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By the time I reached home, my breathing echoed in the dark hallways of my apartment building. I wanted to enter the door and fall on my carpet in the dark and turn up music so loud it would vibrate through my rib cage.
Instead I see a streak of warm light under my door.
A moment later I am in Tal’s arms. My apartment is filled with the smell of tortillas, music, and Tal’s voice. He squeezes my waist through the dank coa
t and I hold his temples between my palms. I refresh my eyelids in his glossy curls. I press my cheek against his and inhale. He has just shaved.
“I thought you were still on tour. Oh my God, don’t move.” My voice squeaks. He laughs and kisses my forehead. His skin smells like cinnamon bread.
“I still have your key and I wanted to surprise you. You were going to sit here and read and eat caramel ice cream for dinner, weren’t you, Rosa? And you’re soaked.” His warm mouth finds mine and we stand motionless, softly kissing and drinking in each other’s breath. One by one, my cells came back to life.
I am still holding his face when he breaks the kiss and looks down at me. Tal’s eyes are almond-shaped, tilting toward his temples in gorgeous arabesques. Their darkness is almost inhumanly beautiful, absorbing rather than reflecting light. I do everything I can to make them glitter like jewels. His lashes flutter uncertainly and I know he has a question for me.
His hands, long and slender as a pianist’s, move over my hips. I squirm.
He starts unbuttoning my coat and slides it off, letting it slump wetly on the floor. My suit jacket lands on the couch.
He lets me kiss his wide cheekbones and smiling lips as he busies himself with my blouse. I rip out the last three buttons and sigh when he pulls it off. The air is cool, but my bones feel warm for the first time in weeks.
“No bra? I thought you were in court today. Good Lord, woman.” I’m tugging at his curls, trying to pull him into the darkening nipples.
He runs his tongue along my belly, leaving a damp line just under my navel. Kneeling in front of me, he smoothes his hands up under my wool skirt. I kick my shoes behind me. My knees almost buckle when he hooks his fingers into the waistband of the panty hose and pulls. The skirt follows quickly. He pauses and I look down.
“When did you get a red thong?”
“It’s laundry day.”
“Damn. Let’s see. Goddamn.”
I close my eyes when he moves behind me. He fits one hand over my pubic bone and pushes my ass into his face, sinking his teeth into the cool mounds and lapping hungrily. His other hand is spread flat against my belly. When my pussy swells I move from side to side so that the lips can kiss each other. His hair tickles the small of my back. I shift my hips, tilting my silk-covered cunt toward his snaking tongue, panting “ah, ah” to the dark ceiling.
He stands and I turn, winding my arms around him, lifting one leg to circle his waist. I run my tongue from his collar to just behind his ear, warming his neck. His hands reach to my ass and he pulls the cheeks apart slowly, listening to the wet labia separate.
“There’s plenty of time, Rosa.” He covers my mouth again in a long, clinging kiss. “Mmm, that’s just how your cunt kisses me back.”
I don’t see his hand moving up and I squeal when he pinches my nipples. He moves to grab my shoulder blades before I can step back. I laugh but his eyes are distracted. He takes several short breaths before he speaks.
“Rosa, I want you to let me use you like I did before. I couldn’t think of anything else while I was away.”
My breath catches. So that’s the question.
Neither of us meant to go quite that far the night before he left, but the need exploded in us the instant his hand closed over my wrist. I’ve melted each time I’ve remembered being bound, bent over his desk, his right hand forcing my neck into the polished wood while his left hand held my vibrator. I came the way I’d always needed to, filling the house with long, braying screams like a woman giving birth.
“Okay, yes, yes.” I look down. This compulsion is absurdly strong.
“Take off your panties and come into the bathroom,” he begins, standing abruptly and walking in first.
I follow more slowly as he turns on the light. He already has a pair of handcuffs dangling over the shower curtain rod. I let out a snort. He turns to me and tells me a safe word. I toss my panties at his chest.
“Face the tub and put your wrists into those handcuffs.” He leans back against the opposite wall. I pause when I see his expressionless eyes.
“In the bathroom?” I shove a nervous, simian smile toward him and he lets it go unacknowledged. I turn away quickly, reaching for the cold metal. It clicks benignly around my wrists. I don’t quite believe the cuffs will hold until I start to pull on them. Tal is silent behind me.
“Um, okay—” I say after a few moments. I start to twist my head, looking for him.
The first slap, more on my hip than my ass, knocks me to the side. The cuffs cut into my wrists as I hang, feet splayed beneath me. The second slap burns, the third stings.
“Don’t speak. Don’t turn around.” Tal’s mouth is at my right ear, but his voice seems to come from every corner of the room. My nipples are tight, straining into the empty air.
