He poured, deposited the bottle in the ice bucket Sophia had provided, and turned to Sophia to hand her a glass filled with the pale straw-green liquid.
“Let us stop busying ourselves while I propose a toast to your beauty, your ripeness, this feast, this liquid ambrosia, and of course, to our liaison,” he said.
“To our liaison,” Sophia echoed, clinking glasses.
The exquisite taste of the wine made her catch her breath. Bone dry, steely, and acidic, with notes of green apple, lemon, seashell fossil, and iron. It was intense, with a long, deep, lingering finish and as leggy as one of Raymond Chandler’s blondes.
“I could get lost in this wine,” Sophia announced, sinking her aquiline nose into the goblet again.
“Liquid opium,” Dirk said. “Now, as you sip and savor, allow me to prepare the food for us. All I have to do is gently heat the mussels, toss the salad with your olive oil, balsamic, and a whisper of balsamic glaze, add a little salt and pepper, and we are ready to satiate our senses. Taste, smell, touch, sight. So sensual. Mmmm.”
He was exciting her further, talking about the food in this way.
“Sounds like the perfect plan. I leave it all up to you, Dirk. You’re a perfectionist and on my wavelength,” she said, smiling at him.
She noticed his royal-purple linen shirt for the first time. There was so much going on, all delighting her. There was no room for anxiety. She was caught up in the moment.
The mussels were bathed in a buttery, garlicky sauce redolent of anise and loaded with bits of shallot and tomato. The bread was a hole-riddled loaf with some openings big enough to comfortably house a mouse, perfect for ripping off chunks and dipping.
The salad was a visual delight. Skinny, delicate green spears of asparagus nestled in baby romaine dotted with golden, plump raspberries and white truffle shavings. Green, purple, and wrinkled black olives were interspersed throughout the salad.
Instinctively, spontaneously, they fed each other, sitting side by side at the table. Sophia loved placing the tiny mussels in Dirk’s mouth, watching him chew with a vulpine appetite.
He broke off chunks of sourdough and, dipping them liberally into the mussel sauce, prodded the dripping gems into Sophia’s open mouth.
Dirk sucked the sauce dribbling down her chin, licking her chin clean. Then he strayed to her throat, nibbling there for a few moments. His goateed scratchiness against her skin presaged the anticipated roughness.
They took turns feeding each other the slender tender asparagus spears, the salty olives, the fleshy raspberries, and the musky truffle parings with their fingers, slick with olive oil, licking and sucking each other’s fingers in between bites.
They sipped the mineral-laden wine, lingering, tasting it thoroughly, and appreciating it over and over again. It never lost its charm. At some point, Dirk had opened the second bottle, and they drank it dry.
“Champagne for later,” Dirk said, rising, holding out his hand to Sophia. “Take me to your bedroom, Zophie.”
“Okay,” she said meekly.
First, they stood facing each other as he slowly removed her clothes. The dress rustled to the floor.
“No bra. I love that,” he whispered, roughly kneading each weighty globe in turn. He sank his heavy head between her breasts, breathing in deeply. Then he delicately picked up each bosom in turn, licking, sucking, and then chewing on her erect nipples. “You need a spanking, Sophie. I can tell. You need and want a spanking.”
“Yes, Daddy. I’ve been a bad girl. Spank me hard.”
He sat and bent her pliant, burning body over his knees, spanking her slow and hard with his left hand.
She shuddered with delight.
“I’m leaving my fingerprints all over that gorgeous filthy lily-white ass of yours.”
“Yes.” She breathed a sigh of relief.
He was increasing the tempo and intensifying the heaviness of the blows, causing her to climax with a long, low scream, squeezing his legs with her thighs, dampening them with her juices before collapsing over his knees.
He picked her up and laid her on the bed where she promptly fell into a carefree doze.
He went downstairs to retrieve his bag and removed four gaily colored silk scarves imbued with his fragrance, as promised.
While Sophia snoozed, Dirk left her on her side. He tied both her hands together and then tied them to the bedpost. He did the same with her feet at the bottom of the bed.
He let her sleep as he entered her from the side, quickly, heavily. She was easy to penetrate at this point. She awoke as he was thrusting into her and began to enter into his rhythm as best she could from her captive position. He came boisterously, building up to full crescendo, then slipped out of her.
Dirk roused Sophia from her sleepy reverie as he untied her silky restraints and slid them off her wrists and ankles.
“Let’s take a shower together, then find that Grande Dame and bring her up here to bed,” he whispered, rubbing her backside. “Have you ever had anal sex?” he purred into her ear, continuing to stroke her bruised derriere.
“No. It never came up with anyone. I never thought of it,” Sophia said, her curiosity piqued. “I just remember seeing it in that Bertolucci film, Last Tango in Paris. But, somehow, that hulking, out-of-shape, dirty old man Marlon Brando messing around with a girl decades his junior was a big turn-off.” Sophia grimaced.
“So you’re a virgin when it comes to anal sex,” Dirk said, an anticipatory grin spreading across his face like the dawn sun spreading across a landscape, blanketing it in a glowing slow growing light. “I’d be delighted to be the first. We’ll have to make a date. You can come to my place. Soon. Oh, there are so many things I can introduce to you. We will have a ball.” He laughed, landing one resounding smack on her sore rear.
“I’ve never been spanked—or tied up for that matter. The exquisite pleasure of pain,” she mused idly as Dirk resumed his gentle massage of her bottom.
“Come, my pet. Let’s shower,” he insisted, breaking off from his ministrations and pulling her up from the bed.
They stepped into the capacious shower, once Dirk had adjusted the spray. They kissed for the first time, chewing on one another’s lips before plunging their tongues into their fervent mouths. Dirk began chewing on her nipples, drawing blood. He licked the blood, exclaiming, “Vegetarian blood tastes so much better, Sophie.” Sophia could feel him quivering with pleasure. “Let’s soap up and rinse so we can return to our lair.”
They cleaned up. Sophia fetched one of Barth’s robes for Dirk. Not a scintilla of guilt plagued her.
They descended into the kitchen to fetch the champagne and two flutes. Sophia immersed the Grande Dame in the ice bucket, handing it to Dirk as she grabbed the soft, ripe Camembert stinking under a cheese dome.
Back in the bedroom, Dirk popped the cork, remarking, “I’ll be popping your anal cork soon.”
They toasted each other. Then they sipped the first glass of champagne, buoyed by the bubbles. Sophia placed a sliver of the pungent cheese on Dirk’s proffered tongue. Then she put a sliver on her own tongue.
“Tastes like cock.”
“Tastes like pussy.”
They spoke simultaneously, then burst out laughing.
“We think alike. We like the same things,” Dirk said. “That’s why the sex is so good. I knew we were a sexual match the minute I saw you. I couldn’t wait to have you.”
They ate more cheese, allowing the gelatinous mass to fill their mouths with its pungent aroma and sensual texture.
They drank a second glass of bubbly, drinking this one down quickly.
Sophia was starting to feel like they were mirror images.
“This is the perfect time for oral sex. I’ll tie you up, spread-eagled, and we’ll do sixty-nine, so we can pleasure each other simultaneously.”
Once again the colorful, fragrant scarves were produced. And they both were sated by each other.
As they lay back on the pillows, si
pping the last of the champagne, Dirk asked, “When will we see each other again?”
“I’m having an UnChristmas with a dear friend Tuesday night and all day Wednesday. Don’t ask. How about Thursday? I’m not playing any games, Dirk. You’ve opened me up to a whole world of sexual experience, and I want to continue. It’s ironic. You’re the first man to tie me up and to spank me, and I find it liberating. I feel so free with you.”
“Thursday it is. I’ll rearrange a few business things. This is more important. You’ll come to me,” he said. “I’ll text my address. South Beach. South Pointe. Very easy.”
After Dirk had departed, Sophia brought the food and drink down to the kitchen. Then she returned to her room, spent, ready for sleep.
As she was drifting off, a niggling thought hovering just below consciousness floated up to the surface, like a fragment of ice breaking off from an iceberg and floating free. She sat upright as she wondered how Dirk knew she was a vegetarian. The food he brought, all of which she could eat, could have been a coincidence. But then in the shower…she pictured him licking her bloody nipples and exclaiming, “Vegetarian blood tastes so much better.”
Hmmm. Mysterious, she thought as she fell into the sleep of the sexually satisfied.
CHAPTER 19
Lili’s brow furrowed with anxiety as she listened to Sophia’s message once again. The jig is up, she thought. Wasn’t I hoping for something like this? I just didn’t have the courage to tell her any of it.
Apprehensive and relieved at the same time, she called Sophia before she could change her mind, holding her breath as it rang. It went to message. Monday morning. She’s probably in yoga, contorting her body, she thought.
Letting out a long stream of breath, she left a message. “Hi, Ma. It’s your errant daughter. You found me out. When can I come over so we can talk?”
Sophia was still sleeping soundly. While she slept, not only did Lili call, but Barth also called four times and left four messages. Amanda called but left no message. Jack called asking about details for tomorrow. Sophia slept on, relaxed, satiated, and serene as a cloudless blue sky on a fine Miami winter’s day.
Sophia, for a change, had left her cell phone downstairs. When she finally awoke, she stretched luxuriantly. Oblivious to time, she went downstairs to make coffee and recall last night.
Sophia was in lust. It felt wonderful, scintillating. She felt awakened to her senses. Aquiver with delight and expectation. Like a newborn lamb experiencing sensations for the first time, unsteady on her legs, but soaking up new life.
She shook herself, smelling the fragrant coffee. Sipping her brew, she decided to eat something different for breakfast. Routine was going out the window.
She toasted Russian raisin-and-walnut pumpernickel, slathering it with airy whipped cream cheese. She savored every bite in between sips of sweet coffee. No worrying about my weight either, she defied the deprivation gods hovering in the wings.
Phoneless, she took her remaining breakfast outside to the gazebo to enjoy the glorious day. The hell with Barth and his peccadilloes. She had her own sexual encounter. Not like with Morton, who screwed anything that moved while she sulked, a martyr to sexual stagnation in the face of his compulsive womanizing.
When she had had enough of the birds, bees, and butterflies in the garden, she returned to the house to check her phone. No yoga today, she thought. I’ve already slept through it. I’ll have to call Sonya to reschedule lunch. I wonder how much to tell her?
Sophia finally checked her phone, and she was surprised to find four calls from Barth. Maybe he’s not rendezvousing with Keith, she pondered. Or not enjoying it as much as he thought he would.
She checked his messages. He sounded on the verge of hysteria. Subdued, dark hysteria, roiling like water about to come to a full screaming boil. Whoops. Her helping hackles were already up. Watch it. You’re too ready to rush to his rescue, she admonished herself. You’re not a Saint Bernard.
Something about Keith being a stalker and a message that sounded like “crisscross.” What was he talking about? She would have to call him.
Sophia was happy to hear the message from Lili. She would have her over today. They would talk. And everything would be all right. She would make sure of it. She didn’t want to lose Lili. She didn’t want that stony cold, hard distance to continue between them while she pretended they were close. Just like the distance between her and her mother. That was an unbridgeable divide. There was too much Nazi destruction and humiliation under that bridge.
Amanda’s missed call would have to wait. She recalled snatches of her disturbing monologue. That mother-son relationship was fucked. What was there to say? She needed professional help. Sophia was glad she could not be that professional.
Jack always brought a smile to her face. She would touch base with him later today. She probably needed an older version of Jack. What was she doing with that semen-sucking husband of hers? No. It was the other way around. He had someone sucking his semen. Who knows what else he might have done.
Sophia poured herself a second cup of coffee, adding soy milk before sitting down in the living room to make her calls.
“Darling Lili,” she said. “I’m relieved too.”
“Oh, Ma. I’m so happy you found me out before we left town. Who knows what I might have fabricated to keep my secrets safe. There was a wall between us. Let me come over and tell you everything.” Lili was stumbling over her words, trying to get everything out all at once. Now that the floodgates were open, everything threatened to come out in a precipitous, liberating deluge, washing clean everything in its wake.
“Yes, dear. Come over now. I’m just about to get dressed. I just got up a little while ago,” Sophia said.
“A little while ago? It’s past twelve noon. That’s not like you. No yoga?”
“I guess I have a secret or two of my own,” Sophia replied. “Just come over. See you soon.”
“Okay,” Lili said.
Sophia, throwing on some black jeans and a black shirt after a quick shower, felt her sore buttocks. She thought of a Leonard Cohen lyric. “I ache in the places where I used to play.” During her shower she was aroused by the memory of showering with Dirk last night. The soreness acted as a reminder of the pleasure. It was odd that that bloodletting incident didn’t seem to bother her one bit. After all, it wasn’t much blood, and it didn’t hurt that much. The whole nipple thing was exciting.
I have to derail this train of thought before I get too worked up. I’m ready for more.
She decided to call Barth. That would be a stinging slap of reality to cool her down.
“Sophia. Finally. Where have you been?” Barth asked.
“Barth, please try to calm yourself. I don’t even recognize your voice. You sound so agitated. I’ve been preoccupied with planning a Christmas celebration with Jack. I’m calling it an UnChristmas,” Sophia lied. “I have all sorts of revelations about Lili. I’ve been doing some investigative work, snooping around Lili’s place. She’s coming over so we can talk. I think I’ll invite her to the festivities. Oh, yes, Barth. A lot has been going on since you left. And there’s more. I had dinner with Amanda and it was revelatory,” Sophia said.
“Stop right there, Sophia. You tell me to calm down, and the next thing I know you’re babbling on about Christmas, Jack, Lili, Amanda. Can’t you take pity on me?” he whined. “You’re usually so caring—” He broke off, dinner with Amanda having registered as a possible second thorn in his side. “What about Amanda? Does she know?” he asked.
“She does. But I have to tell you the whole story. When she announced that Keith was in Key West, I pictured the two of you rendezvousing, enjoying a planned week of lust. I had to tell her because my reaction was so extreme when she said Keith was there. I thought you had betrayed me. Then she really lost it when I told her about you and Keith. I knew she was disturbed but not the extent of it. Her relationship with Keith. Whew. Words cannot describe.”
“Are y
ou crazy? A tryst with Keith? Did you listen to my messages? The man is stalking me. I succumbed to a few minutes of pleasure. A one-time impulse, which I will regret for the rest of my life—which may be cut short imminently by one randy madman. I’m telling you the man is cracked. Like Humpty Dumpty. He fell off the wall. And all the king’s horses and all the king’s men couldn’t put Humpty together again,” Barth rambled.
“Okay, okay. Your messages didn’t make much sense. I get it. He’s stalking you. I was a bit paranoid. Okay, you two didn’t plan anything. But you can see how I might have thought that when Amanda blithely announced her sonny dearest was in Key West, can’t you?” she asked.
“That’s not important anymore. I rebuffed him when he materialized at Blue Heaven, even though I let him eat with me. The next day, he started stalking me. He was everywhere. Now he’s also slipping bizarre, cryptic messages, in red crayon of all things, under the door,” he wailed. “Like a dangerous first grader. Oh, and today he added music. He started calling with different versions of ‘The Candy Man’ song. Roy Orbison, Sammy Davis Jr., Christine Aguilera. I’m going crazy.”
“Why ‘The Candy Man’?” Sophia asked. Roy Orbison made her think of that surreal scene in Blue Velvet in which a heavily made-up Dean Stockwell sang, “I’m the candy-colored clown…” A lot of homosexual undertones. They had cut the original scene in which he sodomized the Kyle McLachlan character. Instead, they beat him up. No sense in sharing that free association with Barth. It sounded like Keith couldn’t get sex, so he was going for aggression. Keith, a stalker. Who would have guessed it?
“Don’t ask,” Barth said.
“That is disturbing. Look, I haven’t forgiven you, but I do feel bad for you. I could point out that you brought it upon yourself. That your judgment was piss-poor. That the boy—okay, young man—is Amanda’s son. I could gloat. However, I’m not that kind of person. So as soon as you get home, we’ll talk and see if we can come up with some plan of action or something,” Sophia reassured him.
Time's Hostage: The dangers of love, loss, and lus (Time Series Book 1) Page 13
