by Jason Luke
I paced passed the window, reached the study door and then turned back. Leticia and I were standing on opposite sides of the room, and the passage of time into late afternoon had veiled the study in gloom. I went to the fireplace and kicked at the logs – they sparked into renewed life and cast just enough orange glow so that I could see Leticia’s features. I crossed to the desk and flicked on the lamp. A pool of yellow light spilled across the sofa.
“Once the man has his luxury sports car running smoothly, and once he has mastered the gears so that he can accelerate and decelerate instinctively, he then needs to learn how to control and steer his sports car,” I carried the thought through as I continued to pace around the room. “It is most important that the man has a gentle but firm touch on the wheel. In the hands of a skilled driver, a sports car will respond beautifully, but if the man has no destination in mind – if he has no idea where he is going, then the car can’t possibly join him on the journey. Driving a luxury sports car is not something that should be taken for granted. To be a good driver you need experience and patience and you need to know how your car will respond in any given situation.”
Leticia looked up and started to smile.
“And a man should never jerk the wheel. Women like some direction, but keep your grip confident and assured – not like you’re trying to strangle them. A man should know where he is going before he gets behind the wheel – women like to be with a man who knows what he wants.”
I looked up at Leticia – she was watching me. “Did you get all that?”
Leticia nodded. “Every word,” she smiled.
“Is that enough for your article?”
Leticia looked unsure. She nodded her head slowly. “Unless you have anything else you can add…?”
“There is one final thing I would offer as a precaution,” I said. “For a man to truly enjoy his luxury car he should remember that they need regular maintenance. Sometimes it’s a good idea just to let their engine idle… let them warm up. You don’t have to have a purpose every time you get behind the wheel. Sometimes it’s fine just to sit in the garage and let the engine idle for an hour. Women will appreciate that you just want to spend time with them – that you don’t only go near them when you want to get yourself somewhere in a hurry. If a man cares for his car, and lavished it with attention, then the car will take care of the man.”
Leticia jotted down the last of my comments with a flourish and set her notebook down on the sofa beside her. “You had me worried,” she smiled. “When you started with that story I really thought you were making a mistake.” She shook her head in a gesture of small wonder. “I should have learned by now that you don’t make mistakes, do you, Jonah?”
I grunted. “Leticia, for every success I have had with women, there has been a dozen mistakes made along the way. That’s how you learn. Men learn from their errors – if they’re smart enough to realize the errors they make. Some men never learn – they have a limited repertoire in the bedroom and it’s all they ever know, because they don’t care about their mistakes, and nor do they care about pleasuring the woman they are with. The few methods they have are all designed with one objective in mind, and that is their own pleasure.”
Leticia looked intrigued. “You made mistakes with women? You mean to tell me that the great Jonah Noble wasn’t always a master in the bedroom?” she mocked me lightheartedly.
I nodded. “I certainly made my share of errors along the way – some of them large and some of them insignificant. But for me they weren’t mistakes, they were learning experiences. Every time I walked away from a woman, I learned something in the process so that I never made the same mistake twice.”
“These learning experiences… I presume they were when you were younger, right?”
I nodded. “Most of my younger adult years were spent learning and loving women’s bodies, but I never truly understood the subtle complexities of a woman’s mind until I was involved in one of my first threesomes.”
Leticia sat suddenly forward, and there was a glitter of intense curiosity in her eyes. “Really? With two other women, I presume?”
I nodded, and then lapsed into tantalizing silence, until I could see the torture on Leticia’s face. She had her feet pressed to the floor, her legs squeezed together and her elbows resting on her knees with her chin cupped in her hands, perched on the edge of the sofa as if willing me to continue.
I smiled to myself and then drew out the moment for long, agonizing seconds by going to the side table and refilling the crystal tumbler on the edge of the desk with another half measure of whisky. I picked up the glass and stared down into it like a fortuneteller trying to conjure some mystic vision.
“It happened when I was running the newspaper,” I began.
Leticia interrupted. “At the same time you and Sherry were exploring BDSM together?”
I nodded. “That’s right,” I said. “I went to a sports bar one evening. It had been a long day at work and I just wanted to unwind. The bar was crowded with other businessmen and office staff who had stopped in for a drink before spilling out of the city. The bar was smoky, and there was a row of monitors set high up on one wall that showed highlights and score updates from the ball games. There was a jukebox in one corner and young waitresses were winding their way between tables with food and drink orders.”
Again, Leticia interrupted. “You picked up these women in a bar?”
I shook my head. “They actually propositioned me,” I said. I took a sip of the whisky. “A young waitress came over to me. She was eighteen or nineteen. She had dirty blonde hair, wearing a skimpy pair of black pants that looked like they had been painted on, and a short black t-shirt that was cut off just below the press of her breasts so that I could see plenty of tanned midriff. The t-shirt had the name of the sports bar in white letters across it. She wasn’t wearing a bra – every time she swayed between the clusters of tables, her breasts moved and changed shaped. In truth, her features didn’t make her beautiful, but there was a predatory glimmer in her eyes – and a sense of wanton sexiness that glowed on her skin like a summer tan. She leaned over my table to take my order and saw the direction of my gaze. She smiled, confident in her own body, and then gave me a playful wink.”
‘“What would you like?’ the girl asked me. She had a Southern accent and the wicked smile on her lips was a silent invitation. I ordered a whisky and as the waitress spun away, I felt the brush of her hip deliberate against my arm.
“She came back with my drink balanced on a tray. She leaned close over me and set in on the table, and I felt her hand on my shoulder. She whispered in my ear that a woman sitting at a table across from me had paid for the drink.”
Leticia had a sudden thought. “Jonah… can I write this down? Is this something I could use in the articles?”
I frowned at that. “You can write it down if you wish,” I shrugged. “But I don’t know that the incident will have any relevance to your readers.”
Leticia snatched up the notebook and started writing.
I took another sip of the whisky, set the glass down on the windowsill. It was night outside now – and the evening traffic was beginning to spark in a winding string of lights through the mountain road.
“When I crossed the bar and thanked the woman for the drink, she clutched at my arm and insisted I sit. She was in her early thirties. She had long blonde hair down passed her shoulders, and was wearing one of those open-neck blouses with the top button undone so that I could see the silky sheen of her cleavage pressed tight together around the lace of her bra. The woman was heavily made up – layers of color and cosmetics, but for all that it was skillfully done. Her smile was more than friendly. She licked her lips and I sank into the chair beside her. After two or three whiskies, the woman invited me back to her place, and I accepted. It was getting late. They had just called last drinks at the bar. I walked outside with the woman into a warm summer’s night.
“She said her apartment was jus
t two blocks away and we walked there in silence, the only sound was the noise of her high heels on the sidewalk, and as we walked she kept brushing herself against me and pressing her body close to mine. When we got to her apartment she tore at my clothes the moment the front door was shut behind us. She was desperate – there was a frantic hunger in her eyes and she pressed me up against the apartment wall so that I could feel the firm shape of her breasts and the grind of her hips. There was a growl in the back of her throat as we kissed and I felt the smear of her lipstick across my lips and face.
“I had been with older women before – women such as Claire – but this lady was overcome with a frantic passion that I wasn’t experienced enough to handle. I closed my eyes and felt her desperate fingers at my belt, and then she dropped to her knees before me and took me in both her hands. The woman devoured me with her mouth as though she had been starved of sex for too long. She was panting and gasping. I felt my fingers wrap themselves into her hair and then just when I felt my body beginning to thrill, there was the sudden sound of a key in the door lock and a moment later the young waitress from the bar was standing in the threshold to the apartment.”
Leticia gasped. “You mean the waitress lived there too?”
I nodded. “They were flat mates, but at that instant I had no idea. The girl let herself into the apartment and started to undress.”
“My God… What did you do?”
“I don’t think I did anything. I honestly don’t remember. The woman on her knees before me looked up and introduced the waitress to me as Mandy.”
Leticia shook her head in wonder. “It sounds as though you weren’t the first man they managed to lure back to their apartment,” she said seriously.
I shrugged. “Probably not,” I agreed. “But at the time that was the last thing on my mind. I was confronted with the opportunity to enjoy two women in a threesome with the added incestual fantasy that they were like a mother and daughter. Quite frankly I didn’t care to ponder their methods… all I cared about at the time was erect and hard below my waist.”
Leticia smiled her understanding.
I grinned wryly.
“So tell me what happened next?”
I sighed. “We never made it to the bedroom,” I confessed. “We got as far as the couch and then everything became a tangle of arms and legs and breasts.” I closed my eyes for a moment, and I could vividly recall that scene in my memory. The women’s bodies, the sounds, the textures of their skin, and the erotic combinations came back to me clear as the crystal of my whisky tumbler.
“For a guy in his mid-twenties, it was an erotic fantasy that I could not ever have imagined, brought to life. Leticia, there are flashback snapshots in my mind of that night that are still a source of arousal until this very day,” I conceded.
“I remember the two women on their knees before me, both of their mouths hunting my cock. I remember staring down at them both and watching them kiss. Mandy’s body was firm and very slim. She had the toned, healthy glow of a girl who spent long hours by the surf and the sand. The contrast between the women was as much a turn on for me as anything else. The older woman – I can’t remember her name – had creamy, pale skin, with just the first hint of heaviness in her breasts and hips. Watching the women enjoying each other’s bodies on the sofa, and watching the ease with which they were able to arouse each other was a lesson for a young man like me in sensual erotica… until I made a fatal mistake…”
Leticia was still on the edge of the sofa, still perched and listening intently. She was watching me with complete concentration. “What was the mistake?”
“I forgot how jealous a woman can be of another woman,” I said slowly. “I made the mistake of not giving both women equal amounts of my attention.” I felt the sudden need to defend myself. I made a gesture of guilt with my hands and shrugged. “I wasn’t sensitive enough,” I said. “I saw this gorgeous young teenage girl with a sensational figure, and I couldn’t get enough of it. I made the mistake of neglecting the older woman – of not giving enough attention to her so that she felt neglected – and ultimately jealous of Mandy.”
Leticia sat back slowly and gave a long, drawn out sight. “And that ended the night?”
I nodded. “It ended the evening much sooner than I had wanted,” I admitted, “…but not before I had seared every erotic moment into my memory. Afterwards – much later – I realized that the older woman wasn’t so starved for sex that she attacked me the moment we were inside the apartment. She must have sensed that I would be more attracted to Mandy once she joined in. The woman simply wanted to make the most of our time together before the younger girl came home from the bar.” I shrugged and glanced across the room at Leticia so that she got the significance of my next words. “I was stupid,” I admitted. “Leticia, if I knew then what I know now, I would have understood the older woman’s motivation, and been able to make her feel more included. It was a mistake I have never repeated since.”
With the conclusion of the story, everything fell silent. It was like the end of a movie, and for a long time I simply gazed at Leticia as she re-read her notes and then tucked the notepad into her handbag. I sensed the atmosphere in the room become somber and reflective, and it took an effort of my will to shake off those memories of past mistakes and drag myself back into the present – back into the moment. I drained the last of the whisky from my glass and screwed the lid tight onto the bottle on the side table. The interviews were finished.
The hard work was done.
Now it was time for pleasure.
Chapter 14.
I took Leticia’s hand and led her from the study. She came willingly, following me to the bedroom with the detached and dazed air of someone sleepwalking. She stood in the middle of the floor, and I flicked on a lamp so that soft light spread across the big bed but seemed to cast the rest of the room around us into deeper darkness.
I went to Leticia with my hand outstretched as though calming a nervous filly. She was standing rigid and unsure. I felt her trembling.
I caressed her cheek and then traced the arches of her eyebrows with my fingertips. “You are very beautiful,” I whispered. I rested my hands gently on her hips and leaned towards her. Leticia’s eyes were huge dark pools glittering in the lamplight. She seemed very small and fragile as I drew her towards me, and she came unresisting. My lips opened over hers and her mouth quickly responded. Her lips were hot and smooth and my tongue fluttered around the inside of her mouth. Leticia began to change slowly. She seemed to go soft within my embrace and her body began to melt and shape itself to my own. I kissed her more fiercely and sensed the heat of her begin to soak through her thin clothing.
My hands twitched the tails of her blouse loose from the waistband of her tiny skirt and then hunted up the length of her spine. I found the shape of her shoulder blades and stroked the soft skin stretched tight over resilient flesh, then swept my hands around her body until I cupped the shape of her breasts and she shuddered and clung to me.
Leticia had her fingers entwined around my neck. Her back arched slightly so that my hands were free to roam over her breasts. I took one nipple between my fingertips and pinched, goading her almost – but not quite – to the point of pain. Leticia sucked in a sharp hiss of breath and then suddenly pulled my face down onto hers in a kiss filled with passionate urgency. Her nipple turned hard as a pebble and I rolled it between my thumb and forefinger. Leticia’s tongue thrust within my mouth, and at the same instant I felt the sudden desperate press of her pelvis against my hardness.
When I broke the kiss Leticia was gasping and panting, her body quivering with tiny trembles of desire. Her eyes were closed, her lips parted, moist and shiny. There was a flush of color on her cheeks and beneath the palm of my hand I could feel the racing thump of her heartbeat. My free hand slid down between the smolder of our bodies and pressed against her thigh. With my fingertips I felt for the hem of her short skirt. Leticia shifted her body, transferring her weight s
o that her hip was pressed against me and her legs slightly parted. Her eyes flickered open for an instant and there was an awed, overwhelmed look in her eyes, as though her physical need to be touched had swept away the last tendrils of her uncertainty.
With a sudden possessive hand, I tore at the hem of her skirt, forcing it higher up the silky smooth flesh of her thigh until its edge was bunched at her hip and the soft simmering heat of her naked sex was exposed. Leticia’s eyes flashed wide, becoming enormous with helpless surprise and shock. She shuffled her feet wider apart like willing prey to my fingers and then closed her eyes and buried her face against my chest, hooking her nails into the back of my neck and clinging to me fiercely as she surrendered herself.
“You will do exactly what I tell you to do,” I said.
I felt Leticia nod her head against me.
“You will obey every command instantly.”
Again Leticia nodded mutely. She was breathing heavily, her nails pricking at my neck like the claws of a cat as the urgent need within her drew her body taut.
My fingers brushed the inside of her thigh, drawn towards the damp heat of her sex. I slid my hand over the soft mound of her pussy and Leticia suddenly stiffened within my arms, seized and paralyzed by the ache of her need. Instinctively my fingers strummed gently across the jutting nub of her clit and I felt a rush of moist heat coat my fingertips as the desire within Leticia spilled like a flood.
Her breath hitched in the back of her throat and jangling nerves made her arms twitch and her thighs begin to tremble. She made a sound like a frantic sob as I pressed one of my fingers deep within her and she pushed herself down hungrily against the palm of my hand. Her hips began to rock and her whole body began to writhe and undulate.
With slow deliberate strokes I teased Leticia until she was shaking as if in the grips of a fever. She lost control of her breathing so that it was ragged and uncertain and I felt her lift herself up onto her toes, every muscle in her body gradually drawn to tension until she was straining on the precipice and clinging to me in a weak desperation.