by Braxton Cole
“You don't have to say anything, really. I just wanted to tell you.”
“Do I know her?” I went for the same question I would ask if she told me about a date with a guy.
“Yes, sort of. Remember Emily?”
“Emily Torrent?” From Torrent, Torrent, and Morris. We'd catered a luncheon for them on Tuesday.
“That's the one.” Rachel sounded overly optimistic. She was probably hoping I'd overlook the fact that Emily was a client and clients, by mutual agreement, were off limits.
“Rachel. . .”
“I know, I know.” Rachel went back to talking fast. “I'm sorry.”
I drank my wine slowly. She'd distracted me from Luca long enough to make me worry about something else.
“You have a date with a client?” Lesbian revelations aside, I did not approve.
“A really hot client.”
I thought of Emily Torrent. I'd met her briefly as her business partner, Brian Morris, contracted our services originally. She was hot.
“I don't like it.”
“I'm really sorry, Mari, but I was so flustered when she called. I couldn't think.” Rachel spoke too fast.
So far we'd only booked the one luncheon with the Torrent firm and, as much as I hated that Rachel forgot the basic rule we'd set when we opened our catering business, I decided to let it go. I didn’t want to crush her explorations.
“We'll have to tell them no if they ask us to cater future events.”
“Thank you, thank you, thank you.”
I finished my salad and rinsed the plate and added it to the dishwasher. “Where is she taking you?” I refilled my glass, tucked my phone under my chin, and gathered my gifts from Luca. It was time to move to the living room. Even if I didn't want to think about Luca, that didn't mean I didn't want his gifts. I managed to set my glass and the packages on the coffee table without spilling my wine on the carpet. Major victory.
“I'm not sure. She said something about dinner and maybe a show. What do lesbians do for entertainment?” Rachel asked.
“You're asking me?” At the time, I knew one sort-of lesbian and that was Rachel. And she had yet to decide if she was a full-fledged lesbian or simply checking out the scenery.
“Who else would I ask?”
I laughed. “I've been with exactly one woman. And my boyfriend was nailing me from behind at the time.” The memory made me grin.
“Yes, well, I wouldn't be in this situation if it weren't for you,” Rachel teased, but her tone held the slightest amount of accusation to go with it.
“Wait. What?” I didn’t even like the idea of her dating a client, male or female. No way was I responsible for her agreeing to do it.
“I told you, this past weekend made me rethink some things. And that was all your idea. It's not like I said, ‘Hey, Mari, how about you and Luca let me join you for some kinky threesome?’ Nope, that was all you.”
“Hmm.” I sipped my wine, then set my glass on the table so I could pick up the package labeled THURSDAY NIGHT. I slipped my finger beneath the tape on top. He really did a beautiful job on the wrapping. It had smooth edges and a perfect, blood-red velvet bow on top. “You're welcome for that.”
I opened the first package and found a fleet enema inside. The back showed an illustration of a woman lying on her side to self-administer the enema. Interesting. But not at all sexy. Next.
“You're really okay with all this?” Rachel asked. It seemed that question had gone back and forth between us too many times in the past week.
“Why wouldn't I be?” I asked, distracted by unwrapping the package labeled FRIDAY MORNING. It held a brand new, still in the box, oversized butt plug and a small package of water-based lube. That was certainly more promising than the enema.
“It's just a lot. That's all.” Rachel sounded very serious suddenly, unlike her earlier joking tone.
I opened the folded paper labeled FRIDAY NIGHT. It showed a pencil drawing of a woman's ass, presumably mine, with a giant cock, presumably Luca's, poised to penetrate her anus. He was very confident in his rendition of his cock, both length and girth.
“Rachel, my boyfriend just sent me a romantic gift consisting of an enema, an enormous butt plug, and a picture of him fucking my ass. If you want to date a woman, who am I to judge?”
Rachel didn't respond immediately. Luca could be overwhelming, but I was so used to it that it no longer hit my filter the same way it might hit other people’s. Obviously not, since I'd just blurted that out to my girlfriend.
“And you’re supposed to do what with those things?” Rachel asked. She was back to being horrified instead of just too serious.
“They were labeled. The enema is for Thursday night, the plug for Friday morning, and the picture is labeled Friday night.” Luca directions were sparse, but graphically precise.
“Are you going to do it?”
I pulled the plug from the package and inspected it. It was a lot larger than anything we’d previously played with and I couldn’t imagine it would feel good to leave it in all day. “Sure, I suppose so.”
“You don’t sound very excited.”
“I’m not. But Luca is. And I’m not opposed to it, so. . .”
“You’re a good girlfriend.”
“No kidding.” I lined the enema, the plug, and the lube up on the coffee table and took a deep breath. The things I did for that man.
“He really wants you to move in, huh?”
That probably was his tactic. Distract me with kinky sex and orgasms until my brain liquefied and I said yes before I fully recovered. “Sneaky bastard,” I muttered.
“He's pretty wonderful.”
I sighed. “He is.”
“I really don't understand your resistance.”
“I don't either. I just know that my chest floods with panic any time I think about moving in with him. I think maybe it's just too soon.”
“Maybe.” Rachel paused for a second. “But he's the real deal. You know he is. You need to let go of whatever is holding you back.”
“I'm trying.” I really, really wanted to trust the way Luca made me feel, but it was so good, so perfect, and I couldn't help the knot of fear in my stomach that clenched just a little tighter at the thought of making a change, even one that was supposed to be good.
As always, though, Luca made me want to take the chance.
Chapter 6
I squirmed in my seat trying to find a comfortable position. I loved my office chair normally, but today nothing was working. Of course, normally I didn't have a giant hunk of silicone stuffed up my ass, either.
“Oh my God, just take the damn thing out already. You're driving me insane.”
“Bite my ass.” I shifted again and Rachel laughed.
“Pretty sure Luca has that covered.” She gathered her paperwork. “I'm going to work in the kitchen. You're too distracting.” She stuck her tongue out at me as she left.
My office phone rang moments later.
“Zapata and Carelli.”
“You never called.” Luca's voice held a hint of danger that made me squirm. The plug worked in a little deeper and I wasn't sure if I liked it or not.
“Was I supposed to?” I tried to sound disinterested, but my voice totally hitched in the middle.
He hesitated. “I thought you would.”
Despite his pressure for us to move in together, Luca and I have some very clearly established and respected work-week boundaries. We generally don't call each other during the week. Text? Absolutely. And we do call occasionally, but it's rare. He had no real reason to expect a call.
“I followed your directions.” That I would comply, Luca had every right to expect. That was the basis of our relationship. We both had some pretty kinky tendencies and we worked hard to take care of each other in that regard.
“Did you?” Luca's voice sharpened, his interest piqued. “How do you feel?”
I thought about it. Luca liked details. He liked for me to be as explicit
and dirty as possible. Probably because he knew it made my face flush and all the moisture in my body pool between my legs. It had proven to be a lot of fun in the past.
“I've never used an enema before. It was interesting.” It was flat out gross and not remotely sexy. I hoped he didn't expect me to elaborate about that. “But effective.”
“Go on.” Luca spoke in a hushed voice. He was getting turned on at work and he didn't have the luxury of owning the business. He had an office with a door, but someone could walk in at any moment.
“This morning I put the plug in. It took a while. And I used almost all the lube.” Generally, Luca was involved during the insertion process. If something went into my body, he was the one pushing it in. I had no idea how much effort it normally took. “I feel stretched and incredibly full.”
“Next time I'll make you use the ben-wa balls at the same time.”
I clenched at the sense memory of the balls inside me. They were a guaranteed orgasm. Insert balls. Wait five seconds. Come like a freight train. It was invariable and almost embarrassing how easily I came when Luca pushed them into me.
“Do you like it?” Luca kept his voice low, but mixed with the arousal I could hear his concern for my well being. He loved to push me, but never wanted to hurt me.
I shifted again, still unable to find a comfortable position that offered any relief. I'd tried standing earlier. That was no better. “It sucks.”
“Oh, Mari.” I could tell by the remorse in his voice that Luca was on the verge of telling me to take it out.
“It's okay. It'll be worth it later. Are you picking me up? Or should I come to your place after I'm done here?”
“I want to cook for you. Do you mind driving yourself?” Luca was old fashioned. He opened doors, always paid for our dates, and insisted on driving. For him to ask if I would drive was a break in our routine. I always offered. He always declined.
“Sure.”
Luca must not have liked the way I said sure because he retracted his request. “Never mind. I'll pick you up.”
“Luca, I don't mind driving.” It would be weird because that's just not the way we'd done things in the past, but that didn't make it wrong.
“If we lived together, this wouldn't be an issue.”
“No, but other things would.” I wouldn't be swayed with arguments based on an easier weekend commute.
“We'd work it out.”
“Maybe.” I didn't want to argue, but that was the biggest concession I could make. I was on the verge of admitting my love for Luca. It wouldn't be long before I would commit to more, but I just wasn't there yet.
“I'll see you tonight.” Luca had more to say, I could tell. But he was at work, and I was not easily swayed. He knew as well as I did that a disagreement would only prove my point and hurt his argument.
We disconnected and I went back to work. No matter how much I tried, I couldn't find a comfortable position that didn't remind me exactly what Luca had planned for us that night. Rachel laughed every time she saw me shift and grimace.
#
When I reached Luca's door, I wasn't sure if I should knock or just walk in. The only time I’d ever come to his house without him was the first time. Since then, he’d always been with me. I erred on the side of good manners and knocked. While I waited for Luca to answer, I adjusted my dress, a short summer type that liked to float on the breeze. It made for a beautiful display, but sometimes it got away from me.
Luca looked surprised when he opened the door. He kissed my cheek and ushered me inside. I loved that he was so courteous. The kiss on the cheek had an old-fashioned flair and it made me feel very romantic.
“Mari, you never need to knock. You belong here.” He wore a pair of soft denim jeans that were so worn there was a hole in the left knee and he had an apron tied on to protect his tight white T-shirt. He was barefoot, which struck me as endearing, and he held a wooden spoon covered with red sauce.
I shrugged and slipped off my jacket. “Next time.”
Luca took my jacket and draped it over a chair, then led me by the hand into the kitchen. He stirred a stock pot and scooped out a small bit for me to taste. He held the spoon to my lips and blew gently to cool the sauce. “Taste.”
Just like every other area of his life, Luca was fearless about cooking. That I was a professional caterer never stopped him from seeking my opinion. He was both confident in his abilities and willing to listen to advice. It was a sexy combination.
I licked the edge of the spoon tentatively, testing the temperature. “Chili.” The western flavor was unexpected. Red sauce in my family equaled enchiladas. I slipped the spoon into my mouth and ate what he offered. The flavor was rich with layered texture. Chiles and onions spiced with cumin and paprika.
“It's very good,” I said appreciatively.
He smiled and pulled me into a hug. “Let's dance.”
“Here?”
He dropped the spoon into the sink as he led me into the living room. He pushed a button on his iPod dock and a moment later Rihanna's “Skin” filled the air. It was a slow, sultry song better suited for sex than dancing. Luca circled me, dragging his hand around my body, low across my hips. The fabric of my dress gathered and fell away as he suddenly grabbed my hand and spun me into his arms. I loved to dance with Luca, but the constant pressure of the plug inside me made it hard to enjoy the sudden movement.
“Here.” Luca eased his leg between mine. Like all good Latino boys, he had learned to salsa, along with all the other Latin rhythm dances. He pulled me tight against him, pressing our bodies together at the hips, but loose with room to move at the shoulders. The sharp pressure from the combination of plug and being spun receded until it barely registered as a low, throbbing ache. My body liked this movement much better.
These were the moments, when Luca guided me effortlessly and pulled me low until my clit rubbed dangerously against his thigh, that my world narrowed to a pinpoint of light that showcased only Luca. And as he dipped me back until my hair swept the floor and his breath was hot against my stomach and as he leaned into position over me, he came into sharp focus and the rest of life, all my insecurities and questions, just fell away. Any doubt I had about him, about us, gave way to simple clarity, to absolute knowledge that he was it for me. My future was entwined with his as completely as our bodies were in that moment.
We danced through the song and then the next, Luca leading me higher and higher. I've heard people say that dancing is not a big deal, that it doesn't mean anything to dance like we were, but I call bullshit on that. Any woman who has been truly touched by a man emotionally and physically the way Luca was touching me would never dismiss it as only a dance. To hold a woman like that was a clear expression of love.
At the end of the second song, Luca held me tight against him, our chests heaving. His breath hit my skin in hot, panting bursts and ignited a fire deep inside. I stared into his eyes wondering what life with Luca would truly be like. Every night couldn't be as passionate and engulfing as this one. I told myself that, but so far, every night had proven to be just that. Luca had awoken a part of me that had been long dormant, a part of me that, prior to him, had been so deeply hidden I wasn't even aware I had it.
Luca kissed me then, softly, reverently, and with so much tenderness it broke down my resistance. If he could lay himself bare like that, then I should, and could, be brave enough to acknowledge my feelings for him.
“Before we go any further tonight--” Luca said before he swallowed heavily. He was gearing up to make a heartfelt speech. “There are a few things I need to say to you. First, it's not right for a man to tell his girlfriend's mom that he loves her before he tells his girlfriend. And it's even worse when he follows up with a text message as confirmation. I'm sorry for that. Mari, plainly and for the record, I love you. I love you so much that I smell your perfume when you're not with me. I hear your laugh when I'm alone. I picture your face and it makes me forget everything I'm doing. I love you co
mpletely and thoroughly. And I know with absolute certainty that I will love you for the rest of my life.”
That was another thing I loved about him. He never half-assed anything. Emotion choked in my throat and all I could do was smile and nod. Tears threatened to fall and I was helpless to stop it.
“You don't have to say it back. I know you love me. And I know you'll say it when you're ready. I've pushed for us to live together, but that's only because I can't wait to start the rest of my life with you. I don't want to be yours on weekends. I want to be a part of your life every day, starting now. I understand that you're not there yet, and I'm trying to be patient, but it’s very hard. I'm the type of man who grabs hold with both hands when I find what want. I want you, Mari. I want you so much I can barely think.”
I wanted to say “I love you” back to him. The words were there, formed in my heart, but I just couldn't get them out. My throat was locked so tight that I couldn’t say anything. I just stood there nodding and smiling like an idiot.
Luca pulled me into a hug. “I know, baby. I know.”
Did he? Did he know how scared I was of all of this? Getting divorced was hard, but it didn't destroy me. I was mostly embarrassed to admit to failure. Luca was different. I was in so deep that it would devastate me to lose him. What would happen when I said it, when I gave all that emotion a name and admitted to how I felt? Just the thought of losing him crippled me. I wouldn't be able to cope with the reality. And there was one thing I was absolutely certain about: people change, emotions change. He loved me now, I believed that. But that didn't mean he would love me ten years from now. There was no way for him to promise the future. It was undeliverable.
“We should eat.” Luca stepped back to a respectful distance. “Can you sit?”
The plug had been in so long at that point I'd almost forgotten about it. My ass no longer panged when I moved wrong or shifted in just the wrong way in my chair. It wasn't comfortable, not by a long shot, but I no longer had an internal voice screaming Out! Out! Out! Get it out now!