‘Are you enjoying it?’ he whispers.
Eve nods and fights a gasp of surprised pleasure as Richard manages to slip his hand directly between her legs. Yes: she is enjoying the film and these illicit, ultra-erotic caresses, and she responds by nervously placing her own hand over Richard’s crotch. The denim-covered hardness she discovers sends a shock of pleasure and fear through her body. In the darkness, it is perhaps too easy to make this bold and – in terms of wherever today is going – potentially profound move. Richard turns towards her and moans. She then feels his lips brush against her neck.
In the film, a dead composer’s wife is – perhaps – gradually revealed as the true creator of many of the works that have been presented under his name. Behind the façade of the male, the truth of the female. Eve is amused and disturbed by this, aware that Eve is the truth behind Adam. Yet a fractured truth, or rather a form of refraction. For today she has learnt, in the pure moment of her most daring exposure, that the deeper physiological truth of her maleness is inescapable. And this inescapability has widened Eve’s understanding of her being: neither male nor female, but she-male.
After the film, they walk to the multi-storey car park. It is after five p.m., and the winter darkness has already set in. As they walk up the dank stairwell of the car park, Richard asks, ‘Would you like to be with a man? Sexually?’
It is a frank and shocking question that takes Eve completely off guard. Yet her answer surprises even Eve.
‘Maybe.’
Richard laughs and then suddenly and violently grabs her. Eve’s first response is to resist, but this fades as he presses himself tightly against her body, as his hands fall upon her backside, as he nearly pulls her up off the ground. His hard cock presses against the front of her skirt. She cries out with a terrible, confused pleasure.
‘Please,’ she whispers, her voice so weak, so exactly feminine. ‘Not here.’
The dark, animal light fades. A look of horror washes over his handsome face.
‘God,’ he mumbles, releasing her as suddenly as he had grabbed her. ‘I’m so sorry.’
She straightens her skirt and smiles shyly. ‘You’re very . . . strong.’
‘I really am . . .’
‘Don’t apologise,’ she says, her smile deepening, her eyes filling with a slightly teasing irony. ‘I don’t mind. I . . .’
Then she has to face the simple truth: as he had held her so very tightly, as he had attempted to ravish her, she had felt a huge charge of masochistic sexual pleasure.
‘I liked it.’
His look of self-loathing fades. ‘Really?’
‘Yes. Really. And if you want me to play with you, then I will. But not here.’
He nods then, eager, understanding, his hot breath forming clouds of hungry need – a sex mist.
She leads him to her car. She unlocks the doors. Then they are inside. And as she slams her door shut, they are trapped – momentarily – in a strange, unnerving, erotic silence.
She starts the car. Then she turns to him, suddenly so much more confident and ready to face the truth of that violent embrace.
‘We can go back to my house and you can do what you like. But not here.’
Her words are precise: she is giving the orders. Yet she knows this is not what she wants. She wants him to give the orders. Him to control her. But only on her terms.
Evening traffic makes the journey back to Eve’s house frustrating. Richard tries his hardest to talk through the silence of intense sexual anticipation.
‘Did you enjoy the film?’ he asks, his voice broken by nervous need.
‘Yes. Very much.’
‘We should see the other two. You’d like them.’
Eve nods, fighting to maintain her concentration.
‘We should dress you up like Juliette Binoche,’ he continues, recovering his teasing humour. ‘She had some really great outfits. Short, dark dresses, black tights, heels. Get a black wig. You’d look great.’
There is an element of instruction in Richard’s voice now, a forceful tone. Eve nods and smiles. She likes the way he is talking to her. She wants more of it.
Eve looks at Richard then, for a brief moment, at his newly confident, commanding stare, and nods again. ‘Yes, I’d like that.’
Eve returns her pretty, girlish eyes to the road and ponders the rapidity of things. She is elated, yet also disturbed. She has allowed herself to fall head-first into it without hardly a moment’s hesitation. Yet now, alone with Richard, she finds herself reflecting on the coincidence of their meeting. Suddenly, Eve wants to ask him if his arrival in the shop was just a coincidence; if, in fact, there was some connection in between her arrival and the events of the night before. This now seems the only logical explanation. Yet it is an explanation Eve chooses not to pursue. Because Richard is opening up a whole new possibility of Eve, a possibility both deeply disturbing and tremendously exciting, a possibility she is choosing to pursue with an almost reckless abandon.
It is nearly six p.m. by the time they arrive at Eve’s house. They carry the many bags from the car, surrounded by a thick air of expectation. In the darkness of the teatime streets, there is little possibility that anyone will see them and, if they did, they wouldn’t see anything other than a man and a woman heavily laden with the booty of an extravagant shopping trip.
Richard is obviously surprised by the house and its quiet, middle-class location.
‘I didn’t think you’d be the sort for suburbia,’ he teases, as Eve flicks on a hallway light and lets her new friend into the house.
They enter the living room and dump the bags on the floor. Richard looks around him, examining everything with a surprisingly cool eye, seemingly seeking out some indication of Eve’s true character and motives. And while he does this, Eve finds herself examining with an equally careful eye this attractive, mysterious man who has exploded into her life.
‘Show me around,’ Richard says, turning to her, his gaze stricken by desire, his voice filled with demand. ‘Show me all your secrets.’
And so Eve shows him the house, the neat, carefully decorated house. Overall, she knows the tone is minimalist, even Spartan. Except for the bedroom, the elegant lady’s room that, while not exactly overwhelming in terms of design or decoration, possesses a certain identity lacking in the rest of the house: the identity of Eve.
They place the large pile of bags by the bed and Eve shows him her most intimate abode. Richard is particularly interested in the bedroom and insists on being shown every detail, of seeing inside the elaborate multi-layered closet, inspecting the drawers, the dressing table. He ponders the books on the bookshelf and the pictures of Eve’s icons. His tone and manner are increasingly authoritative, his shimmering eyes filled with a powerful sexual light that will stand no resistance.
‘You’ve got a lovely house, Eve. Particularly this room. I bet you spend a lot of time up here.’
She smiles weakly and nods, the sound in her head of her heart beating a terrible indication of her almost uncontrollable sexual excitement.
Then Richard sits down on the bed.
‘Now you can strip.’
Eve feels her knees weaken and her heart skip a beat. This is the point at which trust and paranoia collide with the most powerful and brutal of sexual desires.
‘Put some jazz on and entertain me.’
Dizzy with need and a dark apprehension, Eve totters over to the portable stereo and, her hands shaking, inserts a Miles Davis CD into the machine. The slow, bluesy jazz that fills the room is soaked in a thick eroticism – a perfect ambience for the striptease that Eve is now to perform.
The gorgeous she-male turns to face Richard. She feels her granite sex and her beating heart, and then the wall of fear and nerves begin to fade, just as they had faded as she climbed from her car the night before. At the same time she begins, instinctively, to move her hips to the lazy, elegant, very beautiful music. A Kind of Blue. The most famous and popular of Davis’s albums, with
its carefully placed and utterly unique trumpet phrases and the sensual, effortless piano playing of Bill Evans. Yes, it is the piano more than anything, the piano and the subtle elegance of the overall tonality that Eve finds so attractive, so stimulating. And as she lets the music wash over her, she feels inhibition and suspicion subside. She feels her body begin to move with a deliberately erotic provocation. She meets Richard’s hungry gaze and runs a dark, wet tongue slowly over her moist lips. Then she begins to unbutton the grey jacket, each button released with erotic intent, her eyes never leaving Richard’s. She edges the expensive silk jacket off her shoulders and lets it fall to the floor. She considers kicking off her shoes, but then realises the importance of the sexy high heels and how they must remain to accentuate her long, almost perfectly feminine legs for as long as possible. So next she wriggles languidly out of the pearl-grey mini-skirt, turning as she does so to expose Richard’s increasingly aroused gaze to her tight, petite bottom. She wiggles the skirt down to her thighs and then lets it join the jacket on the floor. Stepping away from the skirt, she turns back to face Richard, who is now smiling weakly, a look of intense pleasure lighting up his face.
She then begins very slowly to release the buttons on the blouse and edge it over her shoulders. She lets it roll like a silver-grey cloud down her tanned, muscular yet still slender and feminine arms to reveal the top half of the body-shaper. Richard’s eyes widen, more with an instrumental curiosity than arousal: briefly he seems to be studying the body-shaper with an almost technical interest.
Eve slowly and very sexily wiggles out of the pretty frilled panties, leaving only the sheer grey tights, the fine nylon fabric, shimmering in the soft electric light of the room, covering the lower half of the elegant, intricate body-shaper. It is then that Richard stands up and walks over to her. Never taking his eyes away from Eve’s, he slips his hands over the slightly thick waistband of the tights and begins to ease them down over the body-shaper towards the gorgeous she-male’s thighs. Eve gasps with pleasure as Richard presses closer to her tightly restrained stomach. He pulls the tights down to Eve’s lower thighs and then slips his hands between her legs, directly beneath the body-shaper. Thanks to the way Richard has left the tights, Eve finds herself immobilised and unable to resist Richard’s exploratory ministrations.
‘Where’s the catch? How do I open this fucking thing?’
Richard’s voice is rough with sex now, riddled with the animal urgency of desire.
‘It’s at the front, not underneath,’ Eve whispers, overcome, charged with sex electricity.
Richard’s hands slip from between Eve’s hot thighs and quickly find the Velcro fastener that allows the front flap to be opened. He rips it back and allows Eve’s rock-hard sex to pop up almost immediately, finally free and gasping for sexual satisfaction.
‘Jackpot!’ Richard laughs, taking the red, painfully hard cock in his hands.
Eve releases a squeal of intense pleasure. This is the first time anyone – man or woman (other than Aunt Debra) – has touched her sex. This is the first moment of true sexual intimacy. Richard, with an expertise that betrays significant previous experience, runs his nails over its hard, still vaguely rubbery surface, pressing just a little too hard and adding a sado-erotic pain to Eve’s all too apparent pleasure.
‘Time to get this kinky little device off, I think,’ Richard gasps, suddenly releasing Eve’s hard, boiling cock and gripping the slender silken shoulder straps.
Eve smiles nervously, momentarily fearful that Richard’s enthusiasm will lead to a broken body-shaper. She gently pulls Richard’s hands away from the straps and slips them over her shoulders. She then carefully stretches her hands behind the body-shaper and unclips the three top hooks that secure it tightly in place. This allows her to inch it free of her chest. Then, after a few more erotic wiggles it falls down to her thighs, where it is held fast by the tangled tights. Richard helps Eve remove the tights and step out of the body-shaper. Then he faces perhaps the true Eve: the silken-skinned, helplessly feminine visage of a beautiful young man, with a large and angrily erect cock.
‘You’re beautiful,’ Richard whispers. ‘So beautiful.’
Eve smiles and allows the gorgeous, strange man to return to caressing her sex.
‘Put the tights back on. Just the tights and the shoes,’ he says, his tone hard, firm – another order.
Eve’s hands are shaking with a fear-edged desire as she picks the slightly damp tights from the floor and then slips back into them with a series of elegant, teasingly feminine movements. She pulls them tightly up over her sex, which remains hard and exposed, leaning forward and pressing angrily against the sheer, teasing fabric of the nylon hose.
A thick sweat of arousal now covers Eve’s face and her heart pounds against her own perfectly flat chest.
‘Put the shoes on and stand with your hands behind your back.’
Eve obeys and stands before Richard, her breathing rapid with confused but very powerful desire.
‘Good girl,’ Richard whispers. ‘Now come here. And keep your hands behind your back.’
Eve complies without a moment’s hesitation, tottering forward carefully, hands clasped tightly behind her back. Then she is standing just a few inches from his handsome form.
‘You’re very beautiful Eve, but also very, very naughty. I think you most definitely need taking in hand. Am I right?’
Eve looks down at him and nods weakly. ‘Yes,’ she whispers. ‘Yes – I’m very naughty.’
Richard smiles darkly and places his hands on her nylon-wrapped hips.
‘And naughty girls get spanked . . . don’t they?’
She nods again, lost in his cruel, amused, deeply aroused gaze.
Very quickly he turns her around and pulls her down on to his lap. Almost immediately, she feels his hard, long sex press into her backside. Then she is being pulled over his knees, positioned for an apparently much-deserved spanking.
The first slap is somewhat casual, even tentative. She squeaks with surprise rather than pain. The second slap, however, is much firmer and, as his hand vibrates off her helplessly wobbling buttocks, a streak of genuine pain shoots across her delicately feminine body.
He then proceeds to administer ten sharp, committed blows that leave her sobbing for mercy. She stares down at the carpet through heavily tear-stained eyes and feels his cock press angrily against her own. After completing his kinky task, he pulls her up on to his knees and looks down at her straining, desperate sex. She wipes thick, hot tears from her eyes and beholds his desiring and deeply masculine gaze.
‘Thank you, master,’ she whispers through quivering, cherry-painted lips.
His smile widens, his eyes fill with a very obvious elation. He leans forward and kisses her gently on the lips. She feels her heart skip an aroused beat and falls inside this soft but passionate kiss. He takes her head in his hands and she is totally overwhelmed. She is being taken by a man, ravished, possessed in the most potent manner imaginable.
He releases her and holds her terribly excited gaze, his eyes streaked with desire.
‘Now you can suck me off.’
She looks at him with dazed eyes. Her shock at these words is immediate and terrible, yet she is also helplessly turned on. She knows this is a test, a simple, brutal test designed to demonstrate her absolute acceptance of what is happening between them. She also knows that she will pass the test with flying colours.
She is gripped again by the confidence that seems to emerge with each new challenge presented by the development of Eve. She smiles at him with a calm passion, and he is clearly impressed when she nods and slips off his lap. Her feminine grace is apparent in every gesture and movement. His arousal is total.
She kneels before him.
‘Open your legs,’ she orders – now she is in control.
He does so without a second’s hesitation. She then shuffles between his legs on nylon-sheathed knees and begins, with careful, gentle moves, to unzip the fly
of his jeans, the zipper tracing the significant length of his rock-hard cock as it is lowered.
There is a moment of hesitation. Eve is unsure whether she is nervous or just teasing him. He is wearing white underpants and he gasps with a furious pleasure as she rather tentatively inserts her right hand to pull down the pants and carefully extract the dark pink, hard rubber meat of his highly agitated sex.
‘Jesus,’ he mumbles, as she takes the boiling tool in a firm grasp and then eases it out past the zipper. ‘Oh fuck!’
She has felt her own sex many times and his is, in a way, little different (although rather bigger). Yet, within this very basic familiarity, there is also a terrible and highly arousing strangeness. As she runs her hand along its considerable, heated length, she is surprised at how aroused she is by the thought of putting it into her mouth. There is little thought of homosexuality now: her powerful attraction to Richard seems linked fundamentally to the development of Eve, to the mental context of Eve. She remains locked tightly into a somewhat confused but nevertheless real heterosexuality, but is – at the same time – highly aroused by the act of feminine surrender at the heart of her new relationship with Richard. By doing this, she is affirming Eve in the most extreme and transparent way, and it is this as much (if not more) than her attraction to Richard which is so exciting her.
It is then that she leans forward and runs her long, pink tongue along the length of the hard, tormented shaft. He cries out again and begs for mercy and release. She feels the hot, hard vein traversing the length of his cock throb against her tongue and again experiences a fierce sense of power. This strange, shifting dialectic of she-male desire, she thinks, holding the cock in heir hands and staring at its cold single eye with a sense of grim amusement. She then slips it into her mouth, a free and relaxed gesture free of question and guilt.
He shouts out his pleasure and she gasps as the full extent of his masculinity fills her mouth. There is a taste of salty rubber and metal. A strange, unexpected taste; not pleasant, yet not disgusting. A taste of the most intimate human flesh.
The Secret Self Page 9