to do. Not even with Robbie. Not words, just a great shout and a falling gasp as I kept on coming. Over and over again, until there was nothing left inside me, and my fingers were thick with slime. A heavy salt smell hung in the air.
His hands stopped working my scalp, but he held my head, steadying me until the shaking stopped.
"I'm sorry." I said. "Your clothes...I must have ruined them. Forgive me. I couldn't help myself."
"No matter. I accept it, Red. And consider yourself forgiven, deeply forgiven. You have done well tonight. Better even than I anticipated. You have given me everything you could and your lust is no longer your master."
Then he let go of me and stepped backwards.
I was still unsure what this meant, if it meant anything, and what I should be doing. "Please? Can I pleasure you? There must be something I can do for you. Something you need."
He laughed. This time the sound of it made me smile in a way I hadn't smiled for too long a time. It was like cold water refreshing my face on a hot summer day.
"You have already given me everything I asked for," he said. "Your assignment is over for now, my friend. You have earned the money I have spent to hire you."
"But what..."
"Hush. I will leave you now. Behind you are tissues and a towel. Use them to clean yourself before you go. And thank you for your time, and for the beauty of your glorious hair."
I did not understand why he had not wanted to see me in the light if it was my hair that had brought him to me, but I made no comment on it. Each client was different. However, I couldn't help my question as I sensed him withdrawing from me. "Will I meet you again?"
"Oh, yes," he said. "Do not doubt it."
* * * *
"What did he do to you then?"
It was Sunday night, the day after my strange experience in the dark house. Robbie was lying on the bed, face up, as naked as the day he was born, but many times more beautiful. There was always something about the green of his eyes and the blackness of his hair that drew me. I stopped where I was kneeling between his legs, ready to start doing the things he liked me to do. I didn't know why he was asking the question now when he hadn't asked before. I sat back on my haunches and cupped his balls in my hand.
"You want to know that right now? Or later?"
He gasped when I touched him, but his eyes were shadowed. "No, tell me now. I can fuck you any time."
I nodded. That much was true. From the very start of our partnership, I'd put myself entirely at his disposal. In every way. Frankly, yielding the responsibility for my own sexuality to someone I knew I could trust had been a relief. Up until then, I'd been battling with it, to little avail. The police had cautioned me for having sex in public toilets once, and I'd been up before the courts for soliciting twice. Even though there'd been many, many times they hadn't caught me when I was desperate for sex, prepared to take any chance I could to get it. Before I met Robbie, it had, in fact, all but overwhelmed me. I'd needed a firm hand, someone to control my life and my needs. I was more grateful to him than he'd ever know.
I told him what the client had done, leaving nothing out. He laughed when he heard about how I'd achieved orgasm.
"God, that must've shocked him. Honestly, Red, when you let go, you really let go. Your spunk goes everywhere."
"Yes, well, I cleaned up as best I could, like he said. But it was strange. Not what I expected at all. And all that pseudo-spiritual stuff about forgiveness. That was odd as well, though I have to say he was right about one thing--I do feel different now."
Robbie sat up on his elbows and began to massage my knee with his foot. "In what way different?"
I closed my eyes, partly to concentrate on that glorious sensation of his skin touching mine, partly better to answer him. "I don't know. I feel lighter, I suppose. As if whatever he was up to, he took something away from me."
"Isn't that bad?"
"No. Not really. It's as if
Julie Sternberg
Pamela Britton
Kathryn Reiss
Susan Verrico
Helen Forrester
Phyllis Reynolds Naylor
Caroline Clemmons
John Schettler
Sherry Shahan
Mikhail Bulgakov