Sweet as Sin

by Felix Baron

  ‘I could organise something, a footstool perhaps?’

  ‘No, I’ll be fine.’ She grimaced and looked down at her ankle. ‘Would it be all right if I rested my foot on your knee, Rolf?’ She kicked her left shoe off.

  ‘It’d be my pleasure.’ He took his seat and stooped under the table to take Trixie’s stockinged calf in a cupped hand and raise it to rest her heel on his knee. As her foot came up, a slit in her dress opened from its hem to her thigh. ‘How’s that?’ he asked.

  ‘Much better. I guess we’re playing girls against boys, then.’

  A waiter came in bearing a frosty flask and four martini glasses.

  ‘I ordered the drinkies,’ Trixie explained. ‘It’ll help me with the pain.’

  Rolf signed for the drinks and cut the cards for first deal. Penny’s queen of hearts won. She dealt and opened the bidding with a spade. Andrew passed.

  Trixie bid, ‘Two spades. Or should I bid clubs?’

  Rolf passed and very quickly, so did Penny. Somehow her elbow nudged the second deck and it cascaded to the floor. ‘I’ll get it.’

  To collect the spilled cards, Penny was leaning way down from her chair, to Rolf’s left. Her top’s neckline was deep and wide, and it was a little loose on her slender frame. As she stooped, the fabric sagged away from her. From the corner of his eye, Rolf could see one young breast quiver in the shadows and caught a glimpse of a delicate pink nipple. It occurred to him that her breast would fit into a martini glass, perfectly.

  He snatched his eyes back to his cards, feeling guilty.

  Trixie asked, ‘So, where do you and your son live, Rolf?’

  ‘New York – Manhattan.’

  Trixie clapped her hands with glee. ‘Lovely, us too, or will be. We’re in the process of buying into a co-op a few blocks off Park Avenue.’

  ‘That can be complicated, buying a co-op,’ Rolf said.

  ‘I hope not. My heart is set on it.’

  Andrew led a small heart. Trixie fumbled dummy down. She had six clubs to the ace, queen, jack, but only two spades, the ten and the trey. If they’d bid it, they’d have had a sure game in clubs. By taking two risky finesses, Penny kept their losses down to a single trick.

  Somehow, Trixie’s heel had moved to midway up Rolf’s thigh. As if absently, he caressed the nylon-sheathed sole of her foot.

  ‘You’re not trying to lose, are you, Mom?’ Penny accused.

  ‘Of course not. Why would you think such a thing?’

  ‘You often used to, when you played against Dad. We aren’t playing for a kiss a point, like you and he used to.’

  Rolf grinned. ‘Sounds like an idea to me. What do you say, son?’

  ‘Dad!’

  ‘My Mom’s been known to lose by tens of thousands of points,’ Penny told him.

  ‘That sounds like a lot of slams, to me.’

  ‘Oh no,’ Trixie said matter-of-factly. ‘We had special forfeits for slams. If he made a small slam against me, I had to . . .’

  Penny growled, ‘Mother!’

  Rolf gently squeezed Trixie’s foot, which had made its way up his leg until her toes just touched the seam of his pants at the base of his fly.

  She licked her lips and stage-whispered, ‘Maybe I’ll tell you later, Rolf, when there are no children around.’

  Rolf jerked his chair closer to the card-table to conceal the progress of Trixie’s foot, the ball of which was now pressing rhythmically just above his scrotum.

  Penny said, ‘Mom, you’re incorrigible!’

  Trixie gave a solemn nod. ‘True. So don’t try to correct me, my darling daughter.’

  Andrew, red faced, perhaps because the toes of Penny’s left foot were probing up under the cuff of his pants, finished dealing. Rolf picked up his cards, distracted by the way Trixie’s foot was moving on the base of his shaft. He put his hand on her ankle, thinking to move her foot to a more decorous position before either of the youngsters noticed what was going on.

  Trixie stopped him with, ‘Thank you, Rolf. A nice gentle massage would help the swelling go down.’

  ‘I don’t see any swelling. Your ankle looks absolutely perfect, to me.’

  ‘Why thank you, kind Sir. Massage it anyway, please?’

  Even though the ladies were making it difficult for them to concentrate, Rolf and Andrew were up by over eighteen thousand points by six p.m. ‘That’s a lot of kisses you owe us,’ Rolf joked, half hoping he’d be taken seriously.

  ‘And three slams that you bid and made,’ Trixie added. ‘Two small, one grand.’

  ‘Don’t start that again, Mother,’ Penny warned.

  ‘She’s only teasing,’ Rolf said.

  Trixie grinned wickedly at her daughter. ‘Am I, Penny?’

  Penny stood abruptly. ‘I’m going up to get changed,’ she announced.

  Trixie sighed. ‘Then it’s game over. You only need two to tango but it takes four to play bridge.’ She gingerly lifted her foot from Rolf’s lap. ‘I don’t think I should come down for dinner with this ankle.’ She looked pointedly at Rolf, as if waiting for him to say something.

  ‘I’ll have room service bring something to your suite.’

  ‘I hate to eat alone, Rolf.’

  ‘I’ll order us something,’ he corrected himself. ‘The kids won’t mind dining and dancing without us, I’m sure.’

  ‘That’s very generous of you, Rolf. Eight o’clock? Oh, and Rolf, in case you were thinking of plying me with champagne, I’m more susceptible to martinis.’

  Seven

  An hour and a half later, Penny was pushing the final few self-covered buttons through the loops that fastened her scarlet silk cheongsam from its hem to her throat. She toed into clear slides that had five-inch heels and one-inch platforms.

  From her languid pose on the chaise, Trixie looked her daughter up and down. ‘It’d take Andrew forever to get you out of that dress.’

  ‘I don’t intend to let him get me out of it.’

  ‘And those shoes – you’ll be as tall as him, maybe taller.’

  ‘Taller. He can look up to me for a change.’

  ‘Going for the “untouchable” look?’

  ‘You should try it some time.’

  ‘Meow!’

  ‘Mom, seriously, are you planning to “give your all” to Rolf tonight?’

  Trixie arched an eyebrow and lifted her foot. ‘With my poor wounded ankle? Of course not.’

  ‘I see. We each have our methods, don’t we, Mom.’

  ‘Speaking of which, how do I look?’

  ‘I’m sure he’ll find you totally edible. Most men like black satin, but isn’t a peignoir over a slip, stockings and pom-pom boudoir slippers, all in black, overdoing the femme fatale stereotype just a tad?’

  ‘For men, there’s no such thing as a woman looking too seductive. Don’t worry, I’m trying to pique his appetite but I don’t mean to give him more than the tiniest nibble at the goodies tonight. I haven’t allowed him anything more than a kiss, so far.’

  ‘You’re cruel, Mom.’

  ‘And devious.’

  Penny leaned over her mother to tweak at her neckline and adjust the way her peignoir lay on her legs. ‘That’s better.’ She paused. ‘Mom, are you wearing panties?’

  A voice outside announced, ‘Room service!’

  Penny, her question unanswered, opened the door to Rolf, who was pushing a chrome cart. Andrew hovered in the background. When he got a good look at Penny, he gawked as if he’d never seen a vision so beautiful. Penny allowed herself a satisfied smile and swept out to join him.

  Rolf back-heeled the door shut behind her. ‘Trixie, you look absolutely gorgeous!’

  Trixie stretched like a cat in the warmth of Rolf’s praise. Her legs moved together, dislodging the skirt of her peignoir to expose her legs to the tops of her stockings.

  Rolf averted his eyes and pushed the cart to the table. With a flourish, he lifted a dish’s lid. ‘Olympia oysters on the half shell, drizzled with Pe
rnod and lime juice. Here we have truffle-dressed medallions of Maine lobster, on a bed of Fiddlehead greens. For dessert, a confection the chef calls Chocolate Depravity – alternate layers of dark and milk chocolate, separated and topped by thick cream that has been blended with Bailey’s Irish Cream and Kahlua. There are also some cheeses and crackers, should they suit Madame’s palate better.’

  ‘No caviar?’

  Rolf’s face dropped for a second, before he realised she was joking. ‘I thought I’d save that for our breakfast, someday, when, I mean . . .’ His voice trailed off in confusion.

  Trixie rescued him. ‘I’d prefer to eat at the table, Rolf, but I don’t think I could walk there, not in these heels.’ She wagged a foot that had a satin boudoir slipper with a three-inch heel dangling from its toes. When he was slow to react, she added, ‘Would you mind carrying me?’

  ‘Of course not. It’d be my pleasure.’ Rolf scooped Trixie up into his arms. Her peignoir parted from its waist-tie down, displaying her shapely legs to the lacy hem of her slip. Once more, Rolf looked aside so as not to take advantage. With her arms wrapped around his neck and her breath warm in its crook, he whisked her to the dining table, hastening because his erection was growing and he really wanted to sit down before it became too obvious.

  Trixie didn’t adjust her peignoir when she was seated. Rolf was considering how to advise her that her lovely pale thighs were exposed when she lifted her left foot.

  ‘I should keep it elevated, Rolf, remember?’

  ‘Of course.’ He turned a knee out and guided her ankle to his thigh. ‘How’s that?’

  ‘Much better.’

  Oysters are easy to eat one-handed, if they’ve been prepared well. Rolf’s free hand caressed Trixie’s ankle, and calf, and he couldn’t help but think about her leg being extended straight in front of her and that if one of his strokes just kept on going it would inevitably end up in the shadowy place under the flimsy fabric of her slip, which was an exceptionally short slip, from what little he knew of women’s underthings.

  ‘This meal,’ Trixie asked, ‘did you choose the menu?’

  Rolf cleared his throat. ‘Yes, is it all right?’

  She gave him a melting look. ‘You’re a naughty man, Rolf.’

  ‘I am?’

  Trixie tilted her head back, showing off the beauty of her slender throat, and poured an oyster into her mouth. ‘Everything you selected – reputed to be aphrodisiacs. Are you trying to seduce me?’

  ‘I warned you, when we were on the patio, that I would.’

  ‘So you did! How very honest of you.’

  ‘You didn’t seem averse to the idea, then.’

  Trixie leaned forward over her plate. She looked directly into Rolf’s eyes and told him, ‘Nor am I now. I don’t usually jump into men’s beds, Rolf, but there’s something very special about you, and a vacation doesn’t give us a lot of time, does it. I have to confess, if it weren’t for the pain in my ankle, I’d – well – I wouldn’t exactly be fighting you off.’

  ‘I understand,’ he said, trying to keep the disappointment out of his voice.

  Trixie dropped the last oyster shell into its silver dish and picked up the servers for the lobster. ‘That doesn’t mean we can’t have a nice evening, does it?’

  ‘Of course not.’

  ‘Kisses and – and – you know – wouldn’t hurt my ankle, if you were very gentle. Could you be gentle with me, Rolf?’

  ‘I’ll try.’

  ‘Just so we don’t get carried away.’

  ‘I understand.’

  There wasn’t much more conversation. Rolf hadn’t dated for over twenty-five years. Now he was alone with a lovely and very sexy woman who’d told him flat out that she was ready to ‘make-out’ as the kids say, but not ‘go all the way’. His erection was a throbbing embarrassment. Rolf hadn’t felt so awkward for as far back as he could remember.

  Trixie asked, ‘Shall we save the dessert for – after?’

  Rolf nodded, unable to speak.

  ‘Would you take the drinks and the phone to the chaise, please? I’m expecting an important call from Seattle, from my broker.’ She lowered her foot from his thigh to the floor.

  Rolf was able to keep his back to Trixie as he took the things to the table beside the chaise. He delayed there by pouring them two drinks but he still had to face her on his return. Her eyes were frankly on the bulge in his dress pants.

  Rolf reddened. ‘I’m sorry . . .’ he began.

  ‘Don’t be. You’ve nothing to be ashamed of, from what I’ve seen so far.’

  Her words helped but Rolf still felt awkward as he picked her up from her chair and her hip rubbed against him and then although he tried to carry her high, the cloth-covered head of his cock prodded one rounded cheek of her lovely bottom.

  Trixie didn’t seem the least embarrassed. She giggled and wiggled her rump in a way that inspired his raging lust, that he was honour-bound not to give in to. When he sat down, with her stretched out on his lap, Rolf was trembling with desire.

  Trixie took his face between her hands and gazed into his eyes. ‘Kisses, please, Rolf. Lots of slow gentle kisses. Let’s make the most of the time we have alone together.’

  Rolf hadn’t made love since his wife had died, two years before. His pent-up needs had been stoked by yesterday’s passionate kisses and Trixie’s unspoken promise that today their lust would be consummated. What he craved was wild sex, him the ravisher, her the eager victim, but now she wanted ‘slow gentle kisses’, and a gentleman always defers to a lady’s wishes.

  So taut that his tendons ached, Rolf bent his mouth to Trixie’s and closed his lips on her lower one. She sighed and relaxed in his arms. He turned his attention to her upper lip. Her lower one moved under his and then, very tenderly, sucked on it. Not sure if he was rushing her, Rolf touched her lip with the tip of his tongue. Her mouth opened to him. Their tongues touched, tentative little flicks. He wanted to crush her lips with his and thrust his tongue into the yielding sweet wetness of her mouth but he restrained himself. Tongues licked lips and tongues licked tongues. Trixie began to pant.

  She had to be ready to surrender her mouth fully! Rolf took a deep breath.

  Trixie squirmed under him, reaching up and back for her glass. With a grin, she said, ‘I promise you, whatever we do tonight, it won’t be because of the influence of alcohol.’

  Her stretching had ground her bottom on him and tugged the top of her slip so low on the fullness of her breasts that he thought he could detect an arc of areola peeping through the satin’s lace trimming. Speechless, he reached towards his own glass.

  ‘No,’ she said. ‘We’ll share.’

  He took her glass and sipped.

  ‘No, silly. You aren’t supposed to swallow it. That’s no way to share.’

  Understanding, he tilted the cocktail into his mouth, leaned over Trixie, pressed his lips to her lips and let the drink trickle from his mouth into hers. God, she was uninhibited – and creative! Damn that ankle! Damn him, for making her hurt it!

  ‘My turn,’ she said. Her lips parted expectantly.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Pour it into my mouth, silly.’

  Rolf obeyed, emptying half the glass. She pulled his head down and pursed her lips between his. He was still puzzled when he felt the jet of liquid gush up into his mouth. He held it for a moment before letting it dribble back between her lips. They exchanged the potent liquid, made more powerful by being diluted with their saliva, half a dozen times before the last drop disappeared.

  Rolf said, ‘I usually like my martinis very dry but that one was the best ever, and it was incredibly sweet.’

  ‘As sweet as sin, Rolf. The flavour is still in my mouth,’ she told him. Her lips parted wide in invitation.

  Rolf sensed that the restraints had been lifted, insofar as kissing was concerned. He let his mouth ravish hers, stabbing and lashing with his tongue and sucking the dew from beneath her tongue with unabashed reli
sh. He was so enraptured with her mouth that he wasn’t immediately aware that her hand had taken his and moved it to the nakedness of a breast her slip had somehow fallen away from.

  Rolf flattered himself he had the measure of Trixie, erotically. Without abating his assault on her mouth, he very tenderly smoothed his fingertips over her alabaster skin. Before long, she shifted under his touch. Rolf congratulated himself. It was worthwhile, restraining himself so strictly, if it made her impatient for more intense caresses. To prolong her agony, and his, he allowed one finger to brush over the hard peak of her nipple.

  She pulled her mouth from his. With yearning in her eyes, Trixie begged, ‘Please?’

  ‘Please?’

  ‘Please!’

  ‘Like this?’ he asked, revelling in his new-found mastery. Three of his fingers flickered across her breast’s tip.

  ‘More?’

  He rolled her nub, hardly squeezing at all.

  ‘You bastard! Do it, damn you!’

  Her vehemence shocked him but he complied, pinching and tugging, elongating the flesh of her breast.

  ‘Yes! Oh, that feels so good!’

  Unprompted, feeling totally in charge again, Rolf jerked the satin down off Trixie’s other breast and took its nipple in a vice-like grip.

  ‘I can’t stand it! Don’t stop!’ She arched and bounced in his lap. Every wriggle rubbed against his imprisoned cock.

  Trixie grabbed his right wrist in both hands, pushed it down the length of her body and yanked it up under her slip. His fingers met soft wet folds. It’d been so long since he’d touched a woman there that he’d almost forgotten the intensity of the emotions generated when delicate flesh parts to eagerly welcome hard strong fingers. She was hot inside, and so wet her flesh felt slick. His two fingers squirmed, discovering Trixie’s labyrinthine internal convolutions. There were smooth places, and folds, and soft subtle pockets. Intensely aware of how delicate and sensitive the inside of a woman’s sex is, he explored slowly and cautiously. The thought of damaging her, the mere possibility of his bruising her internally, terrified him.

  Trixie still had hold of his wrist. Her legs veed up. Her fists jerked his hand down. She drove his fingers into herself. ‘Harder!’ she demanded, her eyes blazing. ‘Deeper!’