Other Colors - Ch. 17 - Sex Stories

Other Colors - Ch. 17

... come. With the thought of him, of his hand; the visceral sense memory seared into my skin and brain—I could’ve come for him right then and there. But I didn’t. I held back. I wanted to keep him there with me. I wanted to hang onto him as long as I could. And I could really only get away with tormenting myself so endlessly by believing that he’d told me to do so—that he was there, and wouldn’t allow me to stop. There was a cyclical and self-defeating sort of logic to it, and little by little, I let my libido become a kind of Lambek calculus, rolling in soft, gentle ellipses between my legs. I laid my cheek against one shoulder, whimpering as another warm throb swelled up inside me. I set my mind free. I fantasized. I thought of the theatre. L’Oxtiern, which now belonged to him, stereoscopically overlaid with the one from his dream—the one where he’d stripped me, blinded me, where he’d tied me from the rafters, and made of my body his wanton marionette. He made me dance for him. My brow tensed, and I nearly devoured my lower lip. I was close again. Too close. Much more, I and I wouldn’t be able to stop it. I felt my thoughts began to shatter, and crack. Danse ...

... sacrée, et danse profane. Amor sacro y amor profano… Venus Urania. Venus Vulgaris. ‘You chose de Milo, Miss Foster. Te rappelles-tu?’ I remembered ropes around the de Milo in Man Ray’s Venus Restauré . I imagined his ropes around me, and his arms around me. I gasped, and arched backward. Yes. ‘That’s a fair thought… ’ My thighs closed tight around my fingers. ‘ To lie between maids’ legs.’ I forced one final sigh through clenched teeth, and at last, let myself begin to slip. ‘I think nothing, my Lord.’ Nothing… The phone rang, and I froze solid. It rang again, and I very nearly toppled out of his chair. His timing was torture. It was sadistic. He might have spent days devising new ways to fluster, frustrate, and humiliate me. Nothing could have come close to the agony of that interruption. The tension it left in me was too much to sustain. Entirely too much … It rang a third and fourth time while I tried to scrape myself together. I ached. I whimpered, and tried hard to hold my hand steady enough to pick up. I held the phone to my ear, panting softly, and for the first several moments, the line was silent. Then he spoke, and I knew my suffering had only just started.