"You're the best-looking man in a towel I've ever seen," replied Ryan, laughing. She went over and flopped down on the sofa. Robard sat down opposite her. He was careful to keep the towel down between his legs so that Ryan wouldn't get the idea he was flaunting his sex in her face. He understood that Ryan was here for talk, serious talk. And something inside him respected that.
"Things not working out?" he asked, deciding to bring the problem out immediately.
"Catastrophe," muttered Ryan. Her face clouded over. She appreciated Robard's directness, but it hurt. She would rather have kidded with him for a while before hitting the source of her pain. But, she thought, this was no hour for social pleasantries.
"I suppose it's Dex. Did she throw you out or something? I hope it didn't have anything to do with me."
"Rob, I wish it were that simple. I think… I think it's finished between us. Really. Kaput." Ryan found herself examining her hands as she spoke. It was as if she expected to see a trace of the violence that had gone on that evening. If only there were blood marks to bear witness to the murder that had occurred. The killing of their relationship had been as brutal and real as anything in a tabloid.
"You two have been through this kind of thing before. You always managed to kiss and make up," Robard said soothingly.
"That's because it was always me. Me playing around. Now it's more complicated than that. I told you a little this afternoon. I didn't think it was that serious then. Now… well, I think it's fatal." Ryan folded her hands in her lap in a gesture of finality.
"Well, you're certainly expressing the whole thing with high drama. Maybe if we cut away some of that theater, we'll see it's not that serious."
"I know what you're thinking, Rob. Dykes. A lot of melodrama that will disappear in the morning. Well, this time, no. I've just come from them. I've seen the girl. They're together now."
Robard smiled weakly. He did not know how to handle this. Usually when his own emotional life got tangled he would make a joke of it and go to bed. He knew he couldn't suggest the same thing to Ryan. She was totally serious about what was happening. Her look of tragedy was not staged.
"I see," he replied with a sigh. "Well, maybe it's all for the best. I know that's a cliche. It might even sound unfeeling, but you know I feel. What I'm getting at, Ry, is that if it's happened, it's happened. There's not much you can do about it."
Ryan shook her head violently and said, "Rob, I can't take it. I can't cope. It's not that easy. I wouldn't get you out of bed if it were." Despite himself, Robard found his body stretching and yawning. It wasn't used to this kind of treatment. The thought flashed through his mind as he felt his body moving that she wasn't even noticing him. The physical thing that had brought them passionately together that afternoon seemed gone. Something, probably his male vanity, told him that if that interest could be rekindled, they could both get some sleep. Together.
Risking a move on intuition, Robard said, "Let's go to bed, Ry. I can't think of a better way to cope." Ryan blinked. It was so direct, his proposal, that it almost knocked the wind out of her. Sex was the last thing on her mind. Sex with a man that much further. His words hit her like a cold slap on the face. A wave of hostility surged up suddenly in her. Men, all they wanted was a cunt to fuck.
As if reading her mind, Robard added, "Think about it. Don't put the idea down until you've tried it on for size." He stared intently at her, half praying his calm and his words would work on her. Sure he wanted sex with her. What man wouldn't want a beautiful actress in bed with him any hour of the day or night. But it was more than that. He knew that in bed he could give her peace, and perhaps even the answer she was looking for. Sitting there in the living room, rehashing the past and sinking deeper into fatalism and depression, was no answer.
He felt like getting up immediately and sitting down beside her on the sofa. He'd hold her in his arms, show her what he meant.
But something inside him again told him that that would not be the right approach. Ryan was not just a lesbian, but a special kind of woman. The best thing was to give her room to breathe and consider, give her space.
Ryan was ready to blurt out bitter reproach, but she was listening to him. He had asked her to consider. Now she was doing just that. His gray eyes rested calmly on her, giving her time and providing the needed support for that time. Robard was no stereotype of a man. She felt guilty for even accusing him of it in her mind.
"Okay," she said with the sureness of a split second decision.
Robard grinned back at her, uttering a sigh of relief.
"Tremendous. Let's go to bed," he said jumping up from the chair and moving toward the sofa. Ryan rose to meet him. She stretched out her hand and he took it, kissing her wrist, nuzzling it comfortingly. Then he put his arms around her shoulders and pulled her to him.
The merest touch of her cool flesh sent his cock pounding, lifting the towel up in the air, jutting against her belly. He felt her catch her breath as she felt the insistency of his penis.
He looked down between them and smiled back up at her.
"It has a will of its own. But I can handle it. You do what you want. If bed means just sleeping with someone's arm around you, I can get into that."
Ryan wrapped her arms around his shoulders, squeezing him close to her. She did not know what she felt or what she wanted. But the closeness of his body the wideness of his powerful shoulders, were compelling. They were something to hold on to which was not going to vanish in her arms. He was solid.
"Let's just see what happens." The bobbing insistence of his cock made her blush slightly. There was no subtlety in a man's sex urge. She had always held that against them before. But now its directness was appealing. She at least knew where she stood.
"You don't mind?" he continued. She grinned back.
"You want me to get down on my knees and blow you to prove it?" she replied quickly. Robard stepped back slightly. He wasn't sure whether she was angry, resentful, or just trying to be funny.
"You're pretty graphic tonight, Ry."
"I'm sick of pussy-footing women. Sick enough of it to vomit. I mean that, Rob. There's something about a man's cock that doesn't play games," she added wryly.
"That's one way of looking at it." The strength of her tone had wrought a change, however. Her vulnerability had lessened. And his cock was drooping as a result.
Boldly, Ryan reached down and grabbed his penis under the towel. Her hand seemed to be examining it at first, almost clinically, but soon the touch turned to a caress. As her long fingers stroked its length, Rob's cock responded with an even more violent erection. The feel of her hand pumping his cock, grazing the heavy sack of his balls, knocked the wind out of him.
Robard took her finely chiseled head in both hands and stared at her. She met his gaze firmly.
"You're quite a woman," was all he could think to mutter. He brought their mouths close to each other. Ryan's eyelids fluttered shut and her lips moved to touch his. The next second found their tongues entwined, toying with each other, voraciously searching and sucking. Unlike this afternoon, she was holding nothing back. He felt the full brunt of her passion centered on him. The heat of it made something snap inside him. The calm, civilized man in him broke down. He wanted her anyway he could. He would throw her down on the rug and fuck her. He wanted her mouth devouring his prick. Then he wanted to plunge it into her cunt. The violence of it was rape.
Slowly, she eased off. The force of her tongue and mouth lessened. Robard found himself regaining control. His rough grip of her head relaxed. He stroked her hair, wondering at its long silkiness. He began responding to her breathing, the pounding of her heart against him.