Forty Shades of Pearl (Part One of The Pearl Trilogy)

by Arianne Richmonde

  “He told me he was basically a computer programmer.”

  “Yeah, right. He’s being modest. Alexandre is obviously a very shrewd business man, to boot. You don’t get that rich just having done some clever coding.”

  “Why hasn’t he called or sent a text?”

  “Because he’s traveling. He warned you he wasn’t going to call. He said that, didn’t he?”

  “Yes, he explained that he’d be really busy and didn’t want to be distracted and he’d call me when he got back.”

  “Well, there you go.”

  “I guess so.”

  “How many days is he going to be away for?”

  “Four or five.”

  “Just stay calm,” Daisy tells me sagely. “He’ll call.”

  Chapter Six

  Day four – since the big G spot discovery – and no word from Alexandre.

  I am yearning for him. All I’ve been thinking about is him. Like a dumbstruck teenager, I’ve let him occupy my thoughts twenty-three hours a day. Even at work, he’s there flitting about in my distracted brain, smiling at me or pressing his thumb up inside me, maneuvering me, stroking me. I replay that Big O Over and O-ver in my mind. Me on the chair in the kitchen, crystal glasses in my hand, Alexandre below me, licking me deliciously, bringing me to a fountain of ecstasy deep inside me. Yet we still haven’t made love yet! Yet. Aye, there’s the rub – no pun intended. – he hasn’t contacted me. He warned me as much, to please not take offence, he’d be extremely busy – that he’d call on his way back. But—

  Nothing. No word from him.

  I realize, now, that was an excuse. He’s a Latin Lover with a girl in every port, my brother warned me. He doesn’t want some sexually-problematic forty-year old. He’s young. His ego would be too bruised by a woman not Orgasm-ing all over the place. Or, more likely – bored as hell by her. Bored as hell by me. He doesn’t have time for my needs or someone like me. The world is his oyster. Literally. He needs a young woman his age, a twenty-two year old with tight skin, zero crow’s feet. Impressionable.

  Damn! I should have kept my mouth shut. I should have dragged him to the bedroom and made love to him; done a When Harry Met Sally on him – so easy to do – all those men who think their girlfriends are having multiple orgasms at the drop of a hat – yeah right. I should have done that – not blurted out my sexual shortcomings as if I were sharing my innermost secrets with an agony aunt!

  Perhaps a swim will do the trick, a swim at my club to cool off my fury. Fury at myself for getting into such deep water – no pun intended – who was I kidding?

  * * *

  I go to my gym. The pool is just what the doctor ordered. They use salt at my gym, not chlorine, so I don’t get dry, bleachy skin or green hair. Swimming is what keeps me fit and washes away the tension. I can’t run anymore at my age. Pounding the pavement is for women in their twenties. Gravity is not my friend. Swimming is the perfect exercise for me. I can push myself, but not damage tendons; the water holds me up, supports my muscles. I need to keep my bones moving, my spine flexible, my shoulders strong. Ageing is no picnic.

  I’ll stay in tonight. I’ll order in – maybe some Chinese. I love New York. I love the convenience of this city. Its vibrancy too – even with the endless police sirens, the crowded sidewalks. Paris? Who cares about Paris, I tell myself. New York has to be the best city in the world.

  * * *

  When I get home from the gym, I turn on the T.V to distract my thoughts, but immediately switch it off again. How many wars can one planet take? How many more starving people, how many more orphans? I feel angry, depressed and, worst of all, helpless. Helpless to save the world, helpless to rescue just the speck of sand that is myself.

  Helpless to get this elusive shit of a Frenchman out of my head.

  Just then, my iPad rings. Someone is Skyping me. Has Anthony finally got it together? No, It’s HIM! I pick it up. When his face comes on the screen my heart starts pounding – the orphans, the wars, the famine – all are momentarily wiped from my brain. I no longer feel sad but am jumping for joy.

  “Hi Alexandre.” I try to look calm, cool.

  “Hello Pearl. How are you doing, beautiful?”

  “Oh, I’m fine, just been swimming, Been really busy at work, seeing friends, you know.”

  I’m a busy, girl-about-town, have not thought about you at all, nooo way.

  “You look lovely,” he says.

  “Thank you. Where are you?”

  “In the back of a limo being driven to the airport, I’m on my way home to New York.”

  “How did the meeting go?”

  “Meetings, plural. Lots of meetings. They went fine. We’ve sewn up an important deal.”

  “Great.”

  “Let’s see you.”

  “What?”

  “Stand back. Show me what you’re wearing.”

  “Just my office clothes.” I balance the iPad so it’s standing high up on a chest of drawers so he can take in my whole body.

  “Sexy. Open your shirt.”

  I unbutton my shirt. “Are you alone?” I ask, double-checking that I’m not sharing my image with a third party.

  “Of course I am. Show me your tits.”

  I take off my shirt. I’m wearing a black lacy, push-up bra.

  “You’re making me hard.” He bites his lip and squints his eyes. “Bring them out. Don’t take off the bra, just lift them up.”

  I cup one hand around my left breast and free it from the bra. The nipple is poking over.

  “Fuck you’re sexy. Now the other one.”

  I do the same with my other breast.

  “Now lick your fingers and fondle your tits.”

  I do as he says. I lick my fingers slowly, popping each one in my mouth and circle them around each nipple. They turn erect. I can feel a tingling inside me.

  “Let me see you,” I say.

  “You want to see my hard cock? It’s rock hard, baby, and it can’t wait to fuck you. I’m on my way home to fuck you. That’s all I’ve been thinking about. In between this big business deal, is your wet little pearlette. I want it impaled on my cock and to make you come all around it.”

  He holds his iPhone down by his crotch and I see his huge penis proud in his hand.

  “I want to suck that,” I tell him. “I want to lick it up and down, circle my lips around its huge head, lick it up and down and then I want to get on top of it and ride it. Ride it hard.”

  “Fuck you’re sexy,” he says in a low voice. He’s moving his hand up and down, pleasuring himself. It’s massive and it’s driving me crazy. “Take off your skirt,” he commands.

  I unzip my skirt and let it drop to the floor. I’m wearing white cotton panties. I can see his face again now. His eyes are half closed – bedroom eyes, eyes of man who thinks of nothing but sex.

  “Wet your fingers,” he whispers.

  I’m really getting into this and feel like a porn star. I lick my fingers wiggling the tip of my tongue. Exaggerated. Dirty girl style.

  “Now put them on your sweet little oyster. I want to see you bend over and press your pussy on the arm of that sofa. I want to see you fuck the sofa, Pearl. Move the iPad so I can see you.”

  I feel self-conscious but brave. I move the iPad into a better position. “But I won’t be able to see you,” I complain.

  “You’ll see me soon enough, chérie. Move over to the sofa arm. That’s good. Bend over so I can see your sexy butt. Oh yeah, that’s good, that’s perfect. Keep those white school-girl panties on. Bend over. Oh yeah, that’s good.”

  I’m bending over the arm of the sofa which is pressing on my clitoris. The vision of his huge erection is in my mind’s eye. I’m feeling really horny now.

  His voice continues over the speaker but I can’t see him. “Now fuck that as if you were fucking me, as if you were on top of me. I can see how wet you are. I can see that glistening little oyster and the wetness coming through your little white virgin panties.” />
  I start to move my pelvis back and forth. The corner of the sofa is soft but presses beautifully up against me, pushing on my clitoris, pressing at my opening. I can feel my wetness. I’m moving back and forth and it feels great. Why haven’t I thought of this myself?

  “Keep moving, chérie. My cock is so fucking hard. All it wants to do is fuck you. Sleep next to you. Wake up. Fuck you again. Keep fucking you.” I can hear his fast breathing and I imagine how colossal and stiff he is.

  I keep my rhythm going and play with my breasts at the same time. I look down at them, the nipples hard as cherries, and I have a flash of a vision of making love to a woman with big breasts, then I have his thudding great erection in my mind again, then a threesome with him and this sexy, desirable woman. Me kissing her, Alexandre slamming me from behind and I can’t hold it any longer. I can feel a rush of emotion gather in a crescendo hot between my legs and I’m coming – my orgasm, powerful like a tsunami wave.

  “I’m coming,” I moan. “I’m coming.”

  “Me too,” he shouts. “Coming for you, chérie. You’re so beautiful, so fucking hot – so sexy.”

  I lie forward for half a minute groaning with my release, my butt in the air, the throbbing of my orgasm calming itself to a lighter tingle. I collapse on the sofa, laughing with relief.

  I can’t believe what I’ve just done! I’ve had phone sex for the first time in my life.

  Chapter Seven

  I’m flying again. I’m back at school and soaring high above the room and it’s effortless like a trapeze artist but without the trapeze. The freedom is liberating. The history teacher, Mr. Hand, who was hideous before with warts on his face, has morphed into a Greek god. He doesn’t have a shirt on and his chest is buff and defined. Why is everyone so rude about him? He’s gorgeous. The bell is going – loud in my ear. Time for class.

  It’s my cell.

  I’m groggy. I was dreaming. Damn, so disappointing that I can’t fly in real life – it seemed so true.

  I pick up.

  “I’m outside your apartment building on the street.”

  “Alexandre?”

  “The doorman doesn’t seem to be here.”

  “Sometimes he takes a nap and it’s hard to wake him but he’s there. What time is it? Never mind, I’ll buzz down. See you in a minute.”

  I call the doorman who is as surprised as I am. It must be before dawn. I frantically rush to the bathroom to brush my teeth, and give my private parts a quick wash. Just in case. Alexandre gets so intimate. I splash water on my face and around my eyes. I look at my phone, it’s five am.

  There’s a light tap at my door. My stomach dips with nerves. All I’ve got on is my crimson silk robe.

  I open the door and this vision is standing before me. He’s even hotter than I remembered. He’s unshaven and messy, his jeans not too loose, not too tight, but all I can see is his mammoth bulge inside as if just talking to me a second earlier has made him hard. Knowing he’s lusting after me so much makes adrenalin surge through me – I can feel my juices start to gather – just looking at him makes me moist with desire.

  He steps forward and kisses me hungrily. He tastes of apples and mint and smells deliciously of just Alexandre – a smell I wish I could bottle. He pulls off my robe and it shivers to the floor like a pool of red blood. His tongue explores my mouth, my lips – he’s kissing my neck, my breasts and he palms my Venus with his large hand.

  “I’m going to have to fuck you – so wet already,” he purrs into my ear.

  I grapple with the buttons on his Levis and go down on my knees. We are still in the doorway. His jeans fall about his ankles and his erection springs up, this huge arrogant thing, as if it had a life of its own. No underpants. Sexy. I start to lick him the way I described during our phone sex. I hold it in one hand and cup my other underneath his weighty balls. I lick them gently and take one, whole in my mouth, and suck tenderly. I don’t want to hurt him or be too rough. I can hear him groaning quietly – his hands are rested gently on my head as he strokes me and runs his fingers through my hair. I lick his shaft slowly, deliberately, up and then down, up and down – then I stand up and bend over because he’s tall and I need to position myself right. Still holding him in my hand firmly, I circle my tongue around the head, licking his juices from his one-eyed Jack – wow, he’s just as turned on as I am.

  “Fuck, Pearl, this is what I’ve been dreaming of. This is hot. This feels amazing.”

  My tongue finds its way up to his firm stomach, then back to his hard rod which I take in my mouth as if it were a giant lollipop. It reaches the back of my throat. I tense my lips about it and suck hard, up and down, up and down, up and down, stroking his balls with a feathery touch. I lick my fingers on my right hand, cover them with my spit and trace them slowly up behind in the crack of his buttocks. I press my wet middle finger inside his opening. He’s groaning now and I feel powerful. I have this rich, controlling guy in the palm of my hand. Literally. I have him in my mouth. He’s all mine and he’s groaning with pleasure. I feel strong. Potent, like a queen with her empire. He is my empire.

  My head is moving fast now, up and down – I’m trying not to gag with his size. Still with my left hand playing with his balls, I press my finger deeper into the crevice of his butt and that’s it – a fountain of pleasure spurts hard at the back of my throat. He’s calling out my name. He’s all mine. I did this.

  “Oh Pearl baby, oh Pearl,” he rumbles. My eyes look up, my mouth still firmly in place, and observe his face grimacing as if in pain. His release is intense; his body judders.

  A moment passes – he’s coming down from his orgasm now and I finally take my mouth away.

  “That’s maybe the best blow job I’ve ever had,” he says, and then laughs.

  I feel a wave of jealousy at the thought that other women have done this too. Other women have made him weak with pleasure. But he’s mine. I don’t want any other female laying her hands on him, her mouth. I want Alexandre all to myself.

  Minutes later, my power is now diminished. He got what he wanted from me. His release. I am no longer the queen with her empire but a servant that can be tossed aside. Panic sets in as I fear he might leave now – might decide to go home.

  But he says, “Come here you gorgeous creature and give me a kiss. It’s your turn now, Ms. Robinson. I want to give you what you deserve.”

  “And what do I deserve?”

  “I think you deserve to be made love to, don’t you?”

  “Yes,” I murmur with gratitude. I want him inside me. I notice he’s still as hard as he was, still as erect.

  “Now bend over and touch your toes,” he commands.

  My moment of power is over, my reign as empress brief. He holds all the cards now. I bend over. Is he going to spank me? No, he starts licking me delicately around the base of my Venus. Licking, then sucking. This feels hotly erotic.

  “Always so wet, always ready to get fucked by me, aren’t you?”

  “Yes,” I whimper.

  “Is it only me? Is it only me you want inside you?” His voice is almost a roar.

  “Yes. I don’t want anyone else! I can’t even look at anyone else.” Except in my dream, I think. What was my old History teacher, Mr. Hand, doing in my goddam dream??

  “Do you want to kiss anyone else?” he mumbles, now only touching my entrance with the very tip of his tongue. He’s teasing me again. My hips start gyrating, trying to push myself closer to his mouth. “Do you want to kiss anyone else?” he asks again savagely.

  “I had a little fantasy. When we were Skyping together, I imagined I was kissing another woman while you were fucking me from behind.”

  “And what was she like? Was she pretty?”

  “Stunning. With big, perfectly shaped breasts.”

  He lifts me up by my shoulders so I’m standing straight and then spins me around; I’m now facing him. He kisses me hard, our mouths hungry for each other.

  “You’re making me fu
cking horny,” he says. But then his face goes suddenly dark, his eyes fiery. “Who else has been fucking you? Before me?”

  “Nobody. I practically feel like a virgin, it’s been so long.”

  He steps away from his jeans which are still pooled about his ankles. “I don’t believe that. You’re too good. Too expert. Where did you learn all this? Where did you learn to do that?”

  “Instinct,” I bleat out. “I’ve never done this before in that way. It’s you, Alexandre. You make me this way. You make me want to do these things.”

  “Who else has been making love to my Pearl and her juicy little oyster?” he demands, flicking his tongue on my nipple and then nipping it. A spasm of pleasure shoots directly between my legs.

  “Nobody, I swear. I haven’t had sex for two years. I haven’t had sex since my divorce.” Okay, there was that one terrible time but I keep quiet about that.

  My answer seems to placate him but he stares at me for a second as if to read my face for lies. “Good girl,” he whispers in my ear. “I don’t want you involved with anyone else, is that clear? I want to keep you for myself. I’m not a jealous man but I am possessive of my treasures.”

  I’m a treasure?

  “This beautiful Pearl and her pearlette are mine, is that clear?”

  “Yes.” I smile, and feel as if I’ve won something. Jealous men have always irritated me but this is making me hot. I have made a young, twenty-five year old possessive of me, and I’m loving it. “What about you? Are you seeing anyone else?” I ask with trepidation. What if he says ‘yes’ – I’ll fall apart.

  “I already told you I was unattached.”

  “Unattached means no girlfriend, no relationship. Are you fucking anyone else?”

  “Not now, I won’t be. Why go out for hamburger when I have steak at home?”

  “Paul Newman said that.”

  He laughs. “I know – it’s a good line. Seriously, Pearl, I really don’t want to waste my time with anyone else, now I’ve found you. You passed both tests one and two, remember?”