I ran to the phone, tripping over the cat. Two, three rings…better get it before the fourth, after which the answering service would pick up. I had been anticipating the call from the gallery, and wasn’t about to miss it after I had stayed in all afternoon.
“This is Kate,” I said, a bit breathless from running. I combed my fingers through my hair, trying to gather my composure, even though my appearance wouldn’t be obvious to the person on the other end. “Hello?” I asked again.
After a long pause, a soft voice replied, “I need to see you.”
My heart plunged into my stomach. It was Leila, and though we hadn’t spoken for weeks, I thought of her on a daily basis. That night we shared in her home, the ecstasy and passion she instilled in me…I felt it rising again in hearing her voice.
“Leila…it’s great to hear from you. Are you alright? You sound down.” My heart was racing.
“I’m in the city,” she said abruptly. “I…,” she paused again, “I really need to see you, Kate. I’ll be outside your building in ten minutes. Can we go for a drink or something?”
“Of course,” I replied, knowing that if I leave, I’d miss the call from the gallery. But hell, they can talk to my machine. Leila’s tone had an unfamiliar seriousness in it, which concerned me. “I’ll be waiting out front.”
“See you soon,” she responded, and quickly hung up.
I was in a whirlwind of emotion. Not a day went by that I don’t think about the time I had with her. Just that morning, I had been masturbating to the thought of her very touch, her soft lips against mine, sultry voice in my ear.
Looking myself over in the mirror, I definitely needed to change into something more formal than track pants and a t-shirt. Standing in my closet, I chose a pair of black Prada slacks, and a red snug-fitting long-sleeved sweater. I certainly wasn’t as well off as Leila, but I did have an impressive wardrobe, part of that owing to the schmoozing aspect of my career as an art dealer and critic. Reaching for a pair of panties, I hesitated, smiling at the thought of possibly not needing them. My smile faded as I reprimanded myself for thinking of my own lust, when Leila could have a serious problem to discuss. Nonetheless, I didn’t wear panties or a bra.
Glancing at my watch, I paced in nervous anticipation of the time growing closer. Quickly, I fed Matisse and turned on a floor lamp, as I did not know what time I’d be returning. Grabbing my coat and keys, I flew out the door.
The elderly doorman smiled and tipped his hat as he saw me approaching in the lobby. “Good evening, Ms. Verneau. Shall I call you a cab?” He opened the door for me.
“You’re so kind, Patrick,” I responded, “but that won’t be necessary, as a friend is picking me up.” Looking left, I saw her black coupe approaching. I took a deep breath, feeling the cool air in my lungs giving me a new energy.
“Very well. Enjoy your evening, Ms. Verneau,” Patrick said with a smile and wink. I looked back in appreciation, and spoke similar sentiments.
The car stopped, I heard the unlocking of the door, and got in. Smiling, I greeted her warmly. “It’s wonderful to see you, Leila. Though you have me a little worried. Is something wrong?” She looked amazing, as always. But especially today—black cashmere shaped her arms and breasts beautifully, a silk Hermes scarf wrapped loosely around her neck, her legs draped in dark grey chinos. Those dazzling green eyes, searching my face, burned deeply into me. Her familiar scent—musky, yet sweet—excited me, seducing my libido as it had before.
Her hand reached for mine, holding it firmly against her thigh. Accelerating, we bolted out onto the city streets. “I haven’t been able to get you off my mind, Kate, and God knows I’ve tried. I think of you incessantly,” she looked at me intensely, her hand caressing my cheek. She was driving like a maniac.
Shivers went down my spine, a tingling sensation growing in my sex. I smiled warmly. “I think of you quite often, Leila. We had an amazing connection that summer night.” I was being overly polite, as not to appear as fervent as I felt.
“Don’t speak of it as if it’s a past event, like some fling that I just had,” she said, obviously irritated. “I don’t do that shit, Kate. I’m a married woman, for Christ’s sake. But you….we have something different, something I’ve never felt with any man or woman. I need you tonight, Kate. I just need you so badly.” She had taken several turns, and my sense of direction became muddled. By the style of her driving, she had an obvious destination in mind. Drinks were not likely to be on the agenda.
Not knowing how to respond in words, I placed my hand on the back of her neck. So soft, and a little damp from the rain, her hair felt angelic. I massaged her neck gently as she continued driving. She sighed, feeling content that I understood her, and these feelings were mutual.
Once we arrived at her hotel on the west side, she tossed her keys to the valet. Leila nodded to the bellhop as we entered the elevator. “18th floor, please,” she said politely. We were standing apart, Leila intently watching the numbers light up one by one. My heart was pounding, my sex growing eager, lustful. If the bellhop hadn’t been present, I would have taken her there in the elevator.
The suite was extravagant and in definite accordance with her expensive tastes. Peruvian Marble floors in the entry, vases filled with exotic flowers, various antiques serving dually as furniture and exquisite art…it looked like a photograph taken from Architectural Digest. The lights were low, and I brushed my fingers against the great cherry oak desk in the study to the right of the entry. Removing my coat, I set it on the leather chair. A bottle of merlot sat on the desk--opened, and half empty.
She approached me from behind, her hand brushing my hair to the side. I could feel her breath on my neck, warm and lustful. Her right hand slipped under my sweater, and she began to moan softly as she touched the skin on my abdomen. Her lips swept lightly on my neck as she whispered my name.
I sighed in response, completely melting with lust and desire for this woman. Allowing her to touch me, her fingers lulled me into seduction. My nipples hardened when I felt her airy touch on my breasts. She giggled devilishly. “No bra this time,” she whispered breathlessly. “That’s a good girl.” I was burning up.
I couldn’t stand it anymore. Turning to face her, I grabbed her tightly, kissing her passionately. Tasting her on my lips again, a calm washed over me, easing my aggression. I held her against me, never wanting to let go. My eyes teared up as I felt her body against mine, acknowledging the connection that compelled us to be there.
“Honey, it’s ok,” she said to me consolingly. Cradling my chin in her hands, she whispered, “We both want this. We need each other.” She kissed my lips softly, almost exactly like that first night. The same rushing chills surged through me. Slowly, deliberately, she guided me toward the bedroom. Sharing tears and salty kisses, we stumbled toward the bed, peeling and sliding our clothes off and onto the floor.
She laid me down gently against the satin sheets, scented with her perfume. We spent an hour just kissing and holding one another, playfully caressing the forms that were already so familiar in our memories. Another bottle of merlot had been stashed near the bed, and we indulged in a few glasses.
I had been lying against her, my head nestled between her shoulder and breast. My hand was alternately massaging her breasts and abdomen, tracing around her hips in effleurage. Remembering our time in the summer, I thought of how much I had longed to taste her. My mind grew eager and restless.
Turning about, I moved to kiss her gently, my tongue tracing her lips. She laughed, playfully biting my lower lip in response. Moving to her neck, I kissed her skin softly, nibbling on her soft, pale flesh. My hand had slipped down to her inner thigh, and she tried to stop me with a typical playful reprimand. But I caught her off guard.
Seizing both hands, I raised her arms up over her head. Quickly snatching her scarf from the floor, I snugly tied her wrists to the bed frame. In a state of shock, she wildly protested. “Kate! What are you doing? Untie me, this isn’t fair!” she squealed.
I merely grinned in response, feeling her bucking against me like a wild filly. Stroking her breasts with my fingertips, her squirming settled, and her protests became less forceful. My tongue teased her nipples, tracing circles around them, licking and kissing them to my desired hardness, playfully suckling them to maintain their erection.
My hand once again returned to her inner thigh. “Don’t fight this time, baby,” I whispered seductively. I stroked her skin, feeling her wetness define itself against my hand and on the sheets below her. She moaned in passionate agony, again begging to be set free.
“I need to taste you, Kate. I’ve been aching for the salty sweet of your pussy, the feel of your cunt enveloping my tongue. Please, baby, let me taste you, please…,” she pleaded.
“You want to taste my pussy, do you? Such a naughty girl, you are.” I slid my middle finger up her slick slit, causing her to arch her back in response. Dramatically, I placed this finger to my lips, licking and sucking her juice from the tip. Inserting it into my mouth, I sucked harder and slowly glided my tongue against it. I closed my eyes and moaned in pleasure. Leila cried out in envious retort.
Smiling seductively, I slowly straddled her, my cunt just inches above hers. “Tell me what you’re thinking now, hmm?” I said, in mocking confidence. She groaned, writhing upwards, her sex trying to meet mine, but unsuccessfully as I raised myself up.
“Patience, honey, patience,” I chimed to her. After moments of teasing, I lowered myself onto her, no longer caught up in the faux position of control. Our wet flesh meshed and glided together. The sweet sound of the slurping and suckling eagerness between them excited me beyond belief. Losing myself in the moment, I allowed our clits to spar with one another, inciting deep moans from us both. It was quite a sight…me straddling her, slowly bucking, riding her. I reached a finger down, dipping into the warm, sweet blend of our juices. Holding it to her, I traced my coated finger under her nose and around her lips. In a lustful trance, she tasted it, savoring our sex.
My own curiosity needed to experience this taste as well. Flipping myself around, I straddled her backwards, my wet pussy poised inches from her mouth. Yet I wouldn’t allow her to taste me, as I indulged in the salty pleasure of her secretions. My tongue teased and tasted her labia, her pubic hair tickling my chin and lips. She tried to push up against me in eager anticipation, but I held her hips down firmly.
That sex-crazed dialogue came spilling from her mouth again, and I loved it. She begged me to eat her dripping snatch, pump her cunt with my probing fingers, suck her throbbing clit like a miniature cock. Telling me how she’s going to cum all over my face, squirt it into my mouth, and I’d better fucking swallow. This excited me, as in her desirous state she became quite the nymphomaniac.
My ingenuity kicked in once again and I snatched the empty wine bottle from the nightstand. Looking back at her, I saw her eyes widen either from fear or longing. Possibly both.
“I won’t hurt you, Leila,” I said reassuringly.
Her breathing became heavier, her legs parting in acceptance as she watched me stroking the glass bottle, inserting the neck into my mouth an inch at a time. My tongue glided against it, assessing the smoothness of the expensive vessel. Closing my eyes, I sucked it gently. Momentarily I wondered if she had ever pictured me with a man, sucking his thick cock. Well, in any case, this was as close to that as she was ever going to see…for now.
Satisfied with the construction of the bottle, and the reaction my demonstration attained, I placed it on the bed, beside me. Playfully, I began nibbling on her abdomen, flicking her navel with my tongue. This tickling brought girlish squeals from her mouth, begging me to stop, yet continue. The scent of her pussy captivated me, as I craved a deeper fulfillment of her taste.
Lowering myself between her legs, I brought them up and over my shoulders. With my hands on her hips, I slowly began to lick her pouting lips, their gloss mixing with my saliva. I made use of my whole mouth against her---my tongue licking around and through her lips, my chin grinding against her sensitive folds, my lips suckling over and around her clit lightly. I could feel her pushing against me, demanding more inside her.
Easing her legs down, I grabbed the bottle carefully, as my hands were quite slick. Brushing my fingers around the neck of the flask, I primed it for it new use. Leila was moaning, anticipating what was to come. Her legs spread wide, I slowly inserted the lip of the bottle into her warm orifice. She took it readily, eagerly. The smoky green glass slid into her smoothly, sensuously. Holding the base of the bottle, I slowly began to pump it into her. She responded hungrily, loving the experience of the glass phallus.
“Good girl,” I said, using her words. I steadily thrust the neck of the flask into her, watching her tighten her pussy around it. But she became more aggressive, and for fear of the bottle breaking, I withdrew it and tossed it aside. Crashing onto the floor, the sound startled her enough to raise her hips in reaction. Using this to my advantage, I grabbed her legs, sweeping them high above me, working my fingers and tongue in devouring her tart cunt.
I ravished her, my digits speeding up and slowing in reaction to her movement. “Not yet,” I told her, “I’m not done.” Her clit swelled in response to my teasing, the flickering of my frantic tongue. My mouth and chin were covered with her glaze, and I couldn’t get enough. In response to her pleading, I fucked her faster, harder, my two fingers twisting and plunging into her depths as my tongue twirled lightly on her clit. Hearing her grow closer, I slowed my thrusts, making them longer, deeper. I felt her tighten around me. I breathed her in as she came with a tearful cry. My fingers still inside her, I felt her throbbing orgasms, my tongue relishing the flow of her ecstasy.
Moving up to kiss her, my hand simultaneously untied the scarf that bound her to my appetite. She threw her arms and legs around me, crying and laughing over what we just shared. Exhausted and shaking from our six-hour intimacy, we laid in each other’s arms until the morning. At one point, I thought I heard her whisper that she loved me, though it could have easily been a dream.
I awoke to an empty bed, and a note on her pillow:
Last night was utterly incredible. I hope you know how much you mean to me. Douglas called and it appears his car has broken down, so I need to give him mine. I’m so sorry I have to leave like this, but you looked so beautiful sleeping, I didn’t want to wake you. There is so much I want to say to you, yet whenever I try, it always seems ill-timed. Such is life these days. I’ll be in touch soon, darling.
I closed my eyes and rolled onto her pillow. I could still smell the chamomile from her shampoo. My hands moved under the pillow, feeling something stashed underneath. I pulled out the scarf that had bound us both in passion. Inhaling her perfume from the silk, I held it to my face as my bittersweet tears softly fell.