I.
"I can't come," she sighed, running a red fingernail around the rim of her glass. "Well, I can, but it takes...you know...forever. And even then, I don't get the fireworks that I've been hoping for." She stared dispassionately into the half finished margarita. Victoria Josephine Reed was still beautiful at forty- two, her long copper hair cascading in ringlets to mid- back. He marveled at her youthful appearance, her body still strong and supple despite a casual workout regimen and a none-too-strict diet.
"What do you think the problem might be?" He was three years her junior, nearsighted and overweight. Not a terrific specimen, he knew. He still had her scent on his fingers and her taste on his tongue, even though they hadn't been lovers for nearly twenty years. And he still found her beautiful, although her features were sharp and severe, her nose having been broken and her chin scarred by an auto accident some years before. Still, her body was wonderful, he thought. Her small breasts were still firm, he could tell from their outline against her tee shirt. Her smile was still enchanting. And her voice grabbed him somewhere between his masculinity and his heart.
"I think it's because I'm a controlling person," she mused, sipping at the now- warm cocktail. "I get close, but then my mind....just, er...stops me somehow. I can't give in to the feelings, I don't know why." He could see tears of frustration beginning to form in her pale green eyes. "I want to come, I really do. And I'm jealous of the women who can come so intensely and so easily."
"Do you have a lover?" he asked, immediately knowing the answer. Of course she had a lover, perhaps a few. A woman as sexual and as lovely as Victoria had no difficulty finding lovers.
She set the drink upon the scarred table. The bar was nearly empty, the early afternoon crowd gone and the after work crowd not yet evident. "Uh-huh. And don't get me wrong; Carl is wonderful. He's a very strong lover... he's a body builder you know, really has a lot of stamina. Thank God. Even though I never make it. I get sort of close, you know, but..." She stared past him into the dim recesses of the bar. The jukebox was playing an old Pat Benetar tune, "Hit me with your best shot...c'mon and hit me with your best shot..."
The man across the table from her felt his heart sink. Stamina. A pack a day, seventy extra pounds, a lazy wife and a sedentary lifestyle had taken away any real stamina he had ever had. And this Carl was a body builder... Jesus. He didn't stand a chance. "Lemme guess," he grinned wryly. "The guy drives a Ferrari and makes two hundred grand a year too?"
Her laugh was musical, almost in perfect harmony with the jukebox. "No, he drives a pickup and he only makes fifty a year. Surely you're not jealous!"
"Not jealous, really." But he was. He couldn't explain why, but he wanted her again. "But back to your problem...." She smiled softly at him. "I need to somehow lose control" she continued, pausing to sip again at her drink. "Drugs and booze don't do it, although I'm sure that a second margarita wouldn't hurt..." He gestured to the waitress, a pale-looking young brunette in faded jeans. She took the order and walked lazily toward the bar. "I think I may have the answer to your problem," he mused. "You'll have to trust me, and do exactly as I tell you. I promise you that you'll be safe, but I can also promise you that you won't be in control..."
The drinks arrived. Victoria picked up her glass and regarded him with a worried expression. "What are you talking about, Paul?" He smiled mysteriously. "You'll find out tomorrow. Take a cab to the hacienda. I'll be waiting. Wear something sexy for me. I'll have everything else we need." He sipped at his wine and continued to smile at her. This would work, he thought. She'd be his plaything, and in return he would give her the release she craved. He continued, "You'll have one tool of control. But we'll talk about that tomorrow. Dinner?"
She stared at him. "But... but I thought we'd... you know, tonight... I mean, I've missed you and I was hoping..." Her voice trailed off.
His smile never left his face. "Oh, sweet lady, we will. Tonight I think you should have a long, warm bath and a good night's sleep. You'll need it."
II.
His host left for work, and Paul immediately began preparing for Victoria's visit. He loaded his Canon with a fresh roll of film and checked the batteries in the expensive Japanese flash mounted on the camera. He then made sure that the ropes were ready. Soft cotton clothesline, the ropes would be a gentle introduction for her. He unwrapped the vibrator...a long soft plastic wand only vaguely resembling a penis. It was very long and quite thick, he noted as he found the tube of lubricant he had bought at the sex shop. He placed the vibrator and lubricant on the dresser, and reached into the paper bag. The raspberry- flavored "emotion lotion" was there. He took it out of the sack and set it on the dresser. Victoria would see the ropes, potions and toys when she entered the bedroom, but the camera would be a surprise.
He looked in his shaving kit and found the condoms. No need, he thought. He would not enter her, and he preferred to feel her mouth and hands without the inhibition of plastic... and besides, condoms would not protect his mouth. He intended to taste her again; his curiosity would let him do no less. Caution to the wind, he thought. He then fitted his razor with a fresh blade and went into the bathroom.
He took a long, steaming shower, letting the water pound his skin until he felt loose and relaxed. He then smeared his scrotum and pubic hair with shaving cream. Carefully, he denuded his tender nut-sack, gently stroking the razor against his soft skin. He carefully shaved the persistent hairs which grew from his cock, and trimmed his pubic hair into a perfect triangle. He wanted to feel every caress to its fullest, and shaving the hair from his cock would make his erection appear larger. He knew that Victoria liked the size of his cock, but he wanted to feel bigger and more masterful. Having shaven his privates baby- smooth, he rinsed the razor and shaved his face.
He dressed in a black silk bathrobe and sat on the edge of the bed. Taking a bottle of aloe vera lotion in hand, he gently massaged the freshly shaven areas until they were soft and moist. He then put on a pair of silk boxers and pulled the robe more snugly around his frame. He wanted to be sexy for her. He needed to. He was nervous, and the more nervous he became he knew, the more likely it became that he would be impotent. His head had gotten in the way of his cock recently, and he didn't want it to happen with Victoria. He had no intentions of inserting himself into her, but he didn't want to fail her either. Perhaps a smoke? He wandered into the living room and found the joint his host had thoughtfully left for him on the glass-topped coffee table. He lit the reefer, took a long puff, and then extinguished it. "It's a balancing act," he grinned to himself. "Just enough to loosen up, not enough to turn myself (and my cock) into a zombie." He couldn't believe how nervous he was, and nervousness would not suit his objective at all. He glanced at his watch for the fifth time in as many minutes.
Her knock at the door startled him. He fairly flew to the door, seeing her lithe outline in the frosted glass of the antique hacienda door. He took a deep breath and welcomed her, opening the door and gently kissing her soft mouth in one motion. She moaned gently against his tongue, and slipped through the doorway.
III.
She was dressed in a black tee, denim shorts and a pair of sandals. She had recently washed and combed her long hair, and the sunlight danced through the openings in the white shutters and off the wisps of hair that fluttered in the breeze from the ceiling fan. She was wearing no makeup, and her face showed the lines and cracks of twenty- five years of bad relationships and careless men. She looked lovely nonetheless, the simplicity of her outfit only making him want her more.
"So what's this game you've got in mind for me?" She trembled slightly in anticipation. She felt her heart pounding in her chest and temples. Paul had always been an attentive and caring lover; he had also been the most inventive. She wondered about his life, how it had been in the years since they had last made love. She wondered about his wife three thousand miles away. He had been so hurt and at the same time so damned understanding when she had dumped him to marry Ford, her second husband. He had cried, then stepped out of the way, allowing Ford to court, marry, abuse and divorce her. Paul had always been the trusted long- distance friend, the one in whom she had confided occasionally during the darkest hours of her life in those intervening years. She loved and trusted Paul, but many men had laid their hands on her, and many had ended up being unkind and uncaring.
Victoria was nervous. She hoped it didn't show, but the idea of letting go of all control nearly panicked her. "Is that a joint I see on the table? Let's smoke, and you can tell me about this game you have in mind..."
