1
The next morning, Davina finds Raoul on his back porch, overlooking the ocean. He's reading a newspaper, snacking on strawberries.
"Well, good morning, sleepyhead," he says. "I'll be having lunch soon, in case you'd like to join me."
"What was last night all about?"
She's determined to confront him. She'd cried herself to sleep, angry and confused. He might be the most perfect man she'd ever seen, but she would not let him treat her like that.
"What do you mean?"
"You did all that just to bother me."
Raoul shrugs. "Charlie's just noisy."
"Actually, I didn't mind that."
"I know."
"But then you wanted me to..."
"What?"
"Rub your..."
"What?"
"Your..."
"My semen?"
"Yes."
"On your tits."
"Yes."
Wait, she thinks. Had he said anything about her tits last night? Her ungovernable heart leaps at the idea that he was thinking of her tits. Of course he was, she knew he was, but to hear it from him excites her anyway.
"No. I thought
you
might want to do that yourself."
"Oh." What the hell?
"I was just trying to be nice. But then I realized that maybe David wouldn't like it. So, too bad."
He pops a strawberry in his mouth.
She needs time to think of her response, to re-plan her campaign, so she sits in a chair a few steps away from the table.
"Of course I
would
really like to rub my cum on your tits sometime," he adds when he's swallowed his strawberry. "With some fresh cum, of course, not from a condom." He takes a drink of coffee. "But we can't do anything like that until David feels better."
He looks back at the paper, already chewing another strawberry.
She can't look at him. She has to try to keep her thoughts straight.
"I thought you were..."
"What?"
"No, it doesn't make sense."
He just goes on reading, so when she finds her words, she continues.
"Like, trying to torture me or something."
"Torture?"
She feels him looking at her.
"Never mind."
"If you don't want me to do it, I won't do it."
"It's not that."
"So you don't mind? Because I can think of several ways..."
"No, it's not that either. Wait — several ways?"
"Yes."
She blinks at him for a moment.
It's a mistake. As soon as she feels the warmth of his attention on her, she's helpless again. She has to look away.
"I just don't understand what's happening," she whines.
"It's like this is," he explains in a very businesslike matter. "You're hot. Sizzling, smoking, hot. Pretty face, nice figure. Incredible breasts. Incredible. So I like you. In fact, I even want to fuck you. In at least two ways, maybe more. And what's more, you've made it clear that you like me and would like to fuck me too. So I would very much like to seduce you and give you the good, hard, very naughty fucking that you deserve."
"Wow." Davina, seeming to feel every emotion all at once, can't think of anything else to say before he continues:
"Yeah. But unfortunately, as you know, it's not possible," he shrugs. "So, lunch?"
"Wait, what?"
"Would you like to join me for lunch?"
"No. Not that."
"Would dinner be better for you?"
"No, goddamn it. Shut up. That other part, about you like me, you want to..."
"To fuck you?"
"Yeah. And... but you can't? What?"
"That's right. I can't."
"Why
not
?"
"Your husband, David, is my friend. I can't do that to him. I've explained that several times now."
"But we're barely even... He kicked me out of his house last night. He told me he's divorcing me. We're
pra
ctically divorced."
"Even if you were completely and officially divorced, I will not be able to fuck you until David says it's okay."
"So David gets to tell you who you can and cannot fuck?"
"In your case, yes."
"Well, why won't he let you fuck me?"
"Because he's in love with you, of course."
"Yeah but... No, he's not in love with me. What?"
"He is very madly in love with you and hurt very badly by the fact that you have cheated on him."
"But he cheated on me first! And with one of my best friends!"
"Are you still friends with her?"
"What difference does
that
make?"
"Do you suppose David could be as friendly with your lovers as you are with his?"
"What's your point?"
"He cares. You don't. He loves you, and you don't love him, and that hurts him."
Davina can only shake her head. She looks away, hoping that she'll be able to think more clearly, to argue more effectively, if she doesn't actually see how fucking beautiful he is.
"Well then why did he practically give me to you last night then."
"He didn't. He specifically asked me
not
to sleep with you. Again, that's our whole problem."
She puts her hand on her forehead and closes her eyes.
"Yes, but he had to know..."
"He trusts me," Raoul cuts her off. "And I don't intend to betray him. "Anyway, did you mean to say that you're not available for lunch? I think there's still time for you to change."
"What?"
"I'm still trying to find out whether you will have lunch with me."
"Oh. Yes. I don't know. Change what?"
"Your clothes."
"For lunch?"
He nods.
"Are we going out?"
"No, it'll just be you and me, here. But," he looked her over, "You can't wear that."
"This? Why not?"
She'd intentionally chosen the least sexy clothing she'd brought along, somehow thinking that might help her concentrate.
But now, of course, she felt like shit.
"Come on. You've got to wear something sexier than that. Surely you've got something shorter, or tighter, or shorter and tighter."
She looked at him. If he wasn't so fucking cute, she would literally throw a shoe at him. Or a knife.
That's one of the things about Raoul. To be honest, it annoys me sometimes, and I'm only the narrator.
He's so
fuck
ing cute.
First of all, as we've been over, he's so huge that everyone just naturally has a submissive attitude towards him.
But then he's cute too. He gets a mischievous little look on his face and no one can stay mad at him. And he knows it, so he's so goddamned cheeky.
Pisses me off sometimes. And like I said, I'm only the fucking narrator.
Davina was having this problem right at that moment. She wanted him to fear that she was angry, but she knew he never would. She knew he'd look at her with a twinkle in his eye and say something charming and she would betray herself with a giggle and it'd all come to nothing.
She had no leverage, no way of getting any leverage. A man who could be so indifferent to her beauty was just forever beyond her power.
And the truth was, of course, she was madly in love with him. He didn't deserve it, at all, but that never matters in love.
And he was perfectly well aware of her feelings, and she knew that no denials would be persuasive.
Which was another problem. Everyone was always in love with Raoul. I get tired of it, and you will too. But let's see how things work out for Davina.
"I'll think about it," she huffed, and turned to storm off.
"Think fast," he called after her. "Starts in about twenty minutes."
2
She showed up for lunch in something shorter and tighter.
She'd thought about it as fast and hard as she could. Should she defy him and wear the clothes she already had on?
Or should she try to make him want her?
After all, she could tease him too.
Davina had, at least since adolescence, always been
the
hottest girl. When she was on a field trip in seventh grade, an adult man, thinking she was one of the teachers, asked her out. In eighth grade, a high school senior asked her to the prom. In high school, the quarterback of the football team nicknamed her "Titantit," like the ship.
She had always had any man she wanted, when and where and how she wanted him. Sure, almost all women hated her, at least a little, but men and boys who had no actual chance with her served her like a queen.
So his frank impudence had no precedent in her experience. It was maddening, and it had to be punished. Back in "her room" — the nursery — where she could think relatively clearly, she determined that he had to be humbled.
The rest of the nonsense, about David and all that, she would deal with later. The first thing was to humble him.
Unfortunately, she'd only packed a few things, hastily shoved into her suitcase the night before, so she didn't have anything really sexy. The best she could do was a low cut pink tank top, nice thin material, and she could wear it without a bra.
Everyone said she had the greatest tits ever. And they were natural, too. No one would believe it, but fuck them.
Also, she was annoyed that he hadn't said anything about her ass yet. Most guys thought she had a great ass, and she wondered if he'd noticed it.
Or maybe he didn't even like it, she worried.
Unfortunately, she'd already worn her leopard print skirt, which was the best thing she had with her for showing off her ass, but it wouldn't go with the tank top anyway, and the tank top was more important.
Some tight denim shorts were the best she could do. If they weren't good enough for him, she thought, then fuck him.
Fuck him
. And not in the good way.
When she was dressed, she checked herself in the mirror. She considered cutting the shorts shorter — but that was the point at which she realized that she was going too far.
She had just enough dignity left not to cut up her clothing to try to please him.
No, she reminded herself, she was
not
trying to please him — she intended to humble him.
Anyway, she had no scissors.
Which, when she realized it, disappointed her.
She would've at least liked to have the option of cutting her shorts shorter. At least so the bottom of her buttcheeks showed...
3
As soon as she walked into the dining room, he raised an eyebrow, looked her over from head to toe, and frowned his appreciation with a nod.
Oh, to be in love, for even this little recognition thrilled her. She felt it throughout her body.
But she reminded herself: humble him.
"Korean food today," he said. "You like it?"
