“Next time?”
“I’ll know how to be a better lover. I can be what men want.”
It takes every ounce of self-control and common sense not to grab her by her shoulders and shake the shit out of her, telling her that she iswhat men want. That she was perfectly designed to be a goddess to every man that she graces with her presence. There’s nothing wrong with her– not a damn thing. But how do I get her to see that– to believe that – without looking like a fraud? Or worse: showing her that I actually am one?
“You know that no matter how amazing you are in bed, Evan will always be Evan, right?” He’ll always be a spineless, cheating bastard.
She frowns, yet nods in agreement. “I know. I knew it the day I married him. Still…I thought marriage would change him. I thought I could change him.”
“Common misconception,” I remark, grabbing a Twizzler. I tap her nose with the tip of it in an attempt to lighten the mood. She takes the bait, snapping at it like a hungry piranha.
“I know, I know,” she says, chomping a mouthful of red licorice.
“And honestly, you shouldn’t have to. He should want to change…for you. Because you’re worth it.”
My eyes still pinned on hers, I slide the candy between my lips, touching my tongue to the same place that she just bit seconds ago. Her eyes watch the movement, studying my lips as they wrap around the thin, red vine. It’s like kissing her, tasting her. Feeding my addiction to her. It’s not nearly enough, yet so much more than I should have.
Cue the 1980s porn music and dim the lights, because under normal circumstances, this would be the point at which I’d tell a woman to lose the clothes and bury her face in my lap. But Ally is no ordinary woman. And married or not, I could never treat her like I’ve treated so many before her.
Ally’s face blooms red, and she turns back towards the television, nestling into the space– herspace – against my side.
“I take that back,” she says with a small yawn. “This one is my favorite.”
The episode has changed, but the gang is still in Bermuda. Monica gets Bo Derek braids and Ross hooks up with Joey’s girl, Charlie. Joey can’t even be truly upset because it makes sense. Ross is a better fit; he deserves her. He could never give Charlie what she wants. He could never truly fulfill her. He’s Joey… womanizing, simple-minded, irresponsible Joey. He’ll never change. They never do.
I PACE THE stage, waiting, watching the entrance like a hawk. I can feel my anxiety multiplying with every second, the remembrance of Ally’s warmth searing the side of my torso. I haven’t been able to feel anything else since she left my arms just as dawn lit the early Sunday morning sky, transforming it into a cotton candy canvas.
We fell asleep sometime after Rachel and Joey finally hooked up. Ally was curled against my side like a small, wild cat, her knees drawn up on the sofa. With her hand fisting my t-shirt, that fiery mane falling into her closed eyes, she snored softly against my chest, using my body as her personal, heated pillow. I woke up just as the sun peeked over the horizon, just in time to watch quiet, lazy sunlight dance across her face. Even with my eyes hazed in sleep, she was glorious. Pure and reborn into a new day with new possibilities. New opportunities to be beside her and let her warmth smother the consequences that rest just beyond those jagged hills at the edge of my oasis.
The moment my eyes find her in her in the crowd, I can breathe again. My vision is clearer. I’m better when she’s near, even when I deny myself the pleasure of actually looking at her. Most days, it’s better when I don’t. This is one of those days.
“I know you’re all wondering why I asked you to meet me in our theater this morning. Well, today we have a special demonstration of sorts. However, before we get started, I’d like to know how you all handledyour homework assignment last session. Anyone care to share with the class?”
A sardonic smile rests on my lips as I watch them squirming in their seats as they imagine their bodies quaking at their own hands. I can’t help it. I get off on this shit. No matter how I feel about Ally and the future that we can never, ever have, I can’t change who I am. And who I am is not Ally’s husband. So it shouldn’t matter that I love what I do. It shouldn’t matter that I get hard just thinking about a woman slipping her trembling fingers inside her slick pussy for the first time. And it shouldn’t matter that I want sex, need sex, and plan to have sex as soon as I possibly can. My mind might be conflicted about it, but my body definitely doesn’t feel the same. And after today’s class, my mind may quickly follow.
Lacey is the first to raise her hand, and she climbs to her spike-heeled feet. She looks…different, to say the least. Tight red cami, no bra, and a short leather skirt. Huh. Interesting.
“Obviously, that was not my first time,” Lacey begins with an air of arrogance. A few of her colleagues roll their eyes and whisper insults under their breath. “But I did quite enjoy that toy. It was very…potent.”
I call her bluff. “What’d you like about it, Lacey?”
“Um, it was…” she stammers, clutching the top of her exposed chest. A flush sweeps its way from that patch of evocative skin up to her neck until landing on the thin apples of her cheeks. “It was powerful. Strong. Like the moment it touched me, I could feel myself lose control. But I didn’t want to stop. I wanted to press it harder.” She closes her eyes, speaking as if we’re the only two in the vast room. Speaking as if she’s communicating something to me… her wants, her desires. “I needed something inside of me.”
I take a step toward her, charging that room with an unseen current. It seems smaller now, more intimate. “And did you put something inside you, Lacey?”
Her voice is raspy and full of need. “Yes.”
“And did it feel good to you?” I match her affected tone.
“Yes.”
My voice dips even lower. “Did you come, Lacey? Did you come with your fingers deep inside your pussy?”
“Y-yes,” she barely whispers.
“Good!” I state with a loud clap of my hands, releasing her from her lustful trance. Lacey’s visibly shaken with the sudden change in the atmosphere, her shallow breaths quickening into a pant. “Now, let’s get started.”
Had this been a regular day and a regular class, I wouldn’t have let her off the hook so easily. I would’ve abandoned my place at the stage to stand behind her, close enough that she could feel my heat, but far enough that she would shiver with the need to be touched. I’d brush those bare shoulders lightly and watch with fascination as goose bumps instantly appeared. She’d tremble with expectation, but I wouldn’t give her any more. Instead, I’d bring my lips to her ear, close enough that I could look down and see her nipples pebble under that thin tank. Then I’d whisper a command, just for her, my words both intoxicating and terrifying her.
“Show me how you touch yourself, Lacey.”
She’d stutter all the reasons why she shouldn’t, shaking her head adamantly. But her body…her body would grow hot with excitement. She’d get wet at the thrill of it. So fucking wet that I’d smell her, telling me she’s not even wearing panties to smother her spicy scent.