Scent of a Woman

“I know about the thousand and one nights.”

“Ah, that’s the other version. The G-rated version.”

“Okay,” he said, wondering where this was heading. Role-playing? He guessed he could do that. Depending on whom she wanted him to be.

“You see,” she continued, “Scheherazade didn’t really tell stories about magic lamps or cunning sailors. At least, not the stories in all the books. Her tales were far more…erotic.”

Susan leaned over the bed, touched her lips to his in a teasing kiss. He flicked his tongue, but she pulled back. Shaking her head, she said, “Naughty.”

He groaned his frustration, but she didn’t seem to care. She took his lips again with the same feathery touch. He breathed her in, her scent intoxicating, dangerous. When she slipped his tie off, he couldn’t hold still another moment. He touched her hair with one hand, the back of her neck with the other. He wanted her near him, naked, with that mane of blond hair splashed across the pillows.

He wasn’t going to get it. She stepped away, sighed, then went to the dresser. Instead of putting down his tie, she held on to it while she went into her purse. He couldn’t see what it was she held in her hands as she headed back to the bed.

“I can see that you’re going to need a little help,” she said.

He looked down at his pants. The strain was almost too much. The seams could go any second.

She chuckled, a rich, deep sound that made him clench his muscles. “Not with that. At least, not yet.” She took his hand in hers, turned it palm up and placed gentle kisses on the tips of his fingers. It was nice, but—

Her mouth sucked in his index finger, all the way. The hot wet velvet made him squirm. Impossible to lie still and endure this incredible torture.

The next second, her mouth was gone. His hand was drawn up and out, and he realized that she was going to tie him to the bed. His whole body shifted into fourth gear, as if he’d been idling for the past hour, and now he was on the field, ready for the race. Although the idea of being helpless this soon in the game sent off warning signals.

His tie circled his wrist gently. He tested the hold, and found it was insubstantial; he could pull free in a moment. His worry dissipated, at least partly. She wanted the choice to be his. Did he want to pull free? Or did he want to enter her world?

The resounding answer was that he wanted very much to get on with it. And the only reason it felt safe to plunge ahead was because he could escape. Because she had understood that this journey was as much of the mind as the body.

She used something else to tie his left wrist. A scarf. When she was through, he sighed deeply, strangely at peace. At least he understood part of the game. He wasn’t to move. Until she let him.

The bed dipped as she climbed up next to him, on her knees. Then one leg went over his hips, and she straddled him, the juncture of her thighs lying directly on top of his erection.

“Now,” she said. “We can begin.”

His eyes closed as he dragged in a gasping breath. He couldn’t come. Not yet. Not like this.

It took all his will, all his strength to calm himself down as the heat of her seeped inside his pants. An ember, he’d wager, that would turn into a bonfire before the night was through.

4

SO MANY CHOICES. He was her very own buffet, and she could nibble to her heart’s content. Unbutton his shirt? She’d like to see his chest. On the other hand, maybe she should ignore the shirt and go directly to the pants.

While she pondered her delicious decision, she ran her hands over his arms, his chest. His body tensed, but he stayed in position. From his quiet struggle, she could see he wasn’t familiar with this role. He liked to be in charge.

Not tonight. And to reinforce the fact, she moved her hips back and forth, pressing herself against his straining erection. His moan was almost as satisfying as his expression. All that restrained lust made her tremble. Damn, this was fun.

“Shall I tell you what I want?” she asked, knowing he would say yes. In his condition, he would have agreed to anything.

He nodded. Opened his mouth, then closed it again, along with his eyes. A muscle twitched in his jaw, and his hands grasped his restraints as if they were lifelines.

She wondered how long it would take for him to lose it. For a moment, she pondered taking pity on the man. Undoing his belt, perhaps. No. The point of this little excursion was to set the tone. To see if her plan would work.

“I want,” she whispered, as she leaned over to touch the hollow of his throat with her fingers, “to play.”

His eyes snapped open and she took the challenge, her gaze and his locked. “I want to be anybody,” she said. “Anybody I’ve ever dreamed of being. I want to take out each one of my wicked desires, one at a time, and see where they take me. Take us.”

“Oh, God.”

She smiled. “I’ll interpret that as interest?”

“Yes.” The word was thick, low. As if his body were doing too many other things to be bothered with speech. Which, she imagined, was the truth.

She moved her hands down his chest again lightly, feeling him quiver beneath her. When she reached his belt, she toyed with the buckle, knowing she was driving him nuts, and loving it. “And I want you to whip out your—”

He inhaled sharply.

“…fantasies. No hesitation. No embarrassment. Tonight, dear David, is a prelude. A summit of sorts. We’ll lay the ground rules. There are lots of things I want to try, but there are certain taboos.”

“For example?”

She hesitated. Her voice had been steady all the way through her little speech. Confident, in fact. As if she did this every night. But now she was about to cross the line. Tell him things she’d never told anyone before. Not even Larry. If it was awful, if she hated it, she would never have to see David again. She hoped it wasn’t awful. “I’m not excited by cross-dressing,” she said.

“Me cross-dressing, or you?”

“Both. I like the differences between us.”

He flexed his shoulders, but he didn’t let go of the ties. “Go on.”

“I don’t like pain. Well, not a lot of pain.”

“What does that mean?”

She leaned down and captured his right nipple between her teeth. It would have been more interesting had he been undressed, but she could still make her point. She held the hard nub gently, flicking her tongue over the silk of his shirt. Then she increased the pressure.

His back arched as she continued to bite him. When he hissed and bucked slightly, she let him go.

He settled back down, squirmed, letting her know her illustration had had far-reaching effects, and met her gaze again. “I see.”

“Good. Now it’s your turn.”

“You’re done? Those are the only two things you don’t like?”

“No. But it’s still your turn.”

After exhaling and flexing his hands a few times, he nodded. “I don’t like it too messy. No unexpected bodily fluids.”

“Well said.”

“I try.”