Slow Surrender (20 page)

“Not yet, sweetness. Soon.” He kissed me again, leaving me breathless and swollen-lipped on the curb outside my apartment.

Wednesday we met in the morning, on the steps of the New York Public Library. He snuck me into the men’s room at the back of the microfilm department and had me bend over in the wheelchair-equipped stall, holding the railing. The next toy was more phallic in shape than the previous, with a bulbous head and ridges along one edge. As he fingered me and teased me, he stroked himself and lay his hard length against one of my buttocks. While I held the toy, he teased at my holes with the head of his cock, smearing my juices around with it and thrusting across the openings without going in. Then he put the toy inside, easing the large head past the point of resistance in my vagina. I tensed for a moment, expecting it to hurt, but his other hand never stopped moving, one index finger circling my clit ceaselessly while he worked it in.

In the stall next to us, some guy was having a coughing fit.

I tried to keep quiet as he worked the glass all the way out and then all the way in again several times. He had found the spot that would make me groan and squeal, and it was difficult to keep quiet. He bade me put my back against the wall and lift up one leg onto the rail. I touched myself while he pushed and pulled at the toy sticking out of me.

I couldn’t keep quiet though as I got closer and closer and finally had to pull my own hands away with a wail or I’d go over the edge. I had spasms deep in my pussy then, but nothing that spilled out into full-blown orgasm.

“Good girl. That’s enough,” he whispered, and kissed me on the hair. “I’ll see you late tomorrow night. Now, do you want to take the piece home or shall I hold on to it for you for now?”

“Oh, could I take it? Please?” I asked.

He chuckled and caressed my cheek. “Can you tell me why you want to when you’re not allowed to come?”

I had to think for a moment. My reaction had been entirely emotional. I just
wanted
to. I tried to articulate a reason. “Um, because I miss you when we’re apart and it’ll make me feel like I have a piece of you with me?”

He nodded and kissed me, sweetly and deeply. “All right.”

He pulled a strappy thing from his trench coat pocket and handed it to me.

“Wear this tomorrow,” he said. “It’ll hold the glass in place inside you. I’ll meet you at your library, about twenty minutes before closing.”

That meant that on Thursday I went to the library with the straps and the glass hidden in my backpack. Becky had given me the idea that we should write a paper together on feminist interpretations of the various versions of the King Cophetua paintings, and I was curious to find what previous scholars had written on the subject. Some of it was so horribly wrong-headed, but I supposed that was true of any scholarly pursuit. Two hours before closing time, I went into the women’s room and put the glass in, then fastened the straps on to hold it inside me, just like he’d said. Under my jeans you couldn’t see a thing.

At twenty till eleven, he waltzed in, showed a guest pass to the guard at the door, and came to plant an almost chaste kiss on my cheek where I was waiting at the reading room. He led me immediately into the stacks and then from behind, put one hand over my mouth and the other into my underwear. He aroused me relentlessly for the next ten minutes, muffling my helpless cries, then letting me go.

“They’ll be looking for us soon,” I said, panting and breathless. “They’re closing up and know how many came in and went out.”

“Then we’d better be quick. Bend over, pants down.”

He loosened the straps and then cut right through my panties with a knife and slid the glass free. The next thing I felt was the head of his cock against my opening. I tensed, wondering if all we’d done so far that week had been enough, wondering what put him in such a hurry. Maybe he was succumbing to all the need built up through the teasing. I wondered if he had been denying himself orgasm as well.

“Just the tip, sweetness,” he said.

He pushed in then, and I stifled a moan. He felt so good! I was eager for more, especially when he fucked me like that, pulling out and pushing in, that small amount of him, at the sensitive edge of my opening.

He moved quickly, pulling back and replacing himself with something hard and rigid. Another of the glass pieces, I assumed. He slid it in and I gasped in intense lust.

“Buckle up,” he whispered.

I adjusted the straps and zipped up my jeans as quickly as I could while he sauntered to the end of the shelves.

“Ah, yes, found everything we needed,” I heard him saying. “Thank you.”

I hurried to join him but the guard had already moved on to look for someone else. We slipped out with one minute to spare before closing time.

Stefan was waiting at the curb, standing beside the door, ready to open it.

I moved toward the car, but James spun me back to look at him. “Alas, my sweet, I have something to take care of. Will you be all right walking the few blocks to your home?”

“Yes,” I said, trying to hide my disappointment.

“I do have some instructions for you.”

“Yes?”

“How do you feel about sleeping with this one inside you tonight? Call me when you wake up in the morning and I’ll come and remove it.”

I felt my insides twist pleasantly at the idea. I’m not even sure why that made me gush with lust. “I would love to. What time?”

“Whenever you wake.”

“What about my roommate?” I had a sudden panic that he was going to push things too far, that she was going to freak out and so was I.

“You’ll come down to the car, dearest,” he said, caressing my hair the way he knew I liked. “No need to bother your roommate.”

“Oh. Thank you.”

He laughed. “Don’t thank me for keeping our best interests in mind.”

“Oh, like almost getting us caught by security was in our best interests?”

He grinned. “Almost caught was part of the plan. We each have the things that thrill us.”

“No kidding.” I put my arms around his neck to kiss him good-bye. “I’ll call you in the morning.”

Of course that morning was Friday. I woke up, brushed my teeth, and ate half a muffin, then brushed my teeth again because of the blueberries. Still in my pajamas and bathrobe, I called him.

“I’m outside,” he said, sounding already quite amused. “You have sixty seconds to get down here.”

Thank goodness I’d brushed my teeth! I ran down and into the car, which was not quite in front of the building but parked at a hydrant with lights flashing. Stefan shut the door behind me and then went around to the driver’s seat to get the car moving.

James was fully dressed in a business suit and tie. Although his first order of business was for me to strip down to nothing but the straps, he seemed to want to talk, not touch me sexually, at first.

“You were telling me you had a job interview a while back, didn’t you?” he said.

“Yes.” I sighed. “But the guy I interviewed with…he was there with my advisor that night you and I met in the bar. I’m pretty sure he threw my résumé out after that.”

“What sort of a job was it?”

“Graphic design. I took some computer design courses when I first started grad school. It pays better than making lattes and cappuccinos.”

“And ostensibly it would be some kind of art?” he asked, though he was giving me the skeptical eyebrow again.

“I guess. Renault introduced me to him, so it seemed like it would be an easy job to get.”

He pursed his lips unhappily. “If he’d offered you a job, you would have taken it?”

“Well, I suppose. At least until I figure out what I want to do with my life.”

“Like when you went into grad school five years ago, thinking you’d figure out what you wanted to do while you were there?”

“Basically.” I felt a little defensive. “You know, I have a parent who is already critical of my life. I don’t need you acting like one, too.”

“I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to be critical. Is your mother very judgmental? I’m curious what she’s said.”

“Well, to hear my mother tell it, grad school is a waste of time, and the only way I’m ever going to have the love of any man is if I pretty myself up and pretend I’m stupid.”

“You don’t honestly believe that, do you?”

“Of course not.”

“It can be difficult to ignore the things we hear over and over all our lives,” he said.

“True. My mother found a formula that worked for her. You’d think I’d get off a little easier since my older sister’s a lesbian. But no, that just made her all the more desperate to turn me into a girly girl.” Something clicked for me then. I knew my mother measured her worth by what the men in her life thought of her. It hadn’t been quite clear to me until now that she measured
my
worth by what the men in my life thought of me. And she measured those men’s worth by what they thought of her. Brad had bowed and scraped for her and, at least when we were with her, had treated me like a princess. Yet he was no Prince Charming. My mother thought he was solid gold, and when I was with him, she treated me like I was, too. I was back to being spun dross now that he was gone.

Warm hands enfolded mine as he moved close to me. “Karina. I know I’ve always insisted on honesty, but that goes tenfold for what I am about to ask. The ball gown. Did you choose it because you wanted it or because you thought I’d want to see you in it?”

Okay. That was not the deep, soul-searching question I was expecting after his intro. “Both, of course,” I said. “Hey, aren’t you the one trying to teach me life isn’t
either/or
but
and
?”

“Indeed, I am.” His voice was soft and he kept my hands in his. “And I will without any doubt enjoy seeing you in it. I just feel the need to say this: I don’t value you more when you pretty yourself up. I definitely don’t value you more for conformity of any kind.”

Which prompted me to ask, because my mouth was moving faster than my brain, “Then when do you value me most?”

He pulled me close and I snuggled against him. “If this statement were merely a prelude to sex, I would say I value you most when you are completely naked and vulnerable to me. However, it is closer to the truth to say I value you most when you’re being honest with me, and with yourself.”

“Perhaps it’s because when I’m naked and in your bed, it’s easiest to be honest,” I added.

“You may be right.” He nuzzled my hair. “Few people ever escape all the trappings, costumes and roles that society requires of us to be that naked, to be that honest with ourselves.”

I tipped my head back and kissed him under the chin. “Which is one of the reasons being with you is special.”

“Is it?”

“It isn’t just about the sex,” I explained. “You’re protective of me without smothering me. You make me feel precious without making me feel like a china doll or a trophy. You make me feel like it’s okay to be beautiful in my own way. It’s hard to explain.”

“No need to explain,” he murmured. “I understand.”

“I’ve been so disconnected from everyone else. I was never really connected with my boyfriends except by a kind of optimism that we would connect eventually, if we loved each other enough. But you know what? I couldn’t fall in love with someone I didn’t feel a connection with. I could have a romance, a courtship, always hoping for it to happen, but it didn’t with them…”

I trailed off, realizing I had basically told him I had fallen for him. Saying “I love you” to someone who isn’t ready to hear it is always game-over. Isn’t it?

Stefan rapped on the window. We were slowing to a stop at the curb on a midtown avenue surrounded by skyscrapers.

He hugged me, hard. “Bad timing. This is the wrong moment to end this conversation,” he said. “Wait a second.”

He took out his phone and texted someone. “There. Now they think I’m in traffic, but it only buys us a few more minutes. Karina.”

“Yes?”

He shifted so that we were facing each other. He licked his lips as if struggling to find the words he wanted to say. What came out was, “Don’t ever change, sweetness.” He kissed my hands, my fingers, my eyelids, then almost chastely my lips. “And remember I prize your honesty above all things.”

I think that was his way of saying I hadn’t made a mistake saying what I did. Or almost saying it.

“Now lie back. I should take the glass out.”

“Must you?”

“Your body needs a break,” he insisted, “even if your heart wants to keep me here forever.” On the word
here
, he brushed his hand down my abdomen.

I lay back on the seat and he moved the straps aside and slid the dildo free. Then he crawled up my body to kiss me.

“The next thing that goes inside you is my cock,” he breathed.

“Could you try it now?” I whispered back. “Just for a few seconds?”

He growled a little. “That will, I’m sure, leave you unfulfilled.”

I laughed. “Isn’t that the point of this whole week?”

“Perhaps. I will be, too, though.”

“Aren’t you already?” I teased. “The more you tease me, the more you tease yourself.”

His hands hurriedly undid his trousers and the next thing I felt was the length of him rutting against my inner thigh.

Then he stopped, his hips jerking up. “This isn’t the time for this.”

“But—”

“Hush. I don’t want to rush this with you, Karina.” He spread kisses across my cheekbones. “I treasure you too much to do that.”

I groaned. “All right. For fuck’s sake. Go to your meeting or whatever it is.”

He kissed me hard and then was out of the car before I could say anything more. Through the tinted windows I could see him buckling up quickly as he walked across the plaza toward a building’s entrance.

I pulled my robe back on as Stefan lowered the window.

“Back home?” he asked.

“Yes.” I leaned tiredly against the back of the seat. Phew. “Do you know anything about this ball he’s taking me to? I think he meant to tell me more about it but I, um, distracted him.”

“Ah, yes, that.” Stefan was silent for a few moments as he navigated through the heavy flow of traffic on what I could now see was Sixth Avenue. We weren’t far from Radio City. “It’s tomorrow night. We’ll be picking you up at seven o’clock.”