Authors: Emma Taylor
Charlotte fell onto her couch and put her feet up on the armrest. She could continue the TV series she had been binge-watching, she could watch a movie, she could read. More than anything, she wanted this evening to come more quickly. The opera, with Elliot. It was something she had never dreamt of, but now it was here she felt like the luckiest woman alive.
But then, she reflected, going anywhere with Elliot would have been thrilling. It was him she wanted, to be alone with him, to share pleasure with him. She wanted to know him as well as she knew herself.
Oh, because you know yourself
so
well,
an inner-voice giggled. The voice was right, she conceded; she didn’t know herself very well. Maybe not at all.
***
After a day of doing not much at all but waiting for the time when she could once again don a dress and go out with Elliot, Simone finally called her back. It was evening, and she was waiting for Elliot’s car to come and pick her up. She had already dressed herself in a sparkling green dress and heels, with a pearl necklace around her neck, close to her breasts. She was studying herself in the full-length mirror in her bedroom when her phone rang. She felt a sudden lurch when she thought it was Elliot: a little skipping of her heartbeat. But then she picked up her phone and saw that it was Simone. She thought about rejecting the call, she didn’t want to be shouted at again, but Simone had been her friend too long for that.
“Hello,” she said.
“Hey,” Simone said, sounding awkward.
“Hey,” Charlotte said, after a pause.
“I—” Simone laughed nervously. “I don’t know what to say, babe,” she went on. “I was obviously a bitch. I know that. But it’s hard. Because the core of what I was saying, I still believe. I still think it is wrong to go around with a rich, famous man like that. But I’m sorry I called you such horrible things.”
“That’s a mixed apology if I ever heard one,” Charlotte said. “Let me hear your side of things. Why exactly do you think me and Elliot is a bad idea?”
There was another pause, and then Simone said: “I just—it just doesn’t seem right. Here I am, at home with my kids, and I go online and there you are, the same age as me, going around town with a rich man. Does that seem right to you? It’s not… womanly.”
Charlotte almost laughed down the phone. Only with an almost herculean effort did she stop herself.
Womanly?
Basically, as far as Charlotte could see, Simone was jealous of her because she was dating a rich, famous man. And she also wanted Charlotte to settle down, get married, and have kids, just like her. Charlotte wanted to call Simone on her jealousy, but thought it might hurt her. She tried a softer approach.
“Simone,” she said, softly. “I am happy with Elliot. We are having a good time. I am not doing this to offend you. I wouldn’t want to hurt you in any way. I just like being with him, and he likes being with me. That is all. There is nothing else to it.”
“But—”
“But nothing,” Charlotte said. “I like him, and he likes me. If you are truly my friend, can’t you accept that?”
“I suppose,” Simone muttered.
Charlotte was about to say something, but then the call abruptly ended. Charlotte didn’t even have time to be upset. As soon as the call had ended, Elliot’s name appeared on her phone. She answered the call instantly.
“I’m outside,” he said.
Charlotte felt a grin lift her lips. “I’ll come down now,” she said.
“Good,” he said. “I can’t wait to see you. I’ve been thinking about you all day.”
Me, too,
she thought.
***
Elliot was dressed in a sharp suit with a watch flashing on his wrist. She was surprised to see the watch glinting in the streetlight. Elliot had never been one for flashy accessories. When she asked him about he just shrugged. “I’m not feeling like myself lately,” he said, and smiled at her. “I think you know what I mean.”
Yes,
she thought. She did know what he meant. It was not like her to dress in sparkly dresses. She hadn’t even worn this dress in years, and she was surprised it still fit her. The pearls had been a present from her mother before she died. She had never even worn them before. She had been waiting for the right occasion. She hadn’t even consciously decided that this was the right occasion. It had just felt right as she put the pearls on. But now that she was wearing them, she knew it was the right decision. She and Elliot, she had to admit, if only to herself, were an attractive couple.
Held out his arm for hers, and hovered near the exit to her apartment building. Already the few paparazzi that had gathered were milling around the doors, cameras ready. A few snapped pictures of them through the windows. Elliot held her arm tighter and then emerged into the night. The flash from the cameras was immediate, making her eyes go white-hot and blinded. She fought the urge to cover her face and instead smiled and waved, following Elliot’s lead.
Elliot led her to the car and climbed in, and then the driver pulled away into the night. Charlotte laid her head on Elliot’s shoulder. He put his arm around her and rubbed her shoulder with his strong hand. He kissed the top of her head and rubbed her shoulder in such a way that she almost fell asleep. It was almost like having a professional massage.
Is there nothing this man can’t do!
Again and again she had to remind herself that she was, for the most part, just a normal thirty-eight-year-old woman. There was no special reason why this had happened to her and not another thirty-eight-year-old woman. She wondered how many women, right now, were approaching magical situations like hers without even realizing it.
Soon the car stopped, breaking her reverie. Elliot smiled down at her. “We’re here,” he said.
***
Charlotte wasn’t all that impressed with the opera. It wasn’t that it was bad; she just didn’t really get into it. As far she could tell, there was a man who wanted a woman, and the woman rejected him, and so the man spent a lot of time signing about how sad he was. The singing was extraordinary, but that was all. Elliot didn’t seem too impressed either. When they left the theater, he muttered: “That is the first and last time I go to one of those.”
She raised an eyebrow.
“I’ve never been,” he said. “I brought you tonight because I thought it would be a sophisticated thing to do.”
Charlotte laughed. “Well, it was certainly that.”
After the show, the valet pulled up in a sports car. Elliot climbed into the driver’s seat and motioned for her to sit in the passenger’s seat. She climbed in beside him. His voice took on that calm, commanding tone as he said: “Here is what I want to do.” Those words caused a shiver to tingle up Charlotte’s spine. She knew what those words brought: pleasure. “I want to find a private place where I can go down on you. I have been thinking about it a lot, what your pussy would taste like. I want to lick you until you come for me, Charlotte. Do you understand?”
“Yes,” she muttered, her heart banging in her chest. “I understand.”
“Good,” he said.
They were silent for the rest of the journey. Elliot drove way too fast between the traffic, as though he was desperate to find that private place; as though he was desperate to make her come. She swallowed and clamped her hands down on her knees, to stop from shaking. She told herself she was shaking from the speed at which they were travelling, but she knew that wasn’t true. She was shaking because she wanted it, now. She wanted him between her legs.
He drove away from the city to the outskirts and pulled up on a hill that overlooked the city. The stars and the city lights shone out at them, and nobody was around. Elliot turned to her and reached his hand under her seat. With one movement, he pushed the seat back, sliding it into the back seats. Then he opened his door and walked around to her side. He opened her door and looked down at her, his eyes wandering over her breasts, and then down to her legs.
She felt goosebumps prick her skin as the cool night air blew into the car. She shivered as Elliot slid to his knees outside of the car. He grabbed her legs and turned them so she was facing him, and then looked up at her. “You’re going to come for me,” he said.
She nodded. She wanted to come for him.
He moved his hands up her bare legs, and then suddenly grabbed her flesh, hard, and pulled her toward him. She propped her hands on the dashboard and the chair to stop herself from falling. He yanked her underwear down in one quick motion and then parted her legs, almost violently. She let out a small wheeze. He moved his hands up her legs toward her vagina, and then touched her clit.
She bit down as he moved his face into her vagina. His head was under her dress. All she could see was his body, leaning into her with its immense power. And then he brushed his tongue along her clit, softly, and then flicked it fast and hard. She reached down and grabbed his head, pushing him into her. His breath was hot on her vagina, burning into her clit. She breathed heavily, heavier each second, gripping the dashboard and the chair so hard she felt her fingernails sink into the fabric of the chair.
He moved his tongue around and around her clit, and then pressed it firmly like it was a button. Charlotte felt the pleasure rising within her, pushing at her, gripping her. She gasped loudly when he made his tongue erect and pushed it into her vagina. He began to fuck her with his tongue as he rubbed her clit with his forefinger. He rubbed her clit harder and harder as he pushed his hard tongue inside of her.
Everything was getting hotter now. Charlotte looked down and saw this man, and saw that he was Doctor Elliot Sanderson. But she couldn’t believe it. She couldn’t believe that she was here, and this man was commanding her to this point of pleasure. She closed her eyes and wrapped her legs around Elliot’s head, locking him in.
He moved his tongue inside of her, licking her sweet spot, and rubbing her clit harder and faster with his fingers. The two-pronged pleasure caused a wave of heat to wash over her. She closed her eyes even tighter and focused on the burning points. She didn’t feel as though she was being licked and touched anymore; she felt as though there was a powerful engine thrumming beneath her. She rode the engine, savoring the undulations, and then the fierce wave of pleasure crashed into her, rocked her, banged her around.
She wrapped her legs tighter around Elliot’s head, pushing him into her as the orgasm made her writhe and squirm. She came on his tongue, felt her vagina tighten around his tongue. He growled and grabbed her thighs, heightening the pleasure. Then it passed and she slumped forward, loosening her legs. He smiled up at her as she pulled her underwear on.
That was when the car pulled up, a man leaning out of the window, a camera in his hand. Elliot made to stand, but the camera was too quick. Charlotte barely had time to close her legs as the flash went off, punctuating the otherwise black night. The car did a quick circle, camera flashing each second, and then revved off into the night.
Elliot made to jog after it, and then shook his head. “Dammit,” he snapped. “Goddamn bloodhounds.”
He turned to her. Suddenly, Charlotte was angry: more than angry. She was furious. She wanted to leap up and slap Elliot across the face. “Char—”
“Take me home,” she hissed, shame and indignation flooding her. “Take me home. Now.”
Her voice left no room for negotiation. The ride home was silent, and the pleasure Charlotte had experienced seemed like a cruel joke. She cursed herself for her stupidity. How could she let this happen? She knew she would never get her job back now. Oh, they would find a number of ways to dress it up. But it came down to this:
We don’t want to hire that sort of girl.
The injustice of it sickened her. If she had been a man, the other men would’ve cheered her. They would have called her a stud, not a slut. But right now that wasn’t what angered her. It was Elliot. How could he have led her there? How could he have done that to her?
Oh, he acted alone, did he? You weren’t writhing in pleasure? You didn’t enjoy it?
Elliot made to talk as they pulled up outside her apartment building, but Charlotte didn’t give him a chance. She jumped from her car and all but ran through the doors.
“I’m done with him,” she muttered. “I’m done.”
Just as the door closed, Elliot called: “You know where to find me if you need me, Charlotte.”
That infuriated her all the more. He assumed
she
would seek
him
out!? She turned to say something, but he was already driving off into the night. Still not sure what just happened, Charlotte stormed up the stairs to her apartment, pushing thoughts of Doctor Elliot Sanderson from her mind.
***
She stayed away from Elliot for three weeks. She didn’t plan to ignore his calls and cease all interaction with him. It came about naturally. When he called her after a week, she simply ignored it. He had expected her to come groveling back to him, and she hadn’t. And now he wanted her back. During the second week, she met up with Simone in a café. Simone had been right; after about a week of inactivity the paparazzi had soon grown tired.
Luckily, the picture the last paparazzo had taken had come out blurry, and nobody wanted to buy it. Charlotte had found it on his blog, and it had been all but unintelligible: just a blur with two vaguely-human shapes in it. But that didn’t stop the embarrassment Charlotte felt. What if it had been clear? What if the world had seen what she and Elliot had done? A surge of anger ran through her at this. It wasn’t just anger at the paparazzi. It was anger at the world and anger at herself. Why should the world care if she indulged in pleasure? Why should
she
?