A Taste of Pleasure (15 page)

On the way home she decided to stop for a latté at the local diner, despite her attire.
No one knows what I'm wearing under this coat
,
she mused to herself. She placed her order and searched around for a place to sit.

“Want to join me?” said a man as he eased his newspaper down to look at her.

She almost dropped her cup. It was Deacon. She put her latté down on the table as she pulled out her chair. She couldn't take her eyes off him. He smiled and touched her hand and she felt a certain warmth and peace come over her. How he had beaten her to the diner she did not know, but she had more important questions bugging her and now was the time for answers.

“Why have you been avoiding me at work?” she asked.

“I've been trying to make a good impression with the other members of the firm, and not get into trouble. You do know how you affect me, London.”

“But I have missed you and our special times together.”

“You've still been chatting with me, you know,” he said with a smile.

Her mouth dropped open and she gaped at him in shock and surprise.

“You're Bruce, my mystery man?”

“Yes. You didn't know it was me?” He raised an eyebrow at her. “Do you chat naughty with all the men?”

“No, b-but . . . ,” she stammered, regaining her composure. “I didn't know you were Bruce,” she replied with a hint of sarcasm. “I just missed you and I was bored. I never thought much about who it really was and I didn't care.” She paused before continuing, carefully changing the subject.

“By the way, there's something I need to tell you. I gave my two-week notice at work. I am retiring and today was my last day. I kept it quiet as I didn't want anyone to make a fuss over my leaving. They're all a bunch of stuffy suits anyway.”

Deacon looked surprised at her decision, but he smiled.

“This doesn't have anything to do with me, does it?”

“No, it's just time for me to enjoy life.”

Now that she understood his recent distant behavior, she felt better already about their relationship.

The next morning, London looked out the window into the snowy yard. The birds were eating and the heated birdbath was getting plenty of use. She relaxed, snuggled in her fluffy robe, sipping her coffee, happily watching the birds bathe. She was lucky to have bluebirds that stayed around all year and nested nearby. The phone rang, distracting her from the blissfully peaceful moment.

“Hey, baby, whatcha doing?” It was Deacon.

“Nothing, just watching the birds bathe. It's as if they're having a party in their own private hot tub.” She snickered as he laughed.

“I'd like to watch you bathe,” he replied.

“Mmm . . . ,” she said as she twirled her hair, melting at the thought.

“Hey, I know it's cold out, but I've got a craving for something sweet. Would you like to meet me later at our ice cream parlor?” he asked.

“Sure, what time?”

“How about six o'clock?”

“Okay, but only if you'll play a game with me.”

“What kind of game?” he inquired.

“It's a game of seduction.”

“Sounds good. I'll see you there.”

She could tell by his voice that he was smiling. The day flew by and soon she was sitting in the ice cream parlor, talking with her friend Paris, who worked there. Paris was working her way through college still and refused to let London help
her with tuition. She enjoyed working and especially waiting on the little children as their faces lit up over all the delicious sweet treats to choose from. They chatted about men and work as Paris served up a hand-dipped, double-scoop cone of Rocky Road ice cream. London smiled like a little girl as she thanked her. Paris moved on to the next customer when London noticed Deacon enter the parlor. He quickly sat down across the room. She made eye contact with him as she licked her cone, watching him squirm in his seat. She nibbled off the top, watching him and feeling the want of sex in her tummy. She continued to lick the melting ice cream cone, around and around she went, her tongue lapping the cold cream with dark chunks of chocolate, her mouth going over the top all the way to the cone part. When she took a bite off the top, Deacon left the building. She quickly finished her cone and threw the napkins in the container.

“Gotta run! See you soon, Paris!” she shouted behind her as she hurried out the door.

Approaching her car, she noticed Deacon's Lexus parked beside her. He was sitting inside, wiping his forehead. She loved that she'd made such an impact on him. He was so good-looking her heart flipped, and she felt a stirring inside her again. He looked at her like he was pleading with her but in a distant way. She thought about him and how she could take him home and enjoy him for the afternoon. She walked over to his car and looked inside. She immediately noticed his arousal as he gazed at her with a pathetic look. She smiled and walked over to the passenger door. She slid in beside him and kissed him warmly on the mouth. He grabbed her and held her close . . . so close she could hardly breathe.

She whispered in his ear, “I am sorry for my little game. I didn't mean to cause such a problem.”

“It's all right. I haven't been able to get you out of my mind since last night,” he said, which surprised her.

He had become the envy of every stalking secretary at work. He was the office catch, whom no one had been able to land, and his name had been on the gossiping lips of many eligible bachelorettes more than once. She treasured him and wanted to be very careful as to how she treated him. He belonged to her and she didn't want to lose him.

“Let's go to my place. I think we can have some fun.”

He nodded with a smile. “I'll follow you.”

As they drove to her château, London's mind drifted. She thought fondly about her grandmother and how she had believed in all kinds of love. To her, love and passion were the only things worth living for. She had money and she didn't have to work or worry about anything. She wanted the same for her granddaughter, to live and enjoy life, and especially love. London had definitely inherited her charms and lust for life and passion but above all . . . love. Now she was ready to settle down and her choice for life was Deacon.

The gates opened and both cars went deep onto the estate grounds. As they walked inside together, she said a special thanks in her mind to her granny for her excellent taste, especially the beauty and openness of the rooms. She felt so free, so safe and comfortable here, and Deacon made it complete. She fixed him a cup of coffee and they sat in the breakfast room, sipping and talking.

“I remember our trip to Paris, and how surprised I was to see you next to me on the plane.”

“I knew I was going, but wanted it to be a surprise.”

“Now we are members of the mile-high club. You just about drove me nuts, the way you teased me, and then the wonderful orgasm I had was worth every minute I had to wait.”

“You know, London, I have never found anybody like you, we are very good together.”

“I think so.” She smiled and drank some of her hot brew. “I will never forget the sex we had on the bridge in Paris, I knew it was you . . . the aftershave gave you away.”

“Hum, maybe I should change my aftershave.”

“Don't you dare.” She kissed him on the cheek. “I also so enjoyed our encounter at the Château in Versailles. I wonder if Marie Antoinette had sex in the tunnels behind her room?” Deacon smiled. “Well, we have great memories, and they are only beginning.” London felt so close to him, closer than she had ever let herself feel about any man. He reached across the table and touched her hand and she felt chills go up her spine in a new and tender way. She touched his hand and placed her fingers on top of his, feeling his warmth. She touched in between his fingers as he smiled and did the same to her. She felt a stirring as she got up, took his hand, and led him to the family room.

“May I?” he asked, pointing to the fireplace.

She nodded as he knelt down to light it. The entire wall in front of the fireplace was glass windows that overlooked the backyard and the secluded wooded acreage behind it. She enjoyed her privacy and even demanded it. It was part of who she was.

She was sitting on the bamboo love seat in the family room when he came over to her. He stood in front of her and pulled her to her feet. He put his arms around her, touching her face as he pulled her close. He rubbed her back and worked his way around to her front, where the rise and fall of her breasts competed with his deep breathing. He kissed her on the mouth so softly, then all of a sudden he pulled her to him tighter, holding her so close she could hardly breathe. He clung to her this
way for a few minutes, catching his breath. She heard whimpers come from deep within his throat. Sounds of passion—his and her needs and wants. She danced him over to the stereo system and pushed a button. The house filled with the romantic sounds of Frank Sinatra. He held her close as they swayed to the music, his lips finding hers as they exchanged kisses and nibbles. They looked out the windows and watched the snow falling silently on the deck that overlooked the yard.

He was so tender and intimate with her now, a quality that he had never shown her before during other sexual interactions. He pulled off her sweater and began kissing her bare spots, holding her close, nibbling on her ear. When her bra finally fell to the floor, he kissed her nipples, cupping them in his hands. He kept his eyes closed the whole time, as if his mind were elsewhere and he was reliving a moment from the past. The hardness of her nipples filled his mouth, as her head moved back in awe of his talents and the wonder of this magic he worked on her. Her head spun as he laid her down on the sofa. His kisses were so full of longing and love that it took her to an unfamiliar place.

Normally the kisses she received were full of angry lust and desperate passion, but this time they were full of tenderness. She could feel his longing for a lost love. The thought made her shudder for a second and she choked back her tears, knowing that she had never had that kind of love. She had never allowed herself to feel that kind of intense feeling. In that moment, she finally began to realize the true difference between having sex and making love. She envied the relationship between this man and the woman he'd lost, and she hoped she could fill the emptiness he was feeling. She touched his hair, kissed his neck, and touched his lips with hers. He pulled her to him and kissed her so deeply it took her breath away. She
felt feelings from her toes all the way to her nose. What a wonderful moment she was experiencing. She prayed he would not open up his eyes and see she was not the woman he thought he was making love to. For once in her life, she wanted to be her.

He finished undressing her and kissing her tenderly, touching her tummy, her softness, her passion place, and finally her sex. He inserted his finger into her as she moaned softly, then he took it out and touched her button, moving his mouth down to that spot and taking advantage of it. He opened her lips farther as he put his tongue deep inside her, searching for all the right places. He knew how to make great love and she was more than grateful for this moment in time. He felt her passion build as he took off his clothes and his hardness was right beside her. She wondered if it would shock him if she took it in her mouth. She had done this before successfully, but this type of lovemaking was different and foreign to her. He was reliving a memory and she wondered if the woman he was thinking of had done those types of things for him.
Would it be out of character for her to take him and suck on him?
She didn't want to spoil this moment for him. His eyes were still closed as he came closer to her.

“Take me,” he asked.

She gladly licked his precum as he moaned and he slid beside her in her favorite position. They played with each other, his face buried in her sex and his hardness in her mouth. She enjoyed his hardness and the wonder of this man as he pulled himself out of her mouth and slid on top of her. He opened her legs wide for his deep penetration and pulled her down to him. She eased back onto the sofa as he entered her. Much to her surprise, he filled her and then some. He pumped into her slowly and then pulled her ass higher as he went deeper into her. She felt herself starting to come as he kept pumping into her, faster,
deeper, and harder. She was no longer in this world but floating around in some incredible void, full of passion, with the feeling that she was about to climax at any moment.

“Oh God, I'm coming!” she yelled, and he dropped on top of her. His passion was spent and replaced by their juices flowing out of them onto the tiled floor. He pulled her to him and held her close as she lay in his arms. She closed her eyes and enjoyed his warmth and comfort.

After a few minutes, she leaned up on her elbow to look down at his face. His eyes were closed with his eyelashes resting on his cheekbones. She felt his warmness cover her body. She'd had many men, but never felt this way about any of them. Her heart fluttered something new . . . something more than before. Her body trembled and shivered as she was overcome by her love for this man. She snuggled back into his body, tugging a blanket over them from the back of the sofa. She watched the flames flickering and dancing across the walls, and the snow falling outside as she drifted off to sleep in his arms.

T
he next morning, she awoke on the sofa and Deacon was gone again. He did leave a note on the coffee table beside her:
TIME FOR WORK. I'LL BE MISSING YOU. SEE YOU SOON. LOVE, DEACON
. She smiled as she held the message and savored the scent of him that still lingered in the air and on her body. She knew he had to go out of town for a few days on business to finalize some legal matters before the holiday break on the weekend. The following Saturday was Christmas Eve and she hoped to celebrate with him. It was going to be a long week without him, but she planned to keep herself very busy somehow.