the strides she took, and he enjoyed the view. He enjoyed it a lot. She seemed at ease, even stopping for a moment to do a slow sway alongside the thump of the treble.
Sexy as fuck, he thought.
Zane knew that there always stood the chance that she wouldn’t come to this place with him. He knew there was a chance that she might not have even engaged him in conversation. So, he was pleased that everything had worked in his favor. Not only had she spoken to him, but they were now in one of the most intimate settings he had ever had the pleasure of. The place was amazing and created an ambiance that was almost sure to lead to something deeply personal.
Following in her trail of footfalls, Zane closed in on her, but allowed for at least a yard between them. For now.
Suddenly, Giselle stopped in her tracks and spun around to face him. “This is breathtaking,” she said so softly that he had to read her lips. Lips that he had wanted to kiss since she spoke her first words to him.
Zane moved into her space where there was nothing but mere inches of room to escape. “You’re breathtaking,” he concurred. He half expected for her to step backwards or move around him to reclaim unstated boundaries. But she didn’t. Instead, she asked, “Can anybody see inside of here?”
“No. Totally private. Is that okay with you?” he asked.
“It’s more than okay. I . . . actually prefer it.”
-11-
When I removed the robe that had served as something of a protective shield, for what I wore beneath, I knew that I was no longer fully in control. The mood had taken over. It had begun to dictate every single move I made. It wasn’t the me that took extra caution with all things, life. It wasn’t the me who stood before twenty-plus little ones every morning for nine months wearing pencil skirts and reserved tops. And it for sure wasn’t the me that might have once or twice passed judgment on hearing stories of women and one-night stands. No, that wasn’t the me that was in control.
Or was it?
Had she always been here, but lying in dormant? In dormant until something triggered her inhibitions. And now she had awakened giving those inhibitions a firm shake, signaling them to enter the waking world . . .
Because this woman.
She would never, after less than five minutes behind a closed door be standing before a complete stranger wearing nothing but the suit she came into the world with, some forty-two years ago. No, she would never.
But she was.
Layer by layer, I came alive. First the robe, then the chemise beneath it. Removing those two forces helped bring a new me, forth. However temporary she might be, she had arrived. The clothing wasn’t the only force prying me to this new way of being. The stranger played a large part. The way he stared at me with that hooded glare of want and desire . . . and unspoken requests to savor all of me. Then there was the scent. Those scents combined. Combined with his scent. It was the soothing music. The water. That subliminal rush of moisture pouring from the ceiling. It all served a purpose—to seduce me.
It was working.
I didn’t protest at all when this man, with the body of a slender athlete, lifted me into his arms and carried me to the water. We didn’t speak. The impending future of this moment did all the talking for us, to us. With my back, now against the security of the pool’s wall, I welcomed the mist that caressed my skin. My legs parted for him to fit in between. His mouth came over mine, then seconds in, our tongues met in a dance. It was slow at times, and rushed during others. He pumped against me, his hardness quickly growing.
It all felt so good. And judging from my lack of reservations, and my eager participation, I craved every piece of what was being given. It was clear that I missed the touch of a man, the romantic attention. But fuck the romantic aspect. I wanted him inside of me doing damage. However, in this water, we were nowhere near the protection laid out in abundance, on the other side of the room.
His thoughts must have mirrored my own, because in the deepest throes of our marathon lip lock, he slowly pulled back. He looked down at me, then leaned in to focus on other parts of the package before him. He kissed along my neck, across shoulders, all while toying with the stiff erections protruding from my breasts. They kept no secret about just how aroused I was. My breasts sat securely inside his palms while his thumbs flicked across my sensitive spots.
I hung my head back, allowing the mist to fall across my face. Slow, deep breaths escaped me as the pleasure took over. It was when he brought his mouth to take the place of his hands, that I almost lost it. My balance threatened to give beneath me, as his tongue surfed the peaks of my rock-hard morsels. Suddenly, catching me by complete surprise, was soft probing in the area that needed attention the most. My tightness closed around his digits, contracting as he explored. I panted, and moaned with each wave of sensation that crashed into my core. His fingers did a sensual dance inside of me, bringing forth a weeping that widened my abyss.
I didn’t hold back with the foreign sounds that rose from the pits of my soul and hung into the air like the fog above our heads. I thrust my hips forward, gripping his shoulders tightly. I was there. At the edge. Ready to leap. And then in an instant, he stopped…
Before I could begin forming the words to express my disappointment, I was lifted from the water and carried to the round, oversized bench that I spotted upon entering the room. As soon as my back touched the plush surface, my thoughts went to how it could be so soft, yet look so hard. It was almost as though my body sank into whatever material it was made from. Once comfort set in, my focus went to him making his way back to me. It was an attractive sight, his manhood pointing in my direction as if I was North on a compass that led him into the deepness of the wild. My lips parted, a brush of air escaping as he ripped open a condom, just before sheathing himself.
Between his teeth, he held another packet of something. I wasn’t sure what it was until he was standing between my thighs. Watching him, caused me further arousal, and my chest began to heave in anticipation. I couldn’t see what he was doing, only that he was doing . . . something.
His hands on me all of a sudden provided a clue, when he used the thick of his palms to spread my thighs further apart. That’s when he began massaging handfuls of my flesh sending a rush of blood straight to my vagina’s walls. When he grazed my opening with his thumbs, I moaned aloud, my eyes forced shut by the sensation. With his dick staring at me, I didn’t know how much more I could take before I was forced to beg for some of his contribution.
Soon my eyes shot open at the sensation of something wet and warm caressing around the meat of my folds, then inside of me. After discarding the packet, my lover slid inside of me with ease. His strokes went deep, where he held them in place for several beautiful moments before pulling out and repeating the motion.
It didn’t take long for me to lose my cool. It felt too good to contain the trail of tingles that were charging at my core. They shot from the balls of my feet, and from the top of my head, all colliding in the pit of my abdomen . . . full steam ahead, no brakes.
I begged, I pleaded, I held on tight as he rode me.
And again, right at the peak, he cut off my supply.
What . . . The . . . Fuuuck!
We were on a rollercoaster going at top speed and the adrenaline was everything. Next thing I knew, I was on all fours, facing in the direction of the falling mist, watching its slow fall from the sky. A huge smile spread across my face, my eyes rolling back. He sped up his assault on me from behind, his pelvis slapping against my ass. It felt amazing. And as the constellation of stars crowded the space behind my lids, my body rocked against the explosion that came with a fierce bang, weakening me in its tumultuous wake.
A single “Aahhh . . .” left my lips as my body fell to the mat below my belly.
“You good?” I heard him ask. But as everything around me quieted, I wondered if I actually heard him say that. “You okay?” he checked in again. But aside from that final sigh, nothing came.
My lids closed and all morals and values convened right at the center of my forehead and caused a throbbing to my temples that wouldn’t ease up. My orgasm came hard, unapologetic—and broke a spell. I was stiff, couldn’t move. My eyes widened in horror and my heart was beating louder than the thump of the music’s bassline.
I had given permission to let a stranger strip me down to nothing. But did he strip me down to everything in the process? I didn’t know.
Who was I?
What had I done?
And most importantly, what now?
Do I get up and walk away as though nothing happened?
Will he?
Still on my stomach, refusing to face him, I looked out into the room that had previously held so much excitement, and allure. I waited for something to come to mind. While I waited, he did too it seemed. Patiently. All the while I battled with myself. Feeling like a whore on some level. Yet, still reveling in the euphoria of the explosions he had just set off inside of me. I was conflicted.
I finally nodded a response that I wasn’t sure whether he took note of.
What is your name, even?
Never mind.
I didn’t want to know his name because then I would have had to explain my behavior. I would have to put a name with the behavior. It would become real. Something I couldn’t take back. Yes, nameless was better. Otherwise, I would have to accept everything that had just taken place, and I wasn’t quite there yet.
“You sure?” he queried, leaning close to my ear.
Again, I went silent on him. Hadn’t he seen me nod?!
Damnit!
Not even in my youth had I been loose like that! I’d only ever been with one man. I’d only ever experienced lovemaking with that person. So, I literally knew nothing else. Was I even good?! Oh my God! What if not! Oh my God! How embarrassing!
I was stuck in a place of coming to terms with the fact that what happened . . . had really happened. That it wasn’t one of many of the fantasies I’d had about letting a mystery lover fuck me senseless. Shit had jumped from erotic visions and into life—with a few variations—one being that the man in the fantasies was always black.
My partner in the real-life version was not.
-12-
“Hold on for a sec!” Zane called out, grabbing for Giselle’s hand. It was his attempt at preventing her from moving before she got too far away. But her response was to yank away like his touch had venom in it. He held his palms up face out, and attempted to reason. “Just talk to me. What’s going on?”
All he got was a head shake. No words.
It almost felt like some kind of bad Cinderella story, with her trying to escape before the clock struck midnight. Although, right now, it had to be closer to dawn for as long as they’d been there.
“So, you’re seriously leaving?” he asked behind her, watching in admiration at her beautiful body as she scurried about collecting items that she had worn earlier.
Zane was confused as to what had just happened. All the talking he tried doing while Giselle was getting dressed, fell on deaf ears. She wouldn’t even look at him. Begging a woman had never been his thing, and he wasn’t willing for it to be a new thing, either. If she wanted to leave, then that’s what he had to let her do. To him it was ridiculous. She was all in. Like, all in. Enjoying their sex-session just as much as he did. She opened wide for him, she clawed at his back to keep him near, peaked her ass high to allow him deeper access, and essentially followed his lead.
He wondered if it had something to do with how tight she was. Even when he penetrated her with just a few digits, he felt the tautness. So, he knew that she hadn’t been touched in a while. Yes, there were some women who were naturally wound down there, but Giselle’s tightness was one of slight rigidity. Hers was from the absence of sex, not natural occurrence. He had sexed enough women to know the difference.
The memory brought an impulsive smile to his face. As disappointed as he was that their time had been cut short, the time they did indulge in, was fulfilling. Her walls wrapped around his cock like a tight squeeze which made it feel like his rod was being massaged while he put in work. It was everything he imagined it to be. Amazing.
Then it hit him. Was her hang up the fact that he was white? That had been brought up during the course of their conversation. So maybe that was what got to her at the end…
“That’s bullshit,” he mumbled, in response to his own inner musings.
She accepted an invitation to show up to a party where attendees would be half-dressed. She was standing in a window watching two men fuck one woman. So, she wasn’t uptight. She had to know that showing up to an event like that, she might end up in a not-so-compromising position of her own. So, what the fuck?
Zane found his emotions seesawing between being upset, to being empathetic. But the fucking empathy didn’t outweigh the anger, because his dick still required attention. And it was her fault for being as hot as she was. For him, their sexcapade was incomplete. He wanted more of her. Starting with a taste. Was her nectar sweet or just so? No, there was no, ‘Just-so’ about her. That much he could swear by. Definitely sweet. Juicy, sweet. He wanted her to cum in his mouth. Give her the full experience that was him. He wouldn’t have minded having his dick in her mouth either.
But now she was gone, having run from that room like a thief in the night. She didn’t look back once.
She came. Hard. Passionately. Then she left.
Even after she left, his hard-on stayed behind. When he realized that she hadn’t just had a momentary lapse, and that she really wasn’t coming back, Zane took matters into his own hands—literally. He had to. Unfortunately, since the blood flowing to his dick hadn’t gotten the memo that shit was done and over with, he did what he had to do, to prevent the onset of blue balls.
After relieving himself, Zane decided that he would take to the calm of the pool to think about what all had taken place before getting dressed.
A long time thereafter, he headed down to his awaiting driver.
-13-
Noon came and I was still in bed. Reflecting. Remembering. Toggling back and forth between remorseful and justified, not knowing which one to own. Owning up to being remorseful, I would have to beat myself up with guilt for an eternity. Feel ashamed for who knows how long? Yet, if I accepted that my behavior was justified, that I was just a grown-ass woman, fulfilling a need. A need that I didn’t need permission to fulfill, then I could accept peace on my heart. Ugh! I just didn’t know what was keeping me from accepting the latter. Why it was the former that I clung to like it was life itself. I shut my eyes tight thinking back . . .
It was a little after 3AM when I hopped out of the backseat of the town car that brought me home. I didn’t even wait for the driver to come around to my side to let me out. I just jetted like I was seeing the outside of a prison for the first time in years. I didn’t say, ‘Thank you’, and I didn’t look back. Neither embarrassment, nor fear of transparency, would let me.
I speed walked to my door as fast as those five inches would allow. I even did so on the tips of my feet so that nobody in my neighborhood would be tempted to look out their window to see what the clacking against the concrete was.
And as soon as I got behind the safety of my front door, I went straight for my alarm to disarm, then reactivate it, the whole while exhaling huge sighs of relief. It had taken a few minutes, but I did manage to reach a calm state of mind. After removing my shoes, I made a mad dash to my shower. And it really was a mad dash. I was on some kind of speed that had me literally sprinting until I was in the water, submerged with the pulsating roughness of my new showerhead.
I was convinced that that roo
m . . . that magical, erotic room, on the 13th floor had put some kind of spell on me. I wasn’t myself. Or was I just saying that to make excuses? Maybe that was my true self that emerged under that mist, under that man. Maybe that was my inner animal that has always been a part of me . . . finally awakened from a deep sleep. I behaved like some kind of caged animal doing all that I did with that man. That stranger! Maybe that was the allure—the fact that I didn’t know him. Made it taboo. Gave the encounter a heightened sense of pleasure.
When I got out of the shower, I didn’t even bother looking in the mirror. I couldn’t. I was afraid of what I would see. A tramp, a hoochie, a thot, as the younger kids called loose women. Once in the bed, to escape my guilt-ridden thoughts, I grabbed the remote and powered on the television. I didn’t even wait to see what was on before tossing it back onto the bed. I just needed the background noise, no matter what it was. Just anything that would shut the noise in my head, out!
With the help of the television, before I knew it, my eyelids were lowering and I was out.
And now, after a few needed hours of sleep, I was wide awake and ready to pile on some activities that would make me forget my indiscretions. I started with calling my hairstylist, Kierra, to see if I could get some time in her chair in the coming week. I didn’t have to look in anybody’s mirror to know that my hair was a hot-ass mess! The other, was to call and check on the daughter that I didn’t hear from unless I called her.
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