“More…?” Her voice was hoarse and shaking with lust and triumph as she pressed herself hard against me in invitation.
I said nothing. I kissed her again, this time more fiercely, and Leticia let out a choking cry of desire. Our lower bodies brushed against each other, grinding in a slow, erotic dance of primal need, as my fingers tugged deftly at the loose drawstrings of her blouse.
Leticia threw her head back, exposing the soft, tender flesh of her throat and then gasped. She was shaking, breathing in broken pants. I kissed my way down her neck, pulling the top of her blouse open until it hung from one shoulder and I could see the heaving swell of her breast and the flimsy lace that enclosed it. I slid the strap of her bra down her arm and my mouth hunted her hard nipple. Her breast was warm and firm – enough to fill my palm – and I felt Leticia’s hands weaving in my hair, pulling me to her, entangling her fingers.
I took her nipple between my lips and it stiffened in my mouth like a ripe strawberry. She moaned aloud and then melted in my arms as though made of candlewax while the heat between us spread like a fire.
“I have wanted you for so long,” I gruffed. My hand slid down her back, between the firm, swelling cleft of her bottom, and then reached for the hem of her skirt. Leticia sucked in an urgent breath of anticipation. I slid her skirt higher up the silky smooth skin of her thigh.
“No… Jonah…” Leticia made a breathless broken sound of dissent and began to stiffen.
I stifled her protest with another long, lingering kiss and the tension melted away from within her. I probed her open mouth with my tongue and the sound in the back of her throat became contented and mewling while my cunning fingers traced gentle circles on the velvety soft skin of her inner thigh. I could sense the heat of Leticia’s sex, sensed it just out of reach. I grazed my coaxing fingers an inch higher, and then stopped and stepped calmly away.
Leticia hung like a ragdoll, gasping for breath, shaking and wide eyed. The hem of her skirt was high around her hips, the white cotton blouse twisted and gaping open. Leticia scraped her fingers through her hair. Her lips were puffy and kiss-inflamed. Her body heaved as she swallowed great gulps of air. She clutched at the edge of the table with a trembling hand.
I watched Leticia regain her composure as the hectic flush of arousal slowly receded from her face. She tugged at her skirt and straightened her clothing, her fingers fumbling. I had my hands thrust deep into my pockets, my expression composed and icy calm.
“That was one hell of a kiss,” Leticia rasped.
I inclined my head, smiled.
Leticia looked confused, almost affronted. “Jonah… tell me you felt something! Tell me you were as turned on as I was.”
I smiled thinly. “It was not my intention to be turned on, Leticia,” I said quietly. “I wanted merely to arouse you. That kiss – the way I touched you and how I touched you was all for you – not for me,” and then my smile changed slowly to become wolfish. “Next time we are alone will be for me.”
Chapter 8.
I walked Leticia downstairs and we spent a long time talking intimately in the foyer, standing close to each other, our words no more than a whisper.
“Tomorrow…?”
“Yes,” I nodded. “We should get the interviews completed as soon as possible. Would you like to meet here, or would you like me to come to your apartment?”
Leticia shrugged. She pressed the flat of her palm gently against my chest in a feminine, proprietorial manner. I reached out and tenderly caressed the side of her cheek.
“I’ll come to you,” I said. “Is ten in the morning too early?”
Leticia shook her head. I walked her to her car and watched her drive out through the gates of the estate.
I went back upstairs feeling strangely elated and light-headed. I felt happy. I felt some inner sense of wellbeing that was unfamiliar and elusive. I went to the library and passed an hour leafing through an old adventure-thriller written many years ago. I had read this book before, but I still found myself transported to the freezing, icy depths of the Arctic as the author played out the adventure tale.
When the phone rang I looked up, puzzled for a moment as though I didn’t recognize the sound. I set the book down and strode to the office. I picked up the receiver.
“Hello?”
There was a moment’s pause and then Leticia’s voice, sounding muzzy and soft. “Hello again… You must think I’m crazy.”
“No,” I said gently. “Not yet…”
I heard Leticia’s smile in the sound of her voice. “Good… I… just couldn’t stop thinking about you.”
“Were they good thoughts?”
Leticia made a contented, sensual hum. “They were very good thoughts,” she said but then her voice became a little harder and her tone changed. “But I have some doubts, Jonah.”
I closed my eyes and took a breath. “About the relationship?”
“No. About the BDSM.” Leticia’s became silent for a moment, as though she were gathering her nerve. “I’m just not sure whether I can be your submissive. I’ve never done anything exotic sexually, and I’m not sure whether being submissive is something that will arouse me and make the sex good for you.”
I sighed and there was a lift of relief in my voice. “Is that the only doubt you have, Leticia?”
“Yes, it’s the only doubt.”
The telephone in my office had a cordless extension. I transferred receivers so I could begin to pace the room. “Where are you?”
“At home.”
“No. Where in the apartment are you?”
“I’m laying on the bed.”
My mind filled with a vision of Leticia lying propped up on a mound of pillows. “What are you wearing?”
“Just an old t-shirt and a pair of panties.”
I went to the edge of the desk and picked up the statue of Horus, examining it absently for a moment. “Leticia, do you really want to know whether you are aroused by the idea of submitting?”
Leticia didn’t hesitate. “Yes.”
I set the statue back on the desk and drifted in a slow circuit around the office. “Very well. Take off the panties and go to the bathroom. Do it now.”
Leticia sounded horrified. “What?”
“You heard me, Leticia.” My voice became hard and stern. “Go to the bathroom, now.”
There was a long delay, more than a minute of silence before Leticia’s voice came uncertainly to me through the receiver. “I’m here,” she said. “I’m in the bathroom.”
I remember Leticia’s bathroom from the times I had visited her apartment during those first interviews. The bathroom was a small room with white tiles on the floor and around the walls. There was a vanity basin set against one wall with a mirror above it. On the opposite side of the bathroom was a shower behind smoky glass sliding doors.
“Are you wearing the panties?”
“No. I took them off… just like you told me to.” Leticia’s voice was low and quivering.
My voice softened instantly. “Good girl,” I said. I visualized Leticia standing in just a loose t-shirt, staring at her reflection in the bathroom mirror. I imagined her long, brown legs and the cheeks of her bottom peeping from below the shirt’s hem. I kept my voice firm – it was important now that Leticia respond to my commands. “Go and lean on the vanity,” I said. “Then spread your legs wide and look at yourself in the mirror.”
I heard soft, rustling sounds and then Leticia’s voice again, shaky and tremulous. “I have the phone on speaker,” she said.
“Good,” I soothed. “Are you where I ordered you to be?”
“Yes. I am leaning on the vanity basin looking at my reflection.”
“Are your legs spread wide?”
“Yes,” she said with a soft reckless breath.
I got tired of pacing. I sprawled into the big leather chair and swung round until I was looking out the window. “Now close your eyes,” I said. “I want you to visualize me standing behind y
ou, Leticia. I want you to imagine I have just stepped out of your shower. I am wet, I am naked, and I see you leaning over the bathroom vanity. Imagine the hunger in my eyes. Imagine how tempting you look to me with the hem of your shirt riding up around your waist so that I can see the cleft of your sex, and sense the need in you.”
There was a moment of silence where I heard Leticia give a stifled little gasp.
“Are you imagining me?”
“Yes,” she answered obediently.
“Good girl,” I said again and then I took the harsh insistence from my tone and altered my voice so that it was smooth and seductive like changing music, changing mood. “Run your hand slowly down over your breasts,” I said. “Feel how hard your nipples are and then slide your fingers down across your abdomen until you are touching your pussy. I want to know if you are wet, Leticia. I want you to touch yourself and tell me how aroused you are.”
“Oh, God…”
I waited. I could hear soft breaths and then a gentle moan. Leticia’s voice was suddenly breathless. “I am,” she whispered. “I’m wet. Damn!”
“Touch your clit for me,” I insisted. “I want you more excited and more aroused than you have ever been. Keep the picture of me in your mind. Imagine me close behind you right now. Visualize my hand between your spread thighs. Imagine the touch of my fingers, and think about how hard my cock is. I want you, but I want you at that moment when your body craves me.”
There were several moments of short, sharp breathing. I pressed the receiver of the phone hard against my ear, trying to pick out individual gasps and moans.
“Jonah, I’m doing it,” Leticia’s husked. “I can feel you as though you are right behind me. God, this is intense… it feels real…” her voice broke off and then came back again as an urgent whisper. “I want you. Please…!”
“Good,” I sat upright in the chair and gave the phone my full attention. “I want to fuck you, Leticia. I want to bend you over that vanity and see your face watching us as I fill you with my cock and you moan until you come,” I growled with sudden spice. “I want to see the way you look at that breathless moment of rapture.”
Leticia went suddenly very silent. I frowned into the phone and then barked, “Play with yourself! Rub your pussy and make yourself come for me! Do it now!”
I heard a sound like sawing, a blend of movement and agitated breathing, rising and becoming louder and more frantic and elated. I imagined Leticia bent over the bathroom vanity, her eyes hooded, her face twisted in a rictus of ecstasy as her fingers moved faster and faster between her spread legs. I imagined her hips beginning to move, swaying and then thrusting until her thighs began to tremble, and her mouth fell open, lips parted as the breath hissed in her throat.
When I sensed the moment, my voice became demanding once more. “Come for me now!” I insisted. “And when you come, I want to hear you moan and scream loud enough so that all your neighbors will know you are pleasuring yourself with your fingers thrust deep inside your tight little pussy!”
I heard Leticia groan, as though the wicked eroticism of my command tipped her over the edge. I heard a sound in her throat like a great sigh of release followed by a loud cry, and then there was a deafening, crackling rattle followed by silence. I hung on the phone, waiting. A full minute went by before I heard Leticia’s voice again. “I’m sorry!” Leticia said. She sounded broken. “I… I had an orgasm, and then my legs went from under me and the phone fell on the bathroom floor.”
“Are you all right?”
“Yes… I’m exhausted. I’m floating… and I can’t believe I am sitting here sprawled on the bathroom floor. My legs are still shaking.”
I got up out of the chair and went around to the far side of my desk. “Are you sure you are all right?”
“Yes,” Leticia whispered as though it were an obscene, guilty thrill. “Yes, I did. I screamed. Jesus, Jonah… that was the most intensely erotic moment of my life.”
“Good girl,” I soothed gently, and then – the performance over – I asked, “Now, do you still doubt that submitting to me with your mind and body will arouse you?”
“No,” Leticia sounded emphatic. “Jonah, you have made me a believer.”
Chapter 9.
Doctor De Niro was waiting for me the next morning. I was coming out of the kitchen when he caught my eye with a wave of his hand. He beckoned me to him, and I went to the room at the back of the house. The man was standing in the doorway. He ushered me inside and closed the door quietly behind him.
“Take a seat,” the doctor said.
I sat on the edge of the bed. There was a small desk set into one corner of the room, and the doctor went towards it. He slid open the drawer and took something in his hand. He turned back towards me, but rather than come closer, he perched himself on the corner of the desk, swinging one leg lazily.
“When I came here six weeks ago to treat you, I managed to get you onto an experimental drug program to control your headaches,” Dr. De Niro said.
I had noticed the different medication he had been prescribing me since his arrival but hadn’t commented. I didn’t know I was taking experimental medication.
“I didn’t know that,” I said.
The doctor nodded sagely and then arched an eyebrow.
“Does that piss you off?”
I shrugged. “No,” I said. “You’re the doctor.”
There was a moment of silence and the doctor coughed discreetly. “Have you had any headaches at all since I changed your medication?”
I shook my head, and then thought more carefully. “No…” I said slowly. “It has been a very traumatic time in my life. I certainly have had my dark days… but no headaches.”
The doctor nodded gravely. “I am sorry about Tiny. I have tried to stay out of your way and give you some space and time, but this can’t wait any longer,” he said. He opened his hand. “I am doubling your medication,” he explained. “I know there has been a lot of stress for you and I don’t want your condition to make the situation any worse, so I want you to start taking two of these magic, little tablets every morning.” The doctor slid off the edge of the desk and came towards me. He had a couple of small, white tablets in his hand.
I plucked the tablets from out of his palm, and frowned. “What exactly are you giving me?”
The doctor shrugged. “You want the medical name?”
I nodded. The doctor turned around and peered at the far wall for long seconds. I stared at the broad of his back and waited. “They are called nacsirmelbon.”
I blinked and then nodded slowly. “Okay… I’m sorry I asked,” I grinned.
The doctor turned back to face me, and his face became more gentle, more kindly and benevolent. He reached into his shirt pocket and handed me a small white slip of printed paper. “Your first scan,” he explained. “That card has all the appointment details. I’ve got you booked in at the clinic next week.”
I glanced down at the card, read the details, and then looked up. “The same clinic?”
“Yes, but a different specialist.”
“You’ll be there too?”
“Of course,” the doctor said. “I’ve even cancelled a round of golf.”
I arched one eyebrow like I was impressed. “I’m glad to see you are committed to your calling.”
Doctor De Niro sighed with a heavy nod, wryly acknowledging the gravity of his sacrifice, then changed the subject suddenly. He leaned closer and his manner became almost conspiratorial. “I heard a whisper that you might be dating that young reporter woman…”
I frowned. “Word travels fast.”
The doctor tapped the side of his nose like he knew, and that my secret was safe with him.
“How did you find that out?”
The doctor shrugged and his face became blank. He folded his arms. “I just heard,” he said evasively, “But if it’s true, then I think that’s a good thing. I think that’s a very good thing.”
I pushed myself off t
he edge of the bed and swallowed the two tablets he had given me. There was a vague peppermint taste in the back of my throat. I studied the man’s face carefully.
“So is this normal for a doctor?” I asked. “Are you in the habit of giving relationship advice to all your patients?”
For an instant, Dr. De Niro’s face stayed blank and impassive, and then suddenly he laughed. His eyes disappeared into narrow, squinting folds of flesh and his mouth opened wide. The sound of his laugh was a loud chortle. “Only patients like you,” he said pointedly, and then sighed. “Only the ones who need help the most.”
Chapter 10.
Leticia was on the phone when I arrived at her apartment just before ten in the morning. When she swung the door open she had the cell cradled to her neck and by the look of her expression, she wasn’t enjoying the call. She was speaking politely but there was strain in her voice. I guessed she was on the phone to her newspaper. I couldn’t hear what was being said on the other end of the conversation. Leticia gave me a brief smile, and then waved her hand in the air in a gesture I supposed was meant for the person on the other end of the line. She ushered me into the apartment.
“Can I use your bathroom?” I mouthed the words silently.
Leticia nodded – a distracted motion – and then said, “No, I understand that,” through clenched teeth into the phone.
I went down the short hallway to Leticia’s bathroom and closed the door behind me. I crossed to the vanity basin and stood there for a long moment, imagining once again the scene Leticia and I had played out on the phone the night before. The wall was an adjoining one to the apartment next door. I visualized Leticia crying out at the peak of her orgasm, and tried to imagine the look on the neighbor’s face through the thin divider as the sound echoed and reverberated.