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Automatic

Zara could not keep her eyes off of the man across from her in the cafe. They had exchanged several looks at this point, and she was not opposed to making the first move but being mad at her boyfriend Cadmus…this guy had to make the first move.

He did.

It was a boost because part of the argument with Cadmus had been his not making her feel like she was desirable enough. This guy definitely found her desirable enough. When he approached her, she put her hand over his mouth and shook her head.

He looked perplexed, but he let her take his hand. The music in the cafe was soft and soothing, but the look in his eyes was anything but and she bit her lip with the excitement that she felt. She squeezed his hand, and he squeezed hers even harder.

“l-“ he started.

She put her fingers on her lips and his.

He smiled.

There was no need to talk because then no promises could be made, nothing. Nothing could be broken.

Except vows never to be spoken.

She clutched his biceps, his muscles and the blur of a tattoo that she did not study because she did not want to remember enticed her nonetheless though this was not really happening.

She caressed his lips with her finger, but not with her mouth. It was mechanical the way that their bodies joined, but it did not matter. The pleasure was automatic too. Their bodies moved like machines that knew their position and motion. She needed the release and they worked perfectly together. He cradled her breasts and rubbed her clit, as they avoided looking at each other in the mirror of the cafe bathroom. The scent of gardenia mixed with sex, and Zara would never forget it.

It was over between her and Cadmus, but she was desirable.

She was filled with desire.

 

Filled with desire, Mathilde was not sure how to describe the sound that came from her as Cadmus cradled her breasts. She had mused in a cafe earlier, after she walked out of the hotel after their first major fight since getting back together. She remembered how she had handled it all those years ago but this time, this time she wanted to get past that and she wanted to work on it this time.

She did not want to lose him a second time.

 

More Masturbation Monday here:

Their New Normal

“Do you ever miss Cleo?” Mathilde looked at Cadmus, and saw his jaw tense.

“I know I gave you every reason not to trust me in the past, but you cannot keep asking me about Cleo.” he said, his face stern. 

“You paid for her to come to Paris while we were reconciling, I think I have every right to ask you about her? I know you were fucking her right before we met again, and you know I am not as rigid about that. If you still wanted her, you could still be with her.”

“And you?”

“Yeah,” she licked her lips nervously.

“Was there someone else for you because I want you. Unless you want to be with someone else? I only can be with one woman at a time.”

“Okay,” she said and continued to hold his hand.

“And that is you.”

Stopping in the middle of the park, Mathilde looked up at him, searching his eyes for a very long time. He let her, and there was barely any emotion on his face or in them. Like he was hoping she was placated.

“I just broke up with Cleo, there was some codependency stuff that we had and we fell into that. But she was with someone else, and she went back to him. And I want to be with you.”

Still searching his eyes, he looked at her still expressionless. And it was easy for her to fall into that role, and the way that he had made her feel in the past, it was tempting to act like she did not care again.

“I want to be with you, I always wanted to be with you…” she said instead not playing a role.

He caressed her shoulders, and kissed her lips so soft that she thought they melted. 

This was their new normal, trying to be honest. Trying to be together and not think about the past. Even when the past was still on his phone which she had not wanted to see, and he had not hid but if he told her that he wanted her that was what she wanted to believe. Under the shadow of a huge tree, his hand down the front of her pants made her labia feel like it was melting like her lips had from her heat and wetness.

This felt normal, it always had felt normal to her to have him. To have him touch her like this, to have him touch her, feel her hot and wet for him. It felt normal to fight with him, and not believe him but have him.

And to be his…

 

More Masturbation Monday here:

 

Now

To anyone looking, they looked like a couple terribly in love all throughout Paris. Lovers in Paris—what a shocker!

Mathilde knew that her expression definitely contributed to that. The way she clung to Cadmus, and the way that he held her to him. Once out of the corner of her eye, she saw a man taking a picture of them by the Seine. At that moment, could he capture the lust in her eyes? The gape of her mouth, as she felt Cadmus hard against her and needing him right then? Cadmus’ dark lust was not on view for the camera, but was for her eyes only.

It was all love for the camera, and behind the scenes too. When they were alone, they smoldered the same way.

The frame of their hotel room felt like fire when they returned to it. Their proximity as they were both so eager to get inside and at each other. His lips would rest on her temple or neck, and she would combust.

His touch was so incendiary.

She needed him, even as she did not know if she trusted him. If she trusted him not to break her heart.

Again.

Before she left, Mathilde was sure that she saw Cleo’s shadow at their door and heard a scratch at the door before the sound of heels walking away dragging a suitcase down the hall.

For now, she was the one he was set on fire, she was the one that he wanted now. He touched her and she felt him like flames. He wanted her like he had never wanted her before, but it was only now. Now was not an infinite period of time. 

It was just now.

He kissed the tip of her spine, and his hand moved up the sides of her ribs until she burned.

She wanted to burn…

 

More Masturbation Monday here:

 

Engulfed

Cadmus unzipped the back of her dress, and his hand lingered at the small of her back. Mathilde felt his hand there like a wanted weight and it soothed her. He slipped the dress down over her shoulders.

“What did you say to her, what happened?” she asked him because she needed to know. He had been in Cleo’s hotel room, and she needed to know what he had said to her.

What had happened in her room.

“Cleo is mad at me, she is mad at me what else is new?” Cadmus sighed, and pulled her dress down more roughly over her shoulders.

Mathilde shrugged roughly, matching his rough pulling down of her dress.

“How long were you with her? As a couple?”

He caressed his shoulders, and kissed her neck.

“On and off for several years…I just started sleeping with her again, but then I saw you…” He caressed the small of her back, as she stepped out of the dress.

“I have a question for you,” he said. 

Mathilde stiffened.

“What?”

“When were you going to tell me?”

His hand lingered over her hip, and she bit her lip.

“What?” she repeated, a bit indignant this time.

He spun her around like a carousel, and she looked at him. His face was so close to hers, it looked like a caricature.

“Do you think I don’t remember your body? Do you think that all men are such dogs that they do not remember? I remember this mole Zara, I remember…”

Mathilde looked at him with wide eyes.

“Do you want a medal for remembering?” she said, naked and indignant. “I remember a lot too…”

“I know,” he said, his hand on both of her hips and the way he looked at her made her burn with desire and she hated him for that. Why did he always do that? Her burning in this hotel room, and Cleo burning in another? “I remember I did not treat you the best Zara…I remember…I am going to spend the rest of my life making it up to you…”
He bent before her and kissed her just where she was burning, and she was engulfed.

 

More Masturbation Monday here:

 

Foreign Places

Cadmus out of bed was even more intoxicating than he was in bed. She had memorized his scent after all of these years, sitting close beside him at the bar where he had picked her up.

Again.

Returning to the scene of the crime, even the jaded bartender was moved because it was obvious that something was between them. She touched his face as if she was fussing with him—but there was nothing to fuss with. He did the same to her, they could not stop fussing with their air, their auras.

He raised his glass of wine to her lips, and the graze of the glass against her lips was electric. But before she could sip, he pulled the glass away.

Mathilde smiled, but her smile was wan. It was hard to feel all of this again for him. And remember everything she had thought she had risen above.

There was no rising above any of it.

He placed his hand on her knee, and she fussed with nothing. Tugging at his tie, the skin of his throat warm and she was submerged in her thoughts of what was this? 

He placed his glass to her lips again, and the electricity returned at her lips between her legs. Mathilde for the first time would not run, she was in Paris with this man and she was not going to run away.

A woman walked into the bar, and up to the both of them. Cadmus looked cautious.

Cleo, this was the woman he had told her about that was in New York.

New York was foreign to Mathilde now, the only thing she knew was Cadmus beside her and this woman who stood beside them.

More Masturbation Monday here:

Like Something From The Twenties

Cadmus could not keep his eyes off of her…

She reminded him so much of Fianna, that he was not able to see anything but Fianna so many years ago.

He saw her smiling at him in that adoring way that she did.

He felt her arms and legs and hair about him and the way that she would wrap herself about him. 

He remembered tensing at her touch—he was not ready to be loved like that. Even now after therapy, and after Cleo he was not sure he was ready.

There was a 1920s photo above the bar, Cadmus let his eyes linger there at its reflection of the Fianna lookalike. Her slender neck was not unlike the neck of the photo of the woman above the bar.

“Do you want another drink?” he asked, and he knew she didn’t even before she answered.

She shook her head.

He placed his hand on her knee, and she looked down at his hand.

“What do you really want to ask me if I want?” she said looking into his eyes, and he swallowed roughly.

He circled his finger around her thigh like he was a lost navigator. They leaned in closer together, as his finger wandered on her thigh. He could hear their breath mingle. It was so intimate, like he never even allowed himself to be with Fianna.

Fianna had wanted this so much—his attention and closeness. It was so hard for him to give it to her then, but it was so easy for him to give it to this stranger.

He looked up at the photo again to distract himself.

“I am waiting for your answer,” she said.

He looked into her eyes, and thought out his answer. Then looked back down at her thigh. This moment felt like something from the Twenties that he wanted to preserve. That intimacy that did not have to escalate like in modern times.

But he wanted her now—

 

More Masturbation Monday here, more Wicked Wednesday here:

 

 

Justify My Love

Mathilde watched him look right through her, and she was shaken a bit because she never imagined that he would react to her like that. She never imagined that he would be so blase about seeing her, they had been together for a little while…it had not seemed insignificant to her.

Then she remembered that she was incognito, and looked nothing like she had looked when he knew her. Her grip on the stem of her wine glass loosened a bit with that thought, and she looked at the bartender with a small smile. He had been looking at her since she had arrived breathlessly at his bar, looking like she had been attacked.

No one would have guessed that quite the reverse had happened, and that she had been ignored by the man who had been the love of her life she guessed they would call it. No one had made Mathilde feel like he had. Her entire body was on fire from the memory of him, and from anticipation.

When she turned on the stool, there he was.

His forehead crinkled with thought, as he looked down at his phone. His suit looked expensive and tailored, and he looked nothing less than the man that she had always wanted to straddle his thighs facing him and …

His forehead smoothed as he noticed her looking at him. A smile lifted his lips, and he gestured to her empty glass.

“What were you drinking?” he asked.

That was the hook—his approach. His confidence, his invitation that no one could resist.

Mathilde stared at him until her eyes watered.

“The house red,” she replied, licking her bottom lip and she bit it to not smile when his eyes followed her tongue.

She had a hook too.

He lifted his chin at the bartender and her glass was refilled. The bartender had a dark look on his face as he realized their flirtation was over.

“I saw you outside, and I am not the kind of man who stops every pretty lady I see but I almost stopped for you. And no here you are…”


Did he not see anything in her eyes, was there nothing about her gestures that reminded him of her before? Something like deja vu?

“So now what?” she asked like the line in “Justify My Love” by Madonna, and took a sip of her wine without ever taking her piercing gaze off of him even for a second.

 

More Masturbation Monday here:

justify my love still via imdb

Hallucination

With the current state of things and the regular trajectory of Mathilde, it would be easy for me to marry both for this week’s Masturbation Monday. But I am not going to do that.

There was once a comment about Anais Nin that she was living through WWII, and there was no mention of it in her journal. She was being criticized for not speaking of the war in her journals.

 

es·cap·ism

/əˈskāpˌizəm/

noun

the tendency to seek distraction and relief from unpleasant realities, especially by seeking entertainment or engaging in fantasy.

 

Maybe Anais’ diary was a refuge from what she was living day to day—it is not fair to judge her for that. I certainly do not, and I have always understood escapism—now more than ever. So this week, I will escape into my own fiction and for those of you who can appreciate that or desire it this is especially for you…

 

Mathilde got off on her stop.

Literally.

The rocking of the metro, and the thoughts in her head made her feel such a heaviness between her legs that the quick movement to exit the train made her feel the release that was needed there.

She was ashamed, as she placed her hand over her mouth.

She had been thinking of him.

The man who had made her into what she was, who had made her never want to be vulnerable. Heavy eyes along with the heaviness between her legs, and she remembered how she had ached for him.

How she wanted anything that he would do to her.

Anything.

When he was rough, when he was super tender with her she wanted it all. She wanted it when he did not want it sometimes, and she couldn’t help herself. Surrounding him like a venomous snake so that he had to surrender to her, Mathilde would wrap her arms and legs about him and kiss his neck. 

He would fuck her hard then, and that was what she wanted. But she did not realize that it was a give her what the fuck she wants fuck so she will leave you alone. It was years before she realized it was not that she was too much for him, but that he did not love her the way she loved him. A man who loved her would not have had the same experience with her, and maybe she wouldn’t have felt so desperate with another man.

Deep inside she probably knew that she was fighting a losing game like the Amy Winehouse song with him. But the way he made her feel had been sublime, and she had craved it.

She still craved it sometimes.

When she walked down the street, she thought she was hallucinating. Here in Paris?

Him…

More Masturbation Monday here:

 

Submerged

Mathilde sat on the metro—she could still feel him between her legs. She could still feel him moving there, the heat of him outside and inside her and she pressed her thighs together from the memory.

Biting her lip and clutching her bag, Mathilde realized that she had come all the way to Paris to be alone for the first time in her life and she did not really want to be alone. She wanted to be close to someone, she just wanted it to work this time.

Every time she wanted it to work, but somehow it never worked the way that she wanted it to. Not that she had not been with people and loved them, but it was never quite what she wanted…

Phenomenal twosomes, threesomes and foursomes had filled her—literally—but it was never quite what she wanted. On the metro now, she realized that maybe she was not built for real intimacy. What she had just experienced in the bedrooms of two men she barely knew, let her know that she was always ready for her body to be submerged in whatever—but real love and intimacy were something she could only scratch at the surface of.

Her body still ruminated with the pleasure she had submerged herself in—a man who seemed to know her intuitively. There was something base and animal about the way that he knew her, while he was inside of her it felt like he was entering more of her than just her body. It felt like he was penetrating deeper, to something that she was not able to stop him from searching for within herself.

She felt like he awakened something in her that she had not known was there. And now hands on her thighs, she tried to settle herself from the pleasure and the torture of it that she could still feel throughout her body and soul.

 

More Masturbation Monday here:

Disappear

She still did not know his name but the way that he looked at her that made Mathilde pause. He studied her face in a way that she was not sure that anyone had studied it. He looked at her like he did not know what she was. Like he could see her and everything that she tried to hide.

He was a bit too knowing, and she really wanted to leave him at that point but he held her and was holding her body close to his as he looked in her eyes. Mathilde wanted to scream, but she could not scream because what was that going to prove? He was not doing anything to her–just looking at her but that was too much.

She did not want to be seen.

When she was younger, she had a boyfriend who she used to attach herself to. There was no other way to describe how she was with him. She held his arm and pressed close to him all the time. He was her first, and she was very vulnerable with him.

It was too much for him, she scared him off and she never wanted to need anyone like that again. She never wanted to disappear into anyone like that again, the way she had with him. She remembered feeling him tense when she was holding him, and it was because he was sick of her.

Before Graham, she had changed so much, she never gave much of herself to anyone.

Certainly not her clients. 

It was easy for her to be with someone and then to roll over and leave. She wanted that now as the nameless man had let go of her, but continued to look into her eyes.

“What?” she smirked finally, she was going to regain control of this situation.

“What?” he copied her, and smirked back.

She just wanted him inside of her, like he had been and then she realized that she was still vulnerable all of the time. She wanted someone inside of her so she would not feel alone. But she knew that when she was with someone, that she was at risk for hiding in that person. 

Mathilde did not want to be seen.

In the mirror, she saw she hid behind long dark hair, and that Paris had darkened around her.

He wrapped pulled her close to him, and she closed her eyes.

She wanted to disappear even if it was into him.

For now.

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