“For pleasure, of course. Have you truly never masturbated?”
“N-not really,” she says. “I don’t like my body that much…I…um—” Her voice trails off.
Never have I met a person who has not explored herself by that age. Nothing about it is bad; it is just so rare, and for all the wrong reasons.
“I devour your body,” I say, and my hands wander on her thigh. “Your body causes me to dream of my hands gliding over it,grasping it, losing myself in it. When I watched you earlier, it was the most wonderful thing I have seen in a very long time.”
This time, not only her cheeks but her entire face flushes.
I lean in on her, and my hand wanders to her inner thigh and further up.
“If you let me, I will show you how to do it tonight,” I whisper in her ear.
She nods.
“Tell me yes or no, be truthful.”
“Yes,” she says with a weak voice.
“Are you scared?” I ask and lean back and let go of her.
“Yes,” she says.
“What are you scared of?”
“That I’m not good enough,” she says.
“I hear you, but you will stop this thought,” I tell her. “What we will do is not about performance. I have absolutely no expectations of you. I wish you to feel yourself tonight, to feel what it is you want and what it is you do not want. I require you to say no, loud and clearly, whenever something does not feel right. Is that something you can do?”
“Yes,” she says, and wipes over her cheek to remove a tear.
“Let’s eat,” I say to reduce the intensity of the situation.
“Why are you doing this?” she asks me after a while.
“Doing what?”
“Me. Dealing with me and my issues.”
“Because I am not dealing with you. I am exploring a woman I find as interesting as appealing,” I say with a smile.
A weak smile appears on her face.
The rest of dinner, we are talking about more superficial topics, something she feels more comfortable with.
We wish Emiliano farewell and leave for the elevators.
We step into it, and before the door is fully closed, I push her by the forehead into the wall with my hand, gliding over it through her hair to cup her head as my lips meet hers. A rather bold move, but three glasses of wine fire my desire and lust.
She melts into my touch.
I kiss her demandingly, with tongue, and when the elevatorsounds with the arrivingding, I let go of her as if nothing had ever happened.
She is not as quick to switch; she is quite a mess. A beautiful one.
Henry waits for us and opens the door to the car, and I let her get in first.
“Home,” I tell Henry, and he nods, maybe an increment too knowingly.
