by Cecilia Tan
Lawrence looked up in surprise, "What? Oh, no. I had no idea when you did it. But I could hear you through the ceiling. And since I was supposed to be reading, I couldn’t very well come in here and put on the news or something to drown it out, could I?”
Her own cheeks were bright, but she was uncowed. “At least we didn’t keep you up.”
“Not much, anyway,” he admitted.
Wren tried to keep her thoughts on the experiment. “I wonder why Derek can hear me, then, but you couldn’t?”
He wiped his lips with a napkin. “Well, were you trying to communicate something to me?”
“Hm, no.”
“Perhaps that’s why?” He sat back with a sly look. “You could try that tonight. He’s coming over, isn’t he?”
Wren’s blush deepened as another one of those rushes of desire went through her. “Yes. Yes, he is.”
SHE HAD ARRANGED THE room like before and was wearing only the bathrobe when her doorbell rang at quarter to eight. She went rushing down the stairs, wondering why she hadn’t heard his car, but didn’t realize until she’d pulled the door open that it wasn’t him at all.
A slightly-balding man in a golf jacket and slacks was standing there with a clipboard. “Er, hi.” He looked at the clipboard as if making sure of what he was saying. “Are you the resident of unit number three?”
“I am.” He didn’t have any logos on him like the pest control guy or like the environmental canvassers. But he seemed a little familiar. Maybe a neighbor? "Can I help you?”
“And your name is... Delacourt?” He looked as if he was trying to read the name on the buzzer and was making a bit of a production out of it.
“Yes,” she said shortly. “Is there some kind of problem?” She held the top of the robe closed. “I’m kind of busy.”
“Er, well...” He seemed at a loss, staring a bit oddly into her eyes, his own too-wide as if willing her to go along with him. And he seemed nervous. Maybe he was just so flustered by what she was wearing, or not wearing? "Um, I’m, um, from the local committee to increase voter participation. Are you registered to vote?”
“Yes, I’m registered already,” she said.
“Oh. Good. Well, don’t forget that Election Day is coming up in a few weeks, and, um, exercise your right to be part of the democratic process!” He took a step back. “Thanks for your time.”
And then he made haste down the steps and Wren watched him walk toward the next house, catching sight of Derek’s SUV as it came down the street.
He greeted her with a kiss and a close hug and she gasped. She could feel how hard he was right through the cloth of his trousers.
“I’ve been thinking about you...” he whispered in her ear.
“Come upstairs,” she said, pulling him by the hand.
She didn’t let go until they were in the bedroom, and she pulled him down for a proper kiss. “We've got a new experiment to try,” she said, when she caught her breath. “I’m going to try to send a thought to Lawrence this time instead of just receiving.”
Derek pressed her backward until she was lying flat on the bed, then opened the robe and ran his hands up her body. “Any particular message?”
She worked at his belt with her hands as he crawled over her, kissing here and there. “Hm, I hadn’t thought of that. But I probably should think of something, so what he gets isn’t just, Oh My God Derek Is So Hot!”
He chuckled. “Is there something you’ve always meant to tell him but never could?”
“Oh, like does he know he’s got dandruff or something? Sadly, Lawrence is perfect in every way and the only reason I’ve never asked him to marry me is he’s gay.” She waved a hand vaguely. “I suppose I could tell him I’m sorry the plant he gave me for Christmas two years ago actually died. You know that spider plant in the kitchen window? That’s like... the fourth one. I keep buying new ones and putting them in the same pot.”
Derek laughed again. “Perfect.”
“Me, or the idea?”
“Both.”
“You’re wearing too much.”
Apparently he agreed, climbing off the bed to get undressed while she tossed the bathrobe to the floor and got under the covers. He fluffed a pillow and then slid in next to her. He put his arms around her, and she nuzzled against his chest, so warm and soft. She petted the sparse silky hairs there in the hollow of his breastbone. “So I’ve got my experiment for tonight,” she said. “What’s yours?”
“Hm?” He made an innocent noise.
She clucked her tongue. “I can tell you’re up to something, I just don’t know what yet, because I’m not hot enough yet to read you.”
He hummed hungrily. “Then maybe I ought to do something about it, and you can find out for yourself.” He brushed his fingers past her already-stiff nipples, down to her mons. He cupped the furred bump and began rocking his hand slowly back and forth, just a half inch, no more. A circle with a tiny circumference.
She moaned. The touch was firm, but only tangential to her hottest spots, her clit hidden between her still-closed lips. But the gentle tug on the flesh was stimulating, and wetness gradually accumulated, slicking her parts, so that each small circle caused a slight friction now, her lips parting and rubbing, and then without her quite realizing it was about to happen, his middle finger slipped into the wet slit, rubbing right over her twitching clit.
Wren moaned louder, and his fingers kept moving, until that middle finger was buried to the second knuckle in her, and still his hand kept moving. She bucked against him then, and he slid deeper still as she ground her clit into the palm of his hand.
Right, the dead houseplant. She reached out for Lawrence, found him watching re-runs of CSI, and thought, So I’ve been trying to hide the fact that the plant you gave me died. Now you know...
But in the next instant she focused on Derek again. He’d hidden something under the pillow? What?
She pursued the thought until she caught it, and then she slipped a hand under the pillow to grasp something rubbery. Another dolphin?
He did not stop the movement of his hand as she pulled the toy out. This one was more penis-shaped, but still far from realistic, the same lavender as the other one, but just a gently undulating shape with a somewhat bulbous head when compared with the sleek nose of the dolphin.
The lady in the shop assured me this is the average size of the American male penis. Derek slid his finger all the way in.
But you’re larger than this.
Exactly the point.
Wren understood his plan now. To stretch her out gradually until she could take him without pain. She felt her frustration mount. You don’t have to do this, she thought. It isn’t that big a deal. I’m not made of glass. And it’s not as if you’re a Great Dane and I’m a Chihuahua.
Please, Wren.
When he asked like that, though, just a plain, unadorned plea, she couldn’t really say no, could she? And it wasn’t as if she questioned how much he wanted her. She could feel that herself. She closed her eyes and again there was something there, large and dark in his mind, like something behind a curtain.
In fact, I’d like you to put it in.
Her eyes flew open. “You want me to what?”
He withdrew his hand and coated his own cock with the juices on his fingers, then scooted back a few inches, stroking himself.
Imagine it’s me.
Wren pushed the covers down and reached between her legs with the dildo, rubbing it against herself until it was slick, and then aiming the blunt head at the place she knew it should go. She pushed, but her flesh resisted. It felt too blunt. The dolphin first, she thought.
He acquiesced, taking up the dolphin from the side table and slipping it into her inch by inch, fucking her with it carefully so that each time it sank in a bit further, until it was all the way in. Then he pulled it back a few times, until it was almost all the way out of her, before pushing it slowly back in.
Yes, yes, like that.... that’s just
how you’re going to do it with your cock, she thought. At her next thought, he pulled the smaller toy away and she replaced it with the bigger one. She imagined it was Derek’s cock in her hand, that she was guiding the spongy head into place... It still took a push to get it to go, but then suddenly, the first two inches of it were buried in her. She cried out more in surprise than in pain, and then made another noise of surprise.
Derek was coming, silently but copiously, his mouth round but his eyes never closing as they roamed from the toy protruding from her body to her face.
MUCH LATER, AS THEY were drifting to sleep, Wren suddenly realized why the voter registration guy seemed to familiar. “Oh my God.”
“Hm?” He pulled her close in the crook of his body, nuzzling at the back of her neck.
“I think that was my stalker.”
“Who was?”
“Right before you showed up, a guy came to the door, acting really nervous. I wasn’t really paying much attention to what he was saying, because I was thinking about you. And I thought he was flustered because all I was wearing was a bathrobe.” She could picture him perfectly in her mind still, slightly balding, and his eyes wide. “I thought he seemed familiar, but I couldn’t figure out from where. But it was Steve, the guy who has been calling me on the phone.” Wren gripped Derek more tightly. “And that wasn’t the house next door he was walking to when you drove up. It was the red minivan.”
Derek was at the window peering out before she could stop him. “I don’t see any van now.”
She joined him, looking through the blinds. “It’s gone. I’ve been wondering whose car that was and why they were never parked in a driveway.” She couldn’t quite remember though, was it there on the nights she had dreams, and not there on the nights she didn’t?
Derek pulled her close. “What was your impression of him?”
“Steve? Same as on the phone, actually,” she said, resting her head against his chest. “Seems really, really sweet, but totally, totally vulnerable.”
He pressed a kiss against her hair. “Just like you.”
Wren gave a soft laugh. “He doesn’t feel like a stalker, is what I mean.”
“You'll call me if that van appears again? Don’t approach it. Get the license plate if you can, but don’t go near it.”
His voice had a seriousness about it that made her shiver. “Okay. But he really did seem harmless.”
“Wren.” She listened to him breathe for a few breaths. “Your intuition about this dream lover drove you to... to hurt yourself. I don’t know what the connection is between Steve and the dreams—maybe there isn’t one. But I trust your intuition, which also told you not to meet with him. Be careful.”
She pulled him toward the bed. “I will.”
SEVEN
WREN WOKE TO THE SOUND of the shower running. Derek was obviously up already. She bit her lip, thinking about the night before, and slipped into the bathroom, breathing deeply of the steam. Now that it was getting cold at night, the electric baseboard heaters in the condo made the air so very dry.
The tub was enclosed by a sliding door with crinkled patterns in the glass. She could see the flesh-colored outline of him as he rinsed his hair under the showerhead.
She stepped carefully into the back of the tub, sliding the door behind her and then putting her hands around his waist, his skin deliciously hot and wet against hers. His arms went around her, cupping her still-dry buttocks, but as he pulled her into a kiss, water cascaded down her back.
They kissed long enough that Wren felt herself warming and liquefying inside, and she could not miss the opposite reaction from him, his cock hardening against her hip. When the kiss broke, he spoke. “Are you sore today?”
She took his hand and guided it to her mons, spreading her feet slightly. He extended his fingers, finding the pool of gathering cream there, circling the tip of his finger just inside her entrance. “Yes, a little,” she said. “But it’s a good sore. Makes me want more.”
“Tonight,” he promised. “There'll be more.”
“And tomorrow?” she breathed.
“My Day Planner says tomorrow I’ve promised you all of me.”
She pressed against his leg, then, her desire awakened and wanting to come now. He pressed his lips to her forehead, acquiescing without words to the question she asked with her body. He turned her so that his cock pressed against her tailbone, and his hands slid down her body until he could touch her clit. He had to bow his back, keeping one hand on her breastbone, holding her up while the other spread her lips and his middle finger sawed slowly back and forth.
Yes...
He brought her off quickly, only pausing every once in a while to dip his finger inside her and make her moan with desire. When she came he held her against him, keeping her from sagging into the tub. He groaned quietly, too, waiting for her aftershocks to subside, before he turned her again, guiding her hand to his swollen prick.
As she stroked him, he groaned again. Something about us being connected... you made me come last night.
Wasn’t that the goal?
No, you triggered my orgasm from inside my head.
She knew that was what he had meant, but she had to tease anyway. Want me to see if I can do it again now?
He met her eyes, a light of challenge flickering in both their gazes. Sure.
She took her hands off his cock, and went up on her tiptoes, hugging him around the ribcage as she trapped his cock between her thighs. She could feel the hard length of him against the tender flesh of lips. Kiss me.
He obliged, his cock sliding a bit as he shifted lower to meet her mouth. She parted her lips, feeling a kind of energy crackle inside her, and then as his tongue darted into her mouth, she released it.
Oh God... His arms tightened around her and she felt the spasms and twitches of his prick. Oh God, Wren...
She held him until his breathing began to slow again. Is it good that way? She had to ask.
Yes, God yes. But she could sense the unarticulated thought, that he believed it would be even better inside her, and she caught sight in his mind of the final toy he had bought to breach her with, which he planned to use tonight.
SHE WAS GETTING DRESSED a short while later, and considering whether they ought to eat dinner together, when Derek looked up from his phone. “I just got some interesting email,” he said.
“What sort of interesting?”
“It’s from Rhonda, the new member liaison at the club. Inviting us to a special Halloween party at the place tomorrow.” He looked up from where he sat on the edge of the bed, his features neutral.
Wren raised an eyebrow. “Halloween party?”
“It says they normally wouldn’t let us attend on a night other than Sunday until after we’d been there three times, but Suzanne and Bob vouched for us, and they really want a full house for the event, I guess.” He raised an eyebrow back at her.
Wren thought a moment. Friday night they had plans, but maybe she could convince him that they ought to do that tonight. She felt her chances of convincing him were going to be better in the heat of the moment, though, than if she said something now, so she kept the thought to herself. “Why not? If everyone’s there, that'll be our best chance to see if Abby or this other woman you’ve been looking for are there, right?”
“Well, that’s true...” Now he looked at her thoughtfully, and she wondered if he were thinking about their plan for Friday night also. “But it’s really your decision.”
She hesitated only a moment. “I might even have a costume.”
“Oh, I hadn’t thought of that.”
She slid open the closet door and rummaged in the back. “Yes! How about this?” She pulled out a very, very short flapper dress, covered in fringe. A matching headband was looped over the top of the hanger. Who else but Abby had convinced her to get it, so they could go together to a party once a very long time ago. Wren couldn’t even remember now if it had been a Halloween party or just a 1920s-themed thi
ng.
Derek came and put an arm around her waist. “It’s perfect. I hope you have a long coat though. It’s supposed to be cold all weekend.”
“What about you? What are you going to wear?”
He slipped his phone into his pocket. “I suppose I have a cowboy hat in the closet. And I think I have a vest? With the leather pants that should be okay?”
She grinned, trying to imagine him in a cowboy hat. “Sure.” For a moment she didn’t think about the more serious reasons they were looking into the club, or even the sex, but just that it would be fun. She went on tiptoe to kiss him. “See you tonight? Come earlier? Come at six and bring dinner.”
He smiled. “All right.”
Wren went with him to the door, to give him one more goodbye kiss, and opened it to find a small green box sitting on the landing.
Derek snatched it up, then laughed, handing it to her. “It’s a box of fertilizer for houseplants.”
“Miracle-Gro? I guess this means Lawrence heard the message.”
“Seems that way. See you at six.”
She didn’t want to stop kissing him, didn’t want to see him leave. Calling in sick seemed like a better and better idea. What was it Lawrence had called it, the "why-do-we-ever-leave-the-bed-at-all" stage? But then Derek was headed down the stairs, and there was no point in staying in bed alone so she went to get ready for work.
THAT NIGHT, DEREK ARRIVED slightly late, 6:15 or so, citing traffic as the reason, but Wren suspected it was because he’d bought enough food for a small army. His arms were laden with take-out from an Italian place near downtown that had a dinner counter, and he’d brought a small pan of lasagna along with salad, Italian wedding soup, garlic bread, a fried ravioli appetizer, and tiramisu in cups for dessert. And a bottle of Chianti wrapped in rope.
Knowing they were going to eat first, Wren had kept her clothes on, and they chatted their way through the meal much as they had before they'd begun having sex, only this time she felt the tension shifting and building, instead of just simmering underneath. He plucked a tiny meatball out of his soup and offered it to her. She took it in her mouth with delicate care, her tongue slipping between his fingertips.