It doesn’t surprise her that Seaside’s vice president lives in a Coral Gables mansion. She drives by it three times, cursing beneath her breath at all the tropical foliage hiding the wall that separates the house from the street and makes it impossible to see any numbers. She decides which house it is by a process of elimination, and is rewarded by the sight of Mike’s Porsche in the driveway.
She pulls up behind it wondering what kind of car Linn drives, and trying not to make too much of the fact that Mike’s wife doesn’t appear to be home.
She rings the bell, and then concentrates on looking casual and relaxed.
A middle aged Hispanic maid in full uniform answers the door. ‘Si?’
‘Vengo a ver a Mike.’
The woman smiles and lets her pass, as if anyone who speaks Spanish is okay in her book, whoever they are. ‘Mike está en la picina.’ She gestures towards the back of the house.
‘Gracias.’
‘De nada, niña.’ She walks away, leaving Carmen to find the pool and the master of the house, all by herself.
She passes through two large, shadowy rooms, and their expensive magazine-like décor, not to mention the powerful central air conditioning, leave her feeling strangely chilled and anxious. The third, sunlit room seems almost homey by comparison, and its French doors are open onto the poolside.
She slips her sunglasses back on, and steps outside.
Mike has started without her. He appears to be swimming laps. Using his powerful arms and shoulders to advantage he reaches the other end of the pool in just a few strokes, does a flip turn like a professional swimmer, and heads back her way.
She tosses her purse and towel onto a chair, flings off her shirt, and stands at the edge waiting for him.
He touches the wall with his fingertips, erupts out of the water, and sees her. ‘Carmen!’ He smooths his hair back as he stares up at her.
She slips off her sunglasses and smiles down at him. ‘You’re not supposed to exercise right after lunch,’ she says, tossing her shades onto the chair behind her and bending over to begin untying one of her sandals.
He steps right up to the wall, and starts working on the other one.
The water dripping from his hands tickles her toes, but the last thing his touch makes her want to do is laugh. ‘Thanks.’ She kicks them off and walks over to scalloped steps leading down into the water.
He watches her.
She smiles over at him again even though his expression remains uncharacteristically sober. Or maybe it’s his water-darkened hair that is making him look dangerously different.
The temperature of the water is ideal, just a little cooler than the sunlit air, and her body dives into it happily.
She surfaces feeling exhilarated and relaxed.
Mike is gone.
She screams as he grabs her ankles and she falls back into the water, where she senses him swim past her large and swift as a shark.
He surfaces a few feet away.
She laughs and splashes him.
Smiling finally, he dives towards her again.
She tries to swim away, but doesn’t get very far before she feels his implacable grip on one of her ankles, and she goes under again.
He pulls her towards him, and surfaces with her caught in his arms.
Her own arms around his neck, she clings to him breathlessly. His body is slick and hard and inescapable. She wants to keep laughing to prove this is only a game, but she can’t. She looks towards the house wondering where the maid is, wondering where Linn is, and really only caring about what she’ll see when she looks into his eyes.
They are a much deeper blue than the water below them and the sky above them, darkened by thoughts, and by desire, by the self-awareness physical elements aren’t blessed, or cursed, with.
‘You shouldn’t have confided in me, Carmen. You don’t know me, I only pretend to be a nice person.’
‘I don’t believe you, Mike.’
‘Don’t you?’ He glances down at her breasts swelling out of her bikini top, and at her long legs bent in his arms.
‘No,’ she insists, but she really isn’t so sure anymore.
‘So, is this guy your master?’ He looks her straight in the eye. ‘Are you his slave?’
‘No,’ she lies, because she doesn’t like that term.
His own eyes narrow as he stares searchingly into hers. ‘Yes, you are.’
She squirms against him. ‘No, I’m not. I’m not anyone’s slave.’
He tightens his hold on her. ‘You bring me my coffee every morning, but you’d like to do a lot more for me, wouldn’t you, Carmen?’
Trapped in his arms and pinned down by his stare, she can’t possibly deny it.
‘Linn is up in Winter Park visiting her sister,’ he informs her quietly. ‘She won’t be back until tomorrow.’
Her only thought is that she will have to look for another job soon.
‘Does that scare you, Carmen?’
‘Yes,’ she whispers.
‘Why?’ He shifts her in his arms so her face comes even closer to his. ‘Don’t you trust me?’
All she is aware of suddenly is the horizon of his mouth as her heart starts racing unable to believe it might be within reach…
He strides a little deeper into the pool, then lets go of her to pull off his swim trunks.
She doesn’t hesitate. She quickly slips off the bottom half of her bikini, and lets him push her back against a wall.
In one effortless motion he lifts her legs up around his hips and enters her. Their bodies come together below the surface in a space without gravity or restraints of any kind, and it happens so fast that her senses have to mysteriously catch up. At first she doesn’t feel anything except shocked as his erection spears her and lifts her violently up on it like a fish, because that’s all she is to him; a fast and easy catch.
‘Stop,’ she gasps, disappointed that he penetrated her so quickly she couldn’t savor the anticipation.
‘Stop?’ Surprise doesn’t interfere with his rhythm. ‘Don’t you like it?’
She slips her arms passionately around his neck as he kindly lets her bob up and down on his shaft at her own pace, her hips rising in and out of the water with innocent little lapping sounds.
He shifts her in his arms, catching her eye, and his hot glance merges with the beautiful blue of water and sky and the sun’s penetrating warmth.
‘God you feel good, baby – so tight!’
‘Kiss me,’ she begs.
His slick warm tongue wrestles with hers and intensifies the experience of his stiff dick sliding in and out of her, a hot friction the cool water does nothing to dampen. Then without warning he thrusts a finger into her asshole and she is alive in a perfect world where God didn’t forget a thing.
‘Does that feel good, Carmen?’
‘Oh, yes!’
‘But two fingers would feel even better, wouldn’t they?’ He illustrates his point by pushing a second finger up into her anus. ‘Does your master fuck your ass, Carmen?’
‘Yes!’
‘Does he beat you?’
She hesitates a moment before admitting the frightening truth. ‘Yes.’
He slips his fingers out of her butt, rams his erection as far into her cunt as possible, and holds her down on it, his hands gripping her hips. ‘Do you have control of your muscles down there?’ he demands.
She can’t answer right away because she is too busy kissing his neck’s intoxicating mix of chlorine, salt and maleness. ‘Mm, yes…’
‘Let me feel it.’
She tightens her inner muscles around his hard on, squeezing it, and then relaxes them again.
‘Oh, yes,’ he whispers.
She kisses and bites the tender space between his neck and shoulder as her pussy hugs him tight again, and again.
‘Mm!’ He tries to push his penis even deeper into her vagina, so that it almost hurts as she clamps its mysterious muscle down around him possessively and his h
elmet knocking against her uterus lets in all sorts of incredible sensations. ‘Oh, Mike… Mike!’ She wants to tell him that it scares her a little how good it feels.
‘Don’t stop,’ he says through his teeth.
She writhes against him as he literally impales her on an excruciating pleasure, and an orgasm that has little to do with her clitoris begins spreading through her veins from what feels like the very core of her flesh.
He makes deep sounds of approval as she comes in slow motion, her body trembling in his arms. Not until her head falls weakly against his shoulder, telling him she’s finished, does he pull out of her.
‘Do you have any marks?’ he asks, grabbing one of her arms and pulling her towards the shallow end of the pool.
‘Yes,’ she answers weakly.
‘Let me see them. Lean forward and put your hands on the edge.’
She obeys him.
‘See what a good little slave you are, Carmen?’ He grips her hips roughly with both hands like a predator pouncing on soft and unresisting prey. ‘You’re a beautiful little whore.’ He rams his dick into her ass.
Only the thought of the maid somewhere in the house in front of her keeps her from screaming.
Her burning misery ebbs for the split second he is deep inside her then surges as he slides out, only to force his entire erection on her again. ‘Oh, please come!’ she cries.
‘You want me to come in your ass, Carmen?’
‘Yes!’
‘Hasn’t your master explained to you yet, Carmen, that what a slave wants doesn’t matter?’
He bangs her brutally from behind, and the pain achieves excruciating dimensions when he pulls out almost all the way and stops moving, stuffing the mouth of her anus with his engorged helmet. She makes a sound somewhere between a scream and a sob, wishing they were still deep in the pool, where cool water would help soothe the burning agony.
‘Does that hurt, Carmen?’
‘Fuck yeah!’
‘Don’t use that language with me, young lady.’
‘I’m sorry,’ she cries. ‘I’m sorry!’
Very slowly he pushes his whole dick into her ass again, until she can feel his firm body against her soft cheeks and his balls brush her vulva in a delicious caress.
‘Mm, nice, very nice…’ He makes a cruel attempt to jam his erection even deeper into her bottom, which isn’t possible.
‘Oh, yes,’ she gasps, ‘please come, please!’ She hangs her head, and suffers the excruciating satisfaction of feeling him obey her. He groans, and she can hardly breathe as his erection fills her to bursting, leaving no room inside her for his sperm, which seeps out of her in a soothing balm.
Chapter Seven
‘Well, good morning.’ Beatrice slams a file cabinet drawer closed, and successfully snaps Carmen out of her daydream. ‘Did you have a nice,’ she crosses her arms and perches on the edge of her desk, ‘lunch?’
‘Nothing happened, Bee.’
‘Mrs Peterson called from her sister’s house up in Winter Park while you were gone yesterday.’
‘So?’
‘So,’ Bee admires the blood-red acrylic nails on her right hand, ‘I told her you and Mike were out to lunch.’
‘So?’ she repeats.
‘She called twice,’ Bee illustrates with two long fingers, ‘and I don’t think she was very happy when I told her Mike would be gone for the rest of the day. That’s when she asked to speak to you.’
‘Oh, my God. What did you tell her?’
Bee shrugs. ‘The truth. I told her you were gone for the rest of the day too.’ Her grin reveals a row of perfect little teeth.
‘Oh, Jesus!’
Bee propels herself off the desk to whisper eagerly in her ear, ‘Are you sleeping with him?’
‘No.’ Carmen’s firm lie carries across the cubicle-lined area, where only the receptionist’s desk is exposed.
‘Oh, come on,’ Bee keeps her own voice down, ‘you can tell me! I won’t blab, I just have to know.’
‘We had lunch, Bee, that’s all.’
‘Carmen, I swear by my little boy, who you know I love more than anything in this world, that I won’t tell. You and Mike, you had a little afternoon delight, right?’
‘If I was sleeping with Mike,’ Carmen whispers fiercely, ‘it wouldn’t be little or delightful, it would be big and rough!’
‘You’re having an affair!’ Bee concludes reverently.
Carmen turns away. ‘Whatever.’
‘By the way, the reason Linn called the office was because she couldn’t reach Mike on his cell phone. He had it turned off.’
Carmen pauses on her way into the vice president’s suite. ‘So?’
‘Why would he do that?’
‘Because he felt like it?’
Perching on the edge of her desk again, Beatrice picks up a coffee mug, from which the face of a little boy grins toothlessly out at Carmen. ‘What else did Mike feel like?’
‘Nothing. Is that Nicky on your cup?’
‘Yes! Isn’t he adorable?’ Bee smiles down at the picture of her son. ‘He was with his dad in Dadeland when he made mami this little present.’
‘What a sweetie. Um, how’s it going with Dan?’
‘It’s gone. We’re getting a divorce.’
‘I’m sorry, Bee.’
‘I’m not. I got what I wanted. Nicky. Except for every other weekend, he’s all mine.’
‘And he’s adorable.’
‘I know. I also know you changed the subject, querida.’
‘It’s all in your head, Bee.’
‘And maybe Mike’s head too? He has to look at you everyday, you know. You’re disgustingly beautiful, and he’s just a man.’ Bee sips her coffee. ‘Who could blame him?’
‘His wife.’
Carmen is glad she is an organized individual who always keeps a fully stocked gym bag in her car, because by the time she leaves the office at exactly five minutes to five, she is so restless that it is either workout until she drops, or implode.
Mike never showed up to work even though he only had one meeting scheduled, with Seaside’s president at the main branch downtown. When he called to say he wouldn’t be coming in, Carmen was in the ladies’ room and Beatrice took the message.
A CD player strapped to her waist, headphones in place drowning out the mainstream rock-n-roll piped into the three-story gym, she takes possession of a treadmill for a full forty-five minutes despite a line of people waiting for one. She deliberately ignores the guilt she feels at making other people wait, relishing her selfishness because it keeps her away from the phone, and from waiting for Jay, or Will, or even Mike, to call. She didn’t see or hear from anyone last night, which had felt like a blessing after her exhausting afternoon with her boss. Now, however, she resents Jay for not even calling her, and is beginning to worry that she’ll never hear from Will again. She is also finding it hard to deal with the fact that Mike seemed to be avoiding her today. So she decides to fantasize about Will in full uniform instead…
Still in her workout clothes, since she always showers at home, Carmen ignores Sage and the kittens in her eagerness to play the message pulsing inside her answering machine.
It is her mother to remind her that she promised to go over for dinner this week, and to call her grandmother, who is tormenting the rest of the family with the role of martyr crucified by her granddaughter’s failure to appreciate all the love bestowed on her from the day she was born.
‘Damn him.’ It is almost seven o’clock, and Jay still hasn’t called.
Sage meows, demanding a caress, then dinner. Her children join her in the kitchen now, devouring meat from their own plate.
She takes a quick shower, during which she lays the cordless receiver on top of her towel so she can hear it ring.
Her optimism pays off just as she shuts off the water.
She snaps open the shower curtain and switches the phone on. ‘Hello?’
‘Okay, why don’t you e
ver call me?’
‘Carol!’
‘Yeah, remember me, your best friend?’
‘Barely.’ She steps out of the tub. ‘How’s New York?’ She cradles the phone on her shoulder while she wraps the towel around herself.
‘It’s expensive, crowded, dirty and wonderful.’
‘That makes sense.’
‘How’s life down in hell?’
‘Well, believe it or not, it’s finally getting cool, in every way.’
‘Really?’ Carol sounds doubtful. ‘What’s going on?’
Carmen doesn’t quite know where to begin, but years of sharing her experiences with Carol has led to the perfection of a conversational style consisting of detailed renderings of any important male characters, and to-the-point descriptions of significant events, punctuated by extensive footnotes defining all the thoughts and feelings involved.
Carol listens raptly, not saying a word until Carmen stops talking. ‘It just figures all these gorgeous guys crawl out of the woodwork after I leave! If I was still down there, you could throw me a bone and introduce me to that cop.’
‘I don’t think so, babe.’ Much as she is enjoying Carol’s jealousy, Carmen is desperate for it to be interrupted by the electrifying buzz of an incoming call.
‘What do you mean? You can’t keep all three of them, you greedy thing.’
‘Oh yeah, why not?
‘Be careful, Carmen.’ She suddenly sounds serious. ‘Jay could be dangerous.’
‘Oh right, I forgot, everyone into kinky sex is either a latent homicidal maniac, or a potential murder victim. After all, women who enjoy sexual abuse deserve whatever they get in the end, right?’
‘Right. And everyone knows cops are never faithful, and that affairs with married men are a total dead end.’
‘Would you care to share any more cheerful, positive thoughts with me, Carol?’
‘No, I think that about covers it.’
‘I knew you wouldn’t understand. I remember you told me once it would scare you to death being tied up during sex.’
‘It wouldn’t scare me to death, it just wouldn’t…’
The buzz of an incoming call drowns her out.
‘Carol, I have to go, I’ll call you tomorrow!’
Thor'sday Night - Paranormal Erotica Page 13