“As well as that side of things, I’m not selling HookedUp to Sophie, after all. She simply can’t afford to buy me out – she pulled out of our deal at the last minute. We might both sell at a later date – strike while the iron’s hot. You can be a lady of leisure if you like, Pearl.”
I feel relieved that the family business hasn’t broken up because of me. I think back to our other conversation, fondle his cock and say, “If you spanked me, Alexandre, tell me how you’d do it.”
He strokes his thumb languidly over my lower lip and I suck on it, letting my teeth graze across the ball of his thumb, flickering my tongue on his shiny square nail. He takes my other hand and presses it against his erection.
“See how hard you get me, Pearl, lying against me with your pregnant tits, those nipples like silk bullets? But you’re wrong if you think I’d spank a woman with my child inside her.”
“Please, just humor me. Just pretend. Tell me how you’d do it.” I walk my fingers under his PJ’s and squeeze his penis, feeling the throb of it in my fisted hand.
“I’d bend you over my knee with my arm over your shoulder so you were locked into position and couldn’t wriggle away. With my right hand I’d stroke your hot little pussy-pearlette, tickle it, tease it until it was glistening wet. Until it was begging me for more.”
I run my tongue along my lips and stroke the length of his smooth erection, softly. He bucks his hips up a little so I can roll his pajamas down, and I hear his quiet moan.
He talks on in his deep voice, “Once you were really aroused, I’d bring my flat palm down hard on your ass with a stinging slap. It would shock you, might even hurt you a little, but it would also make you want more. Then I’d tap your hot, juicy little pearlette so gently, letting my fingers dip inside.”
I grip him harder and begin to jack his cock up and down, concentrating on the crown of it, teasing the bulbous tip.
“Then I’d slap you again, this time the tips of my fingers would land on your pussy. You’d be moaning for more. I’d plunge my fingers inside. Then slap you again with my other hand. Then stroke you softly. You’d be going crazy because my rhythm would change. You wouldn’t know if you’d get the tease or the slap. Then I’d throw you on the bed and fuck you so hard from behind while your own fingers played with your clit. I’d ravage you like an animal. Bad boy style. Play the ruthless, selfish bastard. Girls like that. Pump your pussy until it was numb. I’d fuck your ass off, thrusting in and out till I came really hard deep inside you, emptying all my seed. Then I’d pull out before you had a chance to come.”
He’s really rock solid now and I’m soaked hearing him describe this particular brand of torture, my clit pounding with arousal.
He’s grinning now, enjoying this game. “You’d be confused, chérie. Almost in pain, but wanting more. I’d leave you there for a few minutes. You’d spread your legs begging for me to come back.”
I lick my lips. “Yes, I would.”
“I’d spank you once more, just so you’d know who was boss. Then I’d turn you over. I’d fuck your clit with the tip of my cock till you screamed. Then I’d enter you again. You in the missionary position. But really slowly and gently, this time. I’d cup your ass with my hands tightly so it was all mine, bringing it as close to me as possible. I start a slow fuck, hauling your peachy ass up towards me with each thrust. My pubic bone would be rubbing on your clit, or I’d change my position so the root of my dick would massage your clit - and my cock would be pressing against your secret places, those places that drive you wild. I’d keep my motions as rhythmical as a metronome, the thing musicians use to keep the beat…”
I feel I’m about to come just listening to his description.
“Come here, Pearl,” Alexandre grabs me about my waist and maneuvers me so I am above him, my Venus on his face, my butt in the air, doggy style. He flickers his tongue up beneath me, lapping at my opening - he’s groaning. “Fuck you’re wet,” he murmurs.
We commence our 69. I wrap my lips about his steel rod and start sucking the tip and then put as much as I can into my mouth, sucking in like a vacuum, riding my head up and down, letting my mouth fuck him as if I were mounting him. It’s hard to concentrate because his tongue is doing magical things to me, also sucking in a vacuum, drawing out my juices.
My eyelids flutter – I’m entering another realm. “Alexandre…”
His hands are clamped on my thighs so I can’t escape – not that I want to. He’s pulling my groin closer to his face and taking me whole, fucking me now with his tongue. Then with his right palm, he brings it up between my legs and cups my mound, keeping the flatness of his hand hard against my clit and rubbing in small circles. His tongue lashes at me from behind as I relish the pressure of his hand on my clit…aah…Incredible.
I compress my lips around his broad length and fist my hands about the root….there’s too much of him to fit in my already stretched mouth. I can feel him thicken…
“Jesus, your wet, sweet-tasting pussy is driving me wild,” He groans. The throbbing expansion of him inside my mouth is giving me all the clues I need…he’s going to come any second.
I grab his hand and push it even harder against my clit and start coming in a powerful rush. His hand is moist from my oozing and I slap my groin into his palm, my mouth trying not to leave his cock – I need to keep the pressure up. He needs me but my orgasm is making me selfish. “Aah, baby, I’m coming so hard,” I cry, releasing my own hand from his.
Whorls of bright colors spiral in my brain as intense spasms crash through my core. I tighten my lips about him and he’s coming too, spurting inside my mouth. I swallow eagerly, sucking it all in.
“Je t’aime, Pearl,” he groans. I love you.
“Moi, non plus,” I scream out, aware I’m quoting Jane Birkin in the song and what I’ve said is mad nonsense…’me, neither’ is the translation.
He pushes my legs further apart, holding his tongue flat against me as my aftershocks fade slowly, my orgasm riding on its vibrating plateau. Alexandre can read my body like a memorized book – he always knows what to do, always senses when I need extra pressure or when I need stillness. It’s as if he has studied the art of lovemaking somewhere along the line. He knows when to fuck hard and when to be gentle. When to be a pirate, and when to be a gentleman. Right now, his tongue is motionless – just what I desire. As my climax shimmers like the glistening pearl he tells me that I am, I collapse my face into his crotch, licking all the droplets of cum from there and his solid thighs. Whoever imagined that carnal lust could be so beautiful…
I am totally spent.
Chapter Ten
Two days have passed and I still haven’t been back to my apartment. It feels good to be at work knowing that ‘home’ is at Alexandre’s place with him - that at the end of the day, I have my partner waiting for me. Finally, I can concentrate when I’m at work – doing something else other than obsess over lost love. Although he and I still have a lot of making up to do for lost time, or should I say, ‘making out’ to do. Like teenagers freshly fallen in love, we can’t get enough of each other.
I think back again to the way I behaved, crawling out of that toilet window at Van Nuys Airport and it feels as if it was someone else, not me. I don’t think I had fully appreciated the toll that the rape had on me; the memory flooding back in such detail – gang rape – being abused, used and made to feel like trash, as if I had no importance in the world whatsoever. People imagine it’s the physical violation that is so devastating, and although it’s true, it is nothing to what goes on inside your brain. I had hidden it deep in my subconscious, but it was still there – the feeling of worthlessness that ate into my psyche every single day for eighteen years. And whatever anybody says, however hard they try to assure you, deep down inside is that feeling of culpability - even if you know, logically, that it’s nonsense.
No, I don’t think I took it all on board and the effect it had on me. Remembering everything brought me back to that
moment, that night. It made me vulnerable, a pawn for Laura. Had I not been in such a sorry state, I don’t believe that I would have been so naïve, so blind – making rash, foolish choices based on nothing but fear. I have always prided myself on being astute and on the ball, but I was like a helpless beetle that had been flipped over, flailing my weak legs in the air. My armor was on my back, not on my underbelly where I needed it most.
Or perhaps the way I handled things with Alexandre was a subconscious desire to continue punishing myself because I didn’t believe I deserved better. Alexandre said so at the time; that I was using Sophie as an excuse to run from him. It was only when I felt I’d lost him completely that I could see the situation for what it was. Me – all alone for the rest of my life. Back in The Desert. Thirsty for love. For sex. For self-worth. I’d lost the one thing that was true: Alexandre.
Alexandre gives me that sense of self worth. Having a man be so intimate with you, telling you that your private parts are ‘sweet’ and ‘delicious’ is a real gift. Few men do that. Few men make you feel really special and treasured. Yes, I am hooked on the orgasms he feeds me every day, but it is the intimacy, the connection that gives me those orgasms in the first place. He is accepting every part of me, even the ‘dirty’ bits that he finds beautiful. He finds my vagina so beautiful he calls it my ‘pearlette’ – because for him it is a little part of me – a little part that is like a jewel. Yet for me those ‘bits’ caused such inner turmoil for so many years making me feel I was bad and unworthy. Alexandre has restored the faith I once had in myself before that dreaded event.
As he once told me, ‘the biggest sexual organ is your brain’ and he is, little by little, convincing me that I am precious – that I count in this world. Being sexy is all about self-confidence. It’s all a question of how you feel inside. Alexandre took my dull nub of a diamond and he polished it until it began to shine.
I have even given nicknames to my vagina: Venus, V-8 – that’s how confused I’ve been about sex and my own sexuality. Like a little girl not being able to call it by its real name. Both ashamed and amused, all in one. Tittering about its naughtiness like a child in the classroom with a secret joke. Too fearful to come out and say the real word. Vagina. There, I said it. Was that so difficult? God gave females vaginas yet I was subconsciously shameful of having one because of what it brought me. That rape left me ashamed of having a vagina, of being a woman.
Sex is not everything but it is, literally, the core of us. We are born from sex. The world lives on through sex. We can feel ecstasy through sex.
Or misery.
And I never want to return to that place again.
***
It’s all abuzz at HookedUp Enterprises today. Natalie is putting the final touches to our documentary, Child Traffick – Red Light Alert - (a double entendre on traffic lights and the red light districts in the sex industry). It’s looking great. Well, ‘great’ is not exactly the best word to use with such a heartbreaking topic – let’s just say, the film is brilliantly put together. We have already sold the rights in ten countries and it has been entered into several competitions. I have high hopes for this film.
I’m in my office sorting through paperwork when Jeanine, our receptionist, buzzes me.
“Hi Pearl, Natalie wants to come and see you, are you free right now?”
“Absolutely,” I reply, curious as to why she’s paying me a visit – usually we meet in the editing room.
Ten minutes later, she bursts through the door, looking stunning, as usual, yet with a girlish restlessness about her which I haven’t noticed before – Natalie is usually so composed, such a ‘grown-up’.
“Hi Natalie. You look amazing – like ten years younger or something.” I rake my eyes over her outfit: tight jeans; not Natalie’s usual attire.
“Or something,” she says with a laugh. “Do you want to hear the good news first, or the good news second?”
“The good news second.”
She sets her tablet on my desk and plunks herself in my swivel chair giving it, and herself, a little spin. Boy, is she in a good mood. “Actually, I can’t make up my mind which is better,” she gushes.
“Tell me either way, the suspense is killing me.”
“Okay. Firstly, your fiancé has started this foundation for us – a charity.
“Oh yes?” I ask with curiosity. How come he never mentioned this?
Natalie goes on, “It’s called the Jane Doe Foundation. It has been set up for sexually abused girls and young women. Because of all our research and experience with the girls we’ve met through our project, he thinks HookedUp Enterprises is the perfect vehicle, although I have been sworn that HookedUp Enterprises will never be mentioned at any time. The Foundation is financially independent.
“I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. He’s rich; he can afford to give money away to worthy causes – good for him.”
She nibbles on a pen lying on my desk. “No, that’s what’s so cool. This isn’t his money but has come in from four, other, private sources.”
“Jane Doe, you say?”
“That’s right. Because abused girls are handled like Jane Does, identities unknown, or treated like they haven’t got a name; they are victims, not just because they’ve been abused but because so many people don’t even know who they are. Or worse, they don’t care.”
“Jane Doe,” I repeat. “Was that his idea?” Natalie has no clue about what happened to me all those years ago. Primarily, ours is a working relationship.
“Yeah, not even I could have come up with such an original name.”
I raise my eyebrows. Is she being sarcastic? I study her expression.
“No, really, I think the name is cool,” she says, tapping her legs eagerly as if she’s ready to talk about her other good news.
“Who are these benefactors?”
She beams at me. “Anonymous.”
“And they all came in together with the money? At one time? Or was this charity set up a while ago and this is the first we’re hearing of it?”
She’s still grinning. “It was set up, oh, I think less than a week ago.”
“And we are to distribute the funds as we see fit?”
“That’s right.”
Revenge is a dish best served cold. What has Alexandre been up to?
“Do you want to hear my other good news?” Natalie asks, impatience dancing in her eyes.
I blink to concentrate on what she’s about to say. “Yes. Yes, of course.”
“I’m dating someone new.”
I give her a cheeky smile. “Hence the sexy jeans?”
“You like my new look?”
“Any look suits you, Natalie,” I say, trying to get Alexandre and his Robin Hood shenanigans out of my head. I wonder how he did it. The coincidence is too much. Four benefactors, Jane Doe…
Natalie jiggles her boot. She’s wearing heels. “Aren’t you going to ask who it is?”
“Let me guess. That lawyer guy you saw last year that you kind of liked?”
“No-o,” she sing-songs.
“That doctor who your friend, Gail, wanted to send you on a blind date with?”
“Not even close.”
I throw my hands in the air. “Okay, I give up.” Natalie swore she would only ever date a man who earned a six figure salary. With all the commotion with her aunt after Hurricane Sandy, I’m amazed she has even found time to date anyone at all. In fact, this is the first time I have seen her so giddy with happiness – she deserves it after the Sandy aftermath and all that she has been doing for her family.
“A firefighter,” she says and then laughs. “I know…not what you expected.” She gives the chair a three hundred and sixty degree swivel.
“Probably not what you expected, either,” I joke.
“He was cleaning up the devastation where my aunt used to live. Broken gas pipes, et cetera – the place was dangerous, you know. He told me to clear off. Then we got talking.”
“
What’s his name?”
“Miles. After Miles Davis.”
“I’m so happy for you,” I tell her, trying to hide my surprise.
“You don’t think I’m crazy?”
“Are you kidding? They’re the bravest, coolest bunch of people in the world. Not to mention…” I trail off.
“What?”
I try to suppress a grin. I think of Alexandre in his firefighter get-up and a sexy-memory frisson runs up my spine.
“You have such a dirty mind, Pearl.”
“Well, let’s face it - a guy in uniform? A firefighter in uniform is every woman’s fantasy.”
“Well, I have to say…” she arches a neat eyebrow.
“You haven’t, you didn’t?” Natalie and I rarely talk about anything other than work. But she’s in the mood to reveal all, obviously.
She widens her hazel eyes. She looks like a little girl who’s had way too much candy. “He was very apologetic. I went to his house for dinner and he hadn’t had time to change. I flung myself at him.”
“I bet you did. So what does he look like? No, that’s wrong – I should be asking you if he’s kind and caring—”
“Imagine a young Denzel Washington with a bit of Wesley Snipes thrown in.”
“Very nice, indeed.”
“Miles is a sexy cocktail, alright.”
“Yeah, you look a little tipsy,” I joke, “that’s for sure. How old is he?”
She sighs. “A little younger than me.”
“Join the club. So is this serious, like relationship serious or just….exercise?” I ask.
“That’s what’s so crazy. At the beginning I thought it was just for fun but he’s like…so sincere, so genuine. I think I’m falling for him.”
“Does he know that?”
“No way! I’m not like you, Pearl. I don’t wear my heart on my sleeve. I’m playing it cool. You know, not always available. Making sure he knows he has to book an evening with me way in advance. No last minute dates.”
I think of my rock climbing date with Alexandre…so last minute. Boy, was I easy. “Poor guy,” I say making a face, “You’ve probably got him pining for you.”
Shimmers of Pearl (The Pearl Trilogy, Part 3) Page 13