Tag Archives: wicked wednesday

Surrender

It was supposed to be a one and done. It had been nice with him, Cleo knew his name because he had given her his card and it burned her fingers every time she touched it—because she remembered touching him. It was a souvenir in a way, like serial killers kept something of their victims, but of course this was not as sordid as that.

He was just a man she had had a one night stand with and that was that. But when she saw the jacket, and she saw the whisper of a tattoo that she knew. The line of a Pablo Neruda poem she had looked up because she had memorized that line after being in bed with him…she knew it was him.

To be honest, every time she saw a tattoo now she thought of him. Or maybe she wanted him again, she was being honest to herself now and this was not the pristine version for public consumption.

She wanted him.

She clutched her purse, and was about to get up. He would think she was a lady of leisure or something because he always found her sitting at a bar in the middle of the day. It was a habit that she had now to drink a glass of wine if she was so inclined in the middle of the afternoon like she had had with him. He had changed her, Cleo had to admit he had changed her. He had changed how she looked at things, and how she acted.

When he saw her, his expression was calm. No lift of the eyebrow, or quirk of his lips. He walked over to her, and took her hand.

Before he could say a word, before he could direct this narrative, Cleo took a sip of her wine and kissed him. Now she felt he was not expressionless, as he pulled her close. He kissed her and caressed her face, sucking on her lower lip as he cupped her breast.

“I missed you,” she said, biting her lower lip. 

“I gave you my card.”

“I was afraid.”

As soon as she said it, she realized she had been. She was not his type. The woman that he was trying to exorcise himself of was nothing like her. 

“Afraid that I would split you open?”

“I want that…”

He smiled, and she could see more of his tattoo as he did.

“I want you.”

Surrender had never been so sweet, as she finished the wine—one he had suggested in their first and only meeting—and followed him.

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Magic

He was not someone she ordinarily would have been attracted to, or someone she even would have met. 

Cleo had been stranded and there was nowhere else for her to occupy herself as a client had cancelled at last minute. Feeling the way that she had been at the time, she easily sat at the dive bar right at the barren midday bar. Since the only wine on the menu was a miniature bottle of a wine she did not like, she wanted to see if the bartender had Campari.

He was sitting diagonal from her and his acumen about wine left her breathless. Looking at him she would not have guessed that he was an expert. He was actually the sommelier for a restaurant nearby, and this was his favorite dive bar in the neighborhood.

He of course invited her to his restaurant and ordered their food—and of course their wine pairings. Cleo was intoxicated from the scent and taste of the wine, even before she was tipsy. Even after he had her just taste a few and spit it out.

Sitting close to her he smelled like leather and cigarette smoke, which was her ultimate masculine scent and even more intoxicating to her clouding her focus. He had random piercings—one she would not find out about until later that evening—and a tattoo peeking from under his leather jacket.

Wanting him had been dictated by time and place. If she had not been stood up by her client, she never would have met him. She would not be on her side now looking at him. He reached between his legs to cup himself. He told her it lulled him to sleep, and he did it while he was asleep unconsciously sometimes.

His tattoo in plain sight now, was a line from a Pablo Neruda poem, and she wondered who he was fucking out of his mind through fucking her? Hopefully fucking each other was enough of a form of magic to make their demons disappear…

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Canvas

There was nothing that she had read in any of her Women’s Studies books that would approve of what she was doing. But Cleo had needed to do what she had done. 

Clarissa her best friend in most of those classes was a staunch feminist, and would have been particularly appalled, but naked except for her leopard print matching bra and thong? Cleo was satiated and heavy, curled in a half fetal position on the strange bed.

She did not know the name of the man who had a towel about his waist and let her sleep in his bed. From the stickiness of drool she felt dried on her cheek, she supposed she had slept hard. She watched his reflection in the bathroom mirror shaving, and she felt herself throb inside from where he had entered her body.

She needed him, her nipples hardened and she threw the covers off of her and leaned naked against his bathroom door. He took his time with the process of his grooming, and she was completely absorbed until he spoke to her.

“Your nipples are hard,” he said, after a while of her watching him. 

“They are not alone…” 

He put down his aftershave, and touched himself. He touched himself, and she felt like he had touched her. She touched herself mirroring him, and he stalked her. The darkness in his eyes, and the darkness she knew he was capable enveloped her. That was what Cleo had wanted. Someone who was not Oscar or Cadmus. A man who like herself, just wanted to be covered in the night with another person. Someone who was a blank canvas albeit dark to paint with passion.

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The Truth

The truth was that she needed him.

Even after she knew that she and Cadmus were over, Cleo still needed him in her life. She did not talk to him as much as before, but they still talked a lot more now that things had calmed down. Oscar did not seem to mind as much that she was on the phone with him so often.

“I guess it is like me and Eliza,” he stated simply.

Cleo paused, wine glass in hand and her face filled with heat.

“You and Eliza?” she replied.

“We have been friends for such a long time, I cannot imagine my life without her.”

“So you dated her?” She said casually getting up to get more wine to distract herself.

He nodded she saw peripherally, and the truth that she had suspected made her skin burn like she wanted to tear it off of her. But she did not say anything to him. She had spent so much time lost in her own situation,  that she completely stopped paying attention to what was so clear.

She had not imagined that liaison between him and Eliza at Bibi’s birthday party. It had happened, and he had been smearing it all throughout their relationship. Eliza was always around.

Always, with her husband or not.

She grasped her wine glass so hard she broke it.

She wanted to break something, she wanted the pain to counter what she was feeling.

“Cleo?!”

She just looked at the blood trickling over her life and love lines on her palm. He wrapped her hand in a towel and she felt numb. Numb to his ministrations, and numb to everything around her. She needed to call Cadmus…

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Trilling

She wanted it rough, Oscar could give it to her anyway she liked it and she wanted it rough. It was what she needed to feel again.

Cleo knew how to entice him, she could persuade him with a few looks or the movement of her hips. She did not even really need to touch him to get him to do what she wanted, but she wanted to touch him. 

To taste him.

She opened her mouth to do just that, when he pulled her by the hair and made her look up at him. Her nipples were tight and wound up like explosives pointed and ready to get her off at any second.

“I need it rough, I need to feel you,” she purred, and he gave her what she wanted. Cleo curled on her side, her body resonant with the things he made her feel. He had bitten her nipples and labia, and they trilled with sensation still.

He had almost fucked her trip to Paris out of her, but then she thought about Cadmus and his new girlfriend again and she shook with renewed anger. She was still so upset at what had happened in the most romantic city in the world—where she had even been romantic with Cadmus.

Now it was cast with a dark shadow, and she would remember the love that was taken from her there. Her body still trilled with hunger, even after Oscar had made love to her just the way she wanted. But she was so confused, she did not know what she wanted as he held her in his arms and saw that she had a text from Cadmus.

Oscar’s arms tightened about her, and she knew he must have seen Cadmus’ name and face on her screen as he now tried to call her.

She did not reach for her phone physically but so many scenarios went through her mind that she might as well have.

“You need to get that?” Oscar asked.

Her answer was to snuggle more into him.

For now.

 

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Statistic

It was like deja vu for Oscar. This it was him who was showing up to Cleo’s to make sure she was okay, like Eliza had done for him a few days ago.

He used his key which he was thankful that he had because, he was not sure that Cleo would have opened the door for him. And from the looks of it she would not have.

Cleo was lying on her side facing a wall, and he felt a dark feeling in the pit of his stomach—especially after losing Chloe. 

But then she shifted, and he moved closer to the bed.

“Cleo? It’s me, I used my key…”

Cleo turned around, her body in a state of semi-undress in a thin slip.

“What are you doing here? I thought you would be done with me…” she heaved.

He sat on the edge of the bed.

“I know you were back and no one saw you and I know that you were upset.”

“You mean my depression, and you wanted to make sure I was not a statistic.”

Oscar swallowed.

“I’ve been in love with you Cleo, I don’t wish you any harm. I certainly did not come here expecting to find you dead.”

Cleo touched his thigh.

“I treated you so badly, I am ashamed…”

She started to heave more and then her face morphed back into the face of tears he could see was there before.

He crawled onto the bed, and held her close.

“Cleo, love makes fools of us all.”

She continued to heave and then looked up at him. He wiped a tear from her mouth, and she gasped and kissed him. He had not meant to make her think that he wanted to kiss her—but she kissed him. Her hand  on his thigh again, kneading and moving up his thigh. 

“Cleo…I did not come here to…”

“But I want you to…”

Her hand kneading his crotch made it hard for him

to deny her.

 

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Another Place

“Are you okay?”

Rafe looked at her when she walked back into the apartment.

She was not okay.

She had gone to Oscar’s to soothe him from his heartache, and instead, they argued about their relationship. Her unexpected jealousy over Cleo which she should have recognized earlier. They eventually ate in silence and embraced. They would be okay, but she had not gone there to fight so she was a bit shaken up.

“I will be,” Eliza looked at her husband with soft eyes, and wrapped her arms about him. “I love you,” she said softly looking into his eyes. When she married him, she remembered that she knew that he was the one that she could look at with certainty and know that she loved him and wanted to be with him and that he was forever for her.

“I love you,” he said, punctuating his sentiment with a kiss.

Their apartment smelled delicious, and she knew that he had made something delicious for them, but the taste of his mouth against hers filled something much more in her. Rafe took her hand, and they went to the bedroom where things escalated rapidly.

“I want to be full of you…” Eliza purred.

“That was exactly what I was intending,” he smiled and she looked at his familiar erection and thought of the pleasure that he gave her when he put it inside of her.

She took his hand and kissed it over and over again. Rafe groaned and he looked at her with gentle eyes.

“You want this,” he made a fist, and she felt herself clench with the ache for it as he did.

It took them awhile, when he penetrated her like that. He did not always even get all the way in, but having his penis inside her was a different sensation than having his fist. Besides, she wanted to be close to him and she loved the way their lovemaking seemed endless when he fisted her. They looked at each other and touched each other in other ways, and after he held her close and kissed her temples asking her if she was okay–was it good for her?

It was always good for her with him.

“Eliza,” he said her name and it sounded thick to her like through a dream.

She had gone to another place…

 

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Twisted

Eliza went over to Oscar’s apartment, he sat on his couch with just a pair of pants and a t-shirt. Barefoot, he looked toward her walking into the apartment with a slight lift of his head.

“Come in the kitchen with me…” she cajoled. 

They had always liked to cook together. Eliza got all of the things to make a ragu that he really liked so that he would only have to cut things up if he was not in the mood for more.

Ever since Cleo went to Paris, he had been sullen and unresponsive. Eliza had not suspected that he had been that in love with Cleo—she thought he was more invested in Sally if anyone. Especially since she knew that Sally was still around smelling after him…

Oscar cut an onion beside her, and his eyes did not tear up. Eliza’s face streamed with tears, between the onions and being so close to Oscar and not knowing what to do…

His shoulder grazed hers, and she burned from head to toe from the touch of him but she continued to cry and cut her onions. Then he grazed her again and she knew it was not an accident, but she continued to cut the onion like it was a meditation.

“Thank you,” Oscar said quietly, and she still did not say a thing because she did not know what she should say. She was there for him because she cared for him, but even if she cared for him…she was still stuck on what she should say to him.

“You know, I keep falling for the wrong women,” he said under his breath.

“I am not Cleo!” she snapped, and they looked at each other at the same time. She felt the steam release from her that she did not even know was there. 

She was not Cleo, she did not understand what he liked about Cleo anyway. At that moment, when he said that, she became so enraged. Jealousy burst around her like balloons, and she looked at him helplessly.

Oscar stopped cutting the onion and held her. The scent of onion and tears filled her mouth.

 

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Cougar

Cleo was considered a cougar in her circles, Cadmus was younger than her but nothing that would make her a cougar by any means. If anything he was the one that was more sophisticated than she was. 

Relationship wise.

Her job was just as substantial as his and she made a decent amount of money, but as far as the relationship went he was the one that showed her things. She was a little older, but he made her feel delicate and vulnerable. He entered her body with so many different things that required her trust and patience, and always made her call out his name loudly because she wasn’t ready for the pleasure that he provided her. He made her look in his eyes when she rode his fist, and there was nothing that had ever been more intimate than that to her.

But to have him walk out of her hotel room knowing she was livid, and not touch her. Just followed her around the room trying to make eye contact—he wanted to know that she was okay, but she was not going to give him her eyes. She did not want him to see what she was feeling, he was not privileged to get to see her anymore.

“Please go,” she had said, the heat of him on her back from him following her about the room like paparazzi. She threw up her hands like he was an offensive flash. She heard the door close, and the tears started in her throat. Fearful she would choke to death, she threw herself across the bed as if to eject the tears and she screamed silently.

He was gone, even if she had asked him to go…he was gone and she was not sure that this time he would come back. She had never been afraid to tell him to go before because she knew that he would come back. But this time, with Mathilde, her eyes tightened as she thought about the other woman. With Mathilde, she was not sure he was going to come back this time.

She could not close her mouth…

 

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Lockdown

Cleo could not keep her eyes off of Mathilde. Usually it was Cadmus that had her undivided attention — if he was in the room, she could not notice anything else but Mathilde was riveting. She could see why he wanted her, and it made her hurt all the more. She was going to need an emotional lockdown in the hotel room after this, so she could process her thoughts.

For now, she sat at the table watching the other woman and sipping her wine. Cadmus of course had selected something amazing for them to drink.

When she got to the bar, they were fucking as much as two people can fuck without actually fucking in public. They kept touching around each other like their hands were butterflies, and looking at each other awed expressions like they could not believe that the other person was with them. When she walked up to them they, both looked at her with dazed expressions like she was an unexpected cloud on a sunny day.

Mathilde was polite to her, but that was another thing about her. She was cosmopolitan and elegant, but there was a lot of reserve. Cleo caught herself when she almost touched her hand, while she was talking but she did not think that that was something that she should do. Cadmus barely looked at her, and when he did it was fleeting.

It was after when he went to her hotel room, where she had planned her lockdown that he looked at her. She looked at him confused because she was not sure why he was there.

“Where is Mathilde?” she asked, after she let him in and wrapped her arms about herself. She could feel the heat of his body, and saw him follow her out of the corner of her eye in the mirror.

“In our hotel room Cleo, you’ve seen us — I wanted you to see that this was not a fling.”

Cleo turned and looked at him.

“I came and I saw Cad–ironic no?”

He looked at her with his lips in a downward curve.

“Cleo…”

“I don’t need your words Cad, I don’t need your words!”

She looked at him with tears in her eyes, and her emotional lockdown began even though she was not alone.

 

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