by Twyla Turner
I want nothing more than to see all of him stripped…
“Alright.” He cuts into my dirty fantasy. “I am finished.”
I clear my clogged throat.
“Wow! It feels like it went by so fast.”
I slowly rise from the chaise. Etienne’s eyes welcome me as I take a few steps forward.
“May I see?”
“Of course. It is the reason I painted you.”
He steps back as I come closer, giving me just enough room to walk around the easel. My bare shoulders brush against his chest. A shudder runs down my spine. It’s insane how hyperaware my body is of his. I need something to take the edge off. Though I am certain the only way to do that is to get closer and more familiar with his body.
“Go on. Take a look.”
I didn’t even realize I was standing in front of the painting and looking down, too afraid to see it. I lift my eyes to the artwork, and I draw in a sharp breath, gasping softly. It is beyond anything I could have ever imagined. It is so hard to see myself as anything other than me. What I know myself as. A mother. A woman who couldn’t make her marriage work. A woman who couldn’t attract anyone of substance in the past eight years since her marriage ended. Basically, a woman who has always felt like she was on the sidelines throughout her entire adult life. Never actively participating. Never being noticed long enough to be called off the bench.
Now, I get the chance to see a different version of myself through another person’s eyes. A version of me, I didn’t even know existed. And I’m stunned.
The colors are bold and sensual. They insinuate that I am as well. The way I am languidly stretched across the chaise, suggests that I am waiting for a lover who stands just out of view of the painting. The shadow of my areolas and nipples peek from behind the scarf. Hard nubs, standing at attention. There is a shyness about my smile, yet my eyes are direct and devour my unknown lover. I am sexy. I am powerful. I am beautiful.
And…I am about to cry.
“Th-This is what you see? Or is this who you think I could be?”
“This is who you are.” He whispers against my ear, a lot closer than I realized. “This is how you look at me when you think I do not notice. It makes me want to fuck you right there. It does not matter where we are or who is watching. I think, if I cannot have her, I will surely perish.”
If anyone else had said something like that to me, I would’ve laughed in his face. But Etienne’s passion combined with his accent, make his words sound sincere and sexy as hell.
His fingers slide up the back of my neck, and my head falls forward on its own. The scarf still draped over my neck and chest, begins a slow ascent up my breasts as he pulls it off from behind. My nipples become hard pebbles as the smooth, cool fabric glides over them. I swear the whisper of the silk against my aching breasts feels like the caress of his fingers. My chest rises and falls harshly with my pants of breath.
Etienne pulls up the bodice of my dress and holds out the openings for my arms. I slide them in as he slips the dress up my torso. As he pulls it over my breasts, the edge of the fabric catches my hardened nipples. I can’t help it. A small cry passes my lips. He squeezes my upper arms tightly, and his forehead presses against my neck as if he’s holding himself back. He places a soft, loving kiss on my bare shoulder.
“Have dinner with me?” He asks me for the fourth time, his voice hoarse with longing.
I can’t even pretend that I haven’t been waiting for him to ask me again. I no longer even care how young he is or how old I am. Absolutely nothing matters. Nothing except this man and how he makes me feel. How I am ready for him to make love to me until I don’t know which way is up.
“Yes.” The word comes out breathlessly.
Honestly, I’m ready to tell him to skip dinner and fuck me now.
“Saturday, then?”
It’s Thursday. That’s a little over forty-eight hours that I’ll have to wait. And that doesn’t include actually eating dinner and anything else he has planned before we can be alone again. I’m trying to understand how a virile young man still in his twenties can contain the patience of a saint.
“That works,” I say flippantly. Trying not to let the disappointment seep into my voice.
“Come. I should take you home now before I change my mind and fuck you on the chaise lounge.”
I feel the words against my skin as he says them, and he punctuates them with a nip of his teeth on my shoulder. His words alone make the walls of my vagina clinch. The light bite makes my knees buckle.
My response spills from my lips before I can stop it.
“Change your mind.” I don’t even recognize my voice, it’s so sultry and raspy.
He hisses through his teeth. I’m enveloped in the strong circle of his arms from behind. His heart pounds through his chest rapidly, beating against my back. The hard ridge of his erection presses into the base of my spine. Unable to stop myself, I push my ass against him. Etienne growls in my ear before the tip of his tongue caresses the shell. My hands reach back and grasp ahold of the legs of his jeans, pulling him towards me.
“Fuck!” The word rips from his lips as they press against the sensitive skin behind my ear. “You have no idea of the things I want to do to you.”
“Show me.” I almost beg.
“No. Not yet.”
I nearly sag with disappointment.
“You are not the sort of woman that is to be rushed. To be taken quickly and roughly in a moment of insanity. At least not the first time. You are a woman who should be cherished. I need to take my time and learn your body. To go slow. Meter by meter. Finding what brings you pleasure.” His fingers start at my thighs and slowly travel up my body, over the thin layers of my dress. His fingertips circle my nipples through the fabric, and I press further into him. “Making you come first. Maybe even twice before I ever do. As badly as I want you right now, I do not know if I have the control to do that. I would spill my seed before I even had the chance to make your legs tremble. That is not how I imagine our first time together.”
I turn my head to the side and look up at him. Our lips are only a whisper away. He rubs his nose against mine. I lift my face higher, and our lips graze each other. His tongue peeks out just slightly to touch my bottom lip. It is enough to make me mindless with want. But Etienne has other plans. Plans that don’t involve fucking me senseless.
He pulls back with a groan. He reaches for my hand and brings it to his lips. The same lips I want on mine, on my skin, my breasts, and between my legs. For now, though, I have to settle for a chaste kiss on the knuckles.
The look in his eyes as he kisses my hand should surely set me on fire. Never in my life has a man looked at me the way Etienne is looking at me now. It makes my heart stutter, my stomach drop, and my intimate lady parts spasm.
I have no idea how I’m going to make it until Saturday.
~~~
Etienne pulls up to my building and holds out a hand to help me off the bike. He takes off his helmet and shakes out his hair, before settling it between his legs. I can’t do anything but stare. The man oozes sex appeal. It’s really not fair. I finally remember to pull the helmet off, and then hold it out for him to take. Instead, he grasps my wrist and pulls me towards him. His fingers snake around the back of my neck, pulling me closer. Just like the evil man that he is, his lips bypass mine and moves to my ear.
“Seven o’clock, Saturday. I will be right here.” He whispers.
I can only nod my head. His other hand journeys up my waist to cup my breast. I never put my bra back on. I’d just stuffed it in my purse back at his place, and he knows it. His thumb brushes over my nipple, and it draws up tightly as a little cry passes my lips. He catches the sound with one hard kiss.
I don’t even have time to process the kiss before he releases me. He finally takes the helmet, straps it onto the bike, pulls his back on and takes off down the road.
I’m left standing there, watching his retreating back. One ha
nd presses against my lips, while the other against my heart. I have to get some relief.
I quickly make my way inside and up to my flat. My fingers tremble as I try to unlock my door. They’re just as shaky as they were when I left, but for completely different reasons.
Once inside, I throw my purse onto the couch and move to my bedroom. I don’t know why I have to go to my bedroom or why I even close the door. I live alone. But I do it anyway.
I remove my ruined panties. They’re soaked and drop heavily to the floor with the weight of my arousal. I get on the bed and slide to the middle. It’s been a while since I’ve pleasured myself. Desperate times, desperate measures, and all that. I raise my knees up, letting the skirt of my dress fall around my hips. My fingers find my labia slick and swollen. My index finger dips into my recesses, further coating it. I swirl the wet digit around my almost painfully sensitive clit.
I am so aroused that it doesn’t take long for my strokes and caresses to reach the precipice. My vagina clenches and grasps at nothing as I gasp my release. My climax is not nearly enough. It’s like a small appetizer, but I’m ready for the full meal. I want more. My body feels empty, waiting desperately to be filled.
Saturday cannot get here soon enough.
Chapter 10
I lay out a little black dress I bought forever ago in the hopes that I’d have somewhere to wear it. Today is that day. I take a soothing bath, pampering my body until my skin is nearly as soft as a baby’s. I meticulously shave under my arms, legs, and nether regions, leaving my skin smooth and a welcoming triangle between my legs. Perfume adorns my pulse points and a few other intimate places on my body. I paint my toes a deep red. A subtle, but bold statement. For some reason, I’ve always felt that painted toes are sexy. I guess because I imagine their bright color bracketing either side of a man’s head. On my fingers, I paint only a couple of clear coats to give them a high gloss shine.
I leave my hair virtually the same. Changing it up slightly with a side part and smoothing down one side, leaving a pin curl at my temple, and letting the rest of my curls spring out around my head. My makeup is simple with only a lined eye added to make them stand out and a red lip to match my toes.
As I slip on the dress over my lacy black panties and unbound breasts, my tummy flutters at the thought of Etienne removing it later. I’m unable to wear a bra due to the deep V in the front and back of the dress. It’s sleeveless with inviting ties above each shoulder and floats down to just above my knees. It’s sexy and classy, which is what I loved about it when I first saw it. Strappy black heels that lace up my calves complete my ensemble.
I feel beautiful. And more importantly…ready.
I must give it to him. That young man is slicker than snot on a doorknob. He slowly but surely knows how to get into a woman’s head. To artfully seduce. To make her feel special. Luckily, he uses his power for good. At least up until this point. If he used his power of persuasion in any malicious sort of way, he could cause some serious damage to a woman’s psyche.
At 7 o’clock exactly, a knock rattles my front door as well as my already unstable stomach. I take a deep breath in through my nose and release it harshly from my lips before walking to the door. I open it, and my stomach does a loop-de-loop as if I’m on a rollercoaster when my eyes lay on the exceptionally made man in front of me.
Etienne’s wavy and curling, wheat-colored hair is down and framing his handsome face. He wears brown boots with a nice pair of dark-washed jeans on his long, lean legs. A white, V-neck t-shirt stretches across his defined chest. A dark, navy-blue suit jacket emphasizes his broad shoulders and brings the casual, yet dressed up look together. His yummy cologne nearly makes me lean forward to breathe in deeper. It smells of sandalwood and sin.
I’ve never considered licking a man before. I do now.
His eyes caress over my body and every feature. Their heat falling over me in waves.
“Bonsoir, Taryn.” He lifts my hand to his lips and kisses it slowly and softly. “You are a vision. As refreshing as a water oasis in the middle of the desert. And I am a thirsty man.”
I swallow the girlish giggle that bubbles up in my throat. Instead, I cough and then clear my throat awkwardly.
“Bonsoir, Etienne. You look amazing. Although I don’t have the flowery words to convey it quite like you do. Do you always speak like a poet?”
“It is you, Ryn. I speak the words that come to mind whenever I am around you. It is hard to be a poet or an artist without the inspiration needed.”
Jesus! Everything that comes out of his mouth is perfect and makes me feel like a giddy schoolgirl. He makes me feel young again, but not in an immature way. It has everything to do with the feelings he evokes in me that I once had as a young girl. That excited anticipation, nervousness, and infatuation. The sensations that I felt when the most popular boy in school that I had a crush on, would smile at me while passing by in the hallway or if he actually stopped to talk to me. He’s brought all of that back to me. Emotions that I thought I’d never feel again. It’s exhilarating.
Etienne pulls his arm from behind his back and presents me with a single red rose. Its petals are a deep red and tightly closed.
“It made me think of you. Beautiful, delicate, and ready to bloom.”
“Thank you.” I flush.
I quickly walk to the kitchen and find a small porcelain vase to put it in. I fill it with water, cut the stem and place the flower inside. All the while, Etienne’s eyes follow me as I move. I can’t stop the shivers his stare induces.
I grab my clutch purse and turn to him.
“Ready?”
I expel a deep breath, “Yes.”
I’ve never been more ready. Hell, we can skip dinner as far as I’m concerned. Who needs food, anyway?
He holds out his hand, and I step forward to take it. I have no choice but to wait. I have a feeling he’s going to drag this night out, trying to heighten my anticipation until the very end.
We take the tiny elevator down to the first floor. Luckily, the ride is quick. The tension and awareness between us is palpable as it is. The tight confines of the elevator make it nearly unbearable.
Outside, a little European car is parked out front. He leads me to the passenger side and holds the door open for me as I slip inside.
“You have a car too?” I ask once he’s inside.
“No, I borrowed it from a friend. I did not want to ruin your dress or hair on the motorbike.”
I smile at his thoughtfulness.
He drives towards the water, to the main street lined with restaurants with an ocean view. There’s barely any parking close by, so he finds a spot down the road. He helps me out of the car and immediately takes my hand as we stroll down the sidewalk, back towards the lively restaurants. It’s a Saturday evening, so the area is packed with people.
Many of those we pass, smile pleasantly. No one gives us crazy looks because we are together. In all my hang-ups about our age difference, I didn’t think about the fact that to most I still look like I’m in my thirties. That realization eases my anxiety a bit. I wiggle my hand free from his to slip my fingers through his, instead. Entwining our fingers together, in a more intimate hold. Etienne looks down at me, and a smile spreads across his handsome face. He lifts our intertwined hands to his mouth and kisses mine happily.
The restaurant he chose is intimate and romantic. He’s obviously planned ahead because we have a reservation and are taken directly to a table in a quiet corner. We’re left with menus to look over.
“Choose whatever you’d like,” Etienne instructs me, letting me know he’s not worried about money.
I’m not gonna lie, I am wondering how he can afford such a nice restaurant as a starving artist. Then again, he’d sold nearly every piece at his exhibition. Lord only knows how much each piece was. And he performs at local bars and clubs, which I assume brings in money as well. Either way, I appreciate all the effort he’s put into showing me a good time.
&
nbsp; “Bonsoir,” the waiter says as he stops in front of our table. “Can I get you started with something to drink.”
He speaks in French, and I’m proud to say that I understand all of it.
“Is wine alright?” Etienne asks me.
“Oui, s’il vous plait.” Yes, please.
“Chardonnay.” He tells the waiter, remembering I like white wine.
The waiter leaves us. I look over the menu and decide on the lamb for dinner, but I linger over the menu to avoid looking up at my date. I can feel his eyes on me as usual, and for some reason, I’m feeling a little shy.
“Taryn.”
“Hmm…”
“Look at me.”
I finally meet his eye.
“You do not need to be shy or unsure of yourself.” He reaches across the table for my hand. “Maybe if I tell you how the night is going to go, it will ease your mind.”
“A-Alright.” I set aside the menu and focus on him.
“We will eat dinner over conversation. Maybe take a stroll down to the water. And then… I plan to take you back to my home where I will learn and memorize every part of you. Make love to you until the sun rises. Does that sound acceptable?”
I squeeze my legs together to try to stifle the pulsing beat of my heart between my thighs. Before I can answer the waiter comes back and pours our wine. He waits until Etienne takes a sip and approves it. Once he walks away, I have to clear my clogged throat in order to speak.
“Y-Yes.”
“Good.” He nods once. “Now that that is out of the way, we can relax.”
Relax! Is he for real? I’m damn near ready to climb across the table and straddle his lap.
“When will your first clients arrive to tour France?”
“In two weeks. I’ve partnered with the travel agency I used to work for until my name gets out there. Luckily, they’re willing to help spread the word about my business.”