Allure of the Vixen (11 page)

“Don’t take too long.”

“Or what? You’ll move on to another lover?”

Joanne stood up on her toes, her lips dragging
across mine. “Not yet. We’re not done, you and I. And I want you.”

Her lips parted, her taste forcing me to remember,
as if I could forget.

I managed to hold back for an instant, less to prove
to her that I could, and more to prove to myself. Then I kissed her back.

I could feel her smiling right through the kiss.

I managed to escape from Joanne’s clutches that
morning. After she left I took a long cold shower. I hated cold showers, but I
needed one to cool down my ardor, and also shock my senses clear. Joanne had a
way of twisting me around. I had gone from wanting to scream at her, to
ignoring her, to listening to her, to making her coffee, to kissing her.

If I had let her stay another ten minutes I’d be
fucking her. I knew it, and so did she.

To her credit Joanne left without complaint, without
me even having to usher her out the door. I had asked for more time to think
about it, and she was going to give it to me.

Now I just had to figure out what I wanted.

I wanted
her
, of course. If anything, she was
more alluring than ever. I wanted to fuck her, but more than that, I wanted to
have all of her. I wanted to be the total lover she claimed she could never
find. One who would totally satisfy her.

And she knew that too.

Had Joanne played all her other lovers this way?
Letting them have so much, yet denying them one thing, one thing they really
wanted, the need growing the more she denied it to them. Letting them fuck her,
but not lick her. Letting them lick her, but not be taken by her in her mouth.
Letting her do whatever she let each one do, but in every case, denying them
something else. Dangling this unreachable goal in front of their noses, that of
the perfect lover. Her denial of his existence, yet every man’s desire. Wanting
what they couldn’t have, because Joanne had already decided that no such lover
existed.

And Peter, her husband. In some ways he had nothing,
he couldn’t even have the kind of sex I was having with Joanne. And yet he had
something none of us would ever have, Joanne’s love, and Joanne as a wife.

That was another part of her siren song, another
goal denied her lovers.

If it were anyone but her, I would have walked away.
I felt sure of that. And even with Joanne, with her skills as a lover, with her
beauty, with her sexuality, I was still pretty close to being able to separate
myself.

But I had to admit, standing under the bracingly
cold clear water, that she was right. For good or bad, we weren’t done yet.

Yet something had changed. I already saw the end,
the denouement. I was a realist, I wouldn’t fall into the trap of thinking I
could be her dream lover. Joanne was no maiden, no innocent, naïve girl who got
her ideas of sex and love and desire from some romance novel. She had enough
experience—sexual experience—and smarts, to know what she needed. And even with
all her lovers, she knew she couldn’t get it with one man.

Or she had convinced herself she couldn’t, which was
the same thing.

I cranked the shower dial all the way to hot. I’d
beaten myself up enough about Joanne, about all of it. From now on, whatever I
did, I would do with my eyes wide open.

No more cold showers for me.

I made Joanne wait almost two weeks. I was
ready before then, but I wanted to send my own message.

What went on during that time with her, with her
husband? Was Joanne able to just put me on the back burner, and make do with
her other lover? Or did she really want me, like she had said?

Maybe she was already lining up my replacement.

I avoided rationalizing. I could have said I had
nothing else going on, that there were no other women I could be with. But that
would be a lie. There were plenty of other women, and I didn’t even have to
look around the office. Hook ups were easy, and friends with benefits easier.

I considered sending her a message one morning: I’ll
give you one chance, be here at noon.

That would give me some semblance of control. But I
discarded the idea. What if she couldn’t get away from work? There were times
even I couldn’t get away. Although she could have a priceless excuse,
I have
to leave the office because my husband needs something.
What she wouldn’t add
was that her husband needed another man to fuck her.

I thought about Peter, feeling sorry for him, and
envying him at the same time. Maybe I could deny Joanne something, at least for
a little while. For some reason I couldn’t deny Peter, maybe because I fully
understood his predicament, if not his kink. I knew what it would be like to
imagine Joanne with another man, because that’s how I felt when I thought about
her with another lover. It was bad enough for me, it would be worse with Peter,
even though he got off on it. Or maybe it was just some sympathy for a fellow
male, choosing his side in the war between the sexes, especially when the woman
was fighting dirty.

More for him than for her, I sent Joanne a text that
would give her a little warning, the barest time for preparation.
Tomorrow
or the next day at noon.

An hour later I got a reply.
Tomorrow. Would have
replied sooner, but your message created some excitement here that had to be
dealt with immediately.

So little detail in those words, yet the
implications so great. Joanne wanted me to know that she was ready, that she
wanted me sooner rather than later. But also reminding me of her marriage. She
had shared the news of my decision, and my invitation, to Peter.

And it had turned him on, it had turned both of them
on, knowing I was going to fuck her again soon.

My cock hardened, not only looking forward to
tomorrow, but imagining what Joanne had just done, perhaps of what she had just
made her husband do. Had she told him how aroused she was about being back with
me? Was she talking dirty to him, telling him what I was going to do to her?
Was she sitting on his face, or maybe making him touch himself, keeping herself
out of reach? Was she reminding him that I was going to fuck her, to do to her
what Peter wasn’t allowed to do whenever he wanted?

I started to rub myself, imagining it was me who was
with her now, that Joanne was telling me she was about to fuck some other man.
It shouldn’t have turned me on, but it did. Just the way I knew she would say
it, so matter of fact, yet so arousing, every little detail spelled out, how
she felt about each touch, how turned on she was.

I wasn’t even married to her, and yet I began to
understand Peter’s obsession, why this excited him so much. I pictured myself
in his position, being out with Joanne, watching to see who looked at her, who
she looked at. Waiting for the inevitable, for her to pick out a lover. And
then tell me about it. Caught between pummeling the other guy and wanting to
see her arousal.

This woman was going to be the death of me.

Even knowing that didn’t keep me from touching
myself.

Joanne arrived at the stoke of noon the
next day. The anger tension was gone, replaced by the tension of expectation.
For me, it was even higher than the first time we had been alone together,
because that day I hadn’t been expecting sex.

Now there was a new secret we shared, which made us
more than casual lovers, and we had already been much more than that.

She stepped into the foyer with her little smile.
“Michael.”

“Joanne.” Like we were getting reacquainted.

She was waiting for me to make the first move.

I wanted to fuck her right there, right up against
the wall, like we had before. But I also wanted something different today.

I turned and walked into the bedroom, smiling as I
heard the click of her heels as she followed me. In the bedroom I turned and
took her in.

Joanne’s blouse was pure white, the color of purity,
a subtle, ironic joke to me. Maybe she had white underwear on as well. Three buttons
were undone, the blouse baring well down into her cleavage, certainly she
hadn’t come like that from the office. I wondered if she had undone an extra
button or two in the elevator, or perhaps on the walk over.

She wore a fashionable, perfectly office acceptable
dark blue skirt, cut a few inches above the knee. Yet the material was swishy
thin, not see through, but the least little movement of her legs, just walking,
would reveal more thigh than the cut would suggest. She wore no stockings,
which must have been a little cold, her feet bare in elegant heels that were
higher than what you’d see in the office. I wondered if she had changed them
before coming over, or whether she had worn them to work that day.

“Women have all these options that men don’t have
for clothing,” I said.

Joanne knew immediately what I was talking about.
“Do you like it?”

“You know I do.”

“I can get excited just by dressing a certain way.”
She took my hand and placed it on her chest, just below her neck. “This blouse.
It’s just a plain blouse.”

“It’s not plain on you.”

“That’s because you are thinking like I am. You see
what I feel. You imagine yourself being able to put your hand here.” She moved
my hand down toward her cleavage. “And here. Just because it has buttons.”

“I was wondering if you unbuttoned an extra one for
me.”

“That’s the thrill, isn’t it? I can be at the
office, I can just sit at my desk, and imagine your hand here, I can just
unbutton a single button, and suddenly I go from being dressed for work to
dressed for sex. Sometimes I do that, and walk around for a few minutes, to see
if anyone notices. Then I button it back up, and see if they look again.”

“Anyone?”

She unbuttoned another button, and this time my hand
moved on its own accord. “I told you, jealousy doesn’t become you.”

“I don’t need to be jealous, you are here in my
apartment,” I said, and I slipped my hand under the top of her bra, pulling my
finger across her nipple, feeling it harden with just that one teasing swipe.

Joanne met my eyes, and I felt her lean forward,
waiting for me to do it again. I kept my hand on her breast, but didn’t touch
her nipple.

“Tease,” she said.

“Tell me more about the clothing. If I like what I
hear, you’ll get more.”

“The skirt. An appropriate length for the office.
But so light. When I sit down, it hikes up a bit. Sometimes I let it, I can
feel the air on my thighs, between my legs. I know men are looking. I cross my
legs, and that shows off a little more. Even if it isn’t showing much, I get up
again, and casually push it back into place, letting everyone think I was
showing too much, that maybe they had just missed something.”

“A glimpse of your panties, maybe?”

“Or more.” Joanne took my hand and guided it to her
thighs. I could feel her tight legs right through the material.  Her hand still
on mine, together we moved up her leg, past her thigh, to her crotch. There was
no break in the fabric.

“You aren’t wearing any underwear,” I said.

“You are so observant.”

“But I’m touching you. No one else would know this.”

“But they’d think it. They’d imagine it.”

“You’re a vixen.”

She laughed. It was a good laugh, warm with more
than just arousal. Her hand squeezed mine. “And you drive me wild.”

“Keep talking.”

“The shoes. Not quite fuck me heels, but just a
little risqué, don’t you think?”

“Did you wear them to the office?”

Joanne put her finger to my lips. “Shh. I’ll never
tell.”

“What
will
you tell me?”

“What do you want to know?”

I unbuttoned another button on her blouse. “Did you
dress this way for me?”

Joanne gave me her tiny smile. “No.”

“No?”

She shook her head and at the same time lifted up
her skirt, my hand dropping onto her bare thigh, right where her underwear
should have been. “Peter dressed me this way for you.”

Her skin was much warmer than it should have been,
given that she had walked blocks in the cold in that thin skirt, with naked
legs. Did I really have this effect on her? To get her this warm, with just one
touch?

Or was she thinking of her husband Peter?

“I take it there was some discussion of my message
to you.”

“There was more than a discussion.”

“Really.”

“He knew I was waiting to hear from you. You wanted
to leave me wondering, didn’t you? If you’d come back to me. You knew it would
drive me crazy.”

“It wasn’t that.”

She cocked her head, and I saw the realization dawn
on her. “Ah. You wanted control.”

“Some of it, anyway.” There was no use denying it,
she knew me. About this, anyway.

“And you can have some of it. You
do
have
some of it, more than you think. Tell me what you want me to do.”

I considered. Would she really do anything I wanted?
“I want you to get on your knees.”

“No you don’t.”

“You just told me I have more control than I think.
Get on your knees.”

“I will. But I won’t take you in my mouth.”

“I could make you. Is that what you want?”

That glint of sadness was in her eye again, the
sparkle gone. “I thought we were past this. Aren’t you happy with what I give
you, with what we have?”

“What if I want more?”

“You could take it. But you’d have to force me, and
that wouldn’t be you. You’d hate yourself after, admit it.”

“You do it for someone else, don’t you?”

“I told you, that’s different.”

My eyes flicked away. We were alone in the bedroom,
but there was a shadow there, another man. Two of them actually. Her other
lover. And her husband.

I realized it would always be this way. With me at
least. Perhaps Joanne could compartmentalize, she could be in the moment, with
just one lover. Or be with one lover in her hand and her husband in her heart.