"Chocolate?" he asked. He was leaning forward, a small rectangle of Callebaut chocolate balanced on the tip of one finger. Sarah struggled to say anything, much less "Yes." She nodded and leaned toward his outstretched hand before opening her lips to receive from him.
He smiled quietly as she suckled his fingertip to clean it of softened chocolate, her eyes darting between nowhere and his own unblinking blue eyes. When she finished licking his finger, he dropped it to her chest and traced a wet circle around one nipple.
"You found the book?"
The book. Five different bookstores on four trips over the course of two weeks before she found the book. It was a musty place overseen by a gray man with white and green hair, straight like Andy Warhol's, and tobacco-stained long fingers. J. Robertson Merkin, his card said. Slow Hand, Women Writing Erotica, edited by Michelle Slung.
"Yes."
"Did you touch the bookseller, as I asked?"
"Yes. I made sure to touch his fingers as he handed the book to me."
"What happened then?" His questions were simple, direct, and delivered with a kind curiosity that made Sarah both comfortable and wary. Nobody was this kind, this curious, and yet completely safe. She considered his face. It was slightly lined, there was a bare spot in his chin whiskers, and the clarity of his blue eyes was evident even through his wire-framed glasses. He was lean, about her height, maybe twenty years older than her. White hair and beard around a soft and patient smile.
"I'm not sure I know what you mean." She stalled.
"What thought came to mind when you touched him as I had asked you to do?"
"I can't."
'But you must."
Yes, she did, really. Sarah gathered some courage, not easy to do in her condition: naked, arms bound behind her back by gold Christmas curling ribbon, and began to squeak an answer, her answer.
"I felt my pussy muscles clench. I felt a long thin prick from many years ago. I wanted to throw the book back in his face, but I knew that would mean not seeing you today. And I couldn't stand that, either. I paid for the book and left without another word."
"Yes." He watched her eyes wander from her knees to the mirror on the wall above his right shoulder, and to the coffee cup in his hand. "Tell me about the long thin prick from long ago. There's a story there?"
"Yes." Fuck, is this all he did, ask questions? For seven months they'd corresponded by Private Message, by email, with phone calls and text messages. So many times he'd talked her through to orgasm and now all he wants to do is ask questions? Dammit.
"I was a in my third year of college. We had just finished spring finals and Amy, my roommate, bought pizza for our final lunch together before packing up. I bought two bottles of wine, Two Buck Chuck. It's cheap, you wouldn't know it."
"I know Two Buck Chuck. It's misnamed now. Five Buck Chuck doesn't sound as good, though, does it?"
"After lunch Amy said she wanted to go look one last time for this book by Anais Nin so sure, I said yes. The bus ride across town took an hour but we finally made it to the old used books and antiques store that she thought would have the book. Just before we got off the bus, Amy said she wanted to play Dare. It's a game we used to play. We'd dare each other to do something outrageous. Took turns making the first dare. It was her turn.
" 'I want you to fuck a guy in a public place and I get to choose him.' The fucking wasn't going to be the hard part. I was afraid of her taste. I don't think she liked men. We had been in the bookstore for twenty minutes before she found her book. She was ultra excited, and when she came up to me to show me the book - I was wandering around in the sci-fi aisles - she pointed to an old man wearing a beat-up Army jacket. He had at least a week's beard in patchy places on his face. 'Come on' she said. 'It's him.'
"I shook my head no, but she just grinned and said again, 'Come on. Do him or else.'
"We walked to the old guy and Amy got his attention. 'Hey, if you can get it up in the next five minutes, my friend here will let you fuck her right here.' I tried to walk away but Amy had blocked the aisle. Old guy just picked up his head and laughed soundlessly. He stared at me, looked me over from head to toe, then he nodded toward a corridor leading further back into the rat's nest of the bookstore, like we should follow. Back among the old Latin grammar books and copies of Homer, he unzipped his pants and dammit, his cock was as hard as could be.
"So I pulled up my skirt, backed up to him against the Latin grammar shelves, and he fucked me. Didn't take long, but I came anyway. Amy fingered herself while she watched."
"Interesting." He took a sip of coffee and Sarah squirmed. "What happened to the old man's seed?" More moisture soaked into the rolled-up towel between her thighs.
"We were on the bus and almost home when I said it to Amy. 'I want you to suck that old fucker's cum from my twat.' She didn't blink. She didn't wince. She smiled.
"When we got back to the apartment, I sat on our couch and lit a cigarette. Without taking it out of my mouth, I lifted my hips and pulled off my panties and lifted my skirt over my waist. Amy didn't rush over, she took the time to pull off her top and fold it on the table. She pulled down her jeans and folded them. No underwear. Amy.
"She slid under me on her back and started to suck on my pussy. She was noisy and eager. I hadn't done it with a girl before but I don't know about her. I pressed down on her face and she started to finger herself through her satiny thin brown bush. After a while she wriggled out and kneeled as if to kiss me. She opened her mouth and showed me the cum and saliva in her mouth. She French kissed me and I swallowed it."
"Were you two lovers for long?"
Sarah looked away, trying to read a small-print notice affixed to the wall next to the thermostat. "No. We both left school the next day and I never saw her again. It was twenty years ago, more actually."
"It seems odd that you'd stop contact so suddenly. Why didn't you two stay in touch?"
"She caught me giving her brother a blowjob. He had driven down to take her home on Saturday. His truck was packed with all her stuff. While she went to turn in her keys, he and I had a beer to cool off. When she came back, I was blowing him. She was pissed and they both left without saying anything to me. I think she transferred to a private school for her last two years."
"She thought you cheated on her, I suppose. But you remember that old man's cock inside your cunt. Do you remember every cock you've had?"
"Yes, no. No, I don't remember them all. Not too many, just some didn't matter." Her shoulders shook as if she'd been force-fed bad milk.
