The Pleasure of M (4 page)

Michel
 had
 realized
 that
 this
 (prepared)
 tirade
 was
 all
 rather
 blunt,
 but
 for
 reasons
 
already
  evoked,
  his
  patience
  was
  in
  short
  supply.
  As
  it
  turned
  out,
  all
  in
  all
 
Alexander
 seemed
 much
 more
 relaxed
 after
 that
 conversation
 and
 soon
 enough
 he
 
played
  no
  part
  at
  all
  in
  the
  affair
  that
  Michel
  would
  have
  with
  Cathy,
  as
  he
  would
 
continue
 to
 call
 her
 when
 speaking
 with
 Alexander.
 Since
 this
 is
 the
 last
 mention
 of
 
him,
  it
  should
  be
  noted
  now
  that
  Alexander
  did
  reform
  his
  ways
  and
  save
  his
 
marriage.
 

Despite
 his
 harsh
 rhetoric,
 Michel
 did
 intend
 to
 help
 Catherine
 transition
 away
 from
 
her
 previous
 affair
 if
 he
 were
 to
 connect
 emotionally,
 but
 as
 a
 self-‐serving
 gesture.
 
One
 should
 not
 share
 a
 woman
 with
 two
 other
 men,
 and
 he
 had
 the
 utmost
 respect
 
for
  Catherine’s
  marriage.
  And
  so
  he
  carefully
  orchestrated
  the
  beginnings
  of
  their
 
affair,
 
message
 
after
 
message,
 
call
 
after
 
call,
 
starting
 
perhaps
 
with
 
the
 
aforementioned
 books.
 
 

They
 discussed
 the
 progression
 of
 the
 plot
 of
 the
 Roquelaure
 book
 and
 as
 he
 probed
 
her
 reading
 of
 the
 text,
 he
 paralleled
 each
 of
 her
 reactions
 with
 one
 of
 his
 own.
 He
 
teased
 her
 a
 little
 at
 her
 constant
 surprise
 at
 his
 remarks.
 How
 could
 one
 expect
 the
 
same
 reading
 from
 a
 man
 and
 a
 woman,
 he
 chided
 her,
 since
 a
 man
 would
 identify
 
with
  the
  male
  characters,
  clearly
  the
  masters,
  while
  a
  woman
  would
  identify
  with
 
Beauty,
  the
  object
  of
  servile
  sexual
  bondage
  with
  the
  declared
  purpose
  of
  feudal
 
submissiveness.
  But
  she
  listened
  transfixed
  as
  he
  expounded
  his
  main
  point.
  Well
 
warned,
 she
 had
 indeed
 disengaged
 from
 the
 narrative
 well
 before
 the
 end
 and
 had
 
finished
 it
 with
 a
 detached
 pleasure,
 not
 sure
 if
 she
 would
 read
 the
 sequel
 but
 not
 
adverse
  to
  the
  idea.
  For
  most
  people,
  he
  explained,
  these
  are
  mere
  fantasies,
  and
 
while
 they
 more
 than
 have
 their
 place
 in
 human
 experience
 and
 sometimes
 even
 in
 
high
 literature,
 they
 belong
 in
 books.
 The
 very
 fact
 of
 their
 disengagement
 was
 proof
 
that
  neither
  of
  them
  was
  interested
  in
  such
  things
  beyond
  simple
  curiosity.
  In
  the
 
days
  that
  followed,
  their
  conversations
  evoked
  more
  simple
  pleasures
  as
  they
 
explored
  the
  multitude
  of
  similarities
  in
  tastes
  and
  liking
  that
  emerged
  between
 
them:
  love
  of
  food,
  love
  of
  music,
  their
  longing
  for
  human
  touch,
  a
  fascination
  for
 
rituals.
  And
  sex.
  A
  burning
  need
  to
  talk
  about
  it
  unbridled,
  uninhibited,
  as
  only
 
lovers
 could
 but
 somehow
 never
 do.
 They
 talked
 about
 having
 sex
 with
 others
 and
 
with
  each
  other.
  Their
  overnight
  message
  exchanges
  fast
  became
  torrid.
  It
  was
  in
 
response
 to
 her
 fear
 that
 e-‐mail
 was
 an
 impersonal
 medium
 that
 he
 warned
 her
 that
 
things
 could
 get
 vivid,
 which
 inspired
 her
 next
 message,
 un-‐prefaced
 and
 unsigned.
 

“I
 drove
 home
 last
 night
 in
 a
 state
 of
 high
 excitement.
 Conversation
 with
 you
 has
 a
 
very
  powerful
  effect
  on
  me.
  My
  husband
  was
  already
  in
  bed
  but
  not
  asleep.
  I
 
removed
 my
 clothes
 (all
 but
 my
 panties
 -‐
 
not
 my
 usual
 bedtime
 attire).
 He
 noticed,
 
but
 I
 attributed
 it
 to
 the
 heat
 and
 humidity.
 It
 is
 after
 all
 fairly
 late
 and
 we
 both
 have
 
to
 rise
 early
 in
 the
 morning.
 I
 wait
 until
 I
 hear
 his
 deep
 breathing
 and
 then
 I
 allow
 
my
 left
 hand
 to
 brush
 across
 my
 right
 breast.
 Ahhh….your
 voice
 comes
 back
 to
 me
 
and
  I
  hope
  that
  you
  also
  are
  thinking
  of
  how
  I
  might
  be
  touching
  myself
  at
  this
 
moment.
 I
 lay
 my
 other
 hand
 on
 top
 of
 my
 mound
 and
 give
 myself
 to
 the
 awakening
 
sensations
  -‐
  like
  an
  electric
  current
  that
  runs
  downward
  from
  my
  breast
  to
  my
 
secret
 place.
 After
 several
 moments
 of
 savoring
 those
 feelings,
 I
 slip
 off
 my
 panties
 
and
 reach
 into
 my
 nightstand
 for
 my
 favorite
 lubricant.
 My
 silky,
 wet
 middle
 finger
 
brushes
 lightly
 across
 my
 maiden
 hair
 and
 probes
 slightly.
 I
 imagine
 you
 watching
 
with
  close
  attention.
  After
  engaging
  in
  this
  action
  for
  some
  minutes,
  I
  make
  the
 
decision
 to
 leave
 my
 bed.
 I
 close
 the
 bedroom
 door
 and
 walk
 into
 the
 bathroom.
 A
 
nightlight
 gently
 illuminates
 the
 room.
 I
 stand
 naked
 and
 exposed
 before
 the
 mirror,
 
and
 again
 think
 of
 you
 observing
 me.
 My
 fingers
 move
 to
 my
 mouth
 and
 I
 caress
 my
 
breast
 with
 their
 wet
 warmth.
 I
 continue
 to
 stimulate
 myself
 with
 my
 other
 hand
 as
 
I
 begin
 to
 feel
 waves
 of
 sensation
 sweeping
 through
 my
 body.
 As
 I
 climax,
 I
 bend
 as
 if
 
to
 draw
 all
 of
 myself
 into
 that
 pool
 of
 ecstasy………….”
 

After
  sending
  this,
  she
  felt
  electrified.
  Right
  he
  was,
  she
  thought,
  things
  could
  get
 
vivid,
 and
 she’d
 be
 right
 there
 with
 him.
 But
 as
 it
 turns
 out,
 it
 was
 he
 who
 was
 right
 
there
 with
 her
 as
 his
 response
 demonstrated.
 

“I
 drove
 home
 last
 night
 in
 a
 state
 of
 high
 excitement.
 
 
I
 realized
 when
 I
 hung
 up
 that
 I
 was
 still
 at
 home.
 
Conversation
 with
 you
 has
 a
 very
 powerful
 effect
 on
 me.
 
 
Conversation
 with
 you
 has
 a
 very
 powerful
 effect
 on
 me.
 
My
 husband
 was
 already
 in
 bed
 but
 not
 asleep.
 
 
I
 am
 alone
 but
 for
 the
 cat;
 she
 lays
 still
 on
 my
 bed
 but
 not
 asleep.
 
I
 removed
 my
 clothes
 (all
 but
 my
 panties
 -‐
 
not
 my
 usual
 bedtime
 attire).
 
 
I
 remove
 my
 clothes
 (my
 usual
 bedtime
 attire).
 
He
 noticed,
 but
 I
 attributed
 it
 to
 the
 heat
 and
 humidity.
 
 
The
 cat
 didn’t
 notice:
 she’s
 used
 to
 it.
 
It
 is
 after
 all
 fairly
 late
 and
 we
 both
 have
 to
 rise
 early
 in
 the
 morning.
 
 
It
 is
 still
 early,
 and
 morning
 is
 very,
 very
 far
 from
 my
 mind.
 

I
 wait
 until
 I
 hear
 his
 deep
 breathing
 and
 then
 I
 allow
 my
 left
 hand
 to
 brush
 across
 
my
 right
 breast.
 
 

 

I
 wait
 as
 long
 as
 I
 can,
 waiting
 for
 you
 to
 make
 it
 home,
 phallus
 throbbing,
 and
 finally
 
allow
 my
 hand
 to
 endow
 the
 final
 inch.
 

 

Ahhh…
 your
 voice
 comes
 back
 to
 me
 and
 I
 hope
 that
 you
 also
 are
 thinking
 of
 how
 I
 
might
 be
 touching
 myself
 at
 this
 moment.
 
 

 

Your
  voice
  resonates
  in
  me,
  and
  I
  can
  see
  you,
  hear
  the
  sheets
  brushing
  your
  skin
  as
 
you
 touch
 yourself
 

I
  lay
  my
  other
  hand
  on
  top
  of
  my
  mound
  and
  give
  myself
  to
  the
  awakening
 
sensations
  -‐
  like
  an
  electric
  current
  that
  runs
  downward
  from
  my
  breast
  to
  my
 
secret
 place.
 
 

I
 float
 closer
 and
 my
 face
 hovers
 over
 you,
 my
 lips
 barely
 above
 your
 erect
 nipple,
 my
 
warm
 breath
 envelops
 your
 breast
 as
 I
 breathe
 the
 scent
 of
 your
 skin.
 

 

After
 several
 moments
 of
 savoring
 those
 feelings,
 I
 slip
 off
 my
 panties
 and
 reach
 into
 
my
 nightstand
 for
 my
 favorite
 lubricant.
 
 

 

One
 hand’s
 fingers
 gently
 trace
 the
 curves
 of
 your
 body
 while
 the
 other
 hand
 cradles
 
the
 back
 of
 your
 neck,
 its
 fingers
 probing
 your
 hair.
 

 

My
  silky,
  wet
  middle
  finger
  brushes
  lightly
  across
  my
  maiden
  hair
  and
  probes
 
slightly.
 
 

 

I
 imagine
 your
 fingers
 gently
 caressing
 the
 folds
 of
 skin
 between
 your
 legs
 that
 gently
 
tighten
 and
 release
 as
 if
 a
 heart
 were
 beating
 there.
 

I
 imagine
 you
 watching
 with
 close
 attention.
 
 
I
 am
 taking
 in
 every
 detail.
 
After
 engaging
 in
 this
 action
 for
 some
 minutes,
 I
 make
 the
 decision
 to
 leave
 my
 bed.
 
 
I
 close
 the
 bedroom
 door
 and
 walk
 into
 the
 bathroom.
 
 
I
 follow
 your
 every
 footstep…
 
A
 nightlight
 gently
 illuminates
 the
 room.
 
 
I
 bask
 in
 the
 warm
 glow
 of
 your
 grace.
 
I
 stand
 naked
 and
 exposed
 before
 the
 mirror,
 and
 again
 think
 of
 you
 observing
 me.
 
 

The
  mirror
  is
  my
  eyes,
  you
  stand
  before
  me
  naked,
  exposed,
  in
  offering,
  and
  I
  am
 
moved,
  humbled
  by
  this
  gift,
  for
  however
  undeserving
  I
  may
  be,
  in
  this
  moment
  your
 
are
 mine.
 

My
 fingers
 move
 to
 my
 mouth
 and
 I
 caress
 my
 breast
 with
 their
 wet
 warmth.
 
 
My
 phallus
 is
 hard
 as
 marble,
 hot
 as
 lava.
 

I
  continue
  to
  stimulate
  myself
  with
  my
  other
  hand
  as
  I
  begin
  to
  feel
  waves
  of
 
sensation
 sweeping
 through
 my
 body.