Let Me Count The Ways

by P. G. Forte

  Claire paused and heaved another sigh. “Finally, I’d had enough. I couldn’t take it anymore. I had some time--two whole days when we weren’t shooting any of my scenes and the director had taken most of the crew off with him someplace, supposedly to shoot some B roll footage. So I decided to use that time to teach Zoe a new trick.”

  She glanced at me and smiled--mischievous, reminiscent, sad all at once, somehow. “By the time they got back, we were ready. And the first time PA girl started shaking her head, Zoe flew into action. It was really quite astonishing. It took everyone by surprise, I think. She landed on the girl’s shoulder, ripped the earring from her ear and was off again like a shot. She flew up to a tree branch with it. Sat up there for the longest time chewing on the thing. She chewed the shit out of it, actually. It was almost like she thought it had been dipped in honey, or something.”

  “Claire!” I gazed at her appalled. I couldn’t believe it. I just couldn’t picture her doing anything so vicious.

  Claire shrugged. “Long days in the jungle, Mike. Way too much time on my hands. Anyway, the silly girl was inconsolable. You can’t even imagine. She threw such a fit that... well, you’d have thought it was her ear she’d lost rather than just an earring. I tried to help. ‘That’s how life is sometimes,’ I told her. ‘Better get used to it. Easy come, easy go. Besides, there’s a market in town--right next to the hotel, I’m sure you’ve seen it--you can pick up all sorts of cheap trinkets there.’ ‘They were a gift,’ she screamed. As if I didn’t know that! ‘Well, see?’ I said. ‘There’s a bright side for you. You didn’t even have to pay for them, right? So what did you really lose? Next time, why don’t you see if he’ll get you a pair more like these?’ And then I showed her the ones I was wearing, which, as I told her, had been a gift from my husband on our wedding day. They really were much more classy.”

  I stared at her. “That wasn’t very nice of you.”

  “No, it wasn’t, was it?” she answered still smiling, looking not the least repentant. “Oh, well.”

  “So, what ended up happening?”

  Claire looked at me questioningly. “What, to the PA, you mean? Actually, things turned out pretty well for her. Not long after we got home, her lover left his wife. Ripped her off for an absolutely obscene amount of money in the divorce settlement--most of which she’d earned, I might add. Then he married the little bitch, had a couple of kids with her and, a few years later, she caught him doing their nanny in the car port. Or so I hear.”

  I shook my head. “If you disliked her so much, I’m amazed you bothered to keep tabs on her.”

  “It’s a small town,” Claire said, with another small shrug. “You hear things.”

  “So, did you do any other tricks?” I asked.

  Claire glanced at me quickly. “I’m sorry... what?”

  “You and Zoe--did you teach her anything else?”

  “A coupla things.” Claire studied my face for a moment and then plucked a grape from the bowl of fruit on the table. “Here, Zoe,” she called softly until she got her attention. Then she placed the grape between her lips.

  “Claire, no...” I felt my heart lurch as Zoe attacked the grape--but gently. Delicately. Eating it, bite by bite. And, if I didn’t think too much about it, it appeared disturbingly erotic, as though they were kissing. But macaws can crack nuts with their beaks and the fear of Claire’s soft lips being pierced or torn held me immobile, almost afraid to breathe lest I startle either of them into moving the wrong way.

  “That was really dumb,” I scolded when it was over. “I can’t believe you did that. Do you know how easily she could have ripped your lip apart with her beak? You might have needed stitches, surgery...”

  Claire grinned. “Relax, Mike. We practiced this. A lot.”

  “You must have.”

  “Long days, lotta hours.”

  “But still, what were you thinking? And, if you’d gotten hurt--wouldn’t that have delayed shooting?”

  She nodded. “Oh, sure. It might have set the whole production back. The producers would have been pissed, our director would have been furious. He had a bunch of other projects lined up too, all waiting for when we got back. He probably would have lost... at least some of them if we’d fallen too far behind. But I figured it would have served him right. After all, it was mostly his fault I had so much spare time to waste.”

  “Anything else?” I asked, trying to hide my displeasure. Her unprofessional attitude seemed completely out of character for her and I have to admit I was disappointed.

  “Well, here’s one the guys on the crew especially liked,” Claire replied, reaching for another grape. “Although, as I recall, I had to use olives for this one. Not that I recall too much about that, actually.”

  “I don’t believe this,” I muttered as she tucked it into her cleavage and then looked at Zoe.

  “Gosh, Zoe, I seem to have dropped my grape. Can you find it? Can you give it to me?”

  Zoe seemed to take her time, twisting her head from side to side as she eyed Claire up and down--almost as if she were actually searching for something hidden. Then she reached out with her head, deftly plucked the grape from between Claire’s breasts and held it aloft.

  “Ohhh, thank you!” Claire murmured. Leaning forward, she used her teeth to take the grape from Zoe’s beak. She swallowed it down and then turned to me, eyes glinting, a frosty little smile on her face. “What about you, Mike? Want to play hunt the grape with me?”

  “Is that what you did with the guys on the crew?”

  “What do you think?”

  I met the challenge in her gaze and smiled back faintly. “Well, I, guess they would have had a lot of long days to fill too, huh?”

  “No.” She shook her head, unbending a little so that she looked more like her usual self, only sadder. “Not really. For them I think it was more a matter of too many long nights packed into that one cantina. They were good guys though, most of them. Very good guys. They took care of me.” Her smile peeked out again, warmer this time. “So, how about it, Mike? Wanna play? Just you and me?”

  I nodded, my eyes cutting briefly to the window. Night was settling in. “Yes. But not here. And, anyway, I think it’s time for Zoe to say good-night.”

  “I suppose you’re right,” Claire answered, kissing Zoe’s head. “Not the kind of thing we want the children watching, is it? Good-night, sweet girl.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Mike

  By the time I got back from getting Zoe settled for the night, Claire had disappeared. The bowl of fruit was also missing from the table. I found them both in my bedroom--waiting for me.

  The light from the table lamp bathed Claire in a soft, warm glow. I felt my gut clench at the sight of her kneeling primly in the center of my bed; her hands clasped demurely in her lap, her smile a mere glimmer on her lips. She was naked from the waist up and, though her lower body was hidden by the sheets, I had no reason to suspect she was wearing anything at all. I went and sat beside her, trying not to stare, as usual. Failing miserably. Also as usual.

  I touched her cheek, feeling grateful for her presence, feeling happy just to be alive. I tucked her hair behind her ear and gently kissed the slight redness that still lingered in the spot where Zoe’s beak had scraped it.

  “Such a sweet little ear,” I murmured as I laved the spot with the tip of my tongue. “It would be a sin to damage it. You should be more careful.”

  I heard her breath catch. “Mmm,” she whispered. “Nice.” Then she ruined it by adding, “I’m always careful.”

  I pulled back and looked at her. Her eyes were luminous in the lamplight. Her lips...

  My gaze hardened as I studied them. They were so damn beautiful. Soft and full and... perfect, just like everything else about her. “You are not always careful,” I told her as I traced the line of her bottom lip with my thumb. Then kissed it, just like I’d kissed her ear. Soft. Gentle. Sweet. “I know I said spontaneity was a good thing but you scared me
tonight. Never do that again. You’re far too special to risk injuring yourself out of boredom or as part of some silly prank.”

  “Special, huh?” Her smile mocked me. “Why’s that? ‘Cause I make movies? ‘Cause I’m a ‘star’? You know what that’s been good for, Mike? Not much.”

  I shook my head. “You know better than that, don’t you? You’re not special because you’re a star. You’re a star because you’re special. You have a quality abut you that would shine through even if you were a... even if you were a garage mechanic in work boots and greasy overalls.”

  “If I were what?” She laughed softly. “Oh, I’d be a real special mechanic, all right. What are you thinking? I don’t know anything about cars, other than how to drive one!”

  I sighed. “Okay, maybe that was a bad example, but you know what I’m saying. Don’t you?”

  “Actually,” she murmured, maneuvering herself around on the bed until she was facing me, still on her knees, the sheet still gathered just below her waist. “Right now I’m more interested in what you’re not saying.”

  Huh? Distracted by the slipping of the sheet, by the jiggling of her breasts as she repositioned herself, it seemed I’d missed a connection. “What am I not saying?”

  “You’re not saying, ‘where’s the grape?’.”

  “Oh. Right.” My glance went to the bowl on the nightstand. How could I have forgotten? Dinner and sex. The two things we were still pretending were all we had going for us. Stifling a sigh, I reached over and plucked a grape from the bowl, rolling it between my fingers while I considered my next step. “So, how shall we do this?” I mused aloud. Not really a question.

  “However you want to,” Claire murmured quietly, as she continued to kneel before me, hands clasped loosely in her lap. Waiting. Smiling.

  If I’d had any lingering questions left about whether or not she understood how much it turned me on to take control, her smile would have put them to rest. Oh, yeah. She knew.

  “Open,” I ordered quietly.

  Her lips parted. I thrilled to the sight, to the quick flush that warmed her cheeks, to the look in her eyes as they locked with mine. I held the grape between her lips. She waited.

  “Close.”

  She did.

  It was hard to tell whose heart was beating faster.

  As I clasped her face between my hands, her eyes fell shut. Tilting her head to the side, I lowered my mouth to hers. One bite of grape. Two. Three. That’s all it took and then it was just my mouth on hers. Nibbling. Licking. Feasting on her sweet taste, her soft lips.

  “Kiss me,” I murmured. And she did; her lips questing, searching. Her tongue matching mine, stroke for stroke.

  She sighed softly when I pulled away. Her eyes opened slowly, mischief sparking within them. “I have to admit it. You do that much better than Zoe.”

  I snorted. “Thank you.”

  ’Better than Zoe--or anyone else I’ve played this game with.’ That’s what I wanted to hear her say. I picked another grape, stroked it across her cheek, over her lips. Her mouth opened.

  I shook my head. “Nope. Not there.”

  Over her chin and down her throat, I dragged the grape; down to the middle of her chest and then I stopped. As beautiful as her bare breasts were, there was no way they could hold a grape between them--not without some help.

  I withdrew my hand. “It seems we have a slight problem.”

  Claire glanced down, following my gaze. “I see what you mean. Not much cleavage that way, is there?”

  “Not really.”

  “All right,” Claire murmured as she crossed her arms at the wrists, re-clasped her hands and pressed. “What about this?”

  “Perfect.”

  Dipping my head, I kissed the soft juncture of her breasts and then lodged the grape between them. I sat back, smiling. “Why, my dear Miss Calhoun, it appears you have a piece of food caught in your décolletage.” I peered closer. “Is that a grape?”

  “Is it?” Claire’s eyes widened in a look of mock alarm that would have been perfect were it not for the hint of a smile on her lips. “Oh, no!” she gasped breathlessly. “Whatever shall I do?”

  “Allow me to assist you in removing it,” I said gravely, leaning into her.

  “No!” she gasped again and shrank away from me.

  What? I jerked back, staring at her in confusion. “No?”

  Eyelashes fluttering, she bowed her head and coyly murmured, “I mean, I couldn’t possibly impose on you like that. It’s far too arduous a task.”

  Actors. I chuckled as I lifted her chin on the edge of my hand and trailed kisses down the length of her neck. “Oh, but I insist.”

  I licked along the seam of her breasts, flicked my tongue across the tips of her nipples, enjoying the happy little gasps and murmurs. “Arduous tasks are my specialty.” Finally I scooped the grape up and sat back. I gazed at Claire commandingly, grape between my teeth, and waited.

  But not for long. Hands still clasped between her knees, she leaned forward, obligingly, to take it. I let her take a couple of bites, loving the way her lips brushed softly against my own.

  As soon as the grape was gone I recaptured her mouth. The taste and the heat and the softness of her made my head spin. I grabbed hold of her shoulders and fell back, taking her with me.

  “Wait. Not yet,” Claire protested as she pulled away and sat up again. “There’s more.”

  “More?” I blinked up at her, trying to get my thoughts on track. Not that I wanted to have to think right now--any more than I wanted to wait. “What more?” What now?

  “More to the game, silly.” She eased herself back until she was leaning on her hands, half-reclining on the bed, still partially swathed in the sheet. She smiled wickedly. “While you were in the other room with Zoe, I hid a grape.”

  “You hid it? Where? Here in the bedroom?”

  “Yup.” She nodded. “Definitely in the room.”

  I met her gaze, met the mischief and the fire there and felt my interest rise, felt my cock grow harder in anticipation of what I knew was to come. “And I’m supposed to find it. Is that what you’re saying?”

  “That’s the general idea.”

  “I see.”

  I took hold of the sheet, gave a sharp tug, and whipped it away from her. She gasped in delight, heat rose in her cheeks.

  My smile widened. “Am I getting warm yet?”

  Swiveling her hips provocatively, Claire peeked up at me from between her lashes. ”Well, I certainly hope so, Mike. Otherwise I’m gonna think I’ve lost my touch. But I don’t see you looking yet.”

  “Oh, I’m looking. Believe me, I’m looking.”

  “For the grape,” she replied with false asperity.

  “Right.” Sitting up again, I lifted one of her feet to my mouth. “The grape. I think I’ll start my search here.”

  She moaned as I bit her big toe softly and then edged my tongue into each of the spaces between her toes.

  “Nope, no grape here,” I murmured as my mouth moved slowly down the sole of her foot.

  Claire’s eyes were half closed, her voice heavy with desire. “No, huh? Better check the other one too, while you’re at it.”

  “Good idea.” I switched feet, sucked each of her toes in turn. “Not here either.”

  She sighed happily, wiggling her toes ‘til I had to bite down on them to make her stop. “Mm. Mike, you really have the most wonderful mouth.”

  “Thank you,” I said as I kissed them one last time and took hold of her ankles. “I try. But now I believe it’s time to widen the search parameters.” I ran my hands up the insides of her legs easing them apart. “Widen being the operative word here, of course.”

  Claire laughed softly. “Of course.”

  Grinning back at her, I pushed at her knees, spreading her legs even wider. Her sex glistened invitingly; soft, pink folds that almost concealed the curve of the grape. “Well, what have we here?” I leaned closer, reached out and ran a finger aro
und the grape, circling it, stroking and teasing her swelling flesh until her body trembled beneath my touch. Then I glanced back up at her face. “That wasn’t so hard to find. Now was it?”

  Claire sucked in air and forced a smile. “Game’s not over yet, sport. You still have to get it out. And mouth only. No hands.”

  “There are rules for this sort of thing?” I stared at her in surprise. “Oh, no, I don’t think so.” And if there were, I was pretty sure I should be the one to be setting them. “What do you have against hands, anyway?”

  “There have to be rules, Mike. Otherwise, what kind of game would it be? And I don’t have anything against hands. It’s just... well, Zoe doesn’t have any, does she? And if she can do--What? What’s wrong?”

  “Zoe?” I felt my mouth gape open. “Damn it, Claire. Tell me you did not try this with that bird?”

  “What?” She stared at me, her eyes blank, her face perplexed, and then, “Oh!” Comprehension flooded her face and she collapsed backwards onto the bed, shaking with laughter. “Oh, my God. Mike! Of course I didn’t! That would, that would just be... bent.”

  “To say the least.” And while I had nothing whatsoever against being bent or twisted, in general, in this particular case... just thinking about it made me wince.

  “That’s not even funny. I can’t believe you thought of something like that.”

  “Me?” I stared at her outraged. “No. You’re the one who thought it!”

  “Well, clearly I didn’t. Farthest thing from my mind.”

  “Then why bring it up? You mentioned Zoe and if you hadn’t...”

  Claire sighed. “Don’t be ridiculous. I was just going to point out that Zoe does amazing things using nothing but her mouth. And that I would have thought someone like you could do... well, almost as much.”

  “Almost as much?”

  “Can you climb ropes, Mike? Or open doors, or swing from a perch using just your mouth? Or crack nuts? I don’t think so.”