by Pike, Leslie
I open the door to find Finn in all his glory. Wow. He looks good in his black jeans and black fitted sweater. I can see his arm muscles much clearer now. Oh gee, I’m staring.
“Hello, Esme. Don’t you look beautiful.”
“Hi.” Oh crap, what do I say now?
“Shall I come in?” he asks.
“Oh yes, come in. Please.”
He walks in, and I’m pretty sure his feet weren’t touching the ground. Did he hover? He’s so sexy and wonderful to look at, it’s almost otherworldly. Maybe it’s my feet that aren’t earthbound when I’m with him.
“This is nice,” Finn says.
He’s looking at the living room, but as he passes my closed bedroom door he nods in that direction.
“Is that where all the magic happens?”
What? What do I say to that?
He starts laughing a little. “I’m just kidding you. It’s none of my business where the magic happens.”
I take a breath and release all the tension.
“I’m afraid there’s no magic making here, or there or anywhere.” I’m smiling, but I’m one hundred percent serious.
“Now that’s hard to believe,” Finn says.
“Believe it.”
I grab my purse and my coat.
“Shall we go?’ I ask.
As we walk out, I think he’s trying to figure out if I’m kidding him, or telling him the awful truth.
* * *
Othello’s is the finest restaurant I’ve ever been in. The food is the best I’ve eaten. By far. By leaps and bounds. By a mile. High above Main Street, it sits overlooking the ski-run and the twinkling pin lights decorating downtown. I’m sure in the winter the view is pristine and perfect, set amidst the snow-covered mountain. But it’s this August scene in the moonlight, which will always be the more beautiful to me.
A tinkling piano in the bar sets a dreamy feeling. And this fine wine doesn’t hurt either. The waiter just poured me my second glass. Tonight my heart’s a dancer, light and unbound. I feel young in a completely different way than I ever have before. This kind of young isn’t a negative. It’s all the benefits and none of the disadvantages. I recognize now, I’ve never understood the meaning of romance.
Finn knows what women want. Not that he’s a show-off, but I can’t help but see he’s so comfortable in his own skin. He understands enough about wine to order with confidence. He can pronounce entrees that don’t come with fries. He pulls out my chair for me, and holds the door. He’s a good listener. But more importantly, he hears what you’re saying. His eyes never wander to another woman’s face while you’re talking. For these, and all the little things he did right, it’s painfully obvious I haven’t really lived or been courted. Not in this way. And God help me, I like it. I’ve been in isolation for six years. Tonight I walk out, and slam the door behind me. I’ll never go back.
“So, talk to me about your lack of magic. How can that possibly be? Finn says. “Tell me an after dinner story.”
I hesitate for a moment. I want to tell him, but will the truth backfire on me?
“Once I tell you, I can never take it back. You’ll know, and it’s almost inevitable you’ll think differently about me,” I say.
“Did you murder somebody?”
“No.”
“Then it can’t be that bad. Come on, I want to know.”
I take a sip of my wine. He tops off my glass and pours himself another.
“Ok. Let’s see if I can give you the Cliff Notes on “The Book of Esme.”
So I tell him. I tell him about Kevin, and about Grandma and my parents. I tell him about how I got away. And how I plan on getting a divorce. But I don’t drag it out. I say everything in under five minutes. It’s the cut and dry version. And he listens without interrupting, or questioning. When I stop talking, he shakes his head as if he can’t believe it.
“Stop. Wait. Are you saying this idiot will be trying to find you? He’s going to come after you?”
“I think he’ll try. Hopefully I haven’t left a trail. And now you know why there’s no magic for me. There never was any.”
“Never?”
“Never. There was only the very opposite of magic. What would that be? Pain? Yes, there was that. Always that.”
Finn’s face darkens in an expression I’ve never seen on him before. There’s an anger that’s being pushed down, and when he speaks, there’s a weight to his voice.
“He better never come after you here. I’ll mess that little fucker up bad.”
“What? No! Don’t you get involved. It’s not your battle, Finn.”
“I’ll make it my battle. Believe me. I’m glad you told me. We’ll have security be on the lookout. They should be made aware.”
“No, please, don’t do that. I don’t want the entire crew to know my business, or feel sorry for me. And that could affect my job. What director’s going to put up with that? This can’t come back on Kizzy.”
“Steven’s not like that. You don’t know him. He wouldn’t punish you for being a victim.”
“I’m not a victim.”
I can’t help the tears that start to fall. They run down my cheeks and mark my top. This is the first time I’ve cried since I left Grandma. The first time I let myself feel the seriousness of my situation. Finn’s face softens, and he takes my hands in his.
“No, you’re right. You’re not a victim. In fact, you’re one of the strongest people I’ve ever known. I’m sorry I said that.”
He leans over the table and takes my face in his hands.
“You’re my beautiful warrior.”
He kisses me, and I forget where I am. I forget who I am. I forget all memories prior to him. And I kiss him back.
“Esme, will you let me show you the magic? I promise never to hurt you. I only want to kiss the pain away.”
God, yes.
* * *
Neither one of us wanted to go to our respective places. There are entirely too many eyes at my hotel, and his condo isn’t much better. So we made the decision to get a room somewhere no one will be watching, far from cast and crew. He called ahead for a reservation, and after speaking to the concierge, was assured we could bypass the front desk check-in. We were told the man would be waiting at the elevator with our room key.
We leave Finn’s car with the valet and walk into the hotel. This is another first for me. The closest thing I’ve been to a luxury hotel is the one I’m currently staying in. This one’s on a whole other level. But I’m not concentrating on the décor. I’m concentrating on how it feels to have the attention of the man who’s holding my hand. We barely talked all the way here. He said just one thing. “Are you ok?” Neither one of us wanted to say an extra word, or make a move that would alter our intention. I said, “Yes,” and that was good enough for the both of us.
We make it to the elevator. The concierge hands Finn the key and leaves us. When the elevator door opens, I’m happy to see we’ll be alone. We walk in, and Finn inserts the keycard and presses the Penthouse button. The door closes. Oh no. Oh no. What have I done? He moves in front of me and lifts my chin. He can see panic in my eyes, I’m sure. It’s impossible to hide. So he doesn’t push. He doesn’t pounce. He just very gently brings our bodies together. We’re touching from chest to thigh. He lets that effect build on its own. I can feel his erection grow against me. When I look into his blue eyes, my fear quiets to a muffled roar. And in its’ place, rises passion. I put my hands on his face and bring his lips to mine. If ever a kiss healed a woman, then surely this was it. His lips are soft and full, and he takes his time. I don’t think I’ve ever been kissed before.
The bell sounds as we arrive on the tenth floor. The doors open into the most stunning room with floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the vista. But I don’t give a damn. Him. That’s all I see. Afraid or not, this is happening. He takes my hand and leads me inside. We walk through the living room, toward the bedroom. Has he been here before? He seems to know where h
e’s going. Quit dissecting every move. Be in the moment. But these last steps seem to go on forever. My feet are moving, but it seems like we’re not getting any closer. It’s like I’m dead woman walking. Off to the electric chair for me. Am I about to get the biggest jolt I’ve ever felt? It’ll either kill me, or bring me to life.
Chapter Thirteen
Finn
I’ve got to take it slow. She’s a wounded bird. There’ll be no wall banging, ass fucking, swing-from-the-rafters sex tonight. The very thought that I can’t do those things to her yet makes me hard. Makes me want them more. Denial and patience can be a turn-on, with a big payoff. That’s why, over time, I’ve learned to control the beast. It’s the greatest illusion. She’s walking into the bedroom like she’s walking the plank. I’ve got her hand, but she’s about a half-step behind me. I let go.
“Let’s put on some music,” I say.
I spot the Bose dock for my phone. I bring up my triple F’s playlist, and connect. Finn’s Fucking Favorites has been well used. I’m sure the women I’ve been with wouldn’t love the idea that these songs have been used on a constant rotation. But you like what you like. The music puts down the mood and the pace. When I turn back to her, she’s sitting in a chair across the room. Her purse and coat are in her lap. Oh Esme, I’ve got to put you out of your misery. I walk to where she sits and take her things.
“Let me have those.”
I set them down on the table. When I turn to her, she looks so afraid. I almost call the whole thing off, but her anxious voice stops me.
“Can we put off the lights?” she says.
“How about we compromise, and just dim them a little?”
I reach for the dimmer and lower the bright lights to a sexy glow. The shadows fall and spread their charms. Over the bed, a dimmed pin light illuminates the stage.
“Shall I take my clothes off?” she asks.
That sweet voice is inviting, even with the note of dread behind it.
“No darlin’. Let me.”
I go to her and take her hands. She stands facing me. I begin to slowly unbutton her blouse. Is there any moment more fucking arousing than this? Right before you get your first look at her body, your first taste and smell of her sex? It’s that last moment of unknowing, when it’s all anticipation and promise. I want her to feel that rise. To relish it like I do. The thought that she hasn’t experienced good sex, and I’m the one who gets to show her, makes my balls ache. I could come right now with a little encouragement.
She’s biting her lip, and just that gesture’s making me aroused. Her bottom lip is ripe for sucking. As I move down to the last button, I pause. Her eyes are lowered, and her breathing is rising. I open her blouse and take it from her shoulders. She’s wearing a white bra. No lace, no sexy revealing plunge. Just a plain white bra. But this description is a poor telling of the hidden treasure I detect. Even cloaked with a bra a housewife on Mad Men might wear, I can see there’s something wonderful there. Her breasts are spilling over their confinement, and I want to set them free. It’s like the first time I saw a girl with great tits in a bra. I was fourteen, and it was life changing. Now I know what I’m doing, and I don’t have to be satisfied with just looking. I remove my sweater.
“I want to feel them against me,” I say.
I bring my hands up behind her and unclasp her bra. She’s watching my face, and I’m watching the big reveal. As soon as I see them, my mouth finds its heading. Fuck feeling them against me. I want to feel them in my mouth and in my hands. Full, high and the very definition of the word luscious. With nipples so ideally formed and placed, I almost want to clap. I’m trying to suck and kiss as gently as possible, but their perfection makes it hard to hold back. Their perfection makes me hard.
“Beautiful. They’re beautiful.”
I think I sense the fear letting up a little. I need to get her in the bed. That’s where she’ll be most at ease. So I swoop her up in my arms and carry her there. The soft light is directly on her. I lay her on her back, and grabbing both legs under her knees, pull her to me. I’m standing between her spread legs, but her skirt still covers what I’m after. I remove her shoes. She’s on her elbows, watching me. Her braid falls over her breast, so I pick the end up and use it to tease her. I brush each nipple, till they grow hard. And with my free hand I’m rubbing my erect cock, over my pants. I think she’s enjoying that.
Then from the hem of her skirt, I start folding it back. One inch at a time. I’m smiling at her, daring her to stop me. She’s smiling back, with no intention of taking the dare. Her legs are smooth and muscled. I run the back of my hands against her satiny inner thighs. I feel underneath her skirt for her panties and pull them off in one fluid move. Still, the skirt covers her. I resume turning up the hem. When I get a few inches from the glory hole, I see something I haven’t seen since I fucked my mother’s friend in the nineteen eighties. Bush. A nicely groomed bush. It’s turning me on. I make the final fold, and now she’s exposed. Ah. Yes. I touch her there, and wiggle my finger right atop where her clit will be.
“Aren’t you sexy.”
I’m moving my fingers slowly over and along her lips. She’s beginning to come alive. Up until now she’s been silent. Now it’s becoming impossible for her to keep her feelings inside. She sounds a little moan.
“Take off your pants,” Esme says.
My cock just jumped.
“I want to make you come first. Let me do that,” I say.
“I don’t know if I can. I’ve never had an orgasm.”
“Oh, you can. Let me show you how.”
This is an interesting development. An orgasm virgin? Not sure I’ve ever had one of those. No masturbation? How is that possible? My cock’s so hard I want to fuck her now. Right fucking now. Whip out my Jacob’s Ladder and ram it into her. Whoa, cowboy. If I try and her pussy’s dry, it won’t be good for either one of us. She’d get one look at my Ladder and run screaming. It most definitely would not be her stairway to heaven. I get down to business. I kneel down and get within six inches of her pussy. She sits up and grabs the sides of my face.
“Wait! What are you doing?” she says. The fear’s back in her voice.
“I’m about to go down on you.”
“Wait! Umm, I’m not sure about that.”
She hasn’t let go of my face. I take her hands away.
“Don’t tell me he never did that either?”
“He said only sluts wanted that. I never asked again.”
I see a hint of tears welling in her eyes. I’ve got to shut this down quick.
“Lay back, Esme. I promise you you’re going to love it. And if at any time you want me to stop, I will. Ok?”
She lies back, and I begin the most meaningful pussy eating of my life. This one will either make a believer of her, or ruin her for life. I have my orders. It feels like a sacred mission for this sexual crusader. I open her legs as far as I can, and run my tongue along her thighs. I come closer and closer to her pussy. She’s stiff at first, but the closer I get, the more relaxed her death grip on the bedding becomes. Her scent is sweet and clean.
“You smell wonderful,” I say.
She puts a pillow over her face to muffle her screams of embarrassment. I never had that happen before. I ignore it and continue. I let my tongue find her lips first. Just the tongue. No fingers or lips. I let it travel the length of her. I let it tease the hidden clit. I leave out the nibbling. I don’t want the thought of pain to be any part of her memory of tonight. Later, much later, I’ll introduce her to a little spice. I’ll teach her how to enjoy the Tabasco sauce of the meal.
I begin to use my hands. I open her and pull the hood back. Her clit pops out as if it’s been waiting impatiently. I’m sure that’s true. When I touch it for the first time, she reacts by wanting to close her legs. I hold them open.
“Feel it. I’ll be gentle. This is where it all happens, Esme.”
I use my tongue to bring her close. She takes the pillow from he
r face. Oh yeah. I can see things are beginning to happen for her. Now I use my fingers. I put my middle finger inside her, while using my other hand to stimulate her clit. It’s like rubbing your stomach, while patting your head. It’s an art. She begins to pump softly into my fist. I do that till I know she’s close. Then I take my finger out and just use my hand to rub and pat her, right over the spot. This is one thing I know I’m good at. I must have been a chick in a previous life. A masturbating whore. I know exactly how to make a woman come, without the use of my dick.
“Oh yes. Oh. My God.”
She’s feeling it now. She’s about to come, and I want to be the first to feel her juices. I stop rubbing her clit and put my finger back inside. She’s wet and she’s tight, and just about to reach the point of no return. I feel her muscles tighten in orgasm.
“Come, Esme. Let it go, darlin’.”
I feel the cum squirt over my finger. I work it into her as she writhes in the first orgasm of her life. What a revelation this has to be. She’s actually throbbing inside. She pumps my finger harder and harder. My cock can’t take it much longer. It’s being drawn to her, despite my will and independent of my resolve. It’s got to happen soon. Neither of us speaks for a minute. She’s trying to make the feeling last, and I’m loving watching her face. She opens her eyes.
“That was…it was…” she says.
“I know. See what you’ve been missing?”
“Thank you, Finn.”
“I’ve never been thanked for what I did. That’s a first.”
She gives me a little embarrassed grin.
“I’m going to go and clean up. I’m a little sticky down there.”
She starts to get off the bed.
“No, don’t do that. It’s just our lubrication. It’s a good thing.”
She seems happy with that news. She unbuttons her skirt and wiggles out of it. Now she’s naked, and I see the whole package. Curves the word, fuck’s the verb. She’s soft and hard at the same time. Her legs are tight and strong, her waist is tiny. She has a hint of a tummy, and I like that. Her ass is solid and round and high. Baby got back. She’s perfect as far as I’m concerned. Just the way I like women to look. I’m fucking a real woman, not a stick figure with fake tits and a flat ass. But she makes a dash for the covers, so I’m not so sure she’s loving her body as much as I am. She pulls back the bedding beside her.