Exhibition

by Danielle Zeta

  But what if…

  What if he was real?

  CHAPTER 3

  THE NEXT EVENING, Ashley took the same train. The same car from the same station at the same time, and she stood in the same corner and gripped the same railing.

  All night she’d dreamed about him. He’d felt so real, as real as her own body. When she’d woken in the morning, twisted in the damp sheets, her body was tense and unsatisfied. Her hands roamed over her overheated, tingling skin, not knowing how to ease her suffering.

  He had to be real. Real the way a demon or an angel was real.

  And God help her, she didn’t care which he might be.

  Palms sweating, she stared into the glass on the train door, searching for his reflection. He was there; she could feel him. She’d do anything to see him.

  Anything? a low, masculine voice said in her mind. She wasn’t sure, but she thought the single word sounded a little angry.

  She closed her eyes. Dizzily, she reached out to him with her thoughts. Who are you? she asked. Are you really there?

  For two long minutes, she waited, barely breathing, desperate for an answer.

  Nothing.

  She opened her eyes. I really have gone crazy, she thought, wiping her damp palms on her skirt. Leaving home was a mistake; here in the city, surrounded by strangers, nobody would take care of her when she lost the remains of her mind.

  What if I am a demon? the voice asked.

  Her mouth went dry. Insanity wouldn’t sound so… sure of itself, would it?

  She licked her lips, scanning the bored faces around her, none of them his. Are you?

  Labels, labels, he said.

  The hair rose on the back of her neck. She should fall to her knees and pray to the heavens for guidance, but…

  She adjusted her stance on the rolling train and held on. Waves of shimmering heat floated down her spine, between her legs, and into her belly. She felt something brush her neck below her left ear, something soft, and then her skin was wet and a rush of air brought an electrifying chill.

  It felt like a kiss. If she closed her eyes—and she didn’t dare, not yet—it would feel exactly as if a man had his mouth against the pulse of her neck and was slowly kissing her, open-mouthed. Then she felt—was that his tongue?

  Oh, God. Her knees were shaking.

  Sit down next to your friend, the voice said.

  Her confusion distracted her enough to regain some of her composure. My what?

  His name is Oliver. Don’t you see him watching you?

  Heart pounding, Ashley looked around at her fellow passengers—office workers, college students, maintenance men, retail clerks, security guards—

  Oh—there. Lounging in the seat across the aisle, a dark, good-looking man in the most elegant suit she’d ever seen was staring right at her.

  A fresh heat warmed her cheeks. How could she have missed him? She was usually so self-conscious, always uncomfortable if anyone looked at her for more than a moment—yet this stunning man had been watching her and she hadn’t even noticed.

  He met her eyes for a long, unblinking moment. Then he tilted his head slightly to one side and raked his gaze down her body.

  Is that you? she asked silently. Are you that man?

  No, I told you, the voice said. That’s Oliver.

  I’ve never seen him before in my life, she said.

  How ironic. His fantasies about you cost him a business deal today.

  Ashley felt Oliver’s gaze linger over her breasts. Something—someone—brushed her nipples gently and they hardened painfully. She’d worn a plain cream-colored cardigan that didn’t do anything to hide them as they pushed through the fabric.

  He’d like to fuck you.

  She pivoted away, her whole body shaking now.

  The invisible mouth found her nape and tickled the fine hairs there with delicate, humid kisses. Don’t you find him attractive? the voice asked.

  In spite of herself, she glanced at the dark man. Of course she found him attractive. He was tall and muscular, exuding masculine confidence, with a strong jaw, a sensual mouth, and beautiful, almond-shaped eyes. He leaned back in his seat, his long, powerful legs stretched out in front of him, and Ashley couldn’t resist wondering what he’d look like without his expensive clothes. Without any clothes at all. A newspaper was spread open in his lap, but he wasn’t looking at it.

  He’s touching himself right now, wishing it were you, the voice said.

  At first she didn’t understand. Then she saw the man had his right hand under the newspaper and his elbow was rocking slowly. When he saw the direction of her gaze, his lips parted slightly and he nodded.

  She should’ve been disgusted, afraid, offended. They were on a subway car with dozens of other people. They were strangers.

  Shall I introduce you? the voice said.

  Her body quivered with anticipation. But what did her invisible tormenter have in mind?

  Maybe he’s shy. Let’s show him you’re interested, the voice said.

  She felt a light touch at her collarbone: a fingertip, traveling down between her breasts. Suddenly, the top button popped open, exposing the lace edge of her bra.

  She lifted her hand to draw the edges of her sweater back together, but strong fingers wrapped around her wrist and another button slipped free of the buttonhole. Then another. The pale knit fabric fell away, or was pushed, leaving only the thin nylon of her bra to cover her breasts. Her hard nipples were visible through the fabric.

  Oliver’s lips parted. She could see him stroke more obviously now as he nodded at her, his lips parted.

  Ashley let go of the railing to button her sweater with the hand not locked in the unseen grip. This is crazy! They’ll think I’m crazy!

  Nobody is paying any attention, the voice said. Except for Oliver, of course.

  Oh, God, she said.

  He wants you badly.

  Everyone can see me!

  Only if I let them, he said.

  She closed her eyes, struggling for calm, but her awareness of her unseen tormentor heightened with the elimination of sight. Now she could feel his fingers around her wrist, his knuckles on her breastbone, his breath in her ear.

  She wanted him, she wanted Oliver, she wanted everything. It was too overwhelming. “Leave me alone,” she whispered.

  Ah, my dear, he said. Have I gone to fast for you?

  “Yes!” she said.

  She opened her eyes and saw Olive’s dark eyes grow black with desire as he shifted in his seat. He sat up straighter, leaned into the hungry look he was giving her.

  I’m sorry, the voice said. I’ll give you a moment to get used to the idea.

  She bit back an unbalanced giggle. A moment? That’s all?

  You wouldn’t be here if you didn’t want it.

  Swallowing over the dryness in her throat, still clutching her sweater together, Ashley looked down at the floor.

  He was right.

  The subway car was screeching into the next station; people were rising from their seats and jostling to the doors on the other side of the car. Although the path was clear, none tried to exit from to the doors that were sliding open in front of her, and none tried to enter.

  A moment, the voice said. She felt a swift, soft pressure on her lips that sent tendrils of hot electricity into her core and then—

  The sensations disappeared. Not gradually, like the shock of a burn fading, but suddenly, as if a switch had been thrown. No tingling, no warmth, no moisture, no pressure. Even her legs were steady and strong. Her mind was clear. Silent.

  Timidly, she peeked up under her eyelashes at the man Oliver.

  He’d fallen asleep! The newspaper was drawn up to his chin like a blanket and his—the rest of him—was decently hidden under the gray wool of his trousers.

  Doubts about her sanity returned. Did she really think some attractive, successful businessman would be so wild with lust for her that he’d unzip his pants to abuse himself in a cr
owded subway car?

  She looked down at the edges of the open sweater bunched in her fist, then around at the people who, for all their boredom as the car rattled on and on to its destination, hadn’t noticed her odd behavior.

  What are you? she asked, suddenly frantic for the invisible one, whatever he was, to return.

  After a deep breath, she let go of her sweater. It swung loose and open. It took all her courage to check the faces of the other passengers to confirm they weren’t staring at her.

  Nobody was, not even Oliver.

  A moment, he’d said. She wriggled her shoulders to let the fabric slide further apart, finding the touch of the cold, open air on the skin of her belly to be unexpectedly arousing.

  Her need began to grow.

  She reached up and traced her bra strap, followed it down to the swell of her breast, over the curve to her nipple.

  This time it was she who watched another person and touched herself. Something about Oliver’s long, muscular body made her feel weak and powerful at the same time. The narrow hips, the broad shoulders, the strong angle of his jaw. He had a small gold ring in his ear that emphasized the rich beauty of his brown skin. A thin gold chain circled his wrist, drawing her attention to his hands, reminding her of how he’d been touching himself and how badly she wanted him to touch her, too.

  How badly she wanted as much as she could have.

  I’m ready, she said clearly with her thoughts.

  CHAPTER 4

  THE YOUNG WOMAN was really something. When she’d walked away from him the day before, Marcus had been irritated, but that was foolish. Since then he’d taken the time to dive more deeply into her memories and now understood the restrictions her life had woven around her. It was not surprising she’d fled from him the day before. If he’d considered not returning today, it was only because the little mortal had, perhaps, slightly, hurt his feelings.

  It was rare to find a human who was aware of him as an entity separate from her own desires and compulsions. An upbringing based on praying for hours of every day had no doubt given her the capacity for speaking to unusual creatures such as him.

  He sat in the seat next to Oliver and watched with deepening pleasure as Ashley overcame her fears. He licked his lips as she pulled apart her sweater. Such panic was beating in her heart, yet she pushed it aside to satisfy her desire, her ache, her curiosity.

  His father would be interested in meeting a mortal like her—

  Marcus wouldn’t allow that to happen, of course. His father wasn’t known for sharing. Having the power of a god did that to you.

  Indeed it was a good thing Marcus himself wasn’t the jealous type; his little pet was now devouring Oliver’s fine human form with her eyes. While her fingers found a nipple and squeezed.

  Marcus was already on his feet when she called to him. He cast a wake-up call to Oliver—the lovely dream he was having could be lived in real life—and strode over to Ashley’s side.

  Oliver rubbed his eyes and stared at Ashley, as oblivious to Marcus as he was every other passenger on the train. Only the blonde angel existed in his world right then.

  Not so angelic at the moment, not the way she was touching herself and staring right back.

  I know what he’s dreaming about, Marcus told her.

  Hearing his voice again after the brief hiatus, her eyes brightened. You’re back!

  Oliver’s dreams aren’t too unlike what you were imagining.

  Oh? Her throat moved as she swallowed.

  He’s an aggressive man, Marcus told her. He doesn’t like to wait for what he wants, and is willing to take big risks to get it.

  Like you?

  Surprised, Marcus laughed. No, not like me. I’m just a spoiled mischief-maker. That’s what my father always says, anyway.

  She glanced at the ceiling of the train, as if scanning the heavens. Your father?

  Now why had he brought up his family? He meets one mortal who can talk to him and he starts spilling all his dreary secrets. Don’t worry about him. Oliver’s waiting.

  He certainly was. Grinning, Marcus rubbed his palms together. He’d steal a little taste for himself before sitting back to enjoy the show.

  He slid his hand behind her soft warm neck, enjoying the way she gasped, and drew her up on tiptoes for a quick kiss. Her eyes fluttered shut, a small kittenish sound escaping from the back of her throat. The arousing sound inflamed him. Unable to resist stealing another moment, Marcus clouded Oliver’s mind as he caressed his hand down the gentle curve of Ashley’s back to the swell of her bottom. He pulled her hard against his pelvis while his tongue licked along the seam of her lips. To his deep satisfaction, she mewled again. Heady with the taste of her innocence, he ground his arousal against her belly to show her how hot she was.

  The car screeched into another station. Barely in time, Marcus pulled away from Ashley and stopped Oliver from getting up to leave through the open doors. Marcus had clouded his mind so effectively, the man thought the fun was already over.

  Sorry, he told Ashley. Not my turn. With a flick of his wrist, the doors shut, the lights dimmed, and the train rumbled onward while Ashley found herself compelled to smile seductively into Oliver’s hungry, appreciative gaze.

  * * *

  She still wasn’t convinced the voice in her mind didn’t belong to the businessman with the black eyes. He was watching her so intently, whereas nobody else spared her a glance, though she was stripped open to her underwear.

  Even the two rough-looking guys, sitting right next to where she stood, decked out in soiled blue work shirts and jeans, kept talking to each other about some game the night before. They should’ve seen her—she was right there, her ridiculously exposed body barely a foot away from their animated faces—but their gazes swept past her as if she were invisible.

  Like he is, she thought.

  I can make them see you if you’d like, the voice said.

  Her heart beat faster. No, no, of course not. Her fingers reached up to pull her sweater shut again.

  His low chuckle made her shiver. Suit yourself. Just Oliver, then. For now.

  She licked her lips and let her eyes drift across the car to the man reclining in the seat with the newspaper in his lap. A slow, predatory grin spread across his face.

  A bolt of desire shot through her, landing somewhere deep between her legs. Oh, she wanted him. From the way she’d been acting, he probably thought she was an experienced, easy woman, maybe even a prostitute.

  Shane’s insult reverberated in her mind. Whore. Just because she wanted to feel something, to use the body God gave her.

  But she knew nothing. How could she please this gorgeous man she didn’t even know? She felt paralyzed and ignorant—as if not one of the hundred fantasies she harbored about what a man could do to a woman had ever crossed her mind.

  Cursing herself for her cowardice, Ashley reached out to the railing for support and ducked her head, one hand reaching up to fasten the top button of her sweater. Then the one below it.

  A finger stroked her cheek. Not the invisible finger, though. This touch was different.

  She glanced up sideways between the strands of hair falling around her face. Oh. It was the businessman.

  “Hello,” he said. His voice was very deep. “Tell me your name.”

  Her mouth opened, but no words would come.

  He turned his hand and brushed his knuckles along her face and down her neck, then over her breast, where he slid it back and forth. Her nipples hardened. “I think you’re a dream,” he said, gazing down at her body.

  She managed to nod. The two young workmen, facing them in their seat only a few feet away, had finished their sports chat stared silently ahead, arms crossed over their broad chests, looking bored.

  Could they really not see her?

  Breathing shallowly, she kept her gaze on the men as she stepped closer to Oliver and pushed the sweater off her shoulders. It slid down her arms, caught briefly at her elbows, then fell to
the dirty floor of the subway car. Her breasts, still in the bra, brushed against Oliver’s crisp white shirt.

  There she froze again, unsure, and looked up into Oliver’s beautiful face. “Tell me what you want,” she whispered.

  His voice grew deeper. “You are a dream,” he said. He captured her hand and brought it to his lips. He dropped slow, moist kisses along her skin. “So willing.”

  “Just tell me what to do.”

  His hands reached around her body and unfastened her bra as if he’d done it a million times before. Suddenly she had the image of him doing this other women before her, many other women, and she felt a rush of arousal. Not jealousy of those other women, but pride that she was one of them, desirable, sexy. She wasn’t on the outside; she was one of them.

  Her naked breasts sank forward into his waiting hands. “First, You’re going to let me touch you,” he said.

  She nodded. His hands were warm and large. Strong.

  “And look at you,” he continued.

  Her knees trembled. The pressure of his fingers on her breasts made her unable to focus on what he was saying. Nobody had ever touched her there before. She’d developed early and had always been ashamed of her body; an attitude encouraged by her parents, teachers, even her friends.

  Even Shane, the man she’d thought she’d loved.

  And now she was naked to the waist in a big city subway car, surrounded by strangers who she’d been taught were going to hell.

  God, it felt so good. Oliver wasn’t just caressing her breasts; he was studying them, admiring them. When he dragged his thumb across her left nipple, she felt a jolt of sensation shoot down her body. And then, when he ducked his head and licked her hard and slow, she felt a surge of hot, tingling moisture between her legs.

  She was losing control of her own body, something she’d been warned about her entire life. She’d wanted a carnal experience, but could she afford the cost?

  CHAPTER 5

  YOU’RE NOT LOSING control, the voice said in Ashley’s mind, soothing her. You’re reclaiming it from the prison of your upbringing.