My Body-His (4 page)

* * * *

“
Hey,” Allison said, poking her head into my
office around noon. She had bangs that skimmed her brows, giving
her an almost school-girl look that translated into sexy. “Have you
eaten anything?” she said, flashing a bright smile that lifted the
corners of her clear blue eyes.

“
How do you manage to look so good even on a
Monday?” I asked.

She smiled, and I got the impression she heard
compliments all the time and didn’t mind hearing one more. I
glanced at the clock and said, “No I haven’t and I’m famished.
Let’s go down to the pub for a quick bite.”

“
Great,” she said, sashaying through my office
door.

* * * *

I stayed relaxed through most of lunch until Allison
asked me about my weekend. By the time I walked back into my office
a knot had begun to form in the pit of my stomach.
What if he’s
out there? What if he waits for me until I leave?

I buzzed Brian—my boss—on the intercom and told him I
would be leaving a few minutes before five. I planned to
tell … what’s-his–name … that I was not interested and that
Friday night was a fluke—if he showed up, which I hoped he
wouldn’t.

* * * *

“
Didn’t you say you needed to leave before
five?” Brian said as he passed my office at 5:05 p.m.

“
Oh crap,” I said. Gathering my purse and
jacket, I jogged to the elevator.
Slow down
, I told myself.
You’re being ridiculous. He won’t even be there.

I pushed through the double glass doors and scanned
the parade of business-clad people hurrying to their cars to go
home, shop, or head for happy hour. He wasn’t among them. I lowered
my shoulders and breathed a sigh of relief. Turning toward the
parking lot, I stopped. I felt him. I know that sounds crazy, but I
felt him watching me.

I turned back and scoured the faces around me. I made
a wide sweeping search of the area, finally looking across the
roadway.
Shit!
There he stood, leaning against the brick
wall on the other side of the street.

The breath stuck in my throat. He was eying me like
his prey. His expression was stern and arrogant as he leaned on his
left shoulder with his arms behind his back. He wore jeans, worker
boots and a long-sleeved blue shirt with buttons and no collar. He
looked striking, strong and menacing.

He waited.

What the hell is he waiting for? Let’s get this
over with,
I thought. I took a deep breath, noticing that I was
shaking again—terrified yet aroused.
I’m not interested,
I
told him silently, hoping that I would have the courage to say the
words out loud,
please don’t come around again.

I waited for a car to pass and then hurried across
the street. He pushed away from the wall, dropping a large bouquet
of flowers, and moved quickly up the sidewalk, away from me.

“
Flowers ... you brought me flowers?” I called
out to him as I swooped to pick them up. I rushed, shuffling after
him, trying to catch up. “Listen,” I said to his back, “Friday
night was a fluke. That wasn’t me. This was a mistake. I mean ...”
I was panting. “Hey,” I yelled, “stop for a minute, will
you?”

He continued to stroll briskly down the street. Why I
followed him, I don’t know, but I had to jog on my toes to catch
up. “Are you going to slow down?”

“
You’re late,” he said over his shoulder and
continued to stride away from me.

“
Well I just wanted to tell you that I think
this is a bad idea,” I hollered to him. “Are you going to slow down
or what?” I stopped.

He slowed down, and then walked back to me. “Give me
your shoes,” he said.

“
Give you my shoes? Why would I give you my
shoes?”

“
Take them off, put them in my hand,” he said,
holding out his palm.

I removed my shoes and handed them to him. He turned
and strode down the street, dropping my shoes in the nearest
garbage bin hanging on the light post.

“
What the hell!” I said. “What’d you do that
for?”

“
So you can keep up,” he said, pausing long
enough to answer me.

“
Those are my favorite shoes,” I said, shaking
my head—more at myself than him.

“
Well, if you want them, then get
them.”

“
Really?” I said and carefully reached for my
shoes, attempting to avoid touching the food byproducts that filled
the can. “Why are you treating me this way?” I said, not caring if
he could hear me anymore. I pulled the shoes out and held them away
from my skirt.

“
I’m sorry,” he said. He stopped, tilted his
head slightly and said, “I made us reservations at a Japanese
restaurant and I don’t want to be late. I am never late. That’s
another thing you need to know if I decide to spend time with
you.”

“
You
decide?” My brain felt like it had
imploded. “
You
decide? What the hell am I doing here?” I
said, heading in the opposite direction.

“
Here,” he said. He grabbed my upper arm and
turned me back around. He took the shoes from my hand and stepped
into the restaurant to the right of us. “Wait here.”

Returning a few moments later, he bent down and
placed my shoes—fresh and sparkling—on my feet.

“
Listen—” I said.

“
I know what you’re going to say, but wait
until after tonight to decide.”

“
You promise to leave me alone if I
say—”

“
Of course, after tonight all you have to say
is ‘Get lost, creep!’ and I will be a thing of the
past.”

That elicited a laugh from me. “Get lost, creep,” I
repeated. “I’ll have to remember that.”

His stride was longer than mine and even though he
slowed down a bit, I had to jog to keep up. When he swerved onto a
back street, I immediately thought of my dream. Despite my anxiety,
I continued to followed him.

After several more turns we walked up to a door that
looked like the emergency exit. My mystery man opened the door and
I stepped right through into a kitchen. It wasn’t large by
restaurant standards but it was busy, and the staff had to hustle.
The delicious smells made my stomach grumble and the stir-fry
sizzling in the wok commanded my attention.

My artist greeted an Asian man with a bow. He began
speaking in Japanese as if he had spoken the language his entire
life. I was stunned.
Where
had
he learned
Japanese? College? Living abroad?

He led me out of the kitchen, into the restaurant.
Several employees greeted him in their native language as we
followed our host to our table. Japanese flute music filled the air
and ornate Japanese screens separated tables from one another. We
were seated at a booth by a lush atrium. He sat facing the
waterfall and indicated with a nod that I should join him on the
same side. I placed the flowers he brought for me in the chair
across from us.

“
I don’t know what to make of you,” I said,
pondering the man beside me.

“
There’s not much to get. I’m a simple guy,” he
said, smiling. “I like things the way I like them. For instance,
you owe me for being late.”

“
Ah ...” I began but the waiter interrupted
me.

He only addressed the artist and then moved away.

“
What was that?” I asked.

“
Oh, I ordered for us,” he said.

“
How would you know what I like?”

“
Let’s wait and see.”

Again I veered between frustration and titillation. I
wanted to hit him and yet my body wanted him to fuck me right there
on our table in the middle of the restaurant. His hand clutched my
thigh and roughly spread my legs.

“
I can see you’ll need a little reminding
tonight,” he whispered in my ear.

The waiter brought saké to our table. As he poured it
into tiny ceramic cups, my artist worked his finger under the
elastic between my legs. I squirmed at his touch.

“
Relax,” he whispered.

The waiter moved away and he removed his finger.

“
Go to the bathroom and take off your
underwear,” he ordered, gripping the top of my thigh.

“
Oh ... um—”

“
Now,” he said. “I’ll tell you something about
me when you get back.” He ushered me out of the booth and I
stumbled to my feet, smoothing my skirt over my thighs. I snatched
my purse from the seat and stomped off to the bathroom. He laughed
at my ungraceful departure, making the hairs prickle on the back of
my neck.

My need to flee the restaurant battled with my
overwhelming desire for excitement. I went into the first stall,
closed the toilet seat and sat down, trying to collect my thoughts.
A mess of confusion swirled around in my head. I had never
experienced such arousal combined with such utter annoyance.

I stood and removed my underwear, shoving them into
my overstuffed purse. Leaving the stall, I approached the mirror,
heaved a heavy sigh and looked at myself. I looked severe with my
hair pulled back. I removed the clip that held my hair in place and
ran my fingers through it to fluff it out. I can’t explain why I
cared what he thought, but I did. The strength he exuded made me
want to please him, even though I hated him for it. The
contradiction of emotions kept me off balance.

I opened my purse again and shoved my panties out of
the way, rummaging for my lipstick. I chose a dark red, painting it
on my lips and pinching my cheeks to summon the blood to the
surface. My eyes had a wild look.

“
Who are you?” I said to the reflection in the
mirror.

I strolled back to the table with more confidence
than when I left, feeling as though someone else inhabited my
body.

“
What took you so long?” he demanded, clearly
irritated.

I sat down in front of the hot soup waiting for
me.

“
Following orders, sir,” I said like a private
to his commander. I spread my thighs to illustrate the
point.

“
I can see an attitude adjustment is in order,
but we’ll deal with that later.”

I burst into laughter at that. I hadn’t expected his
reaction. I thought he would be angered by my insolence, but
instead he laughed with me.

“
Information,” I said, furrowing my
brow.

“
Taste the soup first,” he ordered.

I blew across the spoon to cool the miso soup. “Wow
... this is delicious,” I said. “Really good. Now tell me—”

“
Luke, forty-five, artist-slash-photographer. I
sell most of my work abroad. I travel a lot. If this progresses I
need to get a place with more privacy.”

“
That’s it?”

“
What else is there to know?”

“
Family, friends, where you grew up ... hopes,
dreams ... like that.”

“
I thought you had no plans to see me after
tonight.”

“
Yeah, well,” I said, stalling for a reasonable
response, “just call it curiosity.”

“
Well, as the saying goes, ‘curiosity killed
the cat.’ ”

“
What’s that supposed to mean?” I said. The
fear from the dream resurfaced.

“
Always wear your hair down, but no
makeup.”

My anger flared at another order but the waiter
circumvented my indignation by retrieving our soup bowls.

Luke distracted me with his hand between my knees,
working his way to my wetness. Leaning closer, he whispered in my
ear, “I will bring you to heights of ecstasy like you’ve never
known, but you’ll have to trust me.” He slowly circled his finger
around my clit.

“
Ooohhh ….” I groaned, forgetting for the
moment where I was.

“
I know you want me and that I frighten you.
You needn’t be scared of me,” he said, continuing his exploration
of my labia. “My only concern is pushing you to greater heights and
depths of pleasure.” He increased the pressure. “We’ll go to your
place after this. I’ll show you.”

“
Oh ... no!” I yelped, pushing his hand away as
the waiter returned.

The waiter placed before us a small square plate with
a variety of sashimi.

“
I don’t eat raw fish,” I stated, crossing my
arms in front of my chest and closing my legs.

“
Try it,” he said. “If you eat cooked fish,
you’ll love this. Open your mouth.”

“
I don’t eat wasa—” I tried to say but he
shoved an orange piece of fish with wasabi and ginger into my
mouth.

“
Hey,” I sputtered, lifting the water glass in
both hands and drinking the lot of it, “that burned my mouth. I
don’t eat wasabi and I don’t eat sashimi and if you won’t listen to
me, I’m out of here.” Putting my purse strap over my arm I scooted
to get out of the booth.

He grasped my arm and said, “You’re right. Don’t go.
I just wanted you to try it because I know you’ll love it.”

“
You don’t know anything about me,” I said,
sitting on the edge of the cushion, poised to stand.

“
When did your father leave you?”

“
What?”

“
When did he leave you?”

“
He didn’t leave
me
... he left my
mother.”

“
Oh, so he’s kept in touch with
you?”

“
Well ... he did at first but then ... it got
too hard for him to ....” I looked away as my words trailed
off. “Why am I talking to you about this stuff? How did you know my
parents are divorced?”