The Bluffing Game

by Verona Vale

  I laughed at the fun of seeing him so giddy, and undid the bows of my bikini and let it fall to the sand, revealing my breasts to him then rubbing our nipples together bare. He reached his head up and kissed my lips, and I kissed back, and we took turns sucking each other’s lower lip, playing for a moment before letting our tongues meet and taste each other.

  I pulled his head down and thrust my nipple into his mouth, and he licked and sucked happily, the sensation building, and I switched him to the other one, back and forth until I was so far gone there wasn’t even an island, just my own furnace of a body, and I reached behind me and grabbed his firm crotch, squeezed him through his swimsuit, and he moaned louder and I loved it. He moved his mouth around my chest and kissed the softer flesh of my breasts, and then he spanked me once, just enough to show me he liked it as rough as I did, and then it was his turn to flip me on my back and say to me, in a husky whisper that tickled my ear, “What would you like now?”

  I opened my legs and wrapped them around him, and said, “Just go where I lead you.”

  He kissed my neck and shoulders more, and I ran my hands through his hair and grabbed fistfuls of it and pushed his head down. He kissed my nipples more, and I let the sensation flood my whole chest before I pushed him down further. He ran his tongue over my ribs and kissed each of my abs. I pushed him lower. He pulled one string from the bikini bow at my hip, then yanked my last piece of clothing off. It was thrilling. He kissed the nooks between my abs and legs, sucked my hipbones, kissed my thighs, teasing me, and when I was about to happily complain that he should stop dawdling, he dove in and pressed his soft tongue to my very wet ladybits and sent an electric jolt up every inch of my spine.

  I still held his hair in one hand, and with the other I massaged my breasts. I let out little noises of happiness and encouragement, moving my hips in time to his mouth, and felt my body glowing with pleasure wherever he licked me, glowing until the glow grew and spread to my stomach and chest and lungs, until my legs shook and my hands dug into the sand, until I grabbed his bulging arms and pulled him back up to me, sucked his lips, tasted myself, and slipped my fingers inside his swimsuit. I pulled it down, released his hot, stiff cock, and looking him in his gorgeous ice eyes guided him inside me. He was long, and I felt him move deep inside, and I took his hard buttocks in my hands and squeezed them, slapped them, held him tight with my legs still around his back, and moved with him while we kissed and lost any need for words, until we were talking fully with our bodies, thinking with them, being them, sharing them, locking them together. I held his hips and stroked his back as he moved, faster, still faster, his strong pelvis tight as a drum, and I let the glow fill my body from fingertips to toes, let it be me, let myself be the ocean and sand all around, let what little was broken of me escape in my shouts at the intensity, until I was nothing but perfect pleasure inside, nothing but peace.

  We lay on the sand entangled and naked, warm and wet, panting and sighing, running our fingers over each other’s skin with what little energy we had left.

  “Thank you,” I said, my breathy voice acting on its own. “Thank you.” And I meant it.

  “You’re amazing,” he said, still out of breath himself. “You’re wonderful.”

  The quiet waves rolled over our legs. The high sun hung warming our skin. The palm trees hissed in the wind.

  Our minds lay empty. Our bodies lay perfectly relaxed. Our delicate souls lay entwined, even if only for a moment.

  Five

  I don’t know how long we lay in the sand. I might have fallen briefly into sleep. But after a time the reverie faded, his body on mine became unbearably heavy, the rising tide of the ocean felt cold, the sand on my back sorely itched, and I rolled out from under him. I gathered my swimsuit from the sand, pushed myself to my feet, and out of my tote bag fished a towel to wrap myself in. Victor sat up, watching me at first, then turned his eyes to the ocean and let it roll over his seat in the sand. He pulled his knees close, stood, and walked naked into the surf. When he was waist deep, he dove and again swam with everything he had. I waited for him at first, and wondered if this was his way of not staying the night, or whether the sea was simply a compulsion and whenever he saw it, he had to master it.

  I was a slave sometimes to my own such terrified compulsions, forcing myself to run and to prove I was master of myself and my body and my life. That I was not weaker alone.

  I grew frightened all at once that Victor didn’t want me to be there when he came back, and so, wrapped in my towel, I carried my things back through the palm trees and up the cold stone steps to my room. I locked the door behind me, irrationally, and dumped all I carried on the floor of the massive bathroom, turned on the hot water and stepped into the shower.

  Somehow this was reality. The sex, the delightful sex I still felt in the tiredness of my hips and thighs, was a passing fantasy the hot water was washing me clean of. A memory I now carried as a slight soreness between my legs and a tightness in my core, a little piece of my personhood I had opened and let one more man explore. I sat down in the stall and let the hot water run over all of my skin, breathing in steam and holding myself and wishing I could identify the reason for the sudden surge of emptiness I felt. The thought of seeing Victor again was stretched full of so many different feelings—intimacy, trust, connection, affection, but also fear, disappointment, longing. Had he enjoyed me and then discarded me? No, he had simply gone out for another swim. I hadn’t given him the chance to reject. Because I couldn’t bear it. I had run from him first. I had to be the one who didn’t stay the night.

  I let the water run a long time, hoping it would wash these misgivings down the drain like so much dead skin. He had been hesitant, respectful, even gentlemanly. I had been forthright, encouraging, possessive. I wanted him now more than ever, but not as a mere sexual partner. I wanted to fall asleep in his arms and wake with my cheek to his chest in the morning. I wanted a lover.

  I stood up and turned off the water. It was all clear now. I had run from it for who knew how long, but there it was. I didn’t want an affair, a fling, a dalliance. Sure, I wanted sex, but getting that I had mastered. Beneath it all, I wanted security, predictability, comfort. Those had been elusive a long time, ten years, evading me in my brief relationships ever since I broke up with Nick.

  Really, said the severe part of me, you want a relationship? You’re powerful. You’re in control. You’re not ever weaker alone.

  No, I answered myself, I’m not. But damn if I’m not fucking lonely. I don’t need to be defined by a man, or even be defined by a relationship with one. But I want one, and whatever I want I work very hard to get.

  It’s gonna be a lot of work. You don’t really know him yet, and you don’t know if he’s got any interest beyond the sex. He might not be the one for it.

  True, I admitted. But I may as well find out.

  It was evening as I came out of the shower and put on a silk robe. I carried the bottle of champagne to the room’s kitchen and popped the cork over the sink. I filled a glass, curled up in an armchair where I could watch the sunset, and called Nick.

  “Enjoying your getaway, June?”

  “I slept with the client.”

  “Jesus. Don’t lose your career over this. Word gets around, you know. Billionaires talk to each other.”

  I took a swig of champagne. “Whatever. I can handle it. I just wanted you to know I’m having a great time, and I wanted your advice on a very risky endeavor.”

  “Pretend it didn’t happen. Keep it all business from now on.”

  “That’s not what I meant.”

  “You’re doing some other risky endeavor?”

  “I kind of want to try to keep seeing him.”

  “Oh shit, you mean you’re falling for him? Like for real?”

  “A little. Or, a lot. He’s such a gentleman, Nick.”

  “He’s a billionaire. He has to be. You haven’t already talked about your deepest dreams and fears, have you?”
<
br />   “You joke, but I kind of know what his dream is. He’s a little boy who wants to be an astronaut at heart.”

  “And what are you gonna do if you lose this case?”

  “I’m not going to lose it. It’s a shoo-in. The only reason he hasn’t won yet is that he hasn’t trusted his lawyers until now.”

  “So you plan to just… I don’t know, not fly home when it’s done?”

  I drained the champagne flute empty and refilled it. “Well, that’s why I called you. I wanted to see if you had any ideas.”

  “You want me to help you find excuses for staying with him longer?”

  “I don’t know, I just… I just want you to tell me it’s okay, that I’m not crazy, that I can pursue this and you’re not going to judge me.”

  “I’m a lawyer, not a judge.”

  “You know what I mean. I just want to make sure I’m not completely separated from reality.”

  “Well, creating separation from the real world is kind of what island resorts are designed to do.”

  “It’s all real, though. He really does own all of this.”

  “Listen, June, I’m not going to tell you it’s a bad idea again, but repeat to me the first thing you said.”

  I thought for a second. “I slept with a client.”

  “Now imagine telling that to a senior partner.”

  He was so right. I hated how right he was.

  “Once you get home and think back to all this,” he said, “I can take a pretty good guess how you’re going to be feeling about it.”

  Terrible. Unless Victor really was the gentleman I took him for. It was possible it was all a façade. But what a man does in bed—or on the beach—with a woman says a lot about him as a person. And I’d liked what I’d seen so far. “So you think I should clear my head. Sleep on this.”

  “Under ordinary circumstances, that’s exactly what I’d say. People are unpredictable, though. They’re kind of like hornet’s nests. I think you need to do what you’ve always been best at, though, which is following your goal until you achieve it.”

  “My goal is to get to know him better and let him know I’m interested in seeing if this can be more than just an affair.”

  “What obstacles are there, besides the fact that if things continue to go well, you’ll be leaving in another few days?”

  “That’s kind of the biggest one. The other is that if things don’t go well, and I’m here for longer, there’s going to be tension. He also apparently sleeps with his House Mistress sometimes, on a purely no-strings-attached basis.”

  Nick was silent for a second. “You know, June, I don’t think I’m qualified for this type of counsel. I don’t have a psychology degree.”

  “Well what would you do if you were in my place?”

  “Stick to business.”

  “I mean really in my place. Like if you really wanted to continue this. For real.”

  “Oh June. I don’t know. I can hardly believe this is you I’m talking to. What about being that strong, independent, career-driven woman who puts her own life first?”

  “Nick, I am so goddamn sick of my life right now. I just left myself vulnerable and intimate with someone I just met, and I can’t get over how wonderful it was. And the thought that I could be so close with somebody, again, and let that just be it, just leave him with intimate knowledge of my body and nothing else, just leave it at that, I can’t handle it. I thought that was what I wanted, just an affair, just a fling, but it’s not. That doesn’t make me happy the way it used to. To look at him tomorrow as if we didn’t share that, it would just feel empty and depressing.”

  “Career’s not enough anymore, I guess.” There were so many layers underneath that comment that I didn’t bother trying to untangle them all.

  “It was enough for a long time,” I said. “I’m stable now. I have solid credibility, a nice house, everything I wanted. I’ve arrived. And I’ve done it completely on my own. I’m proud of that. I’m just lonely.”

  “Well, I guess if it were me, I would test myself. Go on a date with someone else. Make sure that just because I’m ready for a relationship I’m not automatically latching on to the first person I see.”

  “That’s good advice. That’s true.” I poured a third glass of champagne.

  “Great. So what are you going to do?”

  I took a long deep breath like I’d learned in my yoga classes. “I’m going to make sure I want to be with Victor because I like him, not just because I want to be in a relationship generally. And if I decide I do like him as much as I think I do, I’m going to pursue this.”

  “Don’t rush this just because of the time limit, though. The heart is a delicate, fickle thing. It puts down roots quickly and cries in pain every time it’s repotted.”

  “That’s really unpleasantly poetic, but I’ll keep it in mind. Thanks, Nick.”

  “And make sure you don’t do anything that might cause you to lose all that you’ve worked for.”

  “I’ve already entered those waters. I have no choice now but to navigate them.”

  “Good luck.”

  Indeed. I spun the glass of champagne between my fingers and thought, some mess you’ve gone and thrown yourself into. But June Jansen was never one to back down from a challenge, and I wasn’t about to make this the exception. Victor Sterling, prepare to be pursued for the long haul. The chase is about to begin.

  Six

  I started the next day by dressing in a suit with a pencil skirt and a low-cut button-down top, professional but with room for flirting. Already I was planning out in my head the attitude I would show Victor—not saying a word about yesterday’s romp on the sand, but sending clear signals of tender trust and closeness. A hand on his arm here, a finger in his hair there—wordless ways to show I not only enjoyed our jump over the professional-personal boundary, but was comfortable keeping it going, not at all ashamed of it, and still more than attracted to him. If he turned me down, if I was just a notch in his bedpost (I dismissed this thought immediately: he had been too hesitant for that, unless he was an Oscar-worthy faker), or if all he wanted from me was sex and legal advice, then I would certainly have less sadness seeing his island shrink in the window when I took on my return flight back to the mainland.

  I couldn’t pinpoint why I felt so certain our encounter had been more than just two people using each other. Maybe it was the way he had asked me what I wanted, how easy and comfortable the communication had been between us, how smooth it made the lovemaking, how satisfying the afterglow. Sure, he was a good lover, he knew how to treat a woman well, but his hesitancy was so endearing. Yes, I had pushed him a little, and I could have stopped, but he had jumped right in every step of the way, once he had taken that step. His hesitancy wasn’t for lack of wanting me. That I was certain of. I hadn’t coerced him, only encouraged, shown that I was ready and willing. And the fact that once I had done so, he had been so into it, well, it left me with the perhaps wishful thinking that the reason he had hesitated was to makes sure I was really OK with it, that he wasn’t crossing any lines I didn’t want him to. And damn if that wasn’t the most attractive reason to be hesitant.

  All that remained today was to discover how he felt about continuing our affair, and perhaps making it more than that. As I put on my earrings and put the finishing touches on my hair, I was excited in a way I hadn’t been in a long time. The few one-and-done affairs I’d had over the years were fun, but this was bursting, it felt, with possibility.

  I came out of my room to see whether Victor wanted to eat breakfast with me. I walked down the long hallway and found Victor and Andrea in the living room, sitting across from each other on two couches and talking. I couldn’t hear them from the other end of the room, and when Andrea saw me she stood, and Victor did too, his blond head and broad shoulders turning to face me. When I saw his expression I knew something had gone very wrong, and before I could ask what, or even wish him good morning, he tossed me a smartphone.

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sp; “They called your bluff.”

  It had made the front page of the Wall Street Journal. Only a side column, and a short article mostly quoting a press release. The opposition had filed formal charges. A court date was pending.

  “They’re trying to smoke you out,” I said. “This is their last ditch effort. Their ace in the hole. They have nothing left.”

  “They’re taking me to trial.”

  “No, they’re not. They’re going to offer to drop the charges if you give them what they want.”

  “But I’m not going to give them what they want.”

  “That’s right. You’re going to act like this doesn’t even bother you because you know they’ll lose and that you can handle the bad press.”

  “Can I? Who do you think I’ve been talking to all morning?”

  “Your PR department, I assume.”

  “They’re not happy.”

  “Well, let them be unhappy. Dealing with bad press is their job.”

  “My investors aren’t happy either.”

  “Them we can handle too.”

  “We?”

  “If you can’t calm them down yourself, send them to me.”

  “You think you can calm a raging stampede of rhinos?”

  “I can be persuasive.”

  “Oh, I know that too well.”

  That stung. I didn’t know if he meant the sex or the way I had left things with the opposition, but either way it cut deep. “You said you trusted me.”

  “And you said they wouldn’t file charges.”

  “They’ll never take you to court.”

  “I’ll bet they won’t.” He put his hands in his pockets and started pacing.

  “They know they don’t have a case.”

  “And maybe they know something you don’t. My stock is already falling. If a big player steps out, they all will. That can’t happen.”