Fire Down Below (16 page)

***

After dinner as we’re walking back
to his car, Ben asks me if I’d like to spend the night at his place.

“Okay,” I say. I have to admit I’m
happy that he’s asked me over, plus I’m curious about where he lives.

“I have to warn you, it’s not very
impressive. I’ve been living in an apartment with all my stuff in storage while
I look for a house, so there isn’t much in the way of furniture.”

“Don’t worry. I won’t think any
less of you. Besides I’m after your body not your money.”

It turns out Ben lives in a
generic apartment complex near the water. His apartment is a one bedroom and he
wasn’t joking about there being no furniture. It’s basically empty. There’s a
couch, a bed, and a small entertainment center. Not a single picture on the
walls, no knickknacks of any kind. It’s about as characterless as you can get.

“So what do you think?”

“It’s nice. Are you in the witness
protection program?”

He laughs. “Come on, I’ll show you
the best part.” He takes my hand and leads me towards some French doors and out
onto a deck with a fantastic view of Puget Sound.

“Wow.” I look out at the inky water.
Sail boats are lit up in the distance like jewels. The sky is violet with a
sprinkling of bright stars strewn overhead and the sea air smells warm and inviting.
“This is amazing.” The apartment may be a two-cent nothing, but the view is
worth a million bucks. Breathing it all in, I feel intoxicated. In some ways Ben
really knows how to live.

He leaves for a few minutes and returns
barefoot with two glasses of red wine. He hands one of them to me and I watch as
he takes a sip.

“I don’t know if I’ll ever get
used to you drinking. You were always such a stickler about saving your brain
cells and all that.”

Ben shrugs. “It’s only an
occasional thing, plus red wine is good for you.”

“Yes, so I’ve heard.” My voice has
a more cynical edge than I intend as I’m reminded of our waitress from earlier.

“You were right about her, you
know.”

“Was I?”

He reaches into his pocket and
pulls out a piece of paper, handing it to me. I look down at it and see the
name Heather Stewart written in loopy cursive along with her home phone, cell,
and two email addresses.

“I’m surprised she didn’t give you
a photocopy of her driver’s license.”

He smirks. “I told her it wouldn’t
be necessary.”

“What do you want me to do with
this?”

“Anything you like. I won’t be
needing it. I’m only interested in one woman—you.”

I smile, holding his gaze and then
put my glass down and tear the paper into little pieces. When I’m done I hold
them over the edge of the balcony and watch as they flutter away.

Picking up my glass again I stand
near the balcony rail for a while, sipping my wine, admiring the view. The
railing is solid white, but below the rail is clear glass and gives the
illusion that there’s nothing there. When I feel Ben’s gaze, I turn to find him
watching me. He moves closer and draws me in, his mouth at my ear, his voice a low
purr. “Are you still wearing that red lace bra and panty?”

“Yes.”

“Show me.”

I pull away. He has a mischievous
grin on his face, but his eyes on mine are steady. I glance around the deck and
out at the surrounding area. His next door neighbors can’t see us because his
deck is walled on each side, but the buildings on our periphery sure can. “You
want me to show you
here
?”

“I figure if you’re bold enough to
give me a blow job while I’m driving down the interstate, you’re bold enough to
strip for me out here.”

“So it’s going to be like that is
it?’

He grins wickedly. “You shouldn’t
have teased me earlier. I told you I’d get you back. Unless you’re not up to
the challenge?”  

I think about this. I’m not particularly
shy, but I wouldn’t describe myself as an exhibitionist either. I remember all
those fantasies Ben used to have and how turned on he got when we brought them
to life. Those were fun times and I wouldn’t mind reliving them. It’s the look
on his face right now though that finally decides it for me. He’s wearing an expression
that is so full of desire that it gives me an ache in my chest and makes me want
to be that woman for him, the one who will make all things possible.

I put my wine glass on the small
table and then reach down to the edges of my dress, fingering the silky fabric,
before slowly pulling it overhead. Instead of tossing it to the patio floor, I
hand it to Ben as if to confirm the challenge. He takes it from me and drops it
on the table. I notice his mischievous grin is gone now and his expression is serious.
I stand there trying to appear relaxed and sexy though I mostly feel awkward and
self-conscious. When I glance down at myself it occurs to me that I couldn’t
have chosen a more perfect setting. With the glow of stars and a half moon
overhead, it’s light enough to see my body, yet dark enough to hide nearly all its
flaws. If you’re going to strip down to your undies for your lover on his
balcony,
this
is the sort of lighting you pray for.

“Take off the rest,” he says in husky
voice. And then after a short pause, “Except the shoes.”

I shimmy out of my panties and
hand them to Ben and then do the same with my bra, trying to manage all this in
a way that’s meant to look enticing. He accepts both articles of clothing,
tossing them onto the table with my dress. His eyes are moving over my nakedness
like a pirate who’s ready to plunder. The humid air feels silky against my skin
and I’m feeling a slow burn deep within.

Ben takes a step and closes the
gap between us, pulling me hard against him. And then his hands are everywhere,
running rough over my body, trying to control himself, but not managing very
well. “You feel so good,” he says, his breath hot in my ear. “I’m going to fuck
you right here.”

“What if someone sees us?”

“Then we’ll let them watch. Here....”
He takes my hand and puts it on his zipper. “Undress me.”

I move my hand up and start with
the buttons on his shirt instead, one by one, until it’s open and his beautifully
muscled torso is right in front of me. He looks pretty amazing under the
moonlight too. I glide my fingers over his warm skin, enjoying the feel of him.
Putting my head down, I take one of his small stiff nipples in my mouth,
flicking my tongue over it before working it between my teeth. Ben lets out a
hard breath, holding my cheek. “That’s nice,” he says encouragingly. I can feel
his heart pounding and when I move over to his other nipple he groans and puts
his head back. My hand is stroking his cock beneath his pants, so I finally
unzip him, shoving them down as best as I can. He steps away from me for a
second, finishing the job.

“I have an idea,” he whispers. He
reaches over to pick up his wine glass again and then standing in front of me,
he dips two fingers into the glass and then wets one of my nipples with the
dark liquid. Bending over he takes it into his mouth, suckling and pulling,
licking up the wine with his tongue. The sensation is so intense that I cry out,
my knees going weak, and I have to grab his neck to keep from falling. Ben
chuckles, holding me steady. He does the same thing to my other nipple and then
pours wine over both breasts, lapping at them, his tongue hot against my skin.

The slow burn I felt earlier has
turned into a roaring blaze and I’m squirming against him, trying hard to still
myself, but I can’t manage it. I feel like there’s a live wire running through my
body leading right between my legs.

I swallow, trying to catch my
breath and then reach down and put my hand around his cock. He makes a low
noise in his throat and brushes my hand away.

“Over here.” He guides me to the
edge of the balcony and turns me around so I’m facing out towards the water.
Standing close, his erection presses against my ass, and his bare chest is warm
against my back. I wonder what he has in mind. “Put your hands up on the
railing.” I do as he asks and then I feel his fingers between my legs, sliding
gently over my clit, moving in slow circles. He slips two of them inside of me
and I involuntarily arch my hips, clenching around him.

He moves his fingers in and out,
brushing upwards with his thumb. It feels so good I never want him to stop. Part
of me doesn’t believe that I’m standing outside naked. It’s too reckless, like
something from a dream, and I wonder if I’m going to wake up.

“I want you to come for me like
this,” Ben whispers.  “Just let yourself go.” He puts his mouth on my neck,
teasing me, kissing and biting while his fingers keep up their pace, until the
whole world is nothing but the sensation he’s creating.

I moan when the first glimmer of
ecstasy arrives, spilling over the edges. I reach back and grab his head, trying
to pull him into this with me as I’m drowning in bliss. Eventually the
sensation subsides and I sink back. Ben wraps his arms tightly around my waist.
I’m loose and limber, but he feels tense, like a spring ready to uncoil.

“Stand against the wall,” he says roughly.
I move and put my back against the stone wall that borders his deck. Wordlessly
I wait for him.

I want him so much that all I can
think about is how lucky I am to be right here, right now, in this moment.

He stands in front of me, lifting
my leg, his cock pressed hard against my center and then before I know it he shoves
his full length into me, greedily, lifting me off the ground in the process. I gasp
loudly, holding onto his neck, trying to steady myself.

“Wrap your legs around me,” he growls
as he starts to fuck me hard. I lift my other leg and he pulls it quickly behind
him. His hands reach down for my ass, grasping like a starved man who’s found a
ripe peach. He seems feral, totally out of control, groaning with every thrust
and the whole scene is so hot I’m thinking I’m going to come again and that
we’ll probably come together. But then he gives me new instructions, telling me
to straighten my legs. I’m confused at first, but then I realize he wants me to
straighten them both while he’s still holding me up. “Keep them steady,” he says,
panting. “I’m going to put my hands against the wall.”

Ben releases his hold of my ass,
puts his palms against the wall and tells me to let go of his neck and slide
onto his arms. The whole thing is bizarre, but I figure he knows what he’s
doing. I let go of his neck, gripping his shoulders instead, as my body slides
down so I’m being supported by the wait of his arms. He starts to move again
and while it still feels good, I have to concentrate pretty hard to keep my
legs straight. It occurs to me this must be another
Kama Sutra
position.
After about five minutes of this my thigh muscles are burning and I’m actually
relieved when I feel Ben climaxing. He shudders against me, grinding his hips,
his whole body straining. “Oh God,” he groans, still moving hard inside me. I
want to encourage him, grab him, scratch my nails down his back, but I can’t
change position. All I can do is hang on.

Afterwards he puts me back on the
ground and I lean against the wall, my thighs shaking from muscle strain.

“Wow, that was kind of like a
workout,” I say, trying to steady my poor legs.

He chuckles, still breathless.
“Yeah, it is isn’t it?” But while Ben is pleased by this, I’m not sure I feel
the same. I remind myself that I’ve always been open minded about sex and that
I definitely like making Ben happy. Judging by the way he’s nuzzling my neck
and making contented purring noises, I’d say he’s happy.

After a few seconds I explain that
I need to use the bathroom and he tells me he’s going to set up the bed while
I’m gone. I’m not sure what he means, but I figure he probably needs to change
the sheets or something. I reach down and take my sandals off, wiggling my toes
around, glad to be free of them.

His bathroom is as nondescript as
the rest of his apartment and, except for the stack of
Outdoor
magazines
in a crate on the floor, and the fact that it’s super clean, could be any guy’s
bathroom. After peeing I immediately start snooping through his cabinets. I’ve
always figured you can tell a lot about someone by what they keep in their
bathroom. Clearly Ben is still a hypochondriac because the first thing I find are
all kinds of lotions and potions. There’s echinacea, vitamin C, astragulus,
Goldenseal, B-complex vitamins, and a bunch of other herbs and homeopathic
remedies. I have to wonder why he even bothers with this stuff, since I’ve never
seen Ben sick a day in his life.  

I move down to the lower cabinet
and find a small blow dryer and a bottle of cologne. I put it up to my nose and
realize it smells like the current Ben. He never used to wear cologne when we
were together, but apparently he’s developed some new habits. There’s also a
bottle of baby oil, razor blades, and lots of different hair gels, waxes, mousses,
etc. He almost has as many hair products as I do, which is surprising since I
can tell he doesn’t put much stuff in it. When I see the big bottle of hairspray
it dawns on me that these products have been left here by someone else—a woman.
I remain still as the realization sinks in. I half wonder if he’s still involved
with her, but then dismiss the notion, since it wouldn’t be like him to lie
about something like that.

I distractedly pick up the stack
of
Outdoor
magazines and flip through them, still being a snoop. There’s
also
Men’s Fitness
and
Flex
. About half way through the stack I’m
rewarded for my thoroughness with a couple of
Penthouse
magazines.

Oh my. I remember the baby oil I just
saw and feel titillated at the thought of Ben in here jerking off looking at
these. I open one of them and try to determine which photos he prefers. It’s some
sort of college issue and all the women are the wholesome sorority type with lots
of blonde hair, pink lip gloss, and small perky boobs. Ugh. I feel jealous
until I notice the other
Penthouse
has Dita Von Teese on the cover. Now
this is
very
encouraging. I have, and I’m not making this up, been told on
more than one occasion that I look a bit like her. Even I can see that we have
a superficial resemblance, though I think her eyes are blue, not brown. I flip
through the magazine, noting with satisfaction that the pages are somewhat worn.