Ecstasy (4 page)

He thought back to their phone call, the Monday after the erotic writer’s conference and groaned, remembering how lame he sounded as he outlined his mentoring plan to her. He banged his forehead against the door several times as his words flooded back into his brain.

“Thanks so much for offering to work with me, Charlie,” she'd said.

He'd said, “You know what? I think we’re both going to get a lot out of this.” But then as he realized how smarmy he sounded, he backpedaled. “What I mean is there’s nothing more enlightening than trying to teach another person what you already know. It’s a good chance for me to see if I actually know what I’m talking about, or if I’ve just been faking my way through my last eight books.”

Belatedly, Charlie realized he was going on and on about utter nonsense so he added, “Does that make sense?”

His palms got slick and sweaty on the handset of his cordless phone as he waited for her response.

Clearly trying to put him at ease, she said, “I know exactly what you mean, Charlie. And by the way, I’ve been thinking we should probably be upfront about things.”

“What things?” Charlie asked, so suddenly nervous his heart was going clackity-click and he could swear he heard a heavy metal soundtrack in his head.

“I want you to know that you don’t need to worry about the vocabulary you use when we’re talking about work. I know you’re a complete gentleman and that everything we do during our lessons is purely professional.” She cleared her throat and then added, “Even if we do happen to deal with things like dildos and kinky sex in our books.”

Charlie forced a chuckle, but inwardly he felt like the world’s biggest scum. Sure, his intentions were honorable. He was going to teach Candace how to write great erotica. But he couldn’t deny the fact that in the privacy of his imagination he had already devised twenty different ways he wanted to make Candace scream with pleasure.

But no matter how strongly he felt about her, he had decided to put the lid on his desire until their mentoring sessions were through—jumping her bones during their lessons would be a complete betrayal of her trust. He only hoped it didn’t kill him in the meantime.

“Good,” he’d said. “I’m glad we are being completely upfront about everything right from the start. I knew you were the right person to work with.”

“Frankly, I was afraid that Sheba Queen of the Sluts wouldn’t have left you in one piece by the time she was done with you. I had no choice but to save you by offering up myself.”

Charlie let himself savor the vision of Candace tied and bound to an altar, naked and gleaming, in sacrifice for him, before he said, “I appreciate that. More than you know.”

“So, what’s on the agenda?” she asked him, and just like that his entire body broke out in a sweat as he unfolded the piece of paper he’d written their lesson plan on.

Trying to keep his voice light, he said, “I’ve broken our mentoring sessions into five different lessons. Lesson one will be how to set a romantic scene.”

“That sounds great. I love the way you paint pictures with words in your books.”

“Thanks,” he’d said, and then swallowed loudly as he prepared to continue spelling out his list of lessons. Lesson one was the easy one, and he knew things were only going to get harder from here. Especially if the rock-hard bulge in his pants was any indication.

“Let’s see, for lesson two I thought we’d work on varying positions.” He had to pause, clear his throat. “I mean, we’ll take a look at...uh, you know study the different ways that...”

Suddenly he couldn’t think of any way to rephrase the sentence that wouldn’t sound like he planned on screwing her brains out the minute she walked through his door.

Thankfully, she reminded him in a gentle voice, “Charlie, you’ve got to stop worrying about offending me.”

“Okay,” he said, but his trepidation must have been clear in his voice, because she said, “Say fuck ten times to me.”

“Huh?”

“Just say it,” she demanded.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.”

“Good. Now say, ‘I want to lick your juicy pussy.’”

Charlie choked on an intake of breath, but he did as she asked. He repeated, “I want to lick your juicy pussy.” Even as he imagined how amazing she would taste, he braced himself for her disgust, expecting her to say, “You’re scum and I never want to talk to you again.”

“Feel better now?”

He took a moment to gauge his feelings and realized, much to his surprise, that his palms were dry again and his heart rate had returned to near-normal. Candace, in her sly way, had forced him over the hump of his anxieties. Yet again, he was impressed by what a clever little piece of work this delectable woman was.

“Thanks for that.” He was glad to laugh. “You definitely have a knack for dialogue. And now that I’ve decided to stop being such an idiot, here are the rest of my lesson plans.” He spoke quickly and didn’t pause between lessons. “Lesson three – using toys. Lesson four – the joy of sex in exciting locations. Lesson five – how to use role playing to really up the ante.”

He knew if he gave himself even a second to think about her reaction he’d start to make an even bigger ass of himself than he already had, so he barreled ahead. “So, how about we start next Saturday at my house on Lombard? Noon?”

“Great,” she’d said and hung up as soon as he gave her his address.

Now here he was, on the big day, with noon quickly approaching. Through great force of will, Charlie stopped banging his head on the door, stopped torturing himself with thoughts of what a dweeb Candace must think he was, picked up the box of rose petals and walked into his guest bedroom to finish preparing the classroom.

Charlie had decided the best way to teach Candace how to set a romantic scene was to show her one in real life. He knew, however, that using his master bedroom for any of these lessons was a very bad idea. As it was, in the past seven days he had beaten off to the picture of her he had in his head so many times while lying in his bed and while showering, as soon as he walked into his master bedroom it was practically a reflex for him to reach for his cock and start pumping it in his hand.

Standing in the doorway of his large guest room, he surveyed the space with a critical eye. He had draped the four-poster queen-sized bed with Indian silk. In his writer’s mind, he could see two lovers deep within their own world, sheathed in the exotic fabric.

He had covered the mattress in red plush velvet, and underneath the luxurious cover, he had put red satin sheets. To top it off, a dozen pillows fought for space near the head of the bed.

Charlie had never been particularly interested in interior design—although he felt that he had done a nice job with making his house a comfortable and cozy reflection of himself—but as he went from store to store in Union Square, as he ran his fingers lightly over the fabrics, he realized that he was, in fact, greatly enjoying himself.

His enjoyment, he thought ruefully, may have sprung from his intense desire to see Candace wrapped in the silks, velvets, and satins he purchased.

Or, more to the point, his even more intense desire to
unwrap
her.

He tried to shake the image of Candace naked with her legs spread wide open before him, begging for him to ram his cock inside her. He needed to focus on the task at hand.

He had draped the windows with shimmering translucent red fabric, shot through with gold thread. Then he’d brought light back into the room with candles of varying sizes and colors, which he had placed on every possible surface.

On the bare wood floor in front of the rock-framed fireplace he had laid a chenille rug. It felt so good to the touch in the store he couldn’t resist buying it. If Candace lay face down on the rug and rubbed her breasts across it slowly, what would the soft fabric feel like brushing against her nipples?

The rose petals were the final touch. Checking his watch and noting it was a quarter to twelve, he bent down, opened the large box and reached into the mass of flower petals.

To his great satisfaction the scent of the roses wasn’t overpowering. As he had hoped, the flowers lent an alluring air of sweetness to the room.

When the box was empty and rose petals beautifully littered the room, he started a fire in the fireplace and then painstakingly lit each of the candles. The room had a sensual vibe and fairly glowed with romance, just as he had hoped it would.

The doorbell rang, jolting him out of his pleasant trance. His palms went damp again and he half-laughed, half-groaned at how ridiculous he was being. All he and Candace were going to do was look at the bedroom, study its romantic elements, and then do a writing exercise using it as the setting for a story.

No big deal.

Charlie walked down the hall towards the front door and told himself to pretend he was working with Steve Holt. Why should he be nervous? They were just a couple of writers doing research for their craft.

He opened the door and all of his good intentions came crashing down upon him.

He instantly took in her smell, the pulse moving under the soft skin on her neck, the way the breeze was moving the tips of her red, curly hair around on the tops of her luscious breasts. An image of her pubic hair, red and curly and moist with her come and his saliva, popped into his head.

He was in deep, deep trouble.

By the time he remembered to say, “Hi, come on in,” he had no idea how much time had gone by since he’d opened the door. Thirty seconds? Five minutes? Time was a blur.

How could he treat her like one of the guys when she was a walking, breathing orgasm waiting to happen?

* * *

Candace walked into Charlie’s foyer and tried not to betray her nervousness by giggling, babbling, or checking to see if her hair was out of place. Instead, she plastered a big smile on her face and squeezed past Charlie and through his front door. He hadn’t moved aside very much to let her into his house, but she had to admit she didn’t mind rubbing up against him, not one bit.

He was just as gorgeous as he had been at the conference, with the highlights in his blond hair picking up the sunlight, that streamed in through the windows. She took in the snug fit of his well-worn jeans. She couldn’t keep her eyes from straying to the light brown chest hair that peeked out through his long-sleeve shirt. Salivating at the thought of seeing his chest—which she knew she’d never get a glimpse of in this lifetime, but a girl could dream, couldn’t she?—Candace wished he had left a couple more buttons undone.

Charlie’s bare feet were the icing on the cake. Candace had never seen such sexy feet before. She had never even known feet could be sexy. Until now. His feet were tan, with well-manicured toenails and a light dusting of hair. Suddenly, she saw herself naked and ready for him, straddling his big toe and…

No! Candace stopped herself from taking her daydream any further. What was happening to her, she wondered, as she swallowed past her dry tongue. Everything she saw made her think about Charlie’s cock and fingers and tongue.

Her mind was turning into an X-rated pay-per-view channel.

Trying to force her thoughts away from the incredibly dirty things she wanted to do to each and every part of Charlie’s body, she tuned into the details of his house.

It was crazy, but Candace felt that Charlie was even more potent, even more intoxicating when he was within the walls of his private environment. His home, like the man himself, was masculine and yet warm all at the same time.

“So,” she said in a bright voice to break the awkward silence, “this is your house, huh?”

As the words left her mouth, Candace turned pink and had to fight the urge to run out of his front door, down his steps and back into her car. Could she have sounded any more like an idiot?

Charlie’s eyes seemed to refocus in on her and he said, “Yup. Sure is. Glad you could come.”

“It was my pleasure.”

He smiled at her and she melted under his gaze. She knew she had a serious case of hero worship, but this was worse than she had bargained for.
Don’t make a pass at him under any circumstances
, she told herself in a firm inner voice.
He’s your teacher, and you should be grateful that he is taking any time out of his busy and illustrious schedule for you
, she added with a flourish.

She noted he looked a little uncomfortable as he said, “I’ve set up a classroom of sorts for us. It’s down the hall.” But when he comfortably added, as if she were a buddy from his baseball league, “Let me pour you a glass of chardonnay,” she decided his discomfort was just a figment of her imagination.

Her mind was playing tricks on her. More likely than not she was projecting her own uneasiness onto him.

She followed him into his kitchen. “You have a beautiful home.”

He turned to smile at her as he uncorked a bottle of white wine. “Thanks. It’s a big change from my last one.”

“How so?”

Candace hoped her question didn’t seem like she was prying, although she acknowledged that she definitely was. By the time their lessons were through, she wanted to know everything she possibly could about Charlie Gibson. She was already tucking all the little details of his clothes and his furnishings away into her memory for safekeeping and leisurely review on lonely nights. Who knew, she might even buy herself her own personal dildo if she was feeling really brave.

“I got to design this house from the ground up. And I, uh, didn’t have anyone telling me she hated my ideas this time around.”

He handed her the wine glass and said, “That’s probably a whole heck of a lot more than you wanted to know, isn’t it?”

She laughed and patted his hand. “Trust me, I know exactly how you feel.”

But as she felt a tremor pass through her from simply touching his hand, she immediately pulled back and said, in a shakier voice than she intended, “Should we get started with things, Mr. Mentor?”

He nodded. “I’ve set things up in the guest room. Follow me.”

She followed him out of the kitchen and down the hallway. When he opened the door to the guest bedroom she was overwhelmed with the sweet scent of roses. Her heart started to beat double time so she joked, “Are we going to write a story about the florist and—”