The Price of Desire

by PE Kavanagh

  I left out an important part and it sat uncomfortably on the tip of my tongue.

  “Was he ever more than a friend?”

  The question I’d been dreading. Be honest, or keep it clean?

  “When Jeff and I split up, and he began his very public affair, Emile and I… well… we started sleeping together. He provided a sexual outlet for me when I needed one.”

  I really didn’t want to continue. This was too much.

  “How long were you together?”

  “Not very long. It was fun, at first. Our friendship made it easy to be lovers. His bright star in the food world gave us access to all the best restaurants and a social calendar to fill all my nights. Both of us knew, but never said, that this was a fleeting moment, but we took full advantage.

  Then I saw him with a young waitress at a trendy cafe. I knew better than to think I was the only one for him, but the idea of my sharing myself so freely with him and him sharing himself so freely with whomever just grossed me out. He was sad when I told him we were back to being friends but he understood. That, and I’m sure he had better, and younger, fish to fry.”

  “There weren’t any hard feelings?”

  “I was sore, I guess. But I knew what I was getting into with him. It wasn’t like Jeff’s betrayal.”

  I needed to swallow, but didn’t want to look like I was getting emotional. Even though I was. Marco’s next question got my immediate attention.

  “Are you seeing anyone right now?” He wrapped his fingers around my hand and squeezed.

  “No. Not at all. As single as a girl can get.”

  Of course I wanted to ask the same question, but I was scared. I did it anyway.

  “How about you? Anyone in your life?”

  “No. I… haven’t… I'm not seeing anyone.”

  Underneath the implacable look I tried to keep on my face, I grinned from ear to ear.

  Marco led me out of the restaurant, and I held my tongue from asking where we were going. We got in a taxi. Were we going back to his room? Did he have another event planned?

  I felt unexplainably secure, even in my complete ignorance. I trusted him and this was a very unusual feeling. Some other activity to continue our night would have been nice, but I didn’t need or expect it. We were pretty good at entertaining each other even with nothing else.

  We’d spent nearly the whole day together. I shouldn’t have been worried he’d grown tired of me, at least not in the short term. He liked me, and I could clearly feel his attraction.

  Marco directed the driver to another hotel. We weren’t going back to the Wynn, which meant it wasn’t straight back to his room. Part of me felt silly for being disappointed, but only just slightly.

  I turned toward him to say something, I wasn’t quite sure what, but found my lips on his. It was our first kiss that night and it felt wonderful. We were getting used to each other and finding our rhythm. Marco’s attentiveness reached every interaction we had, and I felt him trying to understand what I wanted. He lingered in the right places and grew stronger and more insistent as my breath quickened.

  We arrived at our destination, leaving me embarrassed and annoyed. I just wanted to keep kissing him. And more.

  I sat in the cab as Marco walked around and opened my door. I felt like a woman around him – not a mother, not a middle child, not a struggling chef. It wasn’t an issue of shying away from my power, but of embracing the delight in being treated a certain way. He kissed my hand and arm and neck as we strode across the casino, never once losing contact with me. Everything around me faded into the background. All I knew was the two of us.

  The sound of a beautiful voice caught my attention. Exquisitely beautiful. No cheesy lounge singer. Something exemplary. Marco turned to me as we stood at the entrance of a small club and said, “I know you must have been curious about where we were going, and what we were doing. I really appreciate that you trusted me. It means a lot to me.”

  “I heard what you said about your wife's interrogations. I know that really hurt you. I didn’t want to do the same thing.”

  I smiled, relieved that I’d followed my instinct and kept my mouth shut. It was a very lucky break on my part, given my tendency to want to know all details at every moment. Not knowing and just trusting was feeling remarkably good.

  “Besides, I trust you.” I hadn’t meant for that to come out. I didn’t trust anybody, betrayal oftentimes the air that I breathed. What was happening to me?

  Marco appeared touched but he said nothing. Instead, we followed the sound of that magical voice. I thought of my mother, who’d spent her youth singing and performing. Maybe she would have been in a place like this, if it had existed. I missed her so deeply.

  “Where are you, my dreamer?”

  “Sorry,” I said sheepishly.

  “No need to be sorry. Let me join you.”

  We sat down and I told him about my mother. I hardly believed how honestly I spoke to him, even about things that were very personal. My typical way was to conceal and withhold. None of that was possible with him. It crossed my mind that maybe I no longer needed all the protection that secrecy afforded me.

  He reached his arm around me and gave me a big squeeze. “I can't imagine how magnificent she must have been. Would you like to tell me more about her?”

  “Our mother was the most beautiful woman I have ever seen, with this other-worldly quality. She and Dad were so happy, for so many years, and they ended up leaving this world together, which was pure romance for them, but pure tragedy for us. Mom was so full of love but there was something about her that you could tell held some sadness. As if she was missing something or someone.

  We would often catch her daydreaming - probably where I got my own habit - but she would never talk about it. Instead she would make up these fantastical stories about other worlds and creatures. And she would sing. My gosh, our mother could mesmerize any human being with her voice. Her famed career all happened before we were born, but none of us questioned that it had been remarkable.

  When it came time to raise her kids, she dropped everything and devoted herself completely to us. Danny’s death nearly killed her. She could not believe her little boy was gone, even though he was a grown man and had lived a beautiful life. Then she and Dad disappeared in that boating accident, which nearly killed the rest of us.”

  Marco exhaled deeply. He clearly didn’t know what to say.

  “Enough for now. I just want to enjoy being here. With you.” I leaned over and kissed him. My body moved toward him of its own will. This taking it (relatively) slow was fine most of the time, but occasionally I felt crazed with desire. Like a fire that needed to be tended immediately.

  All of me. Why not take all of me.

  I began to sing the melody, one of my very favorites, while Marco watched me with great amusement. I didn’t have the musical talent of my mother and sisters, but I could hold a tune. And it wasn’t an area around which I have a lot of self-consciousness so I sang freely. He smiled at me, that mesmerizing smile, and I enjoyed his pleasure.

  “You didn't tell me you could sing.”

  “That's because I can't. I am the only non-singer in my family.”

  “You call that not singing? Hmmmm. I am just noticing that the more I know you, the more talents I discover. Where does it end?”

  “Oh, probably in about one minute. You’ve seen everything. It’s all downhill from here.”

  “Isn't downhill a good thing?”

  “I guess. I always forget which is the good one, uphill or downhill. It never really made sense to me.”

  We shared a laugh and I snuggled into his shoulder for the next few songs. He ordered an extravagant bottle of champagne, which I drank with great enjoyment. There was nothing in my life, at that moment, that wasn’t absolutely perfect.

  Fatigue began to overtake me, but I didn’t want that to end the evening. I was feeling the effects of our previous night out.

  Marco let the first fe
w yawns pass, then took my hand. “Let's go.”

  Before I knew it we were in the elevator at the Wynn, headed up to the penthouse. The decision was made with a silent look - he asked me with his eyes which button to press and I nodded yes to his choice. Sleepy or not, I was going to be with this man tonight. We were quickly running out of time in Vegas.

  I walked straight toward the window for that amazing view. Still mesmerizing. He stepped lightly behind me, brushed my hair to the side and kissed the back of my neck. This was my favorite move of all time. I let him linger there for some time, giving soft sounds of positive feedback to let him know he should continue.

  “Bella, what do you want?” he whispered.

  Without turning around I answered, “I want you to ask me again.” I was being subtle, obtuse even. Would he understand what I was saying?

  He spun me around to face him and looked straight into my eyes. I could only imagine what he saw with his penetrating gaze. My sly smile revealed my question, and his eyes demonstrated understanding.

  “Will you stay with me tonight?”

  He got it. He really got it. I realized how much I expected him to fail the test, to not understand my subtle reference.

  “Yes,” I said with my eyes and my lips. Then I leaned toward him and offered him my mouth, which he took willingly.

  He led me to the bedroom, which was as magnificent as the rest of the suite. They were serious about making people feel like royalty up here. I stopped him before he got to the bed and kissed his face, then down his neck. I stroked his shoulders and arms as I peeled off his jacket. I moved slowly, partly out of building anticipation and partly out of my own nervousness. I wasn’t going to blow this one.

  I lingered on each button of his shirt, taking my time to reveal his phenomenal body, adorned by a small patch of hair that began in the middle of his chest and ended at the top of his pants. Dark black hair, interspersed with gray and silver, was perfectly set off by his tan skin. When his shirt fell to the ground, I let go of my own need to be composed.

  He tried to pull me in close and I edged him backwards, toward the bed. “Sit down,” I told him.

  Ordering him around was giving me a warm rush of excitement. I knelt down in front of him, moving in slow motion, and I looked up to see him catch his breath. I knew this looked sexy, and he must have been wondering what I was going to do down there. Had I mentioned this was fun?

  I ran my hands down his legs, filling him with anticipation, then picked up his right foot and took off his shoe. He watched me like a hawk, perhaps not believing his eyes. Off with the other shoe and for the briefest moment, I thought about having him in my mouth. No, that was going to have to wait for another time.

  I stood up halfway, kissed him intensely, then knelt astride him, one leg on either side. He couldn’t hold himself back any more and pulled me in. My legs opened around him, which lifted my dress above my hips, revealing the entirety of my lower half.

  He slipped his hands around my hips and pulled my buttocks in to him. His erection pressed against me, pulsing, while he rubbed our bodies together.

  “Why are you still fully dressed?” he asked.

  All I had on was my dress and my underwear - a very skimpy, very sexy silk thong. Not even a bra with my form-fitting dress.

  His hands were deliciously warm on my bottom and up my back. Those amazing hands took my dress, now covering only half of my body, and peeled it off the rest of me. A moment of self-conscious terror filled me. Okay, this was it. This was the moment he decided I was horrifying and left in disgust. The body I worked pretty hard to maintain was still that of a 40-something mom. Not perfect, to say the least. Everything my swimsuit cleverly concealed was now on full display.

  As if he read my mind, he said, “You are the sexiest woman I have ever seen. I want every part of you.”

  I reached for his belt buckle and fumbled. Buttons and ties were okay, but buckles left me clumsy and un-coordinated. Instead of taking over, he left me to sort it out.

  I moved off of him to take his pants off and there we were left with just his underwear, my skimpy thong and miles of skin. How would this proceed? I was considering what I would do next when Marco took over.

  He moved me onto my back and caressed my body with his hands, and explored with his mouth. His pace was just right for me, taking his time despite both of us being so aroused. He started out very gently with my breasts, my abdomen, my legs, always leaving me wanting just a bit more. He formed a spiral of kisses starting around my navel and broadening out to cover my entire torso. Every time he approached the top of my thong I started. It was like a small electric shock.

  And there he lingered, going back and forth, moving the silk band just millimeters down at a time. I knew I wasn’t going to let him go all the way down, (much too intimate for this stage), but the way he was playing with me was really working.

  I brought his head back up to mine, and kissed him like I meant it. His body slid on top of mine and I exhaled, letting the weight of his body settle. It had been so long since I felt a man on top of me. I wanted to stay there for a long time. Then I thought about slowly lowering his underwear, followed by a pang of uncertainty. Would we proceed right to intercourse if I did that? Would these explorations that I was enjoying so much stop? Was I having second thoughts about having sex with him?

  His hands stroked the length of my body, this time moving underneath my panties. I was already so wet that his fingers slid easily between my folds. And there he began to own me, slowly, delicately, with complete focus.

  A flash of recognition and surprise came to me as I remembered a book Lizzy had given me about the female orgasm. I had unfortunately never been successful in convincing my partners to learn the particular technique, which was an issue for me as no man had been able (or willing?) to bring me to orgasm for a very long time. Marco was doing it now, whether he knew it or not.

  His lips found my mouth, my face, my neck, my breasts while he continued to stroke without urgency or impatience. He seemed completely content just to watch me and touch me.

  The climbs and falls grew stronger and stronger until fear arose instead. This was too vulnerable - here with this man I hardly knew, completely exposed and about to release myself into pure pleasure - and I stopped myself. Tension replaced the heat.

  His face moved to my ear and he whispered, “I am here, Monique. Let yourself go and I will catch you. I promise.”

  He increased the pressure, of his mouth and his fingers, until I was pushed to the top. I stepped off the edge of the cliff and fell deeper and deeper into the sensations. Waves of orgasm rolled through my body as I wondered if time had stopped. I wanted to mentally chronicle how indescribable and unexpected this was, but my body refused to let my attention go. I could hardly look at him, although I knew he was trying to catch my eyes. It was just short of too much for me.

  When the physical sensations dampened, I rolled toward him, and curled my body into his. He held me while I fought the overwhelming urge to cry. If I could have stood up, I would have gone running out of that room. But I couldn’t move. I was scared and naked and certain that the higher I ascended, the more devastating the inevitable fall would be.

  I couldn’t have imagined his thoughts, the woman in his bed having gone fetal and fighting tears. He said nothing but kept his body wrapped around mine.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Shopping Cure

  And then I woke up. The room was filled with light and it took me several moments to understand where I was. The evening recreated itself until I remembered why I was in this strange room, in an empty but disheveled bed. Soft clanging outside the door reminded me I was not alone.

  As soon as Marco entered the room, wearing low slung bottoms and carrying two large white mugs, my humiliation bloomed. He’d taken care of me and instead of reciprocating, I’d fallen asleep. Crying. Could I have summoned any magic to make myself disappear? What must this man think of me - selfish and weepy? T
rying not to appear shell-shocked and ashamed, I looked at him and smiled.

  “Good morning my beautiful Monique.” The sound of his voice melted me again. “Tea, darling? I hope that's what you wanted.”

  “Yes, yes, that's perfect. And so thoughtful. Thank you.”

  “How did you sleep?”

  “I don't know. I mean... I must have passed out. I’m so sorry. I didn't even drink very much...”

  “There is nothing to be sorry about.” He sat next to me on the bed. “I am so happy you stayed with me. It was wonderful to be with you.”

  His face was full of contentment, but my mind could only go to one thought: Was it? I knew he thought I was a horrible person and was plotting how to drop me as soon as he could. There was no doubt in my mind.

  “I have a fitting in about half an hour, but I want you to stay here as long as you want. I think you need some rest.”

  Aha! He was leaving! Ample evidence of his disgust with me.

  “No, no, that's okay. I should be going.” I tried to wriggle myself out of the bed, while staying completely covered with the sheets. It was an exercise in clumsiness and awkwardness and immaturity. I didn’t care.

  “Why do you hide yourself from me?” He furrowed his brow in confusion. “And I don't want you to leave right now. Please, have your tea. Stay here. I am not ready to say goodbye.”

  He tenderly moved the hand that held up the sheet and let it fall, revealing the extent of my nudity. He moved in toward me and wrapped his arms around me.

  “What a beautiful night I had with you. Thank you for sharing yourself with me. It was... well... I hope it was okay for you.”

  I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. This man was thanking me for letting him pleasure me. I froze, unable to make this situation make sense. He was either the greatest playboy ever in the history of time, or... something else too much for me to imagine. The love of my life?

  “Marco, I’m so embarrassed about what happened.” I didn’t want to talk about it and yet there I was, doing it. “I can’t believe I just fell asleep. You must think I’m so rude and selfish. And I am. I just don't know what to say. And how emotional I got. You must think I’m a complete lunatic.”