Adam slept fitfully that night. He woke up several times, his cock aching to be released, and he kept imagining Joyce quite literally above him in the upstairs part of the house, sleeping with his key around her neck.
He wanted to be lying next to her, smelling her hair, her warm, lush body next to his. He could almost feel what it would be like if he tried hard enough to imagine, her soft skin, the impression of her body next to him, but then the image would fade, and he would just be alone.
And yet, he did feel her.
He felt that silent string between the two of them, the string she only needed to pull at, tug at, and he would feel it in his cock.
He was hers. He just wanted to be able to show her how much.
He thought about how jealous he'd been thinking she was with another man upstairs while he stood naked and waiting for her, and how angry he had been, but also how she had somehow known that it would excite him. He hadn't expected that, and he strangely had to admit to himself that there was a part of him that liked it—although he was also very glad she had just been toying with him.
She had done it for him.
It made him feel--special.
The next morning he had class, and then he taught, part of his graduate student duties and for which he received his stipend. It was hard to concentrate all day, although he managed. He willed himself to place Joyce and his aching cock in a sealed box in his mind, so he could keep up with his school work and his own students.
But by the time classes were over, he was more than eager to return to his apartment. On the way home, he stopped at the grocery store to pick up some food for the week, and he picked out some flowers for Joyce.
At first he thought of red roses, but then he realized those were too common. He chose purple irises instead. They seemed more exotic, like Joyce, and purple was the color of royalty. He was starting to think of her a little like a queen, his queen.
He parked and grabbed his groceries, including Joyce's flowers, preparing to bring them inside. But as he walked up the short path to the front door, he saw her, sitting on her front steps. She was in a long, flowy skirt today and fitted blue v neck shirt, and barefoot. She had a glass next to her filled with ice and a drink and a book in her hand.
"Adam!" She put down the book as he approached. "I was waiting for you." She seemed genuinely excited.
He looked at the book.
"The Color Purple," he said. "That's a great book." And he set down his bags and pulled out his purple flowers, feeling very pleased with himself.
"For me?" Joyce accepted them with a bright smile. "How did you know purple was my favorite color?"
"Just a guess."
Adam couldn't help feeling bashful around her. He knew he was blushing already. He looked down at the ground and couldn't help but notice her pretty bare feet, her toenails painted pink.
He couldn't get excited again—not yet. But there it was. His erection was trying to escape, but the metal prevented it. He wasn't sure how much more he could take.
"That was very sweet," she said. "They're going to look lovely at the dinner table."
"I'm sure they will," he said.
"But not quite as lovely as you," she said, smiling somewhat wolfishly, it seemed.
"As lovely as me?" He laughed.
"Yes. I thought maybe you'd join me for dinner tonight? After you put your groceries away? I thought we could get to know each other a little better."
"Oh! Yes!" He couldn't even pretend that he wasn't excited. "I'll just go down right now and put this stuff in the fridge."
"Sounds good," said Joyce. "I'll see you a little bit."
Adam ran downstairs, shoving his groceries in the fridge and freezer, hoping he didn't mix up which went where in his excitement. Then he practically bounded back upstairs.
She laughed she opened the door. "That was quick! So enthusiastic!"
"I was. I am," he admitted. "I would love to spend some time with you and get to know you better, ma'am."
"You really are adorable," she said, ushering him inside. "Come. Let's eat."
Adam finally got a chance to see her house, which felt like he thought her house would look like. It wasn't ostentatious, but it was comfortable and elegant. She had a lot of books.
A lot of bookcases, actually. All full of books.
"I was a history teacher," she said, catching him eyeing the colorful book jacket spines. "But I'm retired now." She was in the kitchen. There was the delicious smell of home cooking emanating from the stove.
"You're young to be retired," he said.
Honestly, he wasn't sure how old Joyce was, but he thought probably somewhere in her late thirties or early forties. He knew it wasn't polite to ask, and what did it matter anyway. She was perfect.
"I'm 42," she said, stirring something in a pot.
"Yes. I am young to retire. Honestly, I have family money, and between renting the apartment and a few other properties I own, I don't need to work. I volunteer now to keep my mind active."
She flashed her teeth. "Well, I do some other things too, like invite smart, young men to apprentice with me."
"Is that what I am?" He approached her at the stove, feeling bold for a moment, and slipped one arm around her waist. "Your apprentice?"
"Oh, in a way," she said. "It's kind of a partnership. Don't you think?" She pulled the necklace with his key out from her shirt and dangled it in front of his face.
He moved to kiss her, but she dodged him with a giggle, and instead pulled out a wooden spoon from the pot cooking on the stove. "What do you think of this?"
She held it up in front of his mouth and waited for him to taste it.
"Mmmm." It was creamy tomato soup. "Delicious," he said. "But not as delicious as you."
She laughed, and before he'd realized what happened, she'd flipped him around so he was pinned up against the counter and her hand was slipped around his waist, pulling him toward her. The spoon clattered on the counter, and she kissed him hard.
"I was thinking about you all last night," she said.
"I was too!" It felt good to say it out loud.
"We're going to play," she said. She cupped his cage gently, and he moaned. "I promise. We really are. I'm going to be nice to you tonight, Adam. But first we're going to eat a little and we're going to talk a little and we're going to drink a little."
I'm not going anywhere." She tugged on his cage lightly. "And neither are you."
The dinner passed in a blur. Tomato soup and fresh baguette and salad and wine, and Joyce telling him about her years teaching, her marriage, over but amicably, her family, parents both dead, her friends, hobbies, etc...and Adam explaining how he decided on engineering, moving from a small town. He talked about feeling different from his peers, wanting to be somewhere else, somewhere there was "more," but he didn't go into too much detail.
That part of his life was a little painful. It seemed like both of them had a little pain in their pasts.
What neither of them talked about at all was what was currently between his legs. It was like they both knew they were saving that. It was there, a current running underneath everything, but it could linger, simmer. It would be there no matter what.
And then dinner was finally over, and Adam helped Joyce load the dishes in the dishwasher and clean up. And they sat on either side of her kitchen table, glasses of wine in hands and looked at each other.
"So," she said, reaching out and taking one of his hands in hers. "Are you ready?"
"Oh, yes, ma'am." He didn't know what she was proposing, but the answer was yes. How could the answer be no?
"Let's go upstairs then. To my bedroom."
They were quiet. She led, and he followed, and up the stairs he found himself in her room, which was white and serene and comforting.
"Sit down with me," she said, patting her bed, covered with a soft white duvet.
Adam sat, wanting to sink into it, and she sat down beside him. She smelled good. That perfume. Or her natural scent. Or both. Adam wanted to nuzzle at her, but he could tell she wanted him to wait. He didn't want to pester her. He wanted to be good.
"Last night was fun," she said.
"It was!" Had he said that too loudly. Why couldn't be at all cool around this woman? "It was," he repeated, more softly this time.
"It was," she said. "But maybe I rushed into that too fast. I should have checked with you first. I thought I was being clever, but I could have hurt you."
Adam didn't know what to say. It was true he had been shocked. Also angry and jealous for a time. But also...he had been excited. He hadn't expected to have all the feelings that he had—so mixed up and jumbled together. But the combination had been...intoxicating.
"I think tonight, let's get to know each other a little more," she said. "Just the two of us. No games."
"None?"
"Ha! Don't act so disappointed. I just meant no surprises. Like yesterday. Let's get everything out in the open." To emphasize her point, she put her hand on his crotch, just very lightly.
Everything? What did she mean by everything? He could feel himself starting to melt.
"How often do you usually take off your cage," she asked, petting him slowly.
"Every few days. To clean myself. Make sure it's still working." He laughed.
"And how long do you usually wait between orgasms?"
