Odalisque

Tyler slid out of her once again, and thrust upward, felt that she was matching his pace with her own eager thrusts. Somewhere inside him, there was a dim awareness that this was not how he had wanted it to be, that he had wanted her in his own bed, to possess her, yes, but to savor her, too. To make it last. He had envisioned something gentler than this wanton coupling on the stairs of her apartment building.

He fought to stay present, to think only of how wet she was as he moved in her, how perfect the fit, how Callie had seemingly given herself entirely to the moment. He watched her, his eyes heavy as she rocked against him. Callie, for her part, was distantly thinking how it might have been more comfortable for them had they made it to her apartment, but she didn't regret this turn of events in the least.

As they moved together, Callie's hands explored his chest, his stomach, his sides. He was so solid, so masculine. She wondered at how smooth his skin felt over his firm muscle. She noticed then that the angle of his body had changed, that the base of his cock was now pressing against her clit. With a start, she realized that her pleasure was increasing, so slowly that she'd barely noticed it. Her face flushed as she looked at Tyler, finding a smug, animal look in his eyes that suggested he was well aware of just how she was feeling. He drove so deeply into her that the pressure made her gasp; she felt something fall away inside her and arched as she came.

Tyler felt her pussy tighten around him and felt the pleasure of his own release flood him as he came. They leaned into each other, kissing lazily, their sweat-dampened faces pressed close. Tyler was still inside her, and they were, for a moment, lost in each other's nearness.

Reality returned to them quickly. Tyler looked up and down the stairwell, then at Callie. He started to move carefully, then lifted her up and stood with her, a tired look on his face.

"Sorry," he apologized sheepishly, tugging at his shirt, which was nearly stripped of its buttons. He forced a small laugh. "How did no one catch us?"

"It's late." She smiled serenely as he zipped the back of her dress. "And it's a weeknight. Lucky for us."

"I am sorry, Callie." Tyler's expression was like a remorseful little boy's, all the casualness in his voice replaced by tenderness. He gingerly tugged her skirt down for her, smoothing out its wrinkles. "I should get going."

"Sure, of course." Tyler heard the bewilderment in her voice and felt a rush of guilt and confusion. He couldn't be sure what had come over him, but he did know that the way she was looking at him felt like an indictment for what he'd done. Before either of them had a chance to say anything more, Tyler was rushing down the steps and gone.

***

The next day, Tyler was in his own private hell. He couldn't remember when he started, but at some point during the morning he began to call Callie. She wasn't picking up. He couldn't believe what had happened. What he'd allowed to happen, he corrected himself. What he'd done. It would be a miracle if he hadn't ruined their already tenuous relationship. The truth was, he couldn't remember the last time anyone had shattered his cool. She'd made him angry, made him lustful. She'd burrowed deep.

After his tenth attempt to call her, Tyler gave up, at least for the time being. He surrendered himself to work. But the guilt and fear and self-doubt had soured in his throat, and he couldn't concentrate on the papers in front of him.

That night, Tyler made a trip to Callie's apartment building with a bouquet of white roses. But there was no answer when he rang the doorbell. He put his ear to the door and heard nothing. Three hours passed before he gave up, leaving the bouquet in front of her door with a hastily written note that read, "I'm sorry. I want to see you again. Please call." He took his time walking down the stairwell, as though he might be lucky enough to run into her again, as though he might be able to relive that night and play it differently.

***

It wasn't until three days later that he heard from her again by way of a letter in his mailbox. The envelope was unmarked. Tyler looked around as though she might have just left it and still be nearby, but he saw nothing. He tore the envelope open and read:

Tyler, after what happened between us last week, I wanted to explain my situation to you. It's important that you know, and I hope you can forgive me for not telling you sooner. I know you're mad, and I know you'll probably be even madder once you read this. The first time we met, you asked if I had a boyfriend. I told you no, and that wasn't a lie, but it wasn't the complete truth, either. I have a kind of relationship with my boss. Not a romantic one, but I am expected to stay faithful. In return, I keep my job and get paid extra. A lot extra. My salary is better than anyone else's I know. We don't have sex, though he's been pushing me lately. His requests are weird, to say the least. I spend the day in his house naked. Sometimes I do chores that way. Sometimes he touches me. He told me he'd fire me if I didn't go along with it. And I have so many student loans to pay. My family lives across the country, and they have their own problems. I resisted for a long time but eventually I just couldn't see any other way. And it seemed easy enough at first. I wanted to tell you. And I thought I was going to earlier. When you came to my apartment building and accused me of fucking my boss, it hit a nerve, and I reacted. I thought it'd be easier to say no. To you, I mean. And I tried, but I liked you too much. I'm going to end things with Denver, even if it means losing my job and my reputation. Even if I've already lost you. I hope you can forgive me.

Tyler was livid at Denver and upset that Callie wouldn't have trusted him sooner. He couldn't believe that it had to come to this, and that only now was she willing to explain. Now that he'd probably ruined their relationship for good.

It took Tyler several days to work through the confusion and anger and grief. More than anything, he had felt helpless. Callie was lost to him, out of his reach. It took four tortured nights and days before a plan began to take shape and for Tyler to see that there was some hope in an otherwise terrible situation.

For what seemed like the first time weeks, Tyler had regained some of his composure. It was this calm that he was accustomed to feeling, even known for, and he was relieved to have it back. Yet what he was about to do had real consequences if things didn't go quite the way that he had planned. But this was the kind of calculated risk that he felt comfortable with, especially considering what was at stake.

It had taken him a few more days to put all the pieces together, to make all the calls and meetings that would be necessary to execute his plan. On his way inside Callie's office building, Tyler almost felt himself again, confident and purposeful. The receptionist was too distracted by a phone call to stop him. He found Denver's office door wide open and strode in. Denver sat at his desk and had looked up as soon as Tyler had entered. Tyler laid a stack of papers out on Denver's desk and began to talk. Denver stared, lips pursed, as Tyler launched into a speech.

"I've always valued directness in others so I'm going to forgo etiquette and tell you what I know." He sat down. "I know what you've made Callie do. I know what you're going to make Callie do. If you think I'm bluffing," Tyler bluffed, "I'll let you listen to a few choice voicemail messages that she was smart enough not to delete off her phone. Messages that you were stupid enough to leave. Now, I've had my lawyer write a few notes here," Tyler explained, tapping the papers between them. "I'd urge you to read them. They detail all the complications and consequences that stem from your actions. Thing is, if you do what we ask, we keep your secret." Denver opened his mouth to interrupt, but Tyler raised a hand to silence him. "You let her quit her 'secondary' position. She does the rest of her work for you from home. You pay her the same rate you did before, when she was your 'personal assistant.' In the meantime, Callie will look for another job. Once she finds one, we're both out of your hair."

"Blackmail." Denver's mouth had gone from pinched to wide open, his face black with fury.

"Sure, but there are worse words for what you did to Callie. I'd say we're being too easy on you. So, it's your choice." Denver fumbled with the papers in front of him, studying them with a glazed look. The silence between the two men seemed to last forever, which started to make even Tyler sweat.

"Fine." Denver finally acquiesced. His voice was terse, tight with suppressed violence.

"Glad to hear it. Always a pleasure talking to you, Denver," he smiled and leaped from the chair. With a wave, he was gone, leaving Denver slack-jawed and bright red. On his way out, Tyler chose the stairwell over the elevator. As he just about skipped down the steps, he felt a pang of nostalgia.

He called Callie again when he was outside. She still wasn't answering, but this time, he felt hopeful. He left a message, explaining that she didn't have to worry about her "situation" anymore, that it was over. That he wanted to talk to her about it, and he hoped he'd hear from her soon. The only thing left for him to do was wait.

***

Callie had been terrified to write the letter. She would have been more terrified to call Tyler, and seeing him was out of the question. Sneaking around his house late at night to deliver a letter had not felt like her best moment. But she had been stuck so long that she'd never imagined getting away from Denver, that anyone might have wanted to help her. When she'd received his last message, she had felt a rush of relief. He knew everything, but he still wanted to see her.

Callie parked sideways in Tyler's driveway. She took a moment to look at the house, wondering at the strength of the emotion she felt at simply seeing it again. The walk to the front door was nerve-wracking, and the thought that Tyler might have changed his mind occurred to her suddenly. She glanced from the doorbell to the doorknob and tentatively reached for the knob, which, to her surprise, turned easily.

Tyler saw Callie's dim silhouette in the study's doorway. He sat in the dark at his desk, alone. He leaned forward to turn on an antique bottle-green desk lamp.

"Callie. How did you get in?"

"You left the front door unlocked. I was worried you might not open the door anyway."

"After what happened, I didn't think I'd ever hear from you again, let alone see you." As she moved out of the dark, he could plainly see the distress on her face. "Why don't you sit?" Callie nodded and dropped into the chair on the other side of the desk. He immediately regretted asking her to sit there and ached over their distance. With her sitting across from him, what was between them felt like a business matter.

"I've been feeling like maybe I didn't explain as well as I wanted to," she started.

"You don't have to explain anything to me, Callie."

"Yeah but, I think I'd feel better if I did. The truth is, I've always been comfortable, if that makes sense. What Denver asked me to do, well, I wasn't happy about it, but I didn't feel like I was being victimized. I don't have many hang-ups. I've never been the kind of girl who needs love to have sex, to be sexual." She hesitated, worried by what his reaction might be to what she'd said, what she was about to say. "But I think maybe that's different now. Now that I know you." Callie fidgeted in the chair and avoided Tyler's searching gaze, but he could tell she was getting emotional. "Do you forgive me?"

"No, but only because you don't need to be forgiven. You don't even need to apologize. I'm glad you told me. I don't know what I would have done in your situation. It's hard for me to imagine." She nodded as she reflected on his words, and then remembered something that he'd said in his message.

"What did you mean when you said you'd 'taken care of it'?"

"I talked to Denver today."

"You did what?" Callie's eyes widened. "What did you say?"

"We worked something out. You won't have to worry about him anymore. And you'll be paid the same amount and you still have your job, at least until you find something else. Then you'll be done with him for good."

"Tyler!" She couldn't quite believe it. "If that's true, then I can't thank you enough."

"My real concern is whether or not you forgive me." He looked down at his hands in his lap.

"For what?" Callie looked astounded.

"For what happened in that stairwell."

"That? Why would I need to forgive you?"

"I didn't exactly ask your permission." Tyler looked uncomfortable. He pursed his lips and set his jaw.

"That's ridiculous. I never said no. I wanted it as much as you did. Probably more."

"I doubt that."

"I wanted you the first time we were alone," she confessed. "If you had tried to seduce me that first night, I wouldn't have been able to say no." Callie rose and circled his desk to meet him on the other side. She stood in front of him, and he eyed her hungrily, heavy-lidded with lust.

"I wanted you the first time I saw you." He placed one hand gingerly on her hip, massaging it, carefully moving her forward, closer to him. With a grin, she raised her leg and planted one heeled foot next to him on the seat of the chair. Her skirt rode up, offering Tyler a view of her inner thigh and panties. The pleasurable shock of Callie's daring move didn't faze him, and his hand was on her almost immediately, making a slow sweep of her thigh with the tips of his fingers. He brought his mouth down to the sensitive spot where inner thigh met knee, and she adjusted her leg to allow him easier access.

"Turn around," Tyler ordered thickly. Callie looked surprised but complied, turning slowly, hesitantly. She felt his hands lift her skirt and gasped as he pulled her panties down until they fell around her ankles. She kicked the shoes off along with the underwear. She felt his hands again as he grabbed her by the hips and pulled her into his lap and gasped as she felt the insistent pressure of his arousal against her.

She reminded him of a tableau vivant as she turned to the side, profile silhouetted against the golden glow of the desk lamp, lips slightly parted.

"What do you like?" Tyler whispered, his fingers exploring. This time, skin against skin, the question took on new meaning.

"I like your hands." Her hands reached out for his, tracing the veined skin. Her voice was small, almost shy.

"What else?" He grinded against her, and she let out a long sigh as she arched her back.

"I like this. I like you against me." She was throaty. He thrust up fiercely and she rocked to meet his movements.

"Keep going."

Her voice came quieter this time. "I like you."

"I like you, too," he laughed breathlessly. "Hell, I more than like you." He gripped the base of her neck, placed his other hand on her hip as he tortured himself against her. She felt the molten spread of pleasure coursing through her now, flowing from the place where they met. But it wasn't enough for either of them.

"Face me now." She stood and turned, this time straddling him without hesitation. Their kiss was soft, her hair brushing the side of his face. He pulled her skirt up around her hips and brushed her pussy with his hand, so gently that he felt her shiver. His hand found her opening and slid a finger easily into her wetness. He slid a second finger in, and Callie gripped his shoulders as he began to pump them slowly, shallowly inside her. She thrust back, matching his steady pace, until she felt her desperation building and, unable to stand it any longer, fumbled for Tyler's zipper.

Tyler didn't need any more direction than that. He moved her hands away, undoing his zipper and lifting his hips as Callie pulled at his pants and briefs. She freed his erection, which brushed her thigh and made her tremble. He scooted forward to meet her hips and, after a moment of groping in the dark space between them, penetrated her with one deep thrust.

Tyler kissed her cheek, her jaw, her neck. He grabbed the back of her head and bent her back easily, kissing her breasts through her thin shirt. The urgency was gone this time, he realized, and this time felt better than the first. He would allow them both the time to enjoy it.

She rode him deliberately at first, delighting in finally having him without anger, without dishonesty, without needing to rush. But Tyler's thrusts became wilder and faster, and Callie yielded and matched his pace, showering his face with frantic kisses as he moaned below her. He bit her chin and kneaded her ass as he plunged as deeply as possible inside her.

Callie climaxed first, crying out into Tyler's shoulder as she tried not to be overwhelmed. She continued to ride him, not letting up even when he cried out with his own release. Callie's movements stilled as he wrapped a strong arm around her neck and pulled her down close to him, his other arm around her waist, his mouth meeting hers in a powerful kiss.

Tyler's eyes were heavy as he pulled away. He lifted her off him and out of the chair, carrying her in his arms out of the study as she weakly protested, "What about my shoes and underwear?"

"You won't be needing them." He took her up a winding staircase that led to his bedroom and dropped her on the bed, onto an enormous blue bedspread that looked and felt like velvet. In the dim light of the room, she watched him disrobe with that same masculine grace she'd seen when she'd first met him.

He was over her in an instant, pulling her shirt over her head, then rolling her over to unzip her skirt. For a moment, he straddled her as she lay on her stomach and kissed her bare back. Callie lost herself in the way his muscular thighs felt against her and was snapped out of her reverie as she felt his cock against her. She marveled at how hard he was already.

And then he turned her back over and tugged her skirt away. "Perfect," he said as he admired her, naked and stretched out in front of him. He was on her again, his full length pressing against her, his mouth softly brushing her temple, one hand tracing a line up her side from hip to shoulder that made her shiver. Callie wrapped her legs around Tyler, who held her and rolled them both onto their sides where they faced each other. He played with her hair as her hand drifted down to caress his cock lazily. Tyler's eyes closed, and he sighed under her attention. She kissed him then, the lightest flick of lips against lips, and Tyler's eyes flew open as he pulled her closer to him to crush her mouth against his with barely restrained violence.

Tyler maneuvered himself until his hard-on pressed Callie's thigh. She took him in her hand and guided him to her opening and he slid into her easily, up to the hilt, and caused her to cry out and dig her heel into his ass. He kept his thrusts measured, almost torturously slow, his eyes locked on hers as she sighed and trembled. They came together, tightening their grip on each other until they left red marks on dewy skin. Before Callie fell asleep in Tyler's embrace, her eyes flickered to the window for a moment, where the moon shimmered beyond the glass like a coin in endless blue.

In the morning, Tyler woke first and eased himself up, doing his best not to jostle Callie. As he watched her sleep, he thought about her, how he'd come to know her. It was her looks he'd seen in the portrait of the 18th century woman, and it was her manner, her sensuality that he'd seen reflected in the painting of the odalisque, and maybe the coyness, a feeling that she was beyond his reach. But here she was in his bed, all the complications between them dissolved. The only life the paintings held was the life he had given them, but Callie was flesh and blood and soul and more.