Tonight she was enjoying her wealth and fame. Picking up Tom, to discover the magic they might create.
“You could give that to your mum in the morning.” Lana was almost against him now, her breath directed along the hard ridge of his jaw. In almost twenty years, she’d perfected the art of seduction, yet it never grew stale.
“But I only work until—”
She didn’t let him finish that thought. “I’m sure Meagan won’t mind giving you an early mark.” Lana wanted to take him home.
She loved coming to Edesia. The chef, Meagan Bissett, ensured fantastic food and a changing menu. And she employed university students as waitstaff; the male waitstaff were often as delectable as the food.
Meagan was a member of the Diamond Dinner Club, founded by Lana, Nella and Amber. Lana used her contacts to the very best of her ability, even if she and Meagan would never be friends. They’d clashed early over a man, and despite similar backgrounds, nothing would heal the rift.
She leaned closer to the young waiter. “Would it be too much of an imposition if I asked you to escort me home?” He wasn’t the first waiter to escort Lana home, and he probably wouldn’t be the last either.
There was something completely delicious about Tom. He hadn’t expected the invitation so he almost reeled backwards, but quickly righted himself. It was then that she lifted her foot behind her and leaned down to adjust the strap on her shoe. She rolled her shoulders forward, lifting and turning her head so her silver dress draped, allowing him a view of her braless, perfectly rounded D-cups and hints of a smoothly muscled abdominal wall.
When she straightened, she knew she had an escort home, and her young man for the night.
Lana popped her head inside the kitchen. “Meagan?” The chef’s short blonde hair was awry, sweat made her oval face shine, and Lana wondered if she knew how awful she looked.
“Would you be a darling and give Tom an early mark tonight? I’d like an escort home.” She wasn’t asking too much. Most of the diners had left and the few remaining were finishing coffee and dessert.
Meagan’s eye roll was quick, her smile half-hearted. “Sure, take my best waiter. Just make sure you return him.”
Lana smiled her thanks and gave a little wave. “Food was excellent, of course,” she called in parting.
Tom insisted on finishing clearing the last of his tables. Lana watched him work quickly and efficiently. Maybe he was one of Meagan’s best, even if he was relatively new. She hoped he would suit her. It would be difficult to be her best, but he showed promise.
When he was done, he held out his arm and she took it with a silent chuckle. Lorraine had raised a lovely boy. Lana appreciated her efforts. She would make sure she continued his education in a gently refined manner. She imagined herself as a benevolent godmother, assisting these boys along their passage to manhood.
The walk home was pleasant. Tom talked of his mother and sister, and his university studies in architecture, while she listened and asked questions when he stalled. Architecture was his passion. He spoke keenly, pointing out some of the features on the buildings they passed.
She loved this phase as much as the next. The exuberance of youth was intoxicating.
Some people despised her choices, her lifestyle, her joy. She allowed them to have their opinions and never foisted herself on anyone.
In the late 1970s, when she was starting her acting career, an older gentleman—her mentor, lover and friend—gave her sage advice. “Earn your money and make your career with your legs closed. Invest wisely and when you’re my age, then you can indulge your every whim.” She’d followed his advice and was now indulging, as he’d promised she could.
As they neared her wharfside apartment, she drew Tom to her side, tucking close to him. “I’d like to invite you inside…”
He blushed a deep crimson and looked out over the inky black water and the twinkling lights of the harbour. He shifted his feet and slowly withdrew his arm from hers, although he still stood close enough she was warmed by his body heat.
“Lana, ummm, I’ve heard of your, uh…”
With her heart melting at his quiet fight for courtesy, she relieved him of his struggle. “No doubt you’ve heard of my penchant for young waiters as dessert?” She lifted her brow and watched as he gulped hard and then tried to look up and meet her gaze. “It’s okay, Tom. You can just walk me home. It’s not compulsory to come inside.” She rested her hand against his forearm, lightly, with a no pressure touch.
“Oh, no. I want to come inside.” He turned crimson again but this time he maintained her gaze. She didn’t imagine it was easy, but he managed.
“You’ve never been with a woman before?” Her words were a gentle caress against his ear as she leaned close to whisper.
“Not one like you. Just girls at uni.” The words seemed to choke him up as they slowly tumbled from his throat.
“And you’ve heard rumours about me?”
“Yes.”
“And you’re feeling intimidated, scared, concerned, excited, quite overwhelmed.” His eyes widened as she spoke each emotion, as if he was surprised she could read him so well.
She pressed her mouth to the side of his, right where his lips met. After a few seconds of pressure, she flicked her tongue against the seam and then stepped away from him.
“I enjoy sex. I’m not asking for a relationship. When the morning comes, it’s over. I enjoy young men like you because they’re enthusiastic and eager. I will never do anything to harm you. I will not laugh at you, or expect more than you can give me.” She waited until the words were processed and he looked at her. “The invitation to join me still stands but the decision is entirely yours. Thank you for escorting me home, Tom. I appreciate your kindness. Give my regards to your mother.” She smiled, turned and walked to the door of her apartment complex.
She knew one night stands and sex with older women weren’t every man’s thing. However well she preserved her body, she was over twenty years his senior and some boys couldn’t put that from their minds. In fact, she was often older than their mothers and sometimes that was too much to get beyond. Lana enjoyed young men, but not if they were reluctant. She wanted them pulsing with need, filled with desire and desperate to please her. She was all about the adulation, that’s what got her off. It was better not to have sex than to have unsatisfying sex.
She opened the door and stepped through, turning to wave, only to find Tom on her heels.
“I’d like to join you.” His words were softly spoken but there was the strength of commitment behind them. She smiled, slipped her hand into his, and led him to her apartment.
She took his arm as they walked into her foyer. “Let me show you around.” They entered the huge living area. The waterfront views through the floor to ceiling glass panels were sparklingly gorgeous, day and night.
“Look at this view. What a brilliant use of the space. These were perfectly designed to make use of the incredible location.” His hands indicated the glass wall, the room itself. “Is the rest this well done?”
Lana chuckled. The space, the monochrome palette with occasional splashes of jarring colour, her antique vase collection, the furnishings, had no impact on him. She was sure he hadn’t noticed her lavish jewellery or designer labels. His interest was only in the design of the apartment.
“Yes. All the rooms make use of the view like this.” She undid the buttons on his jacket and pushed it off him, before she slid her fingers along his tie, tucking them beneath the knot. “Would you like to see the rest of the apartment now…” She allowed her voice to taper off as she eased the knot of his tie away from his throat. When his Adam’s apple bobbed, she stretched up on her toes, leaning against him as she undid the top button of his shirt. Her lips were millimetres from his.
“No,” he whispered.
She touched her mouth to his for a few seconds. “You don’t want to look, or you don’t want me to undress you?”
His lips parted in a croo
ked smile before he touched them against hers, for only as long as she’d done. “I want both.” When her fingers stilled on his shirt, he continued. “I think the undressing is more urgent.”
Sprinkling kisses across his lips, jaw and chin, her words came out between caresses. “Clever, Tom.” She slipped his tie over his head, knowing better than to unknot it.
While she kissed him, she undid each shirt button, and his hands slid over her body. He wasn’t probing. He didn’t squeeze or knead, just skimmed and measured. Not clinical, but as if he was getting a feel for her, trying to locate his favourite places, or hers.
She moaned as he touched, then she nipped his jaw to enflame his ardour. She murmured his name as his fingers skimmed her covered breasts. She pressed against his lips with soft, wet, teasing kisses. She didn’t want to rush or scare him. He’d been tentative at first, but his hands were becoming firmer and more assured. His confidence was growing, as was his cock. She wondered how long he could maintain this slow pace, if he’d ever been teased like this, or if his sex was all fast and furious. She loved this pace; the adulation, the hesitation, the anticipation.
His shirt was unbuttoned, including the cuffs. After lifting the shirt from his trousers, she began to push it from his shoulders. He shook his arms and dropped the shirt in a second. Then he caught her face in his palms and the teasing was over. His eyes were dark, dark blue, intense and hungry. She flicked her tongue across his lower lip, too quickly for him to catch it, but he captured her mouth in a searing kiss.
His lips caught and devoured hers. They nuzzled, touched, tasted, consumed. His hands were hot against her waist, sliding upward to her breasts and then back down. Her blood heated, pounded. Her hands held his head against hers, fingers threading through his curly dark hair.
He kissed and nibbled, allowed her to suck his lip, before she dipped her tongue into the cavern of his mouth. And then he overwhelmed her with his confidence. Sucking her tongue, licking it, taking it deep then expelling in a hurry. It became a kiss of frenzy, with hands moving as fast as their mouths.
Lana loved kissing and young men kissed more exuberantly than older men. They hadn’t yet become cynical. They hadn’t tired of the thrill of mixing tastes and tongues. Maybe she had met the wrong men, but she’d never found excitement in grown-up kisses. Youthful kisses were wild, fascinating, arousing explorations and Tom’s was perfect. A mix of hard and soft. Fast. Fabulous.
When the kiss finally broke, and she had sucked in enough air to stop panting, she slid her fingers into the top of his waistband, undoing the belt buckle and flicking the button undone. “Do you think we should go somewhere more comfortable?”
He licked against her lips, then nibbled to her earlobe. “I haven’t been uncomfortable yet,” he said softly, before sucking her earlobe, diamond stud and all, into his wicked mouth.
A shudder rippled through her.
Her hand dived into the front of his trousers, fingers closing over his thick cock. “I want to suck this, Tom. I want your cock down my throat, thrusting into my mouth until you come.” This was part of the secret to her youthfulness.
“Yesssssss.” Tom groaned, his cock twitched in her hand and she wondered how long it would take to get him off like this, with only words and a hand.
“My bed is much softer than these marble tiles.”
He wrenched his mouth from her earlobe. “Take me there.”
She slipped her hand into his, unwilling to lead him by his cock, and he pulled her against him. Another deep kiss had her almost forgetting where she was going, but a few breaths and she remembered.
A long hall led to the three bedrooms and the study. Not every young man made it this far. The first bedroom she usually reserved for sexual encounters but she walked past it tonight. She waved her hand to indicate as she said, “Guest bedrooms and bathrooms.” The doors were open but the lights out, so you couldn’t see into the rooms, and really, men rarely cared what the room looked like. Although Tom would want to see the view—the morning would do.
Few were invited to her room, even fewer stayed until dawn. Tom would do both. She liked his gentleness, his passion for buildings, and his exuberance.
Her room was her sanctuary. A place of colour, soft furnishings, muted light, tinted full-length windows and a king-size bed with a view across the inky blackness of the harbour at night, which glittered by day.
“This is my room and ensuite.” The ensuite opened right off the bedroom. Large, black and white, his and hers, with a huge shower and her mandatory claw-foot bathtub. A bathroom couldn’t exist without a claw-foot bathtub.
“There are fresh towels, soap, all you need.” She waved a hand at the bathroom but he caught it and spun her against him. Her back to his front.
He pointed at the bed while licking along her neck. “That is all I need.”
A shudder rippled through her. “Oh, yes.” His confidence made her weak-kneed. His tongue left hot trails across her skin. She needed to encourage this side of Tom. She murmured softly, to ensure he knew that she loved his touch, his self-assurance.
He walked her forward, his hard cock pressed tight to her backside. “You, sprawled on that bed, is what I need.” His voice was raspy, gravelly and completely delicious. She rubbed her backside over his cock, pushing into him.
Tom taking charge was not what she expected. The heaviness of her cunt pulsed along with her erratic heartbeat. They rarely took charge, usually preferring her to lead. This was refreshing. Please, don’t let him stop.
She moaned when he bit her neck, her collarbone, the point of her shoulder. Grinding her hips against him, her buttocks captured his cock and she rode it, as well as you can with too much clothing between body parts.
Air became a prized commodity; she could hardly get enough no matter how quickly she tried to suck it in. Her body pulsed with need, desire, arousal. She wanted him, and he wanted her. So much so, he’d forgotten about the view from her room. He was so involved in kissing her, touching her, being with her, that he hadn’t stopped to remark on the architecture. And she had never felt so desired.
His growl drowned the sound of her zipper so it was the pulse of cool air on the bare skin of her back that alerted her to his undressing of her. She wriggled her shoulders and tried to shimmy out of the dress. But he wasn’t into a fast fall. He held the dress up while he touched each newly exposed body part, first with fingers, then palm, and finally mouth. Her dress inched off. She wanted to rip it away, while at the same time she enjoyed his exploration.
“Oh, yes, Tom.” He was killing her.
She kept her body fit, lithe and supple. She wanted to be worshipped by these young men, and she was, but it had been years since she’d found a boy who adored, took charge, slowed down and appreciated. She ached with anticipation. Her lady parts wept with need, pounded their frustration, and pulsed with longing. He had the enthusiasm and wonder of a boy, but the slow steadiness of a man. He was making her lose all sense.
Her nipples puckered tight until they were throbbing, and still he paid no attention to them. The round firmness of her breasts enthralled him, judging by the time he spent tormenting as he stroked, touched, weighed, measured, cupped, and kneaded, everywhere but her aching nipples, clenched tight.
Her dress finally slipped from her, leaving her only in a white lace G-string. She was a squirming mess of need when he finally moved around and placed his lips on her décolletage and his fingers on her nipples. He drew from her a deep sigh of satisfaction and moan of further need.
She made her fingers work at removing his trousers when she really wanted to soak up his attention and revel in his touch. But she owed him her touch and her interest.
When his lips finally closed over her nipples, her hand slid around his cock. She sighed loudly, arching her back as she pressed her breasts against his face. To reward him, she tugged at his cock until it popped free of his clothing. His trousers pooled around his feet, his underpants, socks and shoes still in place
.
He lifted his head and stared. His ink-blue eyes seemed completely unfocused and disbelieving.
“I want you naked,” she murmured, so as not to break the spell of his control. Her request didn’t need repeating. Tom tore the last of his clothing off in seconds. This was the enthusiasm she loved. Young men became naked in the blink of an eye; men seemed to fuss when undressing.
In the brief moments she had to look after removing her G-string, she gorged on his physique. In a few years the solidity would come but for now he was all angles and long limbs, muscles rippling beneath his golden skin. A dark blemish sat on his hip but he was against her before she could tell if it was bruise, birthmark or tattoo. The thought of a hidden tattoo had the blood pounding through her.
He leaned slowly forward while his hands held her still, encircling her waist. The slow movement of his head was delicious torment, and then he sucked on her nipple, and the blood she thought was pounding through her before went ballistic. She stretched up to his mouth, unsure if she could remain standing. His hand slid between her legs and cupped her soaking cunt. She ground down on his hand but he didn’t grind, explore, or rub. He just held her, cupped in the heat of his palm. Sweet hell.
Her mouth watered as her breath came in short supply, again. She loved giving head. She loved the power of a young thick cock in her mouth, at her mercy. She loved to suck them slowly, bring them to the brink and back away. She wanted to do this now. She knew he’d explode like Vesuvius if she made him peak over and over before allowing him to come. He was so wholehearted.
But she couldn’t bear to pull his mouth from her breast. As much as she wanted to suck him, she needed to bask in his attention. His feasting was hard and furious. Her blood pounded, making her clit throb hard. Instead of taking his cock in her mouth, all she could manage was to curl her hand around it and stroke.
Secret Confessions: Sydney Housewives - Extended Edition Page 6
