She shook her head. “I'm not doing that,” she said.
But even as she said it, it gave her pause. After all, she could use this cliched gesture as a segue for seducing Xavier. She could start now, and try to have things flow naturally to a hot sex scene in the office.
She felt herself shake from the inside out. He had really gotten under her skin. She felt herself craving him.
Worse yet, she found herself being more reckless than she had ever been in her life. When thoughts about whether this was really good for her marriage, whether Josh really meant what he said, or whether Tyra and Xavier's swinging relationship could really work surfaced in her mind, she swept them away like flies. Her mind went back, as though pulled by a magnet, to the feeling of Xavier's cock in her body.
Reckless.
Xavier shrugged. “We already got your bit,” he said, referring to her story tags and sound bites. Now they were waiting, out on the hot pavement, for some b-roll footage of the Cinco de Mayo “cruisers” who were gathering steam. Xavier was waiting for good scene. He was certainly right: she could let him pour a cupful of the ice-cold water down her shirt. She could feel it snaking down her spine, between her buttocks, into her panties...
She shook her head again.
God, what was wrong with her?
Since they had slept together at the hotel, Xavier had not acted in any particular way toward her. He still flirted with her, he still made suggestions, but she was grateful that their professional relationship had not gotten weird. He still seemed like his old self.
More than a week had gone by, and Rachel was beginning to wonder if the whole thing was just intended to be a one-off. If Xavier and Tyra did this sort of thing, but then out of respect for their marriage, they didn't do it again.
And she wasn't sure if that was a bad thing. Maybe it was just best to let things end this way: indulge in one night of fantasy and then never revisit it again.
Xavier stood up and tossed his cup into the van. “Here we go,” he said.
Several cars, overflowing with dark-haired, hollering teenagers and Mexican flags, were headed down the boulevard, honking and shouting. Xavier filmed them for several minutes, while Rachel tried not to look at the outline of his body: the river of cold water that had trickled down his back and dampened his shirt; the shape of his shoulder blades beneath it; the shape of his firm buttocks in his jeans.
Her heart was beating faster. She could feel it, and she tried to stomp down on it. Memories of his hot skin against her back haunted her. The feel of his thick cock inside of her, filling her completely, surfaced in her mind and made her quiver wetly between her legs.
She sighed and pushed her hair from her face.
She unbuttoned her blouse.
Her heart was beating faster.
Xavier clicked off the camera.
Rachel fanned herself, knowing full-well she was being a little cliched. She knew her skin was sweaty; she knew Xavier would notice her extra unbuttoning. The odd thing was, she didn't care. She didn't want him to miss her signals.
Was it what she had agreed to with Josh? Not exactly. But she knew she could twist it so that it was. It was just a stepping-stone toward what he wanted: to watch her with Xavier.
If something were to happen tonight, late at night, say in the office, who was she to stop it? Wouldn't it add more realism to things when Rachel finally did find a way for Josh to be in the room, watching?
Anyway, she thought, tracing a finger shamelessly down her chest, she would tell Josh all about it.
That was the deal, right?
She smiled at Xavier. He smiled back. He moved his head in something like a nod.
The sexual tension between them was back, and Rachel loved the feel of it in the air.
“We better get back,” Xavier said.
“We'll probably be the only ones there,” Rachel murmured.
She tried to be sexy, but the hilarity of what she had just said, and the way she had said it, as if she were starring in some B-grade porno, made her erupt in laughter. She doubled over and shook her head.
“I'm sorry,” she said. “I...I'm sorry, I couldn't help it.”
But when she looked back up at Xavier, even though he was smiling in appreciation of her joke, the look in his eyes was still hungry. They would be the only ones on the eighth floor, at least. There were a lot of rooms that no one went to, a lot of places to hide.
This what she was thinking about as they packed up the van and returned to the station.
22: POORLY PLANNED
Josh could hardly believe himself. He could actually barely believe himself, and the plan he had set into motion, and the fact that he was actually out here, in his car, in the heat, executing his insane plan.
It wasn't even a particularly good plan. He hadn't done what he would normally do, and played through all of its possible outcomes, weighing each of them carefully and statistically against each other.
That, after all, was his job.
When he tried to see his way through the maze of potential recommendations to himself, however, as a way of containing his own infection, he got lost. His mind sunk into a fog of images and paranoid thoughts, and he ended up jerking off in the shower as opposed to finding a plausible, carefully thought-out way out of the situation he had created for himself.
So now, here he was, in the most preposterous of situations, baking – actually baking, if you asked him – in a car. Next to him was an expensive video camera, and in the pocket of his camera bag was Rachel's ID and fob for the station.
He was thirsty as hell. There was a Starbuck's about a block away, but he wasn't sure if he dared to go and get a water, which he wanted desperately, and lose sight of the parking lot where the KRTV vans went in and out.
They would be back soon. He thought. He hoped.
He...didn't know.
The whole plan was crap, he realized. Not just the dark, twisted part that would come after what he was doing right now. But this, what he was doing right now, was a terrible plan.
Still.
He swallowed. His throat was dry. His eyes were tired, because he had been staring at the parking lot for over an hour. Why, why hadn't he thought to bring water? It had to be a hundred degrees out here.
He looked at his hands. He was gripping the steering wheel so fiercely his knuckles were white.
Maybe they had gone somewhere else. Maybe they had just fucked in the van. Maybe that's what they did, all the time. Or maybe they had some secret hotel, where they went after assignments, and they were there now, twisting and writhing in the sheets, sweating and panting like animals. Xavier's black skin was pressed against his wife, right now, while he waited by the station like a madman in the heat.
He released the steering wheel.
He felt dizzy.
He was dehydrated.
He was going to pass out.
He must have looked like a crazy man, and he knew it: covered in sweat, his shirt soaked through, his camera bag slung over his shoulder, walking backwards toward the Starbuck's. Looking over his shoulder constantly, his hair plastered to his face, his features screwed up in paranoia and madness, as he bought a water.
He tried to calm himself as he walked back to the car.
And then there it was:
The van. Unmistakably painted with their logo, unmistakeably a news van. And surely it was them.
He looked at the car. It was unlocked.
The gate was opening.
This was his chance.
This was stupid.
He was a crazy man.
But he was walking faster.
He was half-running, his eyes on the big gate as it started to close.
Was this really him? Hands straight at his sides, crouched slightly, running toward a closing gate, technically trespassing?
He looked back, briefly, at his own car.
Leaving his Volvo, with the windows down, on a night like Cinco de Mayo, on the corner of Bradley
and 5th? Doors unlocked?
He darted into the parking lot with only two feet of the gap remaining, and he ducked behind a van to calm himself, in the odd event that KRTV employed an actual watchman.
This was insane. What if they did? What is the cops were coming for him right now?
But apparently, apparently, he was just this kind of man. He heard the van he had followed. He straightened up, put on the baseball cap that seemed to be the uniform of choice for cameramen, and walked calmly through the parking lot, trying to “blend in.”
Not that he knew what that was. He supposed it simply meant to look confident.
His stomach twisted, but outwardly he was calm. He was impressed with his own calm, his own single-mindedness.
Especially given what a stupid, stupid idea this was.
It would never come together.
It would never work.
He looked at his reflection in the glass door as he swiped Rachel's keycard, which he had stolen this morning from her purse. His own face looked back at him, almost unrecognizable.
You're such an ass, he wanted to tell himself.
You're breaking into a building.
But Animal Josh was unfazed by all of this. Animal Josh swiped the keycard, Animal Josh walked calmly up the stairwells to level 8. Animal Josh sat down in the stairwell and waited patiently.
Nothing had really happened yet. There was that. His whole plan had yet to be set in motion. It might not even happen at all.
He looked at his watch. He would wait ten minutes.
Even if he got what he was after right now, he reasoned with himself, there was nothing to say he had to do the other thing.
This was a first phase.
He concentrated on that.
After this, he could always end his plan. Unlike the other chain of events he had set off, between Rachel and Xavier, he had control over the reactions in this one.
He looked at his watch, and waited.
23: OUT OF CONTROL
They didn't say much to each other in the van. Xavier, though, did not reach for the elevator button to his own floor, and that was when Rachel knew what was going to happen. She knew that he would follow her to the eighth floor, that they would look for an unoccupied room, that they would dangerously fuck somewhere.
Her breath was caught in her throat. She could feel herself getting wet. The ache of extreme arousal unfurled low in her belly, reaching its tendrils down to her pussy and making it throb.
She knew this was reckless, but she didn't care. She wanted to feel him inside of her again, stretching her open in every cliched, stereotyped-pornographic way he could think of. She wanted the meat of his huge cock pressing against her clit from the inside, making her orgasm seize her in a choke-hold, like it had their first night, like she had never felt before.
This is so wrong, her conscience tried to tell her.
But was it?
It was true, everyone knew, and everyone claimed to be okay with it.
But she herself felt like she was holding onto something slippery. She was not in control.
Worse yet, she liked it.
They exited the elevator, and she walked toward her office. Xavier was behind her. At first he was at a platonic distance. Then closer. Then his hands were on her hips, and she felt her skin prickle with goosebumps all the way from the dip between her buttocks to the nape of her neck. He was steering her now.
She placed her hands on his, inviting him. He pressed his body up against her back, and she could feel the shape of his muscles, the hardness of his body, and the bulge of his enormous cock. She melted backward, against him, and let him control her.
They walked a little further, but Xavier grabbed her suddenly and spun her around, pushing her against the wall. The cheap dividing wall shuddered and threatened to give, but he continued to press her against it. He didn't care. This passionate abandon was what she craved: a need to fuck, even if the wall was going to get knocked over.
He kissed her forcefully, pushing her hands up and over her head. With a subtle control, he pushed her slowly downward with his mouth, and she slid down the wall. She realized where he wanted her to go, and it was fine with her: she wanted him inside her mouth as much as he did.
He moved back a little and let her fall to her knees, but he kept her hands pressed to the wall. He switched his grip to hold her two wrists in one large hand, and he did it so easily that it sent a shudder through her.
She watched, because she knew he wanted her to watch, as he unthreaded his belt and unbuttoned his pants, and pulled down on the zipper of his pants. The bulge of his cock was visible through the black of his boxers, and Rachel felt the urge to reach into the fabric and take his cock out, feel it in her hand, enjoy the weight of it before she had the taste of it inside her. But Xavier, as though he could read her thoughts, pressed her hands more firmly against the wall and gripped them tightly.
He took his cock out himself, using his free hand to slide his pants over his round, tight ass, taking the boxers with him. As the silken material slid away from his cock, it sprang forward, pulsing and growing with each throb of excitement. She could smell the clean but distinctively musky scent of him, and it uncoiled another wave of excitement inside of her. Her pussy throbbed, and she could feel her panties soaking through, her wetness staining the sides of her thighs.
She tilted her head to look up at him, and when she met his steely gaze she almost turned to molten lava. He had his cock in his hand now, and he was stroking it languidly, his hips back just a little so that she could not have him, not just yet.
Gone were all of her thoughts about her husband, about whether this was wrong or right. Her head was filled with a single desire to submit to what he wanted. A craving for it. She was afraid of the size of his gigantic cock, but she wanted to feel it in her mouth, feel it pry her throat open, see if she could take the whole thing. There was very little limit, in fact, to what she wanted him to do to her, what she would let him do to her.
And she wasn't going to ponder why that was right now. She stashed it away for later thought, but let the feeling wash over her. She opened her mouth to invite him. She kept her eyes on his, something she had always found too submissive to tolerate before, with other lovers, even with Josh. She could do it for a moment but she had to look away.
With Xavier, however, she wanted to hold his gaze. She wanted him to bore into her with his eyes, and watch her submission as he stuffed her mouth full of his cock. She wanted him to use her as a plaything.
He moved his cock to her lips, and rubbed the wet tip of his glans on her lower lip. A streak of precum, hot and slimy, wet her mouth, and she slid her tongue along the line of it to taste it. It was bitter, but she found herself wanting more of it. Wanting to be subjected to its bitter taste.
She flicked her tongue out to get another droplet of his precum, but Xavier took control of her by slapping his cock against her tongue, flattening it against her lip. He squeezed her hands and she understood his command without a need for words: she opened her mouth wider and let him slap his heavy cock against her tongue for a few moments.
It was a form of humiliation, looking at him, meeting his eyes as he slapped her mouth with his big cock, but she could feel her pussy welling over with more sloppy, sticky juice than she had ever felt inside of her, before actually coming, in her life.
“Open,” he said, his voice changed to the cold and mechanical voice he had used in the hotel to command her and take control of her. Perhaps as her cameraman, they had a rapport between them, but it was gone when they had sex.
When they had sex, he was in control.
She opened her mouth, stretching it as wide as she could. Even though she strained her jaw to get it wide, she knew from the feel of his girth inside of her a week before, and from sizing up what was in front of her now, that his cock would have to push her open even further. Her jaw was going to ache as he stretched her open. Would he try to go all the way down? Her eyes wate
red at thought of it, and her pussy squelched out another wave of her own juices.
The tip of him fit neatly into her mouth, and she sucked in a gulp of air, preparing for the worst. Her eyes were still on his. His face now had a different expression: one of domination, total and absolute. There was no going back. She was helpless, against the wall, her hands suspended above her head, his cock in her mouth. She would simply have to take what he gave her.
And she loved it.
He pushed himself forward, slowly, giving her a chance to get used to the filling of her mouth. Her jaw began to open with the force of his meat – was he really this big? The tip of his cock passed from the roof of her mouth to her soft palate, and she felt herself gag involuntarily. Her throat spasmed and her eyes watered, but the feeling passed and he proceeded.
He pushed on her hands, making her slide down the wall, and he used his other hand at the same time to tilt her forehead up. He angled her throat so that he could keep pushing himself inside of her, all the way in, all the way to her throat. She could scarcely believe it as his cock filled her up and cut off her breath. She could actually feel the hardness of his shaft pushing out, against her neck.
Slowly, slowly, he pushed in, but he was still far from going all the way.
He withdrew slowly, and she was beginning to feel the pain of lack of air by the time he pulled his cock from inside of her mouth. Viscous, heavy saliva dribbled down her chin, and she gasped for breath.
He went in again, this time not as slowly. The lubrication of her spit made it easier, and she felt his cock make her throat twist in a gag and then pass further, further, even deeper into her neck. He moved his hips a little, rubbing himself back and forth inside of her, and then slowly, torturously, withdrew. Again, she gasped, and again he went back inside of her. Even deeper.
It took several more turns before he at last crushed his pelvis against her face. She felt the soft sacs of his balls against her chin. He pressed himself against the wall, and she closed her eyes because she could no longer see him anyway. She was completely stuffed, almost all the way to her chest. Her lungs began to scream. Her jaw ached, and she twisted her hands in his palm.
Human Interest: A Lead-In To Wife Watching Page 15