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“We have the excel with all the leads. Exactly which client belongs to whom. I’ll sort it out in no time and forward it to the relevant salesperson, explaining I got it by mistake in my Kisharti inbox.”
“You’re asking for a lot.” Dafna's arms were crossed, and she, too, stared at her yard.
“Yes.” He held his breath.
“Okay.” She nodded, scrutinizing the spreadsheet. He exhaled slowly, so she wouldn’t notice how relieved he was. “Let’s do an experiment. I can call this lady now. She’s from here, the moshav. Hang on.”
He listened to her conversation. She got to the topic at hand after a solid ten minutes of catching up and showing genuine interest in the other lady’s son, who was with Dafna’s eldest in the same grade.
“Also, since I can’t ever let go, even on a Friday, I’m just checking if you’re still enjoying our product.”
She smiled and nodded and gave a thumbs up. A little later, the call ended.
“Great.” He exhaled in relief.
She scrolled his spreadsheet. “Okay. I can make a second call. I can bother this lady as well.”
And she did just that. She was patient in the call, letting the other woman talk, asking questions, and only slipping in the Kisharti query in between that. She awarded him with another wide smile and a thumbs up.
Her reply to his request, her immediate help, rolled a huge weight off his mind. She was his partner, sharing his burden with him. The flame that waited, simmering beneath the surface, reignited.
“Satisfied?” she asked, her voice shaking.
“Not yet, but I will be.”
He dropped his voice to a deeper timbre, one that she reacted to before. She sat in front of him, all demure and girly with her checkered dress, but her breath came in shorter bursts, and her palms fisted.
“Can I kiss you?” he asked. She nodded mutely.
He closed the short distance between them, standing very close to her stool, but still not touching her lavender scented warm skin. She held her ground, not moving. She was much shorter than him, and she had to crane her neck. He got lost in the golden-brown gray of her irises, the dark long lashes. He wanted her so fiercely he was frightened by his own desire, but instead of devouring her, he lowered his lips slowly onto hers. Gently, patiently, just like the first time he kissed her. At first there was a slight hesitation, and then she spread her legs and he stepped closer, deepening the kiss.
More, his body demanded, and he plastered her to him, wanting her to feel what she was doing to his cock. She interloped her arms around his nape and burrowed into him. With an effort, he drew himself from the kiss.
“You’re the best kisser,” he told her. “We’re going to make love tonight. It’s going to be long, and hot, and wet.”
“Yes,” she hissed.
“Do you have any more fantasies you want to try on me? I liked what we did in the whisky distillery. And I’d like to help you talk about what you want and realize it. I really don’t mean another blow job.”
He’d done some research into BDSM, and an open discussion with Dafna about what she wanted in the bedroom was on his mind ever since her revelation in the whisky distillery. She was a psychologist by training and she used words to express herself all day. She should be able to use them in the bedroom. He looked up the term Pleasure Dom. He’d bet anything that her husband, when they were still married, wanted to be Dafna’s Pleasure Dom. Her ex had Dafna and lost her. Erez had his shot now, and he wouldn’t mess it up.
“Do you want to talk? If not, we can just kiss and fuck like bunnies.”
“No. I want to talk. It’s a good idea.” She furrowed her brows, but her arms were still around him and she didn’t pull back from his embrace.
“Okay, what was the one thing he wanted to do, and you wished you said yes?”
She was silent. He liked that about her, that she thought before she spoke.
“I didn’t trust him,” Dafna said, her breath warm on his neck. “I trust him with our kids. I would trust him with my life. But not in the bedroom.”
“What did he want to do?”
She opened her mouth a few times, then closed it. Probably debating with herself how much to trust him. He released her and returned to his seat. She sipped her drink.
“Blindfold me,” she finally said and huffed in self-deprecation. “I know, very vanilla and anti-climactic. I liked the idea, and I wanted it too. But not from him. I didn’t let him do it to me. In that, I was a ‘bad wife’.” She air quoted. He wouldn’t permit her to go to that place.
“Come on, we both know it takes two to tango. If you said no, it was because he asked it wrongly. But I think it’s perfect.”
