The Trouble With Eden

by Leslie Pike

  She lifts her shirt off, all the while not breaking eye contact. Never have I see more perfect breasts. Full, but not too big, not too small and wonderfully real. The nipples are pink and at attention, and so right for sucking.

  She comes to me, and puts her two index fingers in either side of my shorts. She smiles, then pulls them down releasing my enraged cock. I like the effect it has on her.

  “Sit down.”

  I do as she says.

  She stands before me, unselfconscious of her vulnerability. She unzips her shorts, and slowly reveals her sexy white thong. She tosses the shorts away. I can see the outline of her lips against the delicate fabric. I feel like I could come right now.

  The wind has picked up, and it mimics the wildness of our desire. It whips her hair into tendrils away and up from her face.

  She comes closer, so she stands directly in front of me.

  “Take it off,” I command.

  She obliges, and steps out of the thong. I look at her completely waxed pussy. There are no words. I get on my knees, grab the backs of her thighs, and press her to my mouth. As I taste the honeyed source of her heat, my hands find her ass. It’s round and firm, and fits beautiful in my opened palms. I squeeze it, and bring her even closer. My tongue finds her clit.

  She stands firm against my mouth, and I can hear her soft moans.

  Delicious, the woman’s just delicious.

  BLISS

  Oh God … ohhhhhh God. His tongue. Let me come. Oh please, LET ME COME. But he doesn’t. Timing. The man has timing. Not too slow, not too fast. He knows how to bear down and then how to retreat. He knows how to apply the velvet pressure.

  I’m on the boundary of reason and consciousness. Here I come …

  And after I do, he looks up at my face. His lips are wet with me. It’s an incredible turn on, and completely impossible to resist. I fall to my knees and kiss him. I taste my own juices.

  He draws my body against his, and when his cock presses against my pussy, I nearly orgasm again. It’s that erotic.

  He untangles from our embrace, and sits down on the t shirt, legs slightly spread and arms lifted to me.

  “Come here, sit on me.”

  I’m more than happy to oblige. I straddle his lap, and he braces himself, fists in the sand.

  I ease myself down, going very slowly. It’s so big, but I’m so wet. The tip slips in and I know I want it all. It’s a tight fit, but I take every inch.

  As I descend he leans his head back and I can see his jaw clench in passion. Then he looks at me.

  In this moment I feel some undefinable emotion, something I’ve never felt before. It’s raw. It’s rare and rarefied. I can hear the song of the wind, but everything else fades from my awareness. Everything but him. I want more.

  He begins to move in a measured wave. He’s in such command of his abs that he can roll them and his stomach against me.

  I’ve never felt this before. He undulates his body into mine, and I meet every wave with a corresponding motion.

  The sexual pressure builds. It’s nearly impossible to hold back. I’m moaning now. My nipples are rock hard, as he licks them and feeds on them, all the while not using his hands. We’re almost there.

  Here it comes. I feel it start. He clenches his jaw, then lets out a sound that tells me he’s there too.

  “Look at me,” he says.

  I do, and in that moment we come together, and ascend Earth.

  As we gradually float down to reality, we are both quiet as we catch our breaths. The cool air feels good on my skin. He takes his hands out of the sand, and grabs mine. I remain on his lap, joined in the most intimate way.

  “Don’t move,” he says.

  And I don’t.

  I hear the breaking of the waves behind me, and feel the gusts of stiff wind against my naked body. The whistling current inside the cove creates a magical sound effect. They are background music to the greatest sex of my life.

  I don’t change my position, but I slowly and steadily squeeze him inside of me. He has the wave, and I have the squeeze.

  He looks at me, and cocks his head in an expression of surprise and delight. Praise kegels.

  I continue until I feel his hardness return. The heat is back.

  In one smooth move, and without pulling out, he flips me over and

  rests me against the sand. Forget laying on the shirt. That’s long gone, and I couldn’t care less. I wrap my legs around him, and I wish they could imprison him forever.

  And now, with him on top of me, he moves. That undulation flows from more than the core of his body.

  Now he has his entire torso and his complete strength to back it up. To say it’s effective is a laughably inadequate description.

  He pins my arms above my head, and I submit to him completely. He bites at my nipples, and it sends me soaring. My response builds quickly, quicker than ever before. I want this to last, but I can’t control it.

  He’s so fucking strong and hard, the very image of man. It’s as if he was the prototype.

  I watch his face, and he mine. He’s the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen. Intoxicating. There’s just no other word. I know I have a newborn need now. I need this, whatever it is.

  I can’t help but groan. And when he comes, I soon follow. We grab every last moment of the passion.

  When it’s all over our reaction is the same. We start laughing at the absurdity of it all.

  “What was that?” I ask.

  “Are we really completely naked on a public beach?” he answers. “And did we just meet four hours ago?” I say with absolutely no regrets.

  He rolls off me, and we lie spent of all energy. I rise up on one elbow, and look at his body. A god. That’s it. That’s what he reminds me of. I trace the written tattoo high on his left thigh. It reads “Let Your Fears Go” in Italic script.

  He looks to me, and his hand reaches to touch my face. He moves my hair away from my eyes.

  “You were aptly named, Bliss.”

  I smile, and for once don’t mind the comment.

  The sun is low now, and it creates a brilliant backdrop. The sky is rouged with pinks and scarlet shades. It’s as if this moment in time was staged for maximum effect. As if we’re in a painting, the nude subjects of a masterpiece.

  We dress, and start back to the car and reality. We aren’t talking, but our thoughts are having a lively conversation.

  I know I have bed-head hair, and my skin is wind burned, but I feel more beautiful than I ever have.

  I see the same smile on his face as I have on mine. It’s as if we discovered the Fountain of Youth, the buried treasure of Sierra Madre and the location of Shangri La.

  “Come back to my place. We’ll get your car, and then you can follow me. The production company has us housed in a great spot. I’m actually leasing it for three months after the film ends.”

  I love that he offered, but that’s not going to happen. Not tonight. I need to regroup and put a little thought into what I’m feeling. I need to see when we actually discover who the other is, that this feeling can be backed up with substance. But I know this, I want more of him in every way.

  “As much as I’d love to, I can’t tonight. I have an appointment in the morning, and I don’t have my things with me.”

  He doesn’t press the matter, and takes no for an answer.

  “Then let’s get together tomorrow night for dinner.”

  “I’d love to do that,” I say.

  We reach the car. He turns to face me.

  “I want to know you, Bliss.”

  “I want the same thing. We’ll start tomorrow night.”

  “I think we’ve already had a pretty good start.”

  He laughs, and I do too.

  He grabs a jacket from the trunk, and I reach for my bag. We take out our cells, and exchange phones to enter our numbers.

  All the way back, I’m reliving the day. I’m thinking about what’s to come. Why do I care so much? I just met
him, and I’m not a woman who is defined by the man she’s with. I usually stand alone, and it works beautifully for me.

  I love men, and I love sex. Ever since my marriage ended though, my relationships have existed at an arm’s distance. Disappointment and the wounds of infidelity can do that. I’m too smart now. If there is such a thing.

  I know of too many signs that are impossible to ignore when you see them. Sometimes that awareness makes it harder to believe in the good guys.

  I’ve certainly had my share of romances in the last nine years, but I never found a man who I wanted closer than the distance of that outstretched arm.

  For one thing, I need exclusivity. If a man is in my bed, I don’t want him to be in another. Not many men keep that promise. Some pretend to, some want to but don’t. Some have told me right off the bat, that’s a vow they’re not willing to make.

  But I can’t help think, please let this man be one of the good guys. Or more to the point, a good guy, with a little edge, and a big heart, who has no interest in controlling or being controlled, who’s loyal, intelligent and sexy. That’s all.

  Well, I know he’s at least one of those things.

  We drive into the gym parking lot, and he takes me to my car. As I move to get out of the Cobra, he stops me.

  “You know, you completely erased everything that was on my mind today. Everything just disappeared. Except you.”

  I know exactly what he means. I take him by the collar of his jacket and bring him to me. We kiss, our tongues touching and exploring. I think back at that tongue’s last appearance, and my pussy responds.

  Then he catches my bottom lip in his, and lightly nibbles. He slowly pulls back.

  He pauses for a moment then places his hands on either side of my face. He sweeps his thumbs over my cheekbones, and looks into my eyes.

  Leaning in, he whispers, “Your eyes drive me crazy.”

  And although it’s a good-bye, it certainly doesn’t feel like one.

  “I’ll call you tomorrow,” he says.

  “Perfect.”

  As I get out, and turn toward my car, I call back.

  “By the way, what’s your last name?”

  “It’s French.”

  My eyebrow raises, and I smile to myself.

  “Of course it is.”

  I settle into my Mercedes coupe and start the car. Steven seems to be waiting, to make sure I’m safely in and away. Pulling out of the parking lot I stay on Lighthouse, headed for home.

  I can see in the rear-view mirror that he is going the same way. I wonder where he’s staying. I guess they put the crew up in a hotel.

  There’s some good ones off of Forest.

  Well now we’ve passed the street I thought he’d use. Still he keeps coming.

  I reach Asilomar Boulevard and turn right. He follows.

  I drive to Oceanview Boulevard and turn left. He follows.

  I go another half mile till I see the familiar gates and small sign announcing Grove Cottages.

  I pull into the driveway, and expect him to pass.

  He must have wanted to see where I live.

  It’s always been such an advantage that these historical beach cottages are set back and so private. Up to now.

  But he doesn’t pass. He just stays parked behind me in his car, waiting.

  What the hell? This is starting to feel a little creepy. Does he expect me to change my mind, invite him into my home? After I said no, not tonight? It’s beginning to piss me off.

  Before I put in my gate code I decide to just stay in my car and wait. I’m not going to go through those gates and have him follow me. I’m not sure how many of the cottages are occupied. I haven’t seen anybody all week.

  I check the door locks and rummage through my purse for my pepper spray. I make sure it’s ready to engage.

  Sigh. It was going so well. Too well I guess.

  He’s just sitting there. I hear his engine turn silent. He’s getting out. Ok I have my cell and I can quickly dial 911 if I have to. I bet the movie story was a complete lie. Yeah, you’re a stuntman. Fucker.

  I see him approach. He’s smiling. I feel like the naive girl on the lonely road in a horror movie. I’ll wipe that smile right off your face asshole, when I run over you with my car. My pep talk to myself isn’t really working. I’m a little afraid.

  He knocks on the window.

  “Put your window down.”

  “No. What do you think you’re doing?”

  “I’m trying to go home,” he says calmly, and with a straight face.

  “What do you mean? This is my home.”

  “Bliss, this is where I’m staying. This is where five of us are staying.

  Look.”

  He pulls out his code written on the Cottages business card. Then he pulls out the key to his cottage. It clearly is genuine.

  I feel like a fool. But it’s funny.

  I’ve been on an emotional roller coaster today.

  We both find the humor in the situation.

  I bring my window down.

  “I’m sorry. I thought you were a stalker for a minute.”

  “Well you are pretty irresistible but that’s not the case.”

  “This is really unbelievable, out of all the places in Pacific Grove that you should be here.”

  “Does that bother you?” he asks.

  “No, of course not.”

  A limousine pulls up behind us. Now we’re blocking the gate.

  “I’ve got to go in.” I say.

  “Oh yeah, of course. I’ll call you tomorrow.”

  He walks away, gets back into his Cobra, and fires it up.

  I look in the rear- view mirror at his face before I drive to the gate and punch in my code.

  As I pass through I somehow feel like I’m entering an uncharted new world.

  STEVEN

  I follow Bliss onto Cottage Road.

  It runs in front of the seven bungalows, which stand within thirty feet of each other. They’re positioned in a straight line, set back fifty feet from the sloping edge of the sea cliff.

  At the first cottage, lighted stairs lead down to the private beach below. Each house has a front yard patio with a fire-pit, surrounded by comfortable chairs and a lounger.

  Flower pots and window boxes frame the properties, and they’re overflowing in colors of purple and yellow. Those plants are everywhere in this town. I think it has something to do with the butterfly’s that migrate here every fall. The lighting on the road is restrained, to showcase the floodlit waves crashing fifty feet below. The sound of the ocean is almost earthshaking.

  But I’m not dwelling on the sights. And the sounds don’t drown out my thoughts.

  This is either the greatest coincidence of my life, or the worst. I like the idea of having Bliss close, but what if this spark has a quick burn? We don’t know each other. That’s just fact. I know I like to fuck her. That’s understatement.

  I’m definitely attracted, stronger than I’ve ever been. But I have little else to base anything on. What if I’ve misread her?

  Now she’s going to know when I’m here, and when I’m not. It’s too close, too soon.

  If it works out then none of these things are an issue. But if it doesn’t then I’m fucked.

  Bliss pulls her Mercedes into the second driveway. I continue on.

  And then there’s Caprice. She’s going to be around Caprice and her idiotic behavior. She’s learned to play the sexy movie star card expertly, and always to her advantage. Men, and occasionally women, are completely stupid around her Italian swagger. But what seems quirky and playful, soon turns to annoying. I’m not the only guy who fucked her once, and didn’t come back for seconds.

  How’s Bliss going to deal with her? And how is Caprice going to deal with Bliss?

  I’m sure that limo in my rear- view mirror is hers. They’ve stopped in front of cottage three. Shit. Right between Bliss in two, and me in four.

  I’m going to make sure I’m c
lear about boundaries with Caprice. That’s a laugh. I’ve been straightforward with her in the past, but she can’t believe a man just isn’t interested. It doesn’t compute.

  And I’ve already shot myself in the foot by offering to introduce Albie to Bliss, and suggest he read her script. Now if she’s a bad writer he won’t be able to shake her. And Albie will rightfully blame me. BIG MOUTH STEVEN.

  I usually don’t let my cock do my thinking, but I did today. Now it’s coming back to possibly bite me in the ass. But I’ll handle it.

  My problems take a back seat as I navigate the narrowed two- lane road, which borders the drop-off into the wild Pacific Ocean. Neon purple ice plant and yellow Lantana cover the slope. It’s hard not to be distracted by the setting.

  The production company is leasing five of the cottages. I know who’s in two three and four, and I can see Albie and Jack talking animatedly in front of cottage six. Albie’s waving his hands in the air per usual.

  There’s always something for the Director and the lead to talk about.

  And these two have a history, which is three pictures, all money makers. Albie would love to fuck Jack if he’d let him. Unfortunately for Albie, Jack is a raging heterosexual. And even if he wasn’t, Albie wouldn’t be his type. Short, bald and pudgy wouldn’t do it for Jack.

  I pull into the driveway, and grab my phone. I look through the glove compartment for my charger and wallet.

  That’s going to be another issue. Wait till Jack gets a look at Bliss.

  She’s his type. She’s every man’s type.

  But Jack is a good guy and a friend. He’s not a prick like some actors. He’d back off if he thought I was interested.

  The fact that I’m his double and have been for thirteen years has to count for something. We’ve had each other’s backs on set, and off.

  We both know where the bodies are buried.

  I get out of the car and go to the trunk to retrieve my car cover. There’s a carport for each cottage, but this baby needs protection.

  At least I’m here for a relatively short time. If it goes badly, I know I’ll be out in six months. And if it’s a disaster I could always move to the hotel where the rest of the crew is housed.