"It's all right,” he said. “We don't have to do anything you don't want.” He reached out for her. With his hands around her waist, he guided her up to straddle him. “Like this, you can be in charge. Just slide down, at your own pace. Tell me when you're ready."
Georgina felt the muscular thighs under her bare bottom. Slowly but firmly, they inched up, propelling her forward. A warm shaft of hard flesh nuzzled against her pubic hair. She looked down. That unfamiliar piece of flesh quivered slightly. Like a greyhound poised at the start of a race.
She'd touched men before. Boys really, at university and soon after, before life began to pass her by. But it had always been a hesitant fumble through the safe barrier of clothing. She'd never really dwelled on the fact that she had not seen or felt the intimate parts of a man.
"Wait,” she said. She leaned over him, her hands propped over the bedstead on either side of his head. “Which way do you think is easier? Slow or fast."
"I don't know.” His hands moved from her waist up to her breasts and brushed the nipples outlined against the fabric.
"I guess it's like pulling a sticky plaster from a wound,” Georgina said. “Some people like to do it slowly. Some people tear the whole thing loose at once."
"How do you do it?” Rick's eyes were on hers, dark and serious.
"I start slowly. Then, when it hurts too much, I grit my teeth and yank the rest in one go."
"Why don't you try it that way?” He slid his hands back down to her waist and urged her up. When she stood on her knees above him, he left one hand on her hip to give her support. The other hand moved down and positioned the tip of his shaft against her opening.
Georgina's breath caught in her throat when she felt his fingers probing between her legs. Then there was a different pressure. Soft, but at the same time hard and insistent.
"You can just let your weight bring you down over me,” Rick said, his voice gravely with strain. “Take your time. I won't move at all."
Georgina balanced on her knees and began inching down. Rick's eyes never left hers. “That's it, sweetheart,” he murmured. “Nice and slow. Don't let me hurt you."
She flinched with the first stab of pain, and her body froze.
His hands gripped her waist hard, bearing her weight and taking the strain off her legs. “Easy. I've got you."
"I'm going to do it now.” Georgina breathed the words. Then she unlocked her knees, and slammed down over him. Pain tore inside her. “Don't move,” she whispered. “For God's sake, don't move."
She sat across him, her eyes squeezed tight. A teardrop escaped through her lashes. She could feel it running down her cheek. She wished she could hide it, but she daren't move a single muscle lest the pain escalate.
Rick crooned at her. She paid no attention to the words, just centered her mind on the soft soothing voice. Her body had been invaded. There was a curious sense of fullness inside her. Her mind focused on that sensation, and on something else that followed in its wake. Although she was not moving at all, something inside her felt as though it was.
"What are you doing,” Rick whispered. He shifted his hands from her waist and brushed back her hair, and then he leaned in for a brief kiss.
"I don't really know,” Georgina said. She opened her eyes and looked at him. “Am I doing something?"
"You sure are, darling.” He grinned at her. “You are gripping my cock inside you."
"I have no idea how to do that."
"Yes you do. You want try it again? Or are you ready to move up and down a bit?” He flexed his hips and sent her up into a bounce.
"Ouch,” Georgina yelled.
"Sorry.” Rick clasped his hands around her waist and held her steady. “I guess you weren't ready for that."
"You promised not to move,” Georgina told him. “Stick with the plan."
He released one hand and traced a finger down her throat. “You drive a man crazy, you know. In more ways than I thought possible."
"Sit still,” Georgina ordered. Then she experimented, raising her body an inch, and lowering back down slowly. The tearing pain inside her dissolved into a dull ache, and then it faded to only discomfort.
"All right,” Georgina said. She laid her hands on Rick's shoulders and gripped tight. “Let's find out what the fuss is all about.” She began to rhythmically rise and fall, feeling the pressure inside her ebb and flow. Something drew out of her, leaving her empty and desperate, and then pushed back in, filling her to the core.
Rick watched as Georgina rode him, her eyes shut tight and her head thrown back, her face a mask of total concentration. Again and again, she lifted herself up and slid back down over him. It took every shred of willpower he had to remain still, and let her dictate the pace, when what he really wanted was to toss her over on her back, and thrust in and out of her.
But he clenched his jaw and held back. He had some idea about the pain she'd been through, and the fact that it had yet to fully recede. It amazed him that rather than leap off and walk away to nurse her pain, Georgina threw herself into making love to him.
That's how she did everything. To the maximum of her ability. When he talked to her, she would listen with total intensity, as though it was imperative that she capture and file away every word. It didn't matter what the topic was. It had been the same over dinner in the restaurant as it had been at the shooting range.
She made him feel that everything he did and said mattered, not just to her, but as a part of the overall composition of the universe.
"Are you all right?” he asked the face in front of him, the tense face with clamped eyes and gritted teeth. “Don't hurt yourself. There's plenty of time."
"No,” Georgina said. She fell down hard, taking him to the hilt. “No, no, no,” she shouted, rising and falling. His hands clutched her waist. He felt her body arch and bow, and then she shuddered and screamed. When she grew slack and slumped against him, he stopped holding back. With a few quick thrusts, he took his own release.
Georgina's head rested on his shoulder. His arm held her tight against him. He raised a hand and brushed a strand of hair from her face. He tried to gauge her state of mind, but her limp body and her heavy breathing left him unsure. “Are you okay?"
"Hmm...."
"Sweetheart?” He caught her chin with his fingers and peered into her face. Her eyes remained closed. “Are you all right?"
"I thought men were supposed to roll over and go to sleep afterward,” Georgina said. “Why can't you do that?"
"Men only do that when they are finished."
She opened one eye. “That's boasting.” She pushed away from him and peered down between his legs. “Looks to me like you're plenty finished."
"Give me a couple of minutes."
"All right.” She reached out and grabbed his wrist.
It was only then Rick realized he'd forgotten to take off his watch.
"Eight minutes to nine,” Georgina said. “Let's time you."
"Christ,” he said. “It didn't take you long to get greedy."
"I'm entitled.” Georgina grinned up at him. “I've got a lot of catching up to do."
He ran his hand against the pink garment. “What do you call this?"
She looked down at his hand. “It's a camisole.” Then she puckered her mouth into a childish pout and slanted him a timid look. “Was that how it's supposed to be? I mean, did I do things properly?"
He fought to keep his face composed. “Well, there's one thing you need to practice,” he said.
"Oh?” At first Georgina looked a little taken aback. Then the expression was replaced by the eager curiosity he remembered from the shooting range. “What is it?"
"The usual cry at the moment of orgasm is ‘yes’ rather than ‘no'."
"Oh.” She frowned at him. “Yes,” she muttered to herself quietly. “Yes. I'll try to remember that."
Rick stared at her until he was sure she wasn't winding him up. Christ, she really was serious. She had no idea he'd meant it as a joke. He'd got himself tangled up with a woman who possessed an endless capacity to drive him nuts.
It was almost nine when Georgina woke up the following morning, spooned against something big and warm. An arm circled her waist, wedging her into place.
She glanced at the bedside clock, and thanked heavens for the impulse that had made her insist last night on migrating upstairs into her apartment before they went to sleep. Being caught in a compromising situation by a twelve-year old would have been too humiliating.
She wiggled her bottom against Rick, and waited for him to react. When he remained asleep, she added a little poke with her elbow. He growled. The arm over her waist pulled tighter.
"It's nine o'clock,” she announced.
Rick mumbled something unintelligible.
What should she do? She tried to pull loose, but the arm held fast. She wanted to go to the bathroom, but she was held imprisoned by a sleepy hulk twice her size.
"Wake up,” she said.
"Go back to sleep,” Rick told her.
"I want to go to the bathroom."
"Then go."
"I can't."
"Stop moaning. Go to sleep."
At that point, Georgina gave up being reasonable. She reached forward with her arm, pulled it back, and rammed her elbow into the solid muscles behind her. The next thing she knew she lay flat on her back, Rick's leg thrown over hers, her arms yanked over her head and pinned down at the wrist.
In the scowling face above hers alert black eyes glittered in anger. “Don't ever do that again,” Rick said through gritted teeth.
"What? It can't have hurt that much."
"You startled me. Don't ever do that to someone trained in close combat. I could have hurt you."
"It's not my responsibility if you cannot limit your killer instincts to appropriate situations,” Georgina said tartly.
Rick's mouth fell open. “Son of a bitch,” he muttered. “I'll end up killing you. I swear I will."
"Like you swore last night something about a couple of minutes. It's been, what?” She stopped to peer at her clock radio. “Twelve hours. Your threats have lost all their credibility."
"Twelve hours? Christ? Is it nine?"
"Five past."
"Jesus. Angelina is coming home at ten. We didn't clean up the bedroom."
"Oh my God,” Georgina jumped out of bed and realized she wore nothing but a tiny camisole top. One of the straps had snapped, and a piece of lace flapped loose. She had no recollection of how the damage had occurred.
"I can't come and help you, in case Andy gets back early,” Georgina fretted. “You've got to do it alone."
Rick was already up and struggling into his jeans. “What did I do with the condom?"
"You wrapped in up in Kleenex and dropped it on the floor."
"Christ.” Rick scrubbed his face with his hands. “Angelina is crazy about cleaning up."
"Hurry,” Georgina picked up his shirt and threw it at him. Rick was busy buttoning up his jeans. He didn't reach for the shirt, and it hit him in the chest and slithered down to the floor. Georgina picked it up again and tossed it back at him. She kept doing it, until Rick finally snagged it in mid air, and began to shove his arms into the sleeves.
"Go,” she said. “
Go
."
"I'll call you,” Rick said as he loped out to the hall.
"You don't say that to a woman you've just deflowered,” Georgina yelled after him. “That line's a classic brush-off."
After Rick left, Georgina dozed until midday. When she got up, an alien tenderness throbbed between her legs. She tiptoed into the bathroom and filled the tub. Then she climbed in and lazed amongst the bubbles.
The knowledge of one of life's little secrets was hers now. With a satisfied smile, Georgina tossed a cloud of foam in the air and bounced it around, until it dissolved into soapy water that ran down her arms.
She'd made love to a man. It had been an entirely satisfactory experience, culminated in the vortex of physical sensations which were the basic purpose of the exercise. That is, if you excluded the totally impractical notion of a sperm fertilizing an egg.
When the bathwater cooled, Georgina climbed out of the tub and dried herself. She put on a bathrobe and strolled into the kitchen, where she settled down with a cup of tea and her flowchart. She got up again to fetch a pink highlighter pen, and then she scored through each circle on the critical path.
Done. Project completed. Objective achieved.
Georgina clipped the cap on the highlighter pen and folded away the flowchart. The task was over. Finished.
Then why didn't she seem to get Ricardo Matisse out of her head?
Forget it, she scolded herself. There was no point in making more out of what had been a momentary distraction for them both.
And that was what it had been. A distraction. Georgina closed her eyes. She could still feel his hands on her skin, and hear his voice murmuring into her ear. Feel him inside her, filling her in that totally delicious way that had been such a revelation.
Her body grew slack and she almost fell off the seat.
Get a grip
, she told herself.
Get dressed, and do some work.
The afternoon went to waste as she stared at the computer screen, where the simple words could just as well have been written in Chinese, so little sense they made to her.
She had assumed that Rick would call her, after he'd cleaned up the bedroom. But the phone had only rung once during the entire day. That call had been one of those annoying computer generated promotional messages. It had taken Georgina a while to understand why her attempts of interrupting the smooth sales presentation had made no impact at all.
She kept pretending to work, listening out for the telephone, barely able no tolerate the escalating suspense.
Maybe he wouldn't bother to call. At all. Ever.
Georgina sat on the living room sofa and stared at the silent telephone on the glass table. It looked like a big cream frog, squatting there, ugly and useless. Her teeth sank into her bottom lip.
Maybe Rick was working to some secret project flowchart of his own. Maybe a fresh notch had been carved to his bedpost, with the initials GC neatly penciled next to it.