Fetish

by Sherri L. King

  Aerin wanted to touch him, wanted to feel that most private essence of him.

  His fingers dipped into the last remaining droplets upon the head of his cock, and brought them up to his mouth. He licked his fingers clean, with slow laps of his tongue. His eyes opened once more and locked with hers, trapping her.

  “Next time you’ll join me, won’t you Aerin?”

  She trembled and could not find her voice to answer. Indeed, she had no idea what she would have said could she have answered.

  Violanti was suddenly crouched before her, parting her legs with strong and purposeful hands. His pants were still at his knees and the long column of his cock brushed against her like a firebrand. The scent of his sex inebriated her, seduced her, beckoned her. A perfumed cloud of his delicious male musk. Her mouth watered.

  His mouth lowered.

  “N-no, what are you doing?” she flustered, finding her voice at last, pushing at his hands.

  “I cannot resist the lure of the passion—the longing—I see in your eyes.” Ignoring her protests, his hands moved, stroking the insides of her thighs softly, tantalizing her to madness.

  “No. Don’t.” She spoke that last more firmly than she would have thought possible. “Please don’t.”

  “I can smell that you want me. I can almost taste it on the air between us. Do you deny that you want me?”

  “No. I do want you.” Gads, what warm-blooded woman wouldn’t after such an intimate show? “But please, I can’t do this.”

  His eyes burned into hers. Was there anger there in their multi-colored depths? They were at first hard, then soft, then hard again. As if he warred with himself. “You can do this,” he gritted out, voice rough like a growl.

  “I-I…” She didn’t know what she wanted. Her eyes darted back up toward the mirror behind him, but again there was no safety in looking there. Her body rained down its never-ending arousal like a flood of fire between her legs as she watched the climax of the blond man stream like milk into the mouth and face of the brunette man.

  She’d never seen so much semen, and never in person, only in pornographic movies—movies she’d used to find her own arousal as she’d brought herself to completion over the years. In no way had they prepared her for the explosive rush of seeing such release firsthand.

  Violanti commanded her attention once more. “Let me have this from you. Your passion. Your desire. Your arousal. I need them, as much or more than even you do.”

  “I don’t want this, not this way. You don’t really want it either, you—”

  “Don’t tell me what I want!” his voice thundered, and Aerin wondered that the people behind the mirror couldn’t hear it.

  Violanti’s eyes were at once that odd shifting color of green and silver and blue, though the shifts were much quicker now than ever they had been. Aerin wondered how such eyes could exist in nature, but she’d certainly never heard of contacts that could change color. Perhaps his eyes were some sort of weird hazel she’d never seen, that they changed so from one hue to the next.

  Calmer now, quieter, he continued. “Don’t tell me what I want, never think you have that power. Let me, instead, tell you. Let me tell you all that I desire.”

  Her heart shuddered, her breath stalled. His hands strayed higher, and the tips of his fingers fluttered against her sex.

  “I desire to lay you back on this couch and end all your misgivings about yourself, about your body, and especially about me. I want to spread your legs wide and lay my tongue against the wet heart of you. I want to pillow my head against your breasts, taste the berries of your nipples, and have your nails rake lines into my back while I do so. I desire to slip my cock into your wet cunt and ride you until you bruise, with your ankles about my neck and my fingers digging into your sweetly cushioned bottom. That’s what I desire. That’s what I want. And none of your misgivings about Fetish or about your place in it will change that.”

  One of his hands cupped her fully and, reflexively more than defensively, she clenched her legs tightly shut around it. “H-how can you want that?” She nearly moaned the words. “Just look at me! You can’t want that.” Her hands flew to her face, hiding herself even as she commanded he see her for what she was. An overweight, middle-aged spinster. Surely no man as beautiful or as sensual as he could find an attraction to such a pitiful thing.

  Violanti disentangled himself from her legs and used both hands to lower hers from her face. They were smooth and damp from his release and she moaned softly at their touch. “You are beautiful, Aerin. You are. But if you’re not ready to see that yet, then perhaps I can wait. But I cannot wait for long. Don’t ask that of me. Don’t ask that of yourself. We both deserve your passion. We both deserve your pleasure. We both hunger for it, as though we starved.”

  The taste of tears filled her mouth and she realized with some surprise that she was weeping. Apologetic, she found the strength to meet his gaze with her own. “I thought I could do this. I thought I could go through with it.”

  His smile was bitter, twisted somehow. “No you didn’t. You thought you would meet with disappointment, with rejection, and validate your own low sense of self-worth. You didn’t expect to be given a different view, not on anything.”

  Defensive now, she pursed her lips. “No. I paid for sex, didn’t I? I certainly don’t need to pay five grand to feel sorry for myself.”

  “You didn’t pay for sex. You paid for pleasure. And I think, deep down, you believe that the only pleasure you can find is in the rejection and dismissal of others. That’s what you paid for…but you’re getting something else for your money, and I don’t think you were at all prepared for it.”

  “We’re back to assumptions now. I thought we were done with that,” she bit out, angry with him for his ability to see her. Really see her…and was she truly like that? It scared her to realize that she just might be.

  “Assumption has nothing to do with it. One day you’ll see that I have my own ways of knowing you, to the depths of your soul. It’s why I’m here at Fetish. This is my gift, my value to others. In the end you’ll see it as a value yourself.”

  “But I won’t come back here to find that out. I’m not coming back here, so stop saying all that. I don’t need a shrink, Violanti. In any case, a shrink would probably be cheaper, so don’t try to analyze me. I doubt you’ll get a chance to convince me of anything in the few hours left of the night, so please just quit with the whole Don Juan act. There’s no reason for it.”

  He fingered a lock of her hair, eyes hooded. “I’m sorry the world has given you such a hard and bitter shell to crouch inside of. I’m sorry that you’re not happy. I’m sorry that you’re lonely. But won’t you let that go for one night? One night with me?”

  The soft velvet timbre of his voice was devastating her senses. She so desperately wanted to lie back and let him do all those things he said he wanted to do. But something held her back, something deep inside of her. Perhaps it was fear, perhaps it was something else, something indefinable even in her deepest heart. Only one certainty gripped her, she couldn’t be with him, knowing it was possibly the color of her money that had sparked his interest.

  As a virgin, as a woman, as Aerin Peters, she couldn’t bring herself to take this man as a lover under such conditions.

  “Not tonight,” she heard herself say. “Tonight, let’s just talk okay? You said I paid for pleasure and I did. But I think most of all, the pleasure I want tonight is that of your company. Of your voice and words. That’s all.” Her eyes met his, and she knew the plea that swam behind her lashes was plain for him to see. The plea for understanding. For reprieve. “Be my friend tonight Violanti, not my paid escort.”

  The smile he gave her was perhaps the most genuine yet, though it seemed tinged with some small regret. “Very well then. Perhaps later you’ll be ready for more. But for tonight, we will be as friends, because you will it so.”

  With a sigh, Aerin wondered if she’d blown her one chance at taking a lo
ver. Then forgot about it, as Violanti motioned for her to continue watching the mirror. The rest of the night passed in a pleasant blur. Her body tingled with the sensuality of the view and of her company. Her mind buzzed with the pleasure of friendly conversation. Her heart and soul smiled with happiness and content and it was good.

  The night was over so quickly, Aerin didn’t even go to her room to sleep. She spent the whole of it with him. The hour of dawn came all too soon, the time for goodbye and farewell. Violanti kissed her on both cheeks, squeezing her hands before he left to find his own room in the bowels of the club. Aerin watched him go with an unexpected pain in her heart.

  Aerin drove her Honda home with a feeling of joy and regret. As midday came she was confused by the realization that there was no clear memory of Violanti’s face or even what they had talked about during the evening hours. Then came the realization that perhaps she didn’t have to remember any of it. Particulars didn’t matter. It was the lingering happiness that would supply her with all the memories she would need in the bleak days to come as her life resumed its normal routine.

  She only wished she could remember his face.

  * * * * *

  “How was she?”

  “All I had hoped for and more. I think she will come back. Sooner rather than later, I should wager.”

  “But you still seem too pale. Drawn. Tired.” Violanti’s face tightened, closed out any sign of emotion, and Delilah immediately regretted her assessing words. “Forgive me—”

  “No. There is nothing to forgive. I am all that you say.”

  “Perhaps tomorrow night—”

  “We only open our doors once a week. No exceptions.”

  “But, with you, one of the men would gladly share—”

  “There is no need for that. I will wait for her to come around again. Next week I should think. I don’t believe that’s too much to wish for.”

  “You work too hard,” Delilah sighed, knowing it was no use continuing the conversation. Violanti was the most stubborn man she’d ever encountered—and she’d encountered a great many throughout the course of her life.

  His face softened, looking almost wistful in the dim light of the passageway that led to their living quarters. “She fairly glowed.”

  “She is lovely.”

  Violanti didn’t say anything more until he reached the door that would lead to his apartment. As the Madam turned to leave him, heading towards her own apartment but two doors down, he stopped her. “When she comes back you’ll tell me?”

  “Of course,” she promised at once.

  “Good. I want her. She is for me alone. Make sure the others know.”

  “They already do.”

  Violanti’s eyes burned in response and it was the closing of the door that allowed her, at last, to break free from the dangerous, threatening power of his gaze.

  Trembling, Delilah made for her door. It crossed her mind that perhaps the innocent Ms. Peters wasn’t quite up to handling a man like Violanti. Not that it mattered, she realized. Once Violanti set his mind on something, it was impossible to deter him. Absolutely impossible.

  Chapter Four

  “Have you lost weight, Aerin?”

  Aerin looked up from the coffee pot, where her hands were busy making that first, desperately needed, cup of liquid lightning. With a frown she found herself facing one of her numerous bosses—there were always more Chiefs than Indians in the company—a woman by the name of…Paula. Yes. It was Paula.

  Paula had never spoken more than two words to her before…and certainly not in idle conversation.

  “No. I don’t think so,” she said, finding her voice at last.

  Paula’s eyes were catty. Assessing. They darted from Aerin’s round face to the plain leather pumps she wore, as if searching for something to find fault with but finding nothing. “Well you look…nice.”

  Aerin tried not to grimace at the woman’s condescending tone. She didn’t, in her heart, believe that Paula was deliberately insulting, so the woman’s tone must be overlooked. Paula was simply used to being at the top of the food chain, it was no doubt quite unusual for her to converse with the prey. “Thank you,” Aerin finally acknowledged, though her voice was little more than a murmur.

  “I like what you’ve done with your hair,” was Paula’s last comment as she walked past the small break-room. No doubt as soon as Aerin was gone from her sight, she was also gone from her mind.

  Aerin, shocked and surprised by the exchange, fingered the hair that fell to her neck. Frowning all the more, knowing full well she hadn’t done anything different with her hair today than she had the day before, she finally let it drop back onto her collar. She shrugged. Perhaps Paula was merely trying to be nice, sociable.

  Would wonders never cease?

  Aerin giggled, then started, surprised by the sound.

  Blushing over her own behavior, she drowned a lingering smile in her cup of coffee.

  * * * * *

  That day at lunch, Aerin was surprised to see a co-worker occupying her usual bench in the park. Instead of veering off and finding another secluded spot as she might normally have done, she decided to join the woman there.

  “It’s a lovely day,” Aerin offered in way of greeting. “Mind if I sit?” She gestured to the space on the bench.

  The woman smiled. “Sure, have a seat. Hey,” she said with a dawning smile, “I know you. You work on rush print.”

  “Yeah. I’m the one they go to when they need a print job right away, unfortunately,” Aerin chuckled, and was surprised at how easy the interaction was. The woman was perhaps a good ten to fifteen years younger and decidedly prettier. But for once Aerin didn’t feel daunted by that fact. So the woman was slim and shapely, so she was young and free of wrinkles. It didn’t matter. For once Aerin felt entirely at ease with what she saw as her own aesthetic deficiencies in the presence of someone who appeared to have none.

  The woman shook her head. “I wouldn’t want your job for the world. I work in receiving and order entry. We don’t have to work under deadlines or strive to make production, thank goodness. The job’s stressful enough as it is without all those burdens added to it.”

  “Well, you get used to it. I can’t really remember what it was like before I started working in production. I used to be a proof reader,” she explained, “until they transferred me to another department.”

  “I’m Heather Knowles,” the woman introduced herself.

  “Aerin Peters.”

  “I’ve worked here about six months and I think this is the first time I’ve ever really spoken so much with a co-worker,” Heather laughed.

  “That’s the professional world for you,” Aerin chuckled before she realized she was even going to, realizing she rarely ever spoke to co-workers if she could help it. “Ours is not a very sociable company, everyone kind of keeps to themselves around here. Actually, I think this is the first time in weeks that I’ve spoken more than two words to anyone myself.”

  “Good grief. Will it always be like this then?” The rueful grin on Heather’s face transformed it, making her seem even younger. “‘Cause I don’t think I can live with that,” she laughed outright then.

  Aerin mused. “I think it is, most of the time. Actually, I think it’s kind of a necessity in the corporate world. The only way to get a job done in a place like this is to keep socialization down to a minimum. One doesn’t have time to make friends when one is too busy scurrying here or there, trying to make deadlines like a good worker bee.” For the first time Aerin saw clearly that this was the case, at least in her own personal experience. Her very profession was one that limited her social interaction. Had she chosen such a path out of college deliberately, because she was so shy and introverted? She didn’t know, not for sure.

  Violanti would know.

  Now why had that thought occurred to her?

  Heather’s words snapped her out of that odd confusion. “Well, we’ll just have to agree to socialize with
each other as often as possible then. Everyone needs friends, at work and at play. Who cares what the unspoken rules of the corporate world are?”

  Aerin laughed again, easier this time because she wasn’t so surprised by it. “I’d like that Heather. Very much.”

  Heather rose. “Well my break is past over. But I’ll take tomorrow’s lunch at twelve so we can spend the hour together. If you want to, that is.”

  “I’ll be here.” Aerin felt her heart swell with anticipation and hope. It would be nice to have a lunch partner.

  “We can feed the ducks, if there are any.”

  “That would be lovely.”

  “Screw the professional world.” Heather turned to leave, tossing a wave over her shoulder along with the jovial goodbye. “Later.”

  Aerin waved her off and ate with a gusto she hadn’t felt in ages.

  * * * * *

  The next few days went by quickly. And Aerin couldn’t have been happier for that boon. Thursday afternoon, while typesetting a template of several different wedding invitations, Aerin realized it had been a really good week. Possibly the best she’d had in years.

  Aerin had been on top of her game this week. Being one of the fastest typists, she was often given a larger workload than many of her colleagues, a daunting list of tasks that never seemed to want to end. This week she had breezed right through the numerous business cards, wedding invitations, and award certificates she’d been assigned to lay out and typeset. She’d even met her demanding production goal and surpassed it, perhaps for the first time in six months.

  Heather had met her every day for lunch in the park at twelve o’clock sharp, true to her word. For the first time in memory, Aerin had someone to talk to. Someone who she felt comfortable with. Someone who didn’t seem to judge her on her looks, or on her too shy demeanor. They spoke of work, of mutual interests—books and music—and of hobbies. They had quite a lot in common, as well as quite a lot of differences. Aerin felt sure that they were becoming more than just co-workers sharing lunch. They were becoming good friends.