Sugar & Salt

by Pavarti K. Tyler

  In the entranceway of his apartment, his touch sears her skin, burning the imprint of his fingers onto her flesh. A fiery need lying dormant within her flares to life, and she gives over control, relishing the release.

  He holds her with confidence, supporting her body as her bones melt and liquefy under his command. Without separating his lips from hers, he pushes her against the wall and allows his hardness to stroke against her hip.

  She pushes him away and smiles at the pout threatening to form on his lips. His green eyes spark with intensity and passion as he watches her pull her dress up over her head. She stands before him in a black, lace bra with a matching thong and garter, shivering from the blatant lust in his gaze.

  She turns her back on him, walking further into the dark apartment. Outlines of furniture shape the space, but it’s the wall of glass that calls to her. The freedom it represents is nothing like her loft. She may have luxury, but she still barricades herself against the world, protecting her heart and soul behind layers of concrete and steel.

  To her left, an open door catches her attention. She turns to find Salt still cloaked in darkness by the entrance, watching her with the ferocity of a predator. She moves through the doorway into his bedroom, which is sparsely furnished, the walls bare but for a few framed pieces. Japanese-style prints hang on one wall behind a large chair.

  Still exploring the space, she feels him enter the room. He doesn’t announce himself, but the electricity in the air sparks, his presence sharpening her senses so that she can feel the current from the central air and the sound of her pounding heart.

  She turns back to face him and unclips her stockings, smoothing them down her legs, one at a time. She reaches one hand behind her back to undo her bra, but Salt shakes his head and steps forward.

  “Let me do that.” He walks around behind her, heating her flesh with the caress of his eyes. He tickles her shoulders with the tips of his fingernails and glides his steady hands down her back, across the spread of her hips, and back up her sides.

  She shivers as he trails his hands down her arms before leaning in to place a warm kiss on her neck.

  He inhales deeply.

  She leans back, but he steps away, leaving her without the warmth of his embrace.

  Instead, he unclasps her bra. Still behind her, he pushes the straps off her shoulders and down her arms, until it falls to the floor.

  Topless and exposed, she quivers in desperation. She longs to be touched, taken, abused, but he takes his time.

  He moves his hands back up her arms until they sit on her shoulders firmly.

  Her nipples harden as she hears him rustle his clothing behind her, presumably taking off his jacket.

  “You are so beautiful.” He pauses, taking her in. “So pure and lovely.”

  “I’m hardly pure.”

  He grasps her hair, pulling her head back so she can see him. “Perhaps, but you are ripe.” A slow, sensual smile spreads across his face and he releases her hair. He rests his hand on her shoulder and walks around into her line of sight. He traces along her collar bone and she leans into the touch, desperate for his teasing fingers to reach her breasts.

  He stands before her, dress shirt unbuttoned, revealing his tight abs. His pants rest loosely on his hips.

  She takes in the man standing before her and her cunt heats up, screaming out to be used. She drags her eyes over his chest, up to the bright eyes boring into her, and licks her lips. As he leans in, her restraint pulls taut and breaks—the rope of her submission weak against the strength of her desire. She wraps both arms around his neck and pulls her body to his. Breasts press into hard muscle, and their lips finally join.

  He moves forward, half-guiding, half-carrying her forward until the wall presses against her back. He grasps at her middle, kneading the flesh from her hips up until he reaches her firm breasts.

  She moans and closes her eyes as he dips down to take a nipple into his mouth. He teases her hardened bud until she grabs his head and demands he take more of her into his mouth. He complies and sucks deeply, pulling her nipple along his tongue.

  She moves her hands down to his shoulders and pushes the dress shirt down.

  He shrugs it off, removing his starving mouth from her nipple. After ripping the shirt from his wrists, he returns to her other breast with vigor.

  “Fuck.” The wall holds her up as she wraps a leg around him.

  He sinks to his knees, grabs her leg, and sets it on his shoulder.

  “Oh fuck!” She cries as his lips press against the silky fabric covering her cunt. “Yes.”

  He draws his tongue along the lengths of her, leaving heat and need in its wake.

  When he reaches her clit, she can’t help but thrust her hips forward.

  He chuckles against her, hot flames of desire spreading with his breath. He nips at her lips, biting softly above the throbbing nub of her clit.

  “Damn you.” She pushes him forward, forcing him back onto the hardwood of his bedroom floor. She stands above him, naked but for her thong and red-soled shoes, and places her foot on his chest. “I don’t like to be teased.”

  “Yes you do.” He reaches his hands behind his head and stretches out, comfortable on the floor.

  “And how do you know that.”

  “I can smell you from here.”

  “You’re a cocky ass.” Janice laughs and sits down on top of him.

  He chuckles until she lowers her weight onto his hardened length. He closes his eyes with a moan and places his hands on her upper thighs, holding her in place as he rocks up into her.

  She glides over him, rubbing herself against his dress pant-covered erection. After a moment of tortuous pleasure, she brings her hands to his belt and unbuckles his pants. She unzips them and lifts herself up so she can reach inside his underwear and grab his cock. It’s warm and soft, perfectly smooth. She longs to taste him.

  He groans at the contact, his hips jerking involuntarily.

  With her hand still wrapped around his erection, she leans down against his chest. She takes his mouth in hers and pumps him softly, pulling him to an agonizing size.

  He flips them both over, wrenching her hand away and using his feet to kick off his pants. He grinds firm circles against her core and assaults her neck.

  She runs her red nails down his spine and loses herself in his assault.

  He licks along the tight muscle of her neck before grazing her shoulder with his teeth.

  She raises her hips and wraps her legs around his middle, pulling him tight.

  He moans and grabs her ass, digging his fingers into flesh as he pulls her harder against him.

  She cries out in pleasure and pushes him away, ignoring the question in his eyes as she stands to remove her underwear. She slips them down to reveal a perfectly manicured cunt—soft, downy hair hides her most intimate place. She steps out of one of her heels, but stops when Salt reaches out for her ankle.

  “Leave them on,” he commands with a seductive smile.

  She slips her foot back into the shoe.

  Streetlights from far below illuminate the dark room, creating an ethereal glow. The bed is flanked by two marble-topped bedside tables. She also spots a large television mounted on the wall and a small dresser in the corner. A wall of glass opens onto the night, but there are no buildings nearby, only an expansive view of Central Park.

  The darkness calls to her. She approaches the window, exposed and lightheaded from desire. She doesn’t usually let herself go like this, and needs a moment to regain control. It’s this man, his lips, his confidence—he sends her mind into a tailspin until all that remains is her body and heart. He represents something dangerous, something she’s learned to avoid.

  When she turns around, Salt is close behind her. His proximity dispels her clouds of doubt until all she can feel is him.

  “The view is beautiful.” She returns to the visage.

  “It’s the best thing about this place. That and how private it can be
.”

  “You have good taste.”

  He wraps his arms around her, and she settles against the warmth of his chest. “I do.”

  She turns in his arms and they kiss—a gentle, soft caress.

  He takes her hand and leads her away from the window toward the bed.

  Intimacy replaces the playful tone of their embrace as she lies down before her new lover. His bed is large, the headboard covered in books and half-consumed bottles of water.

  He crawls over her naked form, hovering for a moment so he can take in all of her before descending to her lips. He places his hand on her jaw and they kiss.

  She wraps her arms around him and runs her hands down his defined back.

  He pulls away and looks her in the eyes. A smile, a flash of something wicked, and finally, hooded desire. He reaches into the drawer of his bedside table. With ease, he pulls off his underwear, revealing his throbbing erection.

  Before he has a chance to open the condom he’s retrieved, she moves lower, taking him into her mouth. His size stretches her lips and a warm flood rushes through her, readying her to receive him. She swirls her tongue around the ridge of his tip, tasting the sweet drop of his desire. The skin is so smooth it slides across her lips like silk. She takes him in, pulling his cock deep into her throat in a slow movement, making him suck in a breath.

  Salt laces his fingers through her hair.

  She slides her tongue along his length and envelops him in her warm mouth again and again until his hips begin to move with her, thrusting into her mouth in a search for release. His warm, velvet heat slides against her lips. The smell of lust, the taste of desire, and the heat of ecstasy swim in her mind.

  He whines when she stops—a small, animalistic sound that breaks free from the back of his throat.

  She comes to straddle his hips and retrieves the condom he’d dropped on the pillow, forgotten in the heat of the moment.

  He watches her open it and slide the protection over his head, rolling the condom slowly down his quivering cock. It fits tight, struggling to contain him.

  With one hand on his chest and the other guiding his erection, she lowers herself onto him. She takes him all in—no lead up, nor time for tentative first motions or uncertain lovers. She longs to feel all of this amazing man, who surprises her, intrigues her, infuriates her, and makes her laugh. The first man who’s made her laugh in such a long time.

  He holds her up, devouring the sight before him: her breasts, full and natural, her waist, thin and strong, and her hips, broad across his lap.

  She squeezes her inner muscles and lifts up, luxuriating in the stroke of his broad head within.

  Slowly, they make love. Their bodies dance in perfect rhythm with hands on each other’s hips, and teeth pulling on soft flesh.

  He rolls her to the side, using his strength to leverage himself deeper inside her. His hipbones dig against her inner thighs, pushing her to spread wider, allowing him complete access. With long, firm thrusts, he rocks against her again and again, throwing her body against the headboard.

  She calls out as she rises higher, levitating out of her body as the sensation of his hands and cock driving into her pushes her into oblivion. In the dim light, she holds Salt’s eyes with hers. The rise and swell of their lust brings them into perfect communion.

  He grabs her wrist, pins it over her head, and twists their bodies again so she lies directly under him. Without releasing her, he dips down to nip at her lips.

  She plants her feet on the bed, and lifts up to meet him.

  Her cunt cries out, screaming through her nerves and vibrating passion through her body until it comes together deep within her. The rising orgasm clenches and Janice screams, tightening around Salt with pulsing strength demanding he come with her.

  Together they release, eyes still locked.

  UN Negotiations

  Janice wakes as early morning light filters in through the windows. Salt lays wrapped around her naked body, his leg draped over hers as if they’d been sharing a bed for years. His features relax in sleep, making him appear younger and more innocent. She doesn’t even know his age, or what he does for a living.

  Why should it matter? She rarely knows anything about the men she sleeps with. What difference does it make if he’s a dog trainer or an accountant?

  But it does matter. He makes her laugh and gives her a feeling of freedom she’s been missing in her personal life for so long. Work has been the driving force of every decision she’s made for so long that this moment of vulnerability leaves her more naked than last night, when Salt had.... She blushes, remembering all the things they’d done after their first time.

  Watching him sleep, an emotion she’d forgotten washes over her: the desire to be with someone. She wants to wake him, tell him her secrets, have him hold her and love her anyway.

  Love.

  The word stands out against the backdrop of her life like a neon sign. It screams out, reminding her of the men who came before—the ones who judged her, or used her. She started The Sugar House to make sure she could never again be held to someone else, either by money or manipulative emotions. No one owns her. No one shames her. Her body and her decisions are her own. That’s what she offers the men and women who work for her: freedom.

  Anyone who wants to claim her has another thing coming.

  Salt shifts in his sleep. He rolls away from her, leaving her cold. A familiar loneliness wraps around her heart, reminding her how everyone wants something.

  She slides out of bed, careful not to disturb him. She uses the bathroom, retrieves her bra from the floor and pulls it on. Her underwear hides somewhere out of sight, and she decides to just leave them wherever they ended up. She picks up her dress as Salt wakes up.

  “You weren’t going to say goodbye?” he teases with a cocky smile.

  She swallows her lingering sadness. After almost a decade building a business in the sex industry, she’s seen enough to know what men are really like. Who is he to demand anything of her?

  “No, but since you’re up, goodbye.”

  “Icy. What’s wrong? Are you upset?” He sits up in bed, crossing his legs under the sheet and staring into Janice’s eyes.

  If he’d looked at her body or made some crude joke, it would be so easy for her to leave. What does he want from me? “No, I’m just awake. What did you expect?”

  “I don’t know. I guess....” He runs a hand through his disheveled hair and turns away.

  “This, whatever this is, was fun. It was.”

  “Shit. What’s this about, Jan?”

  She balks, unable to speak for a moment. Jan? When did he start using a nickname for her? “Just the truth. I have no room for you in my life.” She straightens her skirt.

  “I don’t understand. I thought we had a good time.”

  She detects a sad undertone in his voice. His eyes are still drooped in sleepy contentedness, but she can almost see him trying to understand. Nonetheless, the fact is she’ll be the one upset if she lets this continue.

  “You like me, right?” His expression is full of unexpected vulnerability.

  She slips on her shoes and gazes out the window as the sunrise bursts over Central Park. “I do. It’s nothing like that.” She turns and gives him her most practiced work smile.

  He flinches, seeing right through her act. “Is this because I teased you last night?”

  “No.”

  “Look, I’m sorry I kept putting you off, but... well, this sounds so awful, but most of the women I date don’t mean much to me. It’s hard to get close to people. Everyone wants something, and when people find out too much about me, it seems like they always change. I’m sick of it, and just wanted to get to know you without all the bullshit.”

  “What bullshit?”

  “You know how it is out there—you meet someone attractive and think, maybe this is someone I can actually spend time with, and then they find out you have something they want. My parents always had money, and I
grew up traveling all over the world and really not wanting for anything. My mother was an actress in Australia when she was young, and my dad was high up in politics in South Africa. I don’t tell people because they always end up more interested in taking from me than getting to know me.”

  “It must be so hard to be a spoiled, rich boy.”

  “Don’t start judging me. You don’t exactly carry yourself like someone who doesn’t know their way around the finer things.”

  “I worked for everything I have. My father may have had money, but I never took a cent from him. Everything I have, I earned.”

  “I’m afraid I can’t sit quite so proud on my high horse, but I don’t just sit around and set my parents’ money on fire. I have a job I love, and do something I believe in. But no one ever wants to hear about that. Women in New York are all about how much you have to give.”

  “I’m not.”

  “I know, so don’t leave.” He stares at her with open trust, seeming to truly believe that.

  She pauses for a moment, tempted... but then she remembers who she is. “I have to.”

  “What else do you want to know? I’m 37 and I work at the UN.”

  “Are you serious?” She rips her eyes away from the view and turns on him. This is completely unbelievable. If he got caught with a Madame, she’d be out of business in a flash, or worse, end up on the news.

  Danger trumps any sadness she feels about having to leave.

  He shrugs, as if her entire world hadn’t been put in jeopardy just by knowing him. Not to mention what would happen to him if anyone found out. No more fancy job, that’s for sure.

  “I was appointed to the United Nations Population Fund about eight months ago.”

  “Population Fund? Like women’s health and sex workers?”

  “Yeah, why?”

  “Oh my God. You.... I can’t even.... This is impossible. You and I? Impossible!” She charges out of the room and retrieves her purse from the hallway table. She turns around to find Salt standing before her, stark naked with a pained expression on his face.

  “I have no idea what’s going on here.” He holds his hands palm up.