Read to me (pt. 1): Little Bulls
(The first instalment of several. Natalie and Pierre continue to explore their deep and dark desires.)
Natalie undid one more button. There. Her breasts were art, Pierre liked to say. Two soft pendulous balloons of flesh against the loose white cotton of her dress, nipples pointing. Classic. She leaned forward, balancing to put on her dark rose lipstick. She turned sideways to look in the full length mirror, lifting her knee to test how much thigh might show along the unbuttoned gap of her sundress.
Little bulls. That’s how she thought of them, the young men: little bulls. To her little bulls, a flash of a woman’s tanned thigh was like a red cape. Their eyes would zero in on the soft flesh, the firm, yielding possibility of tanned female skin, and slit their eyes, snort, and seethe inarticulately under their bulging muscles.
“That will be him,” she whispered to Pierre, leaning over to kiss his neck. He turned the page of his magazine. He watched her buttocks shifting under her sundress; just beyond her the Caribbean sparkled. He would get a full report later. Their lives had flowered richly since their first explorations in Mexico; the ripe fruit of those experiences had fed other explorations, sensual gratification, mutual delight and mutual trust. At the same time, the stock market had been generous to them, affording their trips to the Mediterranean, this property on the Caribbean, and their other exotic indulgences. It also allowed Pierre to focus on his life’s passion, photography, something he had never had the financial comfort to do before.
She opened the door. “Robert, I presume?” Blond, shuffling his feet a little bit, his nearly twentyish body rippling under his shirt. Such a little bull.
“Yes ma’am. About the job.” What did he think the job consisted of, she wondered? Odd jobs, lifting, mowing? It was always the reading bit that threw them at the start.
“Let me take your arm,” she said. “Without my glasses I’m almost blind, you see, which is why I need a pair of strong, young eyes around. We’ll go out onto the deck. It’s around to the left, through the French doors.”
She laid her hand on his arm, letting her fingers slide along it, feeling the tautness of his young muscles. She studied him carefully, hiding behind that wide-eyed blind woman’s stare she had perfected to convince them she could hardly see. If they ever caught her out and questioned her, she just explained she had her contacts in. Even if it wasn’t very convincing, it worked; if they wanted to believe it, then they did. The mind was a wonderful thing.
On the deck, two chairs faced the southern sun and the Caribbean. She sat down, her fingers awkwardly finding the arms of the chair. So convincing. As she folded her legs, her dress gaped, parting along her thighs. She looked at Robert, who was engrossed in her exposed flesh. The little bull’s attention caught by the red cape of her skin, he blushed, then looked around sheepishly, until he had convinced himself that she really couldn’t make out where his eyes were looking, and let them settle again, this time on creamy curve of her tanned breast.
“Now then Robert, I can see you’re blond, and tall, about 6 feet or so? But I can’t tell if you’re fit. Are you?”
“Oh yes, ma’am, I play all kinds of sports.”
She smiled. “You’re such a well-brought up boy, Robert. Do you always call older women ma’am? I like that. I would guess I am almost twenty years older than you are. How old are you?”
“Nineteen, ma’am.”
“Ah. Twice your age, then. And you are a good reader? Just finished your freshman year at college. In English?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
She stood up, feeling her way easily to the railing of the deck about five feet away. She put out her hand as he started to get up to help her. “I’m okay,” she said as she turned, letting him see the silhouette of her body with the sun at her back, lifting one knee to open the part of her dress along her thigh again. She could feel her hard nipples brush against the fabric.
“Now then Robert, this job has some heavy lifting and yard work of course, watering the plants and so on. But the most important thing to me is the reading. I have to have someone to read to me.”
“Well, ma’am, that should be absolutely no problem! I’ve always been a good reader.”
“I like certain kinds of books.”
She stared up, with that wide open blind stare, studying his response carefully.
He leaned forward. “Oh well, ma’am! I’m pretty sure I can read anything.”
She nodded smiling. “Good,” she said. “We’ll see.” Casually, she dragged her nails down between her breasts, scratching lightly. Her dark red nails complemented her dark red hair, falling in waves to her shoulders. Her ankles were crossed, criss-crossed with thin laces that held her sandals on. The slight breeze lifted the front of her dress across her thigh. He was trying to open the dress further, by an act of will.
She showed him the grounds, an ample lawn, and the secluded pool in the backyard. “This is where Pierre, my husband, often shoots his photo spreads. Don’t worry: he won’t ask you to be in them! He only photographs girls. I suppose you like to look at girls in swimsuits, Robert?” She turned her blind stare at him again and he smiled at her. “Well?”
“Oh sorry. Well, yes, I like girls. Women, that is. I mean… well… but it won’t distract me. If that’s what you mean.”
“It won’t distract you? Do you have a girlfriend, Robert? Is that why you’re shy about saying you like girls?”
He blushed a deeper red, grateful she probably couldn’t see. “Oh no ma’am. Not at the moment. I don’t know many of the girls around here. Being away at college and all that, and we just moved here last year.”
“And your parents keep close tabs on you, do they? Scare the girls away?”
He chuckled and smiled. “Oh no ma’am. In fact they’re gone for the whole summer. Up at our place in Vermont.”
“It must be nice and quiet up there, Robert.”
“Yeah. Too quiet. I’d rather be here.”
“What time is it?”
“Ten thirty, ma’am.”
“Oh my. I have another boy to interview in a few minutes. You’ll have to excuse me.”
She put her hand out for his arm, but missed, leaning into him, letting her breast press against his upper arm. She grabbed his other shoulder, her fingers gripping very hard, her nails digging in.
