by Jason Luke
“She was furious,” I said. “She hissed at me. Her voice was low. She told me to go to the front door immediately, and if I wasn’t there, she was going straight to my father. She threatened to tell him everything.”
Leticia gasped. Her hand went to her mouth, brushed against her lip. “What did you do?” She leaned a little further forward on the chair, and I caught a glimpse of pale cleavage. The upper part of her chest was dusted with a light trace of freckles, and the creamy skin above the neckline of her sweater was tightly compressed. I looked away to refill my glass, and dropped in two more cubes of ice.
“I went to the front door – in a lather of fear and panic,” I admitted. “I had never been so scared. This wasn’t like facing an opponent in a fight – this was a totally new kind of fear. It was a guilty fear.”
Leticia’s eyes clung to mine, and then she started to shake her head with slow dawning realization. “But she didn’t tell your father, did she? She didn’t say anything. She’d trapped and caught you, and I’m guessing – from what you’ve told me already – that she started to blackmail you.”
I smiled. I raised my glass in a mock salute. “Brilliant deduction,” I said. “For that is exactly what she did. Claire blackmailed me for sex. She used me. Made me her slave, I guess. Over the weeks that followed she forced me to submit to her every whim….”
Leticia shifted in her seat, like she was trying to make herself more comfortable. She chewed the end of her pen and I watched her, saying nothing, but seeing the curiosity burning in her eyes.
“What…. what happened when you went to the front door of the guesthouse?” she asked politely, her voice very timid as though she suddenly feared I might deny her the rest of the story. “What did Claire say to you?”
I set my glass down and stepped away from the bar. I crossed the room and sat next to Leticia. Our thighs brushed, and I felt the warm suppleness of her flesh through the fabric of her skirt. She turned her body to face me. Her eyes were wide and luminous, and there was a sudden unnatural blush upon her cheeks.
“Before we go any further, I must warn you that the things I am going to share with you throughout this interview are very explicit. I can either censor the descriptions, or I can tell you in detail. The choice is yours. But if you want the detailed explanation, then you must be prepared for graphic language. I’m no fan of political correctness, so you can’t expect me to keep apologizing if your delicate, sensitive ears are offended by language.”
Leticia sat up stiffly; the sudden movement pressed her breasts hard against the fabric of her sweater so their shape became more clearly outlined. She clasped her hands in her lap and looked primly officious. “Mr. Noble, I am a fully trained and experienced freelance journalist. I deal in detail. Your language will not offend me, I assure you.”
I sat back, and stared hard at her face for long seconds. She met my gaze, and her eyes were steady. “Fine,” I said. I got to my feet and went to the window. The drapes were drawn. I edged them apart an inch and stared out at the night sky. Here in the hills, miles away from the city, the air somehow seemed clearer. It was most apparent at night. Overhead the stars shone bright and vivid, a million winking lights free of the filter of hazy city smog.
“When I went to the front door of the guesthouse Claire was there, waiting for me,” I said, still looking out of the window. I dropped the curtains at last and turned back to face the room. It was gloomy. With only the glow from the fireplace, the light was soft, shadows darkening the corners and the ceiling. Leticia’s face was pale and white.
“Was she angry?”
“She pretended to be,” I said. “But when I saw her face framed in the doorway, I didn’t see outrage. There was a flash of vindictive triumph in her eyes. She looked like a predator. It was in the glimmer of her gaze, and the way she held her body. There was steel in her expression, but I had the feeling I was a fly walking into a carefully woven spider’s web. And I was.
“She accused me of spying on her. I denied it, of course. She slapped me across the face. She had pulled on a bathrobe, but the sash around her waist was tied loosely. It fell open and I stood there staring down at her breasts. She covered herself up and told me to follow her. I did. She led me into her bedroom and then she turned on me, shaking with sudden fury.
“She told me she was going straight to my father, and then to the police. That frightened the hell out of me. Maybe I could deal with my father’s outrage if the whole incident could be kept private, but the thought of a family scandal – the newspapers, the publicity – that truly terrified me.”
“She slapped you?” Leticia husked.
I nodded. “She accused me of spying again, but when I denied it this time, I tried to tell her that I had noticed water leaking into the garden from the guesthouse and I was trying to locate the problem. She laughed. ‘I know what you want!’ she said. ‘You want to look at my pussy. You’ve been crouched outside in the dirt, thinking about putting your cock inside me!’”
“What did you say?” Leticia whispered hoarsely.
I shrugged. “Nothing. I didn’t get the chance. Suddenly Claire pulled the bathrobe off her shoulders and let it fall around her ankles. She stood before me, completely nude, and she was exquisite. Her skin was the color and texture of marble, her legs perfectly sculpted. She stood there with her hands on her hips and I couldn’t help but stare at her. Then she reached up and grabbed a handful of my hair.”
“Oh, my God,” I heard Leticia whisper, but I didn’t stop talking. I was in the flow of retelling the events, and the images were clear and vivid as though they happened only yesterday.
“She dropped onto her back on the bed and her thighs fell apart. Somehow I sensed instinctively what she wanted from me. I got down to my knees and she twisted her handful of my hair, but the rage was suddenly gone. Now she was consumed by something altogether different.”
“Lust.”
I nodded again. “It was in her voice. She was suddenly breathless. She was lying back on the bed and she was panting. She wriggled closer to me, and then lifted her hips. Then she pulled my head down between her thighs and I started to lick around her pussy until I discovered her clitoris and then ran my tongue up and down the wetness that was leaking from within her.”
I heard Leticia make her own sudden breathless little noise. It sounded like a stifled gasp. I glanced at her, but her face was expressionless, though her eyes were suddenly wide and glistening.
“Claire threatened to tell my father everything if I didn’t please her. She made me swear I would do anything she wanted – and then she came. Hard,” I went on. “Her hips bucked and then she was writhing on the bed and moaning. She forced my mouth tight against her pussy. When she finally let go of my hair, I slumped back and stared up at her. She had her eyes closed and a dreamy smile on her lips. She was gently rubbing her nipples. I had the juice of her all across my chin. I went to wipe it off, but she sat up suddenly on the edge of the bed, her legs still splayed wide apart, and then she cupped my face in her hands and leaned forward. I thought she was going to kiss me,” I shrugged. “She didn’t. She licked her own juice off my chin and lips, and made satisfied little mewling sounds like a kitten.”
I saw Leticia move on the seat, shifting her weight and re-crossing her legs. Then she reached down into her handbag and retrieved a new notebook.
“Do you want a light on?” I asked.
“No,” she said quickly.
I hesitated. “Surely you can’t see what you’re writing in this gloom.”
“I’m okay,” she insisted. As she leaned forward, her hair rippled and swayed with the movement of her body. With the back of her hand she brushed it away from her eyes, then looked up at me, smiling. There was a sense of distance about her now – as if her attention was drifting, her focus wavering.
“Are you tired?” I asked. “We’ve been talking for quite a while.”
Leticia glanced down at her wristwatch suddenly, and gasped wit
h shock. “Oh, hell,” she said. “Is that really the time?”
I nodded. “Maybe we should finish for today? We can always continue another time.”
“No!” she said again, this time more urgently, and then softened her tone. “Not quite yet, please. I just need to hear the end of what happened. I… I hate having my notes and records fragmented and disorganized.”
I didn’t say anything. I shrugged. Time made no difference to me. I had no meetings for the next week.
I sighed. “Where were we?”
“Claire’s bedroom,” Leticia reminded me. “She had just orgasmed.”
I nodded. “Yeah, and then she was licking my face. I didn’t know what to do. I just let her. I thought that would be the end of it, but she made me stand up. ‘Show me your cock,’ she said. I got to my feet. I was hard. She stood by my side and kissed me.”
I paused, remembering that moment. It was the first time I had kissed a real woman. I had kissed girls my own age before, but not a woman like Claire.
“Her tongue slid inside my mouth,” I said. “And it was the most excruciatingly erotic fantasy I could have imagined. It shocked me. I felt it twisting and sliding. She sucked at my lips, teasing me and goading me so that when I felt her hand reach down and rub my cock through my jeans, I was close to erupting.”
“And that surprised you?” Leticia mused softly.
I didn’t look at her, I was lost in the past, reliving a watershed moment from my younger life. Finally I roused myself.
“It embarrassed me, actually,” I admitted. “She slid one hand up beneath my t-shirt and raked her nails down my chest. It was like being clawed by a wild cat. I tried to flinch away, but she had unfastened my jeans and held my hardness in her other hand. Everything was happening at once. I had her tongue, sliding inside my mouth, and her fingers cutting into my chest. And then I had her hand wrapped around my cock, stroking me. My senses were reeling.”
Leticia moved, stretched her back, then uncrossed and re-crossed her legs again. She leaned forward, staring at me intently, seeming to hang on every word, the notebook on her lap and the pen in her hand forgotten.
“She peeled my t-shirt off and licked the blood from the scratches,” I explained. “Then she took me in her hands and stroked me. God, I was so hard. I was trembling. I felt my legs shaking, and all the while she was standing next to me, snarling at me and telling me how evil I was to spy on her and how I should be punished. She kept telling me she would tell my father everything if I didn’t obey her. Then she told me to come. And I did. Everywhere. It splashed over the bed and then my knees turned to jelly and everything in the room started spinning.”
I felt suddenly drained. The re-telling of that first time with Claire so long ago had left me weary. My throat was scratchy. I turned to the empty chair closest to the fireplace, sank down into it, and stared into the flames.
“It’s late,” I sighed. “That will do for tonight. I’ve told you everything about that first encounter, and I’ve been honest. We’ll continue another night if you would like to hear more.”
There was a long silence. When I turned around, Leticia was standing by the sofa with her handbag slung over her shoulder. “Tomorrow night? Are you free?”
I nodded. “Tomorrow night. At your place.”
She hesitated and I saw the conflict play across her face and in her eyes.
“All right…” she said with slow caution, perhaps sensing that I was testing her. “I’ll give you the address.” She dug into her handbag again. I reached for her wrist to stop her. Her skin was warm and soft, her fingers long and delicate; the fingers of a piano player or an artist.
“I know where you live, Leticia. I’ve had one of my people find that information out long before you came here today.”
Leticia froze, like maybe she couldn’t make up her mind whether to be outraged or impressed with my attention to such detail. She looked up into my face with a silent speculation in her eyes. In the end, she merely nodded.
“Seven o’clock?”
She thought for just a second. “I have an interview with a tugboat skipper tomorrow. I won’t be home until six at least. If you are expecting to be fed for your story, we will have to make it eight. I’m a slow cooker, and not a very good one.”
“Let’s make it seven,” I said. “I’ll take care of the catering arrangements.”
She raised an eyebrow, and then smiled. “Seven it is.” When she smiled, her whole face lit up. Her features smoothed out and she seemed to glow with health and vital energy. I liked her smile a lot.
I led her to the front door and in the foyer she turned quickly back to face me. She was blushing and she lowered her eyes and then lifted her face to mine.
“You were wondering about something earlier tonight, Mr. Noble. The answer is, ‘Yes. Every day’.”
She spun away, danced lightly down the steps, her handbag bobbing against her side. I watched her all the way to her car and then closed the front door quietly.
‘Yes’ and ‘Every day’?
I frowned, stared off into space for a moment, and then suddenly smiled.
Lingerie!
* * *
“Will you be back late?” Trigg asked me.
“I don’t know,” I said. I lathered my jaw and glanced at myself in the bathroom mirror. The face reflected back at me was tanned, with dark hair that curled at the collar of my shirt. Hazel eyes and a mouth that was unaccustomed to smiling.
“Will you be contactable?”
I shook my head, tilted my face to one side and drew the razor down my cheek, leaving the skin smooth and brown. For a long moment the only sound in the room was the scrape of razor against stubble. Trigg glanced at me in the mirror and I caught her sulking expression in the reflection.
I said nothing more. Finally she left the room, taking crisp business-like steps, seeming to bristle with silent tension.
I smiled.
* * *
I turned my wrist to catch the light and checked my watch. It was 5:30 pm. The car was just pulling into the curb in front of the apartment complex. I leaned forward and gave my driver a tap on the shoulder.
“Good timing, Tiny,” I said. He flashed a huge white smile at me in the rear-vision mirror. He was a big man with massively muscled arms. “Finalize the dinner arrangements for seven – exactly as I planned, okay?”
He nodded. “You got it, Mr. Noble.”
The doorman outside the apartment building crossed the pavement to open my door.
“Good evening, Mr. Noble,” the elderly man bobbed his head, his tone polite and respectful. “It’s good to see you again.”
“Hello, Hector. How have things been?”
“Quiet, sir,” he smiled. “Just the way I like them.”
Hector led the way into the lobby at a dignified pace, and a security guard was there to meet me. He was wearing a tan uniform shirt and black pants. He waited for me with legs braced, thumbs tucked in behind the thick leather band of his belt.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Noble.”
I nodded. “Has she arrived home yet?”
“No sir.”
“Very good.”
We rode up in the elevator to the third floor and I followed the guard along a tastefully decorated passageway. There were framed prints on the walls, and discreet lighting built into the ceiling. The carpeting was thick: not luxurious, but not cheap either. The guard stopped outside apartment number 312 and unhooked a large brass ring from his belt, thick with clusters of jangling keys in every size and shape. He thumbed through the keys until he had the right one, opened the door for me, and then stepped aside.
I paused in the darkened apartment doorway for a moment, and then turned back to him. “You have my cell number?”
“Yes sir.”
“Call me when she arrives downstairs.”
“Yes sir.”
* * *
Leticia Fall’s apartment was gloomy. The last of the sun’s rays had disappe
ared behind the distant hills, leaving the world in twilight.
I went into her living room and saw two straight-backed chairs nested around a small table. I carried one of the chairs through to the bedroom.
The drapes were open, the room filled with eerie half-light. Her bedroom smelled of incense and lavender. Just inside the door was a wide built-in closet, and across the room was a double bed with a small chest of drawers beside the headboard. I set the chair in front of the chest of drawers, facing the open bedroom door, and sat down.
I didn’t think I would have long to wait.
My cell phone rang a few minutes later. It was the security guard’s voice. He was whispering, as though he was part of some covert secret mission. I smiled. I should have given him a code name like Red Fox or White Eagle. I thanked him and hung up. Moments later I heard the front door of the apartment open, and then slam closed.
I heard Leticia come down the hallway in a flurry of muttered oaths and muffled sounds like a mini whirlwind. Something bumped against a wall – I think she was kicking off her shoes – and then she gasped. “Damn it!”
She burst into the bedroom and flung the sliding door of the closet wide open.
I sat silently.
Leticia hunted through the long rack of clothes. She swung her head from side to side, setting the blonde cascade of her hair swaying, and then tugged at the buttons of her blouse. She had her back to me. The soft silk slid down over her shoulders and I could see the lustrous skin of her back and the stark white straps of her bra.
She reached behind her and the sound of a zipper being drawn down was surprising loud in the silence. She squirmed and wiggled her hips like a dancer, and the skirt she had been wearing slid down around her ankles.
She stood on her tiptoes, staring into the dark recesses of her closet. I could see the firm toned planes of her narrow waist, the womanly swell of her hips, and the clench of her bottom. I could see the outline of her long sculpted legs and the tantalizing lace pattern of sheer white panties.