Ribbon

"Chocolate?" he asked. He was leaning forward, a small rectangle of Callebaut chocolate balanced on the tip of one finger. Sarah struggled to say anything, much less "Yes." She nodded and leaned toward his outstretched hand before opening her lips to receive from him.

He smiled quietly as she suckled his fingertip to clean it of softened chocolate, her eyes darting between nowhere and his own unblinking blue eyes. When she finished licking his finger, he dropped it to her chest and traced a wet circle around one nipple.

"You found the book?"

The book. Five different bookstores on four trips over the course of two weeks before she found the book. It was a musty place overseen by a gray man with white and green hair, straight like Andy Warhol's, and tobacco-stained long fingers. J. Robertson Merkin, his card said. Slow Hand, Women Writing Erotica, edited by Michelle Slung.

"Yes."

"Did you touch the bookseller, as I asked?"

"Yes. I made sure to touch his fingers as he handed the book to me."

"What happened then?" His questions were simple, direct, and delivered with a kind curiosity that made Sarah both comfortable and wary. Nobody was this kind, this curious, and yet completely safe. She considered his face. It was slightly lined, there was a bare spot in his chin whiskers, and the clarity of his blue eyes was evident even through his wire-framed glasses. He was lean, about her height, maybe twenty years older than her. White hair and beard around a soft and patient smile.

"I'm not sure I know what you mean." She stalled.

"What thought came to mind when you touched him as I had asked you to do?"

"I can't."

'But you must."

Yes, she did, really. Sarah gathered some courage, not easy to do in her condition: naked, arms bound behind her back by gold Christmas curling ribbon, and began to squeak an answer, her answer.

"I felt my pussy muscles clench. I felt a long thin prick from many years ago. I wanted to throw the book back in his face, but I knew that would mean not seeing you today. And I couldn't stand that, either. I paid for the book and left without another word."

"Yes." He watched her eyes wander from her knees to the mirror on the wall above his right shoulder, and to the coffee cup in his hand. "Tell me about the long thin prick from long ago. There's a story there?"

"Yes." Fuck, is this all he did, ask questions? For seven months they'd corresponded by Private Message, by email, with phone calls and text messages. So many times he'd talked her through to orgasm and now all he wants to do is ask questions? Dammit.

"I was a in my third year of college. We had just finished spring finals and Amy, my roommate, bought pizza for our final lunch together before packing up. I bought two bottles of wine, Two Buck Chuck. It's cheap, you wouldn't know it."

"I know Two Buck Chuck. It's misnamed now. Five Buck Chuck doesn't sound as good, though, does it?"

"After lunch Amy said she wanted to go look one last time for this book by Anais Nin so sure, I said yes. The bus ride across town took an hour but we finally made it to the old used books and antiques store that she thought would have the book. Just before we got off the bus, Amy said she wanted to play Dare. It's a game we used to play. We'd dare each other to do something outrageous. Took turns making the first dare. It was her turn.

" 'I want you to fuck a guy in a public place and I get to choose him.' The fucking wasn't going to be the hard part. I was afraid of her taste. I don't think she liked men. We had been in the bookstore for twenty minutes before she found her book. She was ultra excited, and when she came up to me to show me the book - I was wandering around in the sci-fi aisles - she pointed to an old man wearing a beat-up Army jacket. He had at least a week's beard in patchy places on his face. 'Come on' she said. 'It's him.'

"I shook my head no, but she just grinned and said again, 'Come on. Do him or else.'

"We walked to the old guy and Amy got his attention. 'Hey, if you can get it up in the next five minutes, my friend here will let you fuck her right here.' I tried to walk away but Amy had blocked the aisle. Old guy just picked up his head and laughed soundlessly. He stared at me, looked me over from head to toe, then he nodded toward a corridor leading further back into the rat's nest of the bookstore, like we should follow. Back among the old Latin grammar books and copies of Homer, he unzipped his pants and dammit, his cock was as hard as could be.

"So I pulled up my skirt, backed up to him against the Latin grammar shelves, and he fucked me. Didn't take long, but I came anyway. Amy fingered herself while she watched."

"Interesting." He took a sip of coffee and Sarah squirmed. "What happened to the old man's seed?" More moisture soaked into the rolled-up towel between her thighs.

"We were on the bus and almost home when I said it to Amy. 'I want you to suck that old fucker's cum from my twat.' She didn't blink. She didn't wince. She smiled.

"When we got back to the apartment, I sat on our couch and lit a cigarette. Without taking it out of my mouth, I lifted my hips and pulled off my panties and lifted my skirt over my waist. Amy didn't rush over, she took the time to pull off her top and fold it on the table. She pulled down her jeans and folded them. No underwear. Amy.

"She slid under me on her back and started to suck on my pussy. She was noisy and eager. I hadn't done it with a girl before but I don't know about her. I pressed down on her face and she started to finger herself through her satiny thin brown bush. After a while she wriggled out and kneeled as if to kiss me. She opened her mouth and showed me the cum and saliva in her mouth. She French kissed me and I swallowed it."

"Were you two lovers for long?"

Sarah looked away, trying to read a small-print notice affixed to the wall next to the thermostat. "No. We both left school the next day and I never saw her again. It was twenty years ago, more actually."

"It seems odd that you'd stop contact so suddenly. Why didn't you two stay in touch?"

"She caught me giving her brother a blowjob. He had driven down to take her home on Saturday. His truck was packed with all her stuff. While she went to turn in her keys, he and I had a beer to cool off. When she came back, I was blowing him. She was pissed and they both left without saying anything to me. I think she transferred to a private school for her last two years."

"She thought you cheated on her, I suppose. But you remember that old man's cock inside your cunt. Do you remember every cock you've had?"

"Yes, no. No, I don't remember them all. Not too many, just some didn't matter." Her shoulders shook as if she'd been force-fed bad milk.

He sipped his coffee slowly, holding the cup on his knee between sips.

The coffee. Why hadn't he asked for the coffee like he said he had in the past? He said he liked to be given blowjobs while he drank his coffee. They had kissed deeply as soon as the hotel room door had clicked shut and then he'd said, "Please, undress. And then make me some coffee, please." She'd been wet all day, waiting for him to arrive, and her hips were visibly twitching as he kissed her. But then, when she'd brought him his coffee and stood before him naked, begging him with her eyes to signal her to get on her knees before him, he just thanked her and directed her to put her hands behind her back. Then he patiently wrapped her lower arms in the gold Christmas curling ribbon, loosely but still she couldn't move her arms. Then he directed her to sit on the bed. Straddling the corner of the bed, with a rolled up towel beneath her lower lips. Exposed to him while he sat with his right leg draped over his left knee in an easy chair barely two feet from her knees. Wearing loafers and black socks.

He unwrapped the chocolate again, and broke off a small rectangle, which he placed on a fingertip. He held it in front of him for two, maybe three minutes. It softened.

"Chocolate?" He offered it to her as he had done before, as priest to communicant. Was she penitent? He didn't think so.

Again Sarah pulled the chocolate offering from his finger with lips delicately formed. And again she returned to his extended finger and fellated it clean. She sucked at his tip as if it might somehow give up his seed. Her eyes were locked on his face, and he returned the gaze calmly.

He lowered his now-clean finger to her other nipple, and wound a tight circle around it before settling back into his chair. The nipple was taut, fiercely proud of the flesh of her rounded breast. Not small, these breasts, but not overly large and definitely fitting to her very much. He knew he would enjoy them later.

"And you. Do you remember every pussy?" Her voice was many times more steady than she felt.

"Yes. Not so many, perhaps, but each memorable in her own way. They all meant a great deal to me, my past women. As you do."

Fuck! How did he do that? He was so calm, moved so slowly, wouldn't crack, and why wasn't he showing any signs of being horny? Or was he? She stared for a moment but then looked away when she felt her pussy lips twitch and her hood spread around her clit.

She looked at the clock on the table, next to the coffee cup and the scissors and gold curling ribbon he'd asked her to bring. Four fifteen. She'd been sitting naked in front of him for ninety minutes, answering his questions, aching for a comfortable position that didn't put too much pressure on her wrists behind her, leaking arousal onto the towel between her legs. Ninety minutes and he had barely touched her. Well, her lips when he kissed her, then he'd caressed her ass cheeks as she turned so he could inspect her, and then her arms as he bound her. Then he'd guided her onto the bed before settling back into the easy chair and sipped his coffee agonizingly slowly.

"What do you need, Sarah? From me?"

Jeez, why didn't he just ask her to explain something easy, like Hawking's theory of black holes or why some people voted for complete idiots for President? Why this? What DID she need? Was she supposed to know? Think, Sarah. Stay in the moment, that's it. Stay in the moment.

He stood up into the small space between them. Sarah looked up into his face like a child staring at the full moon. Wonderment and questions raced from her eyes across her cheeks.

"What do you need?" he repeated. He offered her another small bite of chocolate, but she shook her head no. He ate it unceremoniously.

She could see the outline of his hardened prick beneath his gray slacks, made more obvious by a small dark spot in the fabric. It was inches from her face. Sarah tried to lick her lips, but her tongue was made of sandpaper.

He slid a finger along his lips and then offered the finger to Sarah. She kissed the tip and then slowly pulled it into her mouth.

"What do you need from me, Sarah?" he whispered.

Tears formed and began to trickle down her nose. She just shook her head from side to side but wouldn't let go of his finger tip.

"I understand. This makes you nervous, I make you nervous. Maybe I've asked too much of you." He stepped to the side and pulled his finger from between her lips.

"But I need to hear it from you, my dear." His words hit her soul in the same calm pattern she'd felt when he first said hello at the airport earlier in the afternoon. It wasn't a demand and yet it felt like an order. What to say? How to say it? He knew everything about her now. Did he still want her, or was this his way of letting her down gently? If she couldn't say it, would he just leave and go back home?

Sarah forced some words past her lips. "I need...I need you..." He watched patiently as she suffered through each syllable.

"I need you..." she paused again and lowered her head "I need you to tell me you want me, that I'm beautiful and that you want me to serve you."

He smiled. "Do you want to serve me?"

"Yes, yes I do. Please."

"Very good" He stepped close to her, leaned into her face and kissed her mouth with the pressure of a butterfly landing on sore feet. She felt his finger tracing along her thigh toward her pulsing slit. He pushed the finger ever so little into her slit and pulled it back.

"Is this what you need, Sarah?" He'd stopped the butterfly kiss only long enough to ask and then he returned to caressing her lips with his mouth and her slit with his finger. Sarah groaned and forced her tongue into his mouth and began to greedily explore him.

"What do you need, Sarah, from me?"

"I need you to fuck me however you wish, to use all of me to drain out your hunger and then rest before using me again. I need you to know that I am yours for your needs and not for mine."

He pulled his finger from her wetness and offered it to her lips. She cleaned it quickly, never taking her eyes from him. Had she screwed up? What would he say? Her body was shaking from need.

"Very good then. You will have all of that, and more, I promise."

"Kiss me again, please."

He touched the underside of her chin and lifted slightly. He raised his head in a signal to rise. She scootched herself off the corner of the bed and he pulled her into his chest before kissing her. With unbridled ardor. He stroked the curve of her ass and slid a finger down her crack, across her tighter opening and into the heat that was her leaking core. He pulled her tighter as she shuddered against his shoulder.

"Now, let's undo this binding. You'll want to shower before we get dinner."

"Yes, sir. I'd like that."