[so i'm pulling off the mask for a minute here. tonight's flight of fancy takes a distinct turn for the dark. what can i say? i felt like plumbing the depths and flat-out getting weird in my writing tonight. maybe i've been watching too much dexter. whatever. anyway, for the benefit of those who just don't want to go there, i'm trying my hand at HTML and hiding the meat and potatoes behind a jump. if you are interested, please throw me some critiques. i'm trying some serious writing, not just my stream of consciousness exercises this time. if not, no worries; we'll reconvene later...]
he's closed the door to the hotel room behind us. he turns around and looks at me, not saying anything. i've already perched myself on the edge of his king-size bed. "nice room this time," i say. "you really have become a high roller around this joint."
"it's the least they can do for me, with all the time i spend here." he hasn't moved from his spot next to the door. he's got the strangest look on his face, something i can't quite nail down. i smile at him anyway.
"well. don't stand on ceremony. it is your room, after all." i raise my glass. "drink?"
"i think i've had enough. it dulls the senses to drink too much." at last, he comes across and sits next to me. he takes the glass out of my hand, brushing the skin with his fingers as he does. "i think i'd rather stay sharp tonight."
i crook one eyebrow. "hmm. interesting." i cross my legs at the knee, leaning towards him. "you're certainly being cryptic tonight. what are you planning?"
"planning? why do i have to be planning something?" his smile reveals absolutely nothing. the fact that he's staring at my cleavage, though? oh, that's a pretty strong hint. "you're so suspicious."
"i learned from the master." my turn to be cagey. i just don't trust him enough to come right out and admit how much he appeals to me. there's enough danger behind those eyes to keep him just at arm's length, away from the most tender parts of me. i let my knee brush his. "i have a feeling i know where this is going. it's only..." i drag my hand across his lap, over one arm, up to the shoulder, just past his collar. "a matter of time."
"oh, really." as always, that's no question. he brushes my hair back from my face and moves in for the kill. there's a hunger in his kiss that raises the bar significantly. this isn't going to be just any night, is it? that's the last coherent thought i'll have for awhile, as he pulls me in and starts the process of taking what he wants from me. but the feeling surges through me a little differently this time. it's almost an awakening, a mixture of the alcohol, the anticipation, and the sense that something very unusual could happen tonight. i move my hands down to his wrists, grabbing them and holding tight. i pull him to me, almost more violently than i meant to.
"hmm. what's this?" he breaks the kiss to look me not-quite-in-the-eye, in that way he has. "you got something to tell me?"
"not tell you." i pull him a little closer. "show you. see, i've got a feeling about you tonight." i start unbuttoning his thomas pink shirt, that trapping of finery he uses to project the air of polish every good entrepreneur needs. "i feel like..." slowly. slowly. it's too nice a job to rush. "...we've got some business to attend to, you and i."
he draws in breath as i run my fingertips around the place where his neck joins his shoulder. "go on." there's a stillness, an anticipation, and not a small amount of trepidation. good. it's your turn to feel this way, to be the one on edge.
"see, i have the sense that you've got a certain, well, opinion of me." my flip-flops are off at this point. i've kicked them across the room, their excessively ornate crystal decorations glinting back at me. i've gotten him shirtless by now, and i face him, almost pushing him back into the pillows as i steady myself, one knee along side each of his thighs. "i feel like you've got the wrong idea about me." his hands instinctively trace themselves up my legs and back down again. he always has liked my legs. i've used that to my advantage a time or two. i will myself to continue, even as he distracts me with the gentle brushing aside of the hemline of my dress. "i feel like you think i'm just this strong-willed, loud-mouthed..."
"...new-wave feminist, never afraid of anything." his hands are all over me at this point, but his eyes are fixed right on mine. so that's how we do it; unnerve you enough, you look me in the eye. okay. duly noted. he smiles. "yeah?"
"well, on that count, you're right." my god, he has a nice body. "but there's a little more to it than that. see, i've got this urge. i feel like you've got a lot of that traditional, man's-man instinct in you." i trace one finger down his chest. "why don't we... test that theory?"
"mmm. sounds like you might be getting a little darker on me than i thought you'd be up for. just what'd you have in mind?"
i smile at him. here's the invitation. "how about you let that inner white, male, corporate oppressor out of his shell a little? give a girl something to..." i find his belt and loosen it from his waist. "...remember you by?"
it's like i've hit his sexual holy grail or something. he sits up, his touch on my body becoming instantly rougher, more self-possessed, more raw. "ooh. you are dark. and i love it." his hands then tighten around my wrists. "how far do you want to go with this, my dear?"
i draw in breath of my own. "i trust you to do this right. why don't you just go until i say not to?"
jackpot. "yes ma'am. gladly." and with that, we are off to the races. before i can figure out what he wants to do to me, i am on my back with my hands above my head. he turns the tables quickly, with so much enthusiasm that i can barely catch my breath. "i think you'll like this. 'course, with you giving me editorial control like this, it's not really about you anymore, is it?" i open my mouth to answer. he lays a finger over my lips. "ah, ah. that's not a question."
the night has become something of a blur. i've really unleashed something in this man, something that's been pent up for a long, long time, apparently. his hands are in my hair, pulling, twisting. his teeth across my skin. his whisper in my ear, rough, guttural. this isn't a soft-focus showtime movie. we've crossed the rubicon tonight. his fingernails down my sides. and then, just like that, my wrists bound, his silk necktie in a knot around my arms. i raise my eyes to meet his. the question is brief, unspoken - yes? - and the answer is definite, a nod back to him.
i can't recall what he says to me. i only know what he does to me. he comes to me like he was getting paid for the privilege, driving forth with an urgency so magnetically powerful it undoes me. the words fade into the background, just the sound of his voice low and hard. there will be bruises; he tears into me until he thinks i can't take anymore. he's almost right. he pushes me to the brink and beyond, time and time again. every unspoken power play between us, for all those years, worked out in a single humid night. he's got the best of me, rendering me completely and utterly helpless under him. but i've got the best of him, too; i've unlocked something so primal in him that i know it's only a matter of time before he needs this again.
when it's over, he loosens the binding, gently lowers my arms, strokes my skin and kisses me for what seems like hours. he soothes the places he dug into just moments before, devouring me with as much gentility as he had ferocity. his hands run over the scratches, his lips brush the bruises. when he regains his words, he whispers, "i'm glad you're happy." it's the closest i'll ever get to "i love you." and tonight, just tonight, it will be fine. for awhile.
Letter 70: Be Louder
4 weeks ago