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“Fuck me, please,” Isaid.
“No. You give me more,” hereplied.
More? I wasn’t sure what it was that he had done to open that box in my mind, but the words tumbled out. I told him I wanted to have sex in public; I wanted that thrill of the possibility of beingcaught.
With his fingers inside me, his mouth on my clitoris, and the thoughts running through my head, I came for a third time. I know I cried out, over and over. I know I could feel tears run down my cheeks; and I know I must have fallen asleep immediately after,again.
I woke to darkness outside. I was lying under the covers, still naked and with a sticky residue between my thighs. My wrists were unbound, although my shoulders reminded me they hadn’t been for a while by theache.
I looked around the room; Mackenzie had gone. I swung my legs from the bed and found them surprisingly stable. Naked, I stepped from the bedroom into the hallway. The apartment was quiet and I knew he’d already left. A pang of disappointment hit me until I checked my watch. It was nine o’clock. I must have slept forhours.
I walked to the kitchen needing a glass of water, which I carried back to the bedroom with me. I picked up my jeans and fished out my phone from thepocket.
You left.I typed and then sent toMackenzie.
His reply was almostimmediate.
You were sleeping so soundly, I didn’t want to disturbyou.
I’m sorry I fell asleep.Isent.
Don’t be. I like that I can produce that level of arousal that it exhaustsyou.
Not being overly familiar with multiple orgasms, I wasn’t sure if my need for immediate sleep was normal or not. There was no fucking way I was Googling that for an answer. I decided on a shower, although it was with reluctance. Keeping the scent of my orgasms on my skin was a reminder that he had been there. His hands, his tongue, had given me more pleasure than anyone before. I smiled, thanking my stars I was only thirty, and I’d have many years of that level ofpleasure.
It was as I stepped into the shower that I crashed, emotionally. I didn’thavehim; I didn’thaveany time other than what he offered. What we were doing wasn’t a relationship, it was just sex. I showered, picked up my phone and walked into the kitchen to fix asnack.
So, I guess youarea sex therapist after all.I typed and then pressedsend.
Not so much a sex therapist, call me TheFacilitator.
TheFacilitator?
I’ll lead you to that place you want to be. I’ll make your dreams areality.
Holy fuck! I prayed he didn’t mean what he’d said. I hoped I’d just totally overthought the fact I’d told my fantasies. What would he do withthem?
“Stop being an idiot,” I said tomyself.
He couldn’t do anything I didn’t want him to do, couldhe?
7
Iscannedthe wardrobe deciding what to wear. I was a changed woman; well I was trying to be. I’d had three, no four, orgasms over the weekend, and I intended to do exactly what Mackenzie had suggested. I was going to shed theoldLauren and embrace thenew.
I selected a pair of black trousers and paired it with a red shirt and red high heels. I let my hair hang loose, and after applying my makeup, I left for work. I was aware of the glances from men I received and I liked it. For once, I didn’t keep my head bowed; I looked up. I stood tall and I walked like a woman with apurpose.
“You look hot,” I heard Jenny say as I entered my office, a half-hourlater.
“I’m thawing out,” I said with alaugh.
“About bloody time,” she called afterme.
I even sat back in my chair and raised my feet to my desk as I read through some notes on a new media marketing campaign Jerry wanted toinvestigate.
“Fuck me,” I heard. Looking up, I saw Jerry standing in mydoorway.
“I thought we’d had that discussionbefore?”
