by Bonnie Dee
“Want me to go down on you?” he murmured.
“No. This is nice.” But she rolled over, pulling Ryan on top of her.
He studied the woman spread out beneath him, so beautiful and open, and not just her body. Monica’s eyes were clear and honest. They didn’t hold secrets. She was transparent and right now desire and…something more, emotion, shone in them.
Ryan moved in her with gentle, insistent pressure, barely withdrawing on each stroke. The rhythm was almost hypnotic. He felt a sense of suspended time in the dim, quiet room. It seemed possible to make this moment last forever if he desired.
Monica arched beneath him and pulled on his hips. “Harder now.”
He obliged, withdrawing completely on the next stroke and sinking deeply into her delicious warmth. Again and again he repeated the move until his control began to slip and he moved faster. Mounting tension gripped him and suddenly, a euphoric burst of fireworks exploded as he came. His cock pulsed deep inside her.
Monica wrapped her arms around him and held him close.
He collapsed on her, turning his face into her neck to inhale her scent. Her hair smelled like shampoo and her skin like soap and woman. A rush of warmth filled him. He was grateful for having found Monica, held her and lain with her, if only for a while.
He wished it could be longer. He wished he could have more.
Chapter Six
Monica held Ryan tight as he nuzzled into the crook of her neck and shoulder. She smiled, sexually satisfied and also happy that she’d given him pleasure. She wondered if he enjoyed sex with all of his clients, or if tonight had been as special for him as it had been for her.
Since he’d admitted he was just starting out as an escort, she wondered if he’d been with other clients besides her yet. The idea of him fucking other women was both upsetting and strangely exciting.
Ryan rolled onto his back and exhaled a long breath. Monica snuggled up to his side with her head resting on his chest, one hand lazily tracing his nipple.
Ryan ran his hand lightly up and down her side. “Can I ask you something?”
She shivered at the feel of his palm running over her skin. “Yeah.”
“Your condition, the agoraphobia, how did it start. How long have you been in your house?”
Monica hesitated. She didn’t like to discuss her condition, but Ryan’s ease in asking made her feel comfortable telling him. “I’ve had anxiety attacks since I was about thirteen. I couldn’t stay at a sleepover at a friend’s house without having to go home after a while. It took a while to realize these were more than childish fears, to understand the attacks were an actual condition.”
She shifted, finding a more comfortable position for her head on Ryan’s hard chest. She hated remembering that period when her parents had been convinced the panic attacks were “all in her head.”
“New or stressful situations were always hard for me, but I attended college while living at home and keeping to a routine. The attacks came less often as I got older. By junior year I moved to an apartment with a couple of other girls and held a job with no problem at all. I thought anxiety attacks were something I’d outgrown.”
She leaned up, resting her head on her hand and looking at Ryan. “Do you really want to hear all this?”
“Yes. Go on,” he encouraged, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.
“After college I got a job copy editing at a publishing company. There was a lot of detail work with no room for error. It wasn’t what I’d planned to do but I figured, hey, stepping stone. Then I got involved with Carl. He was an asshole, but by the time I’d figured that out, he’d torn my heart out and shredded it. I was a wreck and the panic attacks came back. I couldn’t even stand to be in the cubicle at my work.”
She stared at the tribal tattoo on Ryan’s arm so she wouldn’t have to see any pity in his eyes.
“I went to a therapist and made some progress on controlling the symptoms, but I also stayed in more and more. My grandmother had left me this house and a small trust fund so I had a place to retreat to. I quit my job and started doing freelance work from home. Pretty soon I wasn’t going anywhere at all.”
A long silence followed. Monica couldn’t believe she’d spilled her life story like that. “Go ahead, say it. Pathetic. I know.”
“That’s not what I was thinking.” Ryan turned on his side to face her, held her chin and tilted her face to his. “I was thinking that for someone who doesn’t deal well with new situations you’ve been very resilient during our encounters. You don’t seem uncomfortable or close to panicking to me.”
“Because you don’t make me nervous. Not even when you’re supposed to be a rapist. I trust you.” She could have told him that being in her own environment was the key. She felt in control here and better able to keep her fears in check. But the fact was, if she’d chosen a different man she might never have had the courage to let him in the door. Almost from the start Ryan had felt as comfortable as an old friend—a friend with a killer body, a dazzling smile, sexy lips and amazing eyes, but still a friend.
“I’ll take that as a compliment, but it doesn’t say much for my acting skills does it? Wasn’t I at all intimidating?”
Monica grinned. “Only in a good way. But in general you just don’t seem that dangerous.”
“Oh, I can be very dangerous.” He started tickling her side with his fingers.
Monica squealed and squirmed toward the far side of the bed.
Before she could blink, he was on her with both hands seeking out her most sensitive spots. He tickled her until tears of laughter ran from her eyes and she was gasping for breath and crying for him to stop.
“You’re not getting a recommendation from me after this,” she said sternly.
“Mm.” He hauled her into his arms and held her close while he nuzzled her shoulder.
When she was sure he wasn’t going to start tickling again, Monica relaxed and enjoyed the cuddling. This part that could never go on long enough.
After a few moments, Ryan’s even breathing told her he’d dozed off. The feeling of his breath warming her neck, his arm resting heavily across her body was comforting. She wanted to remember tonight always, from the exciting role playing to the luxurious shower and the exquisite lovemaking that followed. Monica knew she couldn’t afford to have Ryan a third time so these memories would have to suffice.
Or maybe she could have him, if she stopped ordering takeout and cooked her meals from scratch, or pushed back the re-roofing of her house she’d planned for next summer. It wasn’t as if she needed new clothes since she never went anywhere. There were a lot of corners she could cut and she could start writing faster, turning in more articles. Ryan was definitely worth it.
She gazed at his sleeping face, the long eyelashes fanned against his cheeks and his lips slightly parted. She’d told him everything about herself and still knew so little about him. She wanted more than sex with him. She wanted friendship. A relationship.
Melancholy welled in her as she realized that part couldn’t happen. He was a man she’d hired to have sex with and that was all she could expect from him. But at least she could find a way to afford to see him again for that if nothing more.
She would make this last as long as she could.
Chapter Seven
“So, Monica, sweetheart, what are you going to wear to Barb’s wedding? You should have something new.” Her mom leaned against the kitchen counter and blew across her cup of tea.
Monica wiped the already clean counter vigorously. “Mom, I told you I’m not sure I’ll be able to go, but if I do I’ll wear my blue dress.”
“The blue sheath with the spaghetti straps, asymmetrical hemline, and beading on the bodice? That’s a little dated, honey.”
“Yes, Mom. That’s the one. But like I said, I’m not sure I’m ready to take that step.”
“Have you been taking the baby steps we talked about? Out in the yard, up the sidewalk, a visit home for Sunday dinne
r with me and your father and before you know it you’ll be ready for the wedding. It’s only our relatives. They’re keeping the guest list under a hundred. Nothing stressful there. Just some dancing, eating and celebrating. Honey, you have to give it a try. Barb so wants to see you.” She set her cup on the counter and turned to face Monica. “Your Aunt Helen is throwing a wedding shower for Barb. I’m sure you got an invitation. That will be your trial run.”
“I did get it and the present is wrapped and ready for you to take for me.”
She shook her head. “No. I will not. I don’t want to seem cruel, but it’s time for you to overcome this debility. You need to get out. Your sister and I will be with you every step of the way. All you have to do is make a brief appearance then you can go right back home.”
“Mom, enough! Look, I am making progress. I’ve gone into the backyard every day this week and it’s been ... okay. The first couple of times were rough, but it’s better now. I’m taking those baby steps so please stop pushing.”
“Really? Oh, sweetie, that’s wonderful news.” She made a zipping motion across her lips. “And I won’t say another word about the shower or the wedding or the Hawaii trip, which by the way we bought the tickets for because the deal was for a limited time and we didn’t want to miss out in case you changed your mind, so... Keeping my mouth shut about all of it from now on.”
“Thank you,” Monica said dryly as she ushered her mom to the door.
“But can I say one more thing? Just one? I think the fresh air you’ve been getting is exactly what you’ve needed because, honey, you’re glowing today, absolutely glowing!”
“Goodbye, Mom.” Monica gave her a kiss and hug goodbye and closed the door firmly behind her. She put a hand to her cheek. Glowing, really? It was silly but she had to see what had prompted her mother’s comment.
In the bathroom, she peered at her face in the mirror. Maybe not “glowing,” but a happy smile was trembling behind her eyes and broke through to settle on her mouth unbidden. Excitement flooded her anew as she considered that tonight, after ten long days, she had another date with Ryan.
Monica returned to the kitchen, rinsed her mother’s tea cup and set it in the sink then leaned against the counter to stare out the window at her back yard. Before he’d left last time, Ryan had given her his personal cell number, saying it would be easier for them to connect directly. He’d told her to call or text any time.
She’d stared at his name in her phone but resisted the urge to contact him for days. Instead, she’d used Ryan as sort of dangling carrot for herself. If she could finish writing five assignments, she’d allow herself to call him. If she went outside every day for at least twenty minutes for two weeks straight, she’d earn a text. At the end of that time she would have “earned” Ryan. That was the plan, but by Friday she couldn’t stand it any more and dialed his number.
“Hey, I was beginning to wonder if I’d hear from you again.” Ryan’s voice was warm and welcoming.
She wondered if other clients had this number and how eager he managed to sound for each of them. It was hard to remember his job was to be pleased to hear from a client.
“I’ve been really busy with work this week and I’ve earned a treat.” She’d actually rehearsed the line, practiced giving it a light, casual sound as if she hadn’t been focusing all of her thoughts on this moment.
“I would love to treat you.” His voice lowered seductively. “When do you want me to come over?”
The hair on her arms and neck stood on end. Right now! she wanted to cry, but answered, “Any time this weekend if you have a night free.”
“Shit. I honestly don’t. What about early next week? Is a week night all right? Maybe Tuesday, but a little later than last time. I have a class in the early evening.”
Any day. Any time you say. “Tuesday would work out for me.”
“Good, I’ll see you then.” There was a pause but he didn’t hang up and neither did she. “To tide you over until then do you want to... I mean, if you wanted to, we could talk for a while. The call’s free.”
It took a moment for Monica to realize he was offering phone sex. Her panties grew moist, or rather, damper since her pussy had been responding to his voice from the moment he answered the phone.
“Um, sure,” she finally managed to say. “What class do you have on Tuesday? What are you studying for?”
“Tuesday is an English lit class. I’m still working my way through my gen. eds. At this rate I’m going to be taking classes the rest of my life.”
“What’s your major?”
“I’d like to be an architect, but it’s a long haul. Right now, it feels like I won’t ever get through the undergrad work let alone get my master’s. Not for a long time.”
That comment made Monica feel like a callous bitch. She’d been so concerned about her wants and needs, how long it had been since she’d gotten laid, how good Ryan made her feel, how much she wanted him in her bed again. As if he were some kind of sex machine there to provide her with what she needed. She’d spent little time thinking about why he was working as an escort.
“Something the matter?” he asked.
She realized she’d been quiet too long. “Nothing. I was just remembering when I was in college. I’d forgotten how hard it was to juggle everything. And I was still living at home so I didn’t have to worry about paying rent, cooking meals or even doing my own laundry. My mom does everything if you let her and what eighteen-year-old is going to volunteer to do laundry or clean the house when she doesn’t have to? But it sounds like you have so much to deal with all on your own. Can I ask how old you are?”
“Twenty-three, and still plugging away at basic classes. It’s embarrassing.”
Twenty-three was younger than twenty-seven, but not so very much.
“But I wasn’t suggesting we should talk about me,” Ryan said. “I was thinking more along the lines of ‘What color are your panties?’ or ‘Are you wearing panties? Take them off.’”
Monica laughed. “It so happens I am wearing panties and they are plain cotton and white. No lace, no satin, no thong. Sorry.”
“I can work with white. It’s so ... virginal.” Ryan’s voice dropped to a husky murmur. “Have you ever touched yourself down there while a man was listening? Slip your hand under the elastic of that plain white underwear and put a finger in your pussy. Is it wet?”
“Yes.” Monica was already breathless as she obeyed his command.
“Two fingers in now. Deep inside. How does it feel in there?”
“Hot. Wet. Um, fleshy.”
“Now pull your fingers out slowly. Rub them over your clit and let me hear how that feels.”
Monica complied and a soft moan escaped from her throat. This was infinitely hotter than when she did it alone.
“Good. That sounds so good. I want you to bring those fingers up to your face now. Smell yourself then put them in your mouth and lick them clean. Taste yourself. Find out how good you taste to me. You’re hesitating. I can hear you thinking too hard. Just do it.”
Monica would never have thought to taste her own juices, but this was different, following Ryan’s orders. It felt decadent and erotic. She did as he bid, wrinkling her nose a little at the flavor. If that tasted good to him, his taste buds were off.
“I did it,” she said softly to signal him on.
“Okay. Now I want you to reach under your shirt and touch your breasts. Stroke them lightly until your nipples peak.
Feel how hard they are?
Pinch them. Twist them a little.”
Each command was followed by a pause while Monica complied. She gasped at the pain mingled with pleasure.
“Imagine I’m biting you there. Pinch harder. Now touch your clit with your other hand.”
His husky voice was hypnotic. Monica felt like she was in a trance as she continued to obey every instruction. She continued to pluck at her nipple while rubbing her clit. She closed her eyes and concentrated on his
voice, trying to complete the illusion that it was his hands on her body.
“Don’t rub your clit yet. Just touch it lightly at first. Tell me how it feels.”
“Good.” She searched for words, describing her sexual feelings was new to her. “Uh, hot. My p-pussy is aching.”
“Wonderful. Now I want you to—Shit, Monica, I’m at my other job and my supervisor just came in. I have to go now. See you on Tuesday at nine.”
Abrupt silence followed. Monica longed for the old days of a click and a dial tone to tell you the other person had hung up. She felt disoriented. One second he was there in her ear, whispering in her mind, controlling her with his voice and then he was gone.
Supervisor? Other job? Did Ryan ever get any time to rest?
She considered finishing the job he’d started, but masturbating wasn’t what she wanted right now. She wanted Ryan and she’d rather save her desires for Tuesday night.
Monica shivered at the memory of that erotic conversation. She blinked away the memory and refocused on the view outside her kitchen window. Minutes had passed while she stood there reliving the phone call. Her pussy yearned, open and wanting. Not much longer now.
It was, Tuesday at last and she was evidently glowing in eager anticipation of the new delights the night would bring. Monica felt herself growing far too attached to someone so impermanent, but she was too far gone to care. Right now at least she was excited and happy.
If there were disappointment and loneliness later, she would worry about them then.
Chapter Eight
“What’s up with you lately?” Tim asked Ryan as they sat at their usual bar watching basketball and sipping beer. “You seem more stressed out than usual and you’ve always been wound tight.”
