I am reposting my first Wicked Wednesday post—#97–in honor of the 500th post. I was burning to write this story, and almost eight years later, Eliza and ensemble are still going strong!!!

Hotel

Eliza was always waiting. As a younger woman with her friends in bars looking for Mr. Goodbar like the novel and movie she had read and seen. Now she was in the hotel bar waiting for her fiance. Curled protectively over her drink, she thought about all the things going on in her life, all at once at a pace she could barely control. Slowly, a man sat beside her at the crowded bar, everything about him was slow, measured including his smile at her. Eliza felt inside her as if everything had stilled in that moment.

She tried to be still, still curled over her drink. The man did not even seem to notice her after he smiled, which she felt was for the best as she stirred her drink aimlessly with the cutoff straw that was inside it. She crossed her legs, hooking her ankle so her legs seemed crossed twice.

“You’re engaged?”

Eliza’s lips had just touched the rim of her glass, as she looked up at him startled by his sudden speech.

“Yes,” she choked slightly even though she had not had a sip. Looking around nervously to avoid looking in the man’s eyes, she remembered she was waiting for her fiance conveniently.

“Looking for your fiance? He’s probably not going to come.”

“What do you mean?”

She was sure her eyes darkened like Rafe told her they did when she was mad at him. The stranger was taken off his game for a moment which pleased her.

“I mean I don’t think your fiance is going to come, and I think you are coming with me.”

He held her upper arm loosely, but his grip was firm nonetheless.

“My fiance–”

His finger on her mouth was soft, almost a caress, and she was lulled into silence. She knocked over her drink, and burned with embarrassment. When she looked up at the bartender, he waved her off and she got off the stool as she was being gestured to by this man who she did not know. Her heart was beating calmly, nothing about her was wild as he took her out of the bar.

They waited near the elevators, as he took out a pack of cigarettes. He offered her one, she shook her head but he kept the cigarettes extended until she took one.

“You are going to have a hard time with the obey part of the vows, aren’t you?”

“They do not have that in the vows anymore.”

“They should,” he said inhaling smoke.

Eliza raised her eyebrow at him as he lit a cigarette for her. She had stopped smoking a few years ago when she became domesticated, or rather when she started living with Rafe. But now the feeling of the cigarette in her mouth made her feel happy. Made her think of a time when she was free. It was almost as if she were that person again.

“You think so, huh?” she said blowing out her own cloud of smoke. “Does your wife obey you?”

He snorted.

“I’m not married. But if you vow to be with a man you should obey him, and he should protect you.”

Eliza inhaled and shook her head. She wondered if Rafe was looking for her now. It was a very dim thought in her head, she did not think it would be awful for him to wonder where his perfect fiancée was for a moment.

Perfect, perfect, that was what he said about her and what he expected. She did obey him, and he did protect her but it was hard to be perfect.

“My fiance is perfect,” Eliza said out loud what she was thinking.

“Then what are you doing out here with a stranger when he is looking for you?”

Shrugging and swinging her cigarette back with her arms, from her perfect black dress that Rafe loved her in so much, she declared.

“I am not perfect.”

He grabbed her and kissed her so hard she thought she would lose her breath. Her lips throbbed from his after he pulled away from her, and put his arm about her.

The elevator was right on time and they walked into it. It was mirrored all around and she could see every angle of their bodies.

He kissed her again, this time she was not out of breath but wanted more even as he gave it. When they pulled away this time, he lifted her chin so she looked up at him.

“Are you going to obey me?”

“I am not getting married to you,” she stuck out a her tongue with insouciance.

He pulled her close to him.

“But I will protect you if you do.”

“Protect me from what?” she questioned looking up into his eyes. He looked down at her without blinking.

“From what will happen if you don’t obey me.”

Her eyes fell to the floor, she felt him looking at her. When he tilted her chin to look up at him again, she tried to avoid his gaze, but he made her look.

“I have simple rules: no names, no questions, no guilt and you keep your ring on.”

“That’s it?”

He nodded then pressed her to the coolness of the mirrored wall, kissing her so that she almost believed she would go through the glass. Peeking for just a moment as they kissed at the overhead mirror to see how it looked to have him cover her. The view made her so wet she shifted her legs, so he pressed himself all the more to her. She moaned unexpectedly even to herself, as he kissed her neck which was always her weakness.

They came to his floor and managed not to look so disheveled, since she could see in the mirrored hallways. But in his room, he did not turn on the lights. There was just the light from the moon outside.

“No lights?”

She clapped her hand over her mouth.

No questions.

He took her hand from her mouth and kissed it. She did feel protected from herself when he did that, as if to say he was okay that she had forgotten for a moment.

He pulled her hands up over her head, and pulled her body closer than close to his. Eliza was on a tilt as if dangling from a puppeteer’s string, pressed herself to him and closed her eyes opening herself to the darkness. His mouth on hers was so divine she almost wanted to pull out all of her hair as he tugged at it, her hand rose tugging at her hair with his until he kissed her fingers after pulling her hand away.

Everything she experienced was going to be him: his hands, his mouth, his body. And he was much more gentle than she would have expected considering how brutish he came off at the bar and in front of the hotel smoking. She liked the smell of cigarette smoke on their clothes as they floated past her against the wall.

Against the wall he pounded into her, her head rolling and bobbing, knocking her into another reality. He held her so close she almost could not breathe, she closed her eyes and embraced this other world she was in where she was not perfect. A world in which her arms were tight around a man whose name she did not know, but whose savory scent she wanted to scrape with her teeth.

Because it would end, this would end…

They dressed in the moonlight, and he walked her back out into mirrored hallway, and into the mirrored elevator where she watched him cover her overhead in the mirror again with a kiss. The elevator opened and revealed the bar from a distance. Eliza walked out first, Rafe was standing facing the opposite way at the bar. She walked over to him with a spring in her step, knowing she was imperfect.

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This is the first Wicked Wednesday logo I used!!!

Severine had travelled so many parts of the world, places that many people might never see in their lifetime. But as a flight attendant they were places that she would not just see once, but maybe even revisit many times over. Though at the end of the day, her world was Paris and New York. New York not so much because she had lived there, but the fact that Rafe was there.
Every time she was in New York she saw Rafe.
But it was Paris where she lived and where she was now, that she wished was not just hers but theirs.
The first thing that she loved about Paris over New York was that even when she was in a crowded part of the city, there was an isolated corner that you could end up on and have piece of mind…if that was what you wanted. While Rafe was not in Paris with her, he followed her down every street that she walked.
“Tell me what you see,” he questioned her now on the phone.
Rafe had been in Paris with her before, so when she told him stories about it she knew he could kind of imagine what she was telling him.
“Where are you Severine?”
Severine looked around sobered by Rafe’s voice. First she was just texting him, and now she was was talking to him on the phone. Recently he had been more accessible to her than ever, but at the same time he felt further away because she would always need more of him than he would or could give her. In ways she understood that, but it other ways she wanted more. Like for him to come to Paris for example. Ever since she was last in New York, she dreamt about him with Calaveras makeup because it was damn sexy to her to have been making love to him while he was so scary.
Maybe he was that scary to her even when he was not in makeup, and maybe that was what she liked about him.
But she could not over think it when she was with him, even if with him was only an international
phone call on a dark street.
“I am just outside of my apartment, it is a quiet, dark street.”
“What are you wearing?”
Severine smiled.
“Do you want me to be naked? Leaning from a balcony? I could tell you an erotic story if you want me too…”
“Don’t patronize me Severine, I want to know what you are wearing because I am going to tell you what to do.”
“A house dress, a simple one. Probably vintage. And perfume, the one that you told me that you like so much. I put a lot on even before I knew I was going to be talking to you. I put it behind my ears, around all of my curves.”
“Did you perfume every crevice of you?”
“Every secret crevice, so that only someone like you would be able to come close and catch all of my scent.”
Severine remembered earlier today, walking into the tiniest bookstore with wall to floor books. She could not see anything but piles of books, and then she saw the man who owned the store. She thought to herself it would be so easy to have Rafe slip into that store, and make love in erotica section.
“Is there anybody with you?” he asked her.
“Just you.”
She heard his soft laughter evaporate almost as soon as she heard it.
“Then I want you to act as you would if it was just me with you. What you do if it was just us?”
Severine took a deep breath.
“Where are your hands Sev?”
“On the phone obviously,” she said continuing her flirtation.
She wanted to make him say exactly what she wanted him to say, she wanted him to say exactly what he wanted her to do and she wanted him to use the filthiest language he could to instruct her.
“I told you not to play me, pull up your house dress and touch yourself with your other hand like I would touch you if I was there.”
“It is drizzling here.”
“Haven’t we fucked in the rain?”
“No,” Severine said clutching her crotch through her dress like she was a young boy wearing his jeans low over his his hips.
There was a pause and she was not sure if he was embarrassed that they had never fucked in the rain and he was confusing her with someone else, or if he was thinking that they should have because they had been in the rain together?
Then his words came as slowly, but pointedly as it they were drizzling about her.
“Then we will sext in the rain. Now pull up your dress and use your phone and video it for me.”
Severine looked around, the dampness around her was like a mist with the sound of Rafe’s voice was steadier. Her house dress moved up almost of its own volition, as she turned her phone on herself. On that dark Parisian street, she was on display like bread in a Parisian boulangerie. Her bright smile was shadowed in the dark, as she gave Rafe the show he asked her to produce.

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I never miss Wicked Wednesday, this is late but still here! I am doing NanoWriMo, and have been posting some retro posts this month. This is from an earlier series which I often lament not continuing. Maybe I will revisit in the future…

Jeanne placed the newspaper next to her in the backseat of the town-car. The driver had left newspapers and magazines in the back, so passengers could read them while he was driving them to their destination. Newspapers reminded her of herself, or her sister since one or the other was in them all the time…and that was not what right now was about.

She wanted a full release right now, she was so wound up and there was only one thing that would unwind her…

When she walked into Mal’s apartment, she wrapped her arms about him. He kissed her, and she did not even care that he was going to leave lipstick all over her.

It turned her on to see his lipstick on her collar—cloth or bone.

When she looked at him, between her legs watered. He was dressed in a three-piece suit, that displayed his body. And then his face was made up, his makeup perfect, although she loved him with less. Like anyone who wore makeup, they usually looked even more beautiful with less. His long hair was slicked back, a bun knotted at the nape of his neck.

In bed, his hair was all over the place, he smelled floral, and his lips tasted like fruit. His androgyny was breathtaking. She tugged at his hair while he was inside her and bit his lips. He bit hers, and she cried out as he gave her the release she so desperately sought.

In the morning, the pale sunlight on Mal’s naked face and his hair spread out made Jeanne feel wild.

He pulled her close, and she kissed him. They kissed for a long time, until she felt she would sink into him.

She first met Mal at an art gallery—several to be exact when she was on the art beat. Where she was near her sister a lot, without talking to her.

But Mal.

Mal was at so many openings, and she saw him in expensive suits but it was him in a t shirt and jeans, with a ponytail that floored her. He seemed more approachable, and he left lipstick on her collar as soon as they met. Kissing her like they were in France, and holding her as close to him as was acceptable to talk about a painting with her.

She was naked with him within the hour, and it was always like that every time after.

He always gave her a sweet release…

Ahhh…my obsession with suits–you can read more about it here.

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He could not keep his hands off of her breasts, pulling just gently but firmly enough on her nipples. Her internal gasps every time he touched her were overwhelming, Jeanne felt like she was going to explode.
And then his eyes, it almost hurt to look at them because they were so beautiful. It was not the color, but then intensity with which Terrence looked at her. The intensity she feared would break like glass—but it did not. He never stopped looking at her like he needed her, and was afraid to lose her.
His eyes mirrored hers.
She pressed her body to his, her eyes trained on his and rubbed herself against him. The hunger deep inside her core was too much to let linger anymore. Terrence mirrored her movement, and slid into her so seamlessly it did not feel like he entered her. It felt like he was part of her, as he fed her hunger. After such a long time of almost, actually felt better than she could have imagined. Even though his body was still new—she had not memorized all of him yet—it still felt like hers.
He was hers.
All hers.
The same way that Rafe now belonged to Eliza—except she and Terrence were not married. But what was happening between them…this made him hers and she was not sure that she was going to be able to do this with anyone else.
Where did this leave Mal?
Did she only want to have Terrence as hers because she could now, and she knew that Eliza would not be mad about it reasonably?
Had she always been a little in love with him from the first time that they met at the cafe near Eliza’s, but she knew that he was her sister’s so she could not fall? But now she could, she was and he was everything to her in that moment.
When his hand covered both of her breasts and he picked at her nipple making it big and hard as a rosebud…
He was hers.

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