He reached out and stroked my hair. Slowly he removed the single pin which magically held it all up. It spilled luxuriantly over and through his fingers. I knew this pleased him, that he loved the feel of my hair in his hands. Even though I still couldn't distinguish his face, I knew he was smiling as he slid his fingers through the thick strands.
I laid my hands on his chest. Strangely, I wasn't shy. In this velvet-dark realm, timidity didn't exist. Boldness was expected, even invited. No one would see. No one would know. The darkness was a friendly entity. It cloaked every indiscretion and made all things acceptable. Here one wouldn't be held accountable for his actions. There were no rules of behavior, no duties beyond satisfying every secret lust.
The hard, muscled curves of his chest filled my palms. I curled my fingers into the firm flesh that barely yielded to the pressure. He was wearing a shirt, but merely a thought from me dissolved it and his chest was instantly bare.
Inquisitively I combed through the pelt of springy hair. My fingertips were sensitized to each nuance of texture and form. His nipples were hard and distended, like pebbles. I leaned forward and made one wet with the tip of my tongue. He moaned with pleasure.
He cradled my face between his hands and tilted it up. He stroked my damp lips with his thumbs. Parting them, he ran the pads of his thumbs over my teeth. I bit him lightly, playfully scraping my teeth against his skin.
He slid his hands down my neck, then farther down my chest to my breasts. Taking them in his hands, he kneaded them gently, rubbing the nipples with his fingertips until they peaked.
Our lips came together in a fiery kiss. A fierce melding of mouths. His tongue mated with mine. Passions flared. Roughly he backed me against a wall that I hadn't known was there. He could barely control this savage hunger that had suddenly seized him. I found it exhilarating and trembled in response to it.
He kissed his way down my throat, then his hot, seeking mouth closed around my nipple. Its ardent tugging motion coaxed an involuntary moan from my lips. Instinctually, I knew that his eyes were closed, that he was indulging an unspoken need within himself. I wanted to have milk to feed him with, and, when I said those words aloud, he was deeply touched.
His hands contracted in a gentle love-squeeze at my waist before moving over my hipbones. All I need do was ask, and my greatest desire would be fulfilled. That I knew. But I said nothing. I wanted to prolong the delicious agony of escalating desire. Besides, requests were unnecessary. Unselfishly he anticipated my needs. All I had to do was think of what I wanted and he would do it.
He knew precisely when and how to enter me. The taking was sudden, swift, sure. He filled my yearning body with his steely heat. It stroked me to the brink of oblivion. His hands were everywhere, gliding over my skin. His mouth was everywhere, open and hot.
He exercised no discipline. He had no conscience. He'd been bred to give pleasure. Born of sexual desire, suckled on lust, he knew nothing else but to give me ultimate joy and satisfaction. The fury of my orgasm was beyond any thing I'd ever experienced before or had known was possible.
Totally spent, damp with my sweat, with his, I clung to him weakly. Tenderly and affectionately, he stroked my hair, lifting it off my dewy shoulders. At last, his features still obscured by the forgiving and redeeming darkness, he left me and receded into the nothingness from which he had come.
I had never seen my incredible lover's face. Never heard his voice. Yet I would know him should he ever come to me again.
The incessant buzzing inside her head didn't recede with her faceless lover. It stayed in her bloodstream like a pain-killing narcotic long after the pain was gone.
Groggy and disoriented, Elizabeth came awake and opened her eyes. Lord, but she felt drained. Her four limbs weighed a ton apiece. A complacent smile lingered on her moist lips. She couldn't scoop together an ounce of energy. Lassitude held her anchored to the bed and incapable of movement. Her skin was covered with a sheen of perspiration. Her nightgown was hopelessly twisted and clinging to her. A provocative heat resided between her thighs. It was concentrated there, having been funneled there from her entire system. Her nipples were stiff. They tingled.
Suddenly she blinked, realizing that the buzzing inside her head wasn't the aftereffect of incredibly erotic lovemaking but the drone of a power chain saw coming from somewhere in the neighborhood. There was no lover, mysterious or otherwise. She lay alone in her chaste bed. It wasn't dark. Sunlight was streaming through her shuttered windows.
The day was Saturday. And later this day, she had a date with Thad Randolph.
Heaving a sigh of dread, she swung her feet to the floor and sat up on the edge of the bed. The clock on her nightstand told her it was a few minutes after nine. She reached for her robe lying across the end of the bed and pulled it on, overlapping it across her breasts, pretending that their crests weren't still itchy and flushed. She stood up, trying to support herself on legs that were wobbly and weak.
"Lilah would have loved that one," she mumbled as she padded into the bathroom. Talk about fantasies! Lord! The ol' nameless, faceless, voiceless, guiltless encounter couldn't be topped for sheer eroticism. It was every woman's most secret fantasy because everything was permissible. There were no consequences to deal with later.
Sick — that's what she was. If the state authorities knew what she had dreamed about, they'd probably take her children away from her.
After taking a shower, a very cold one, she found her children in the kitchen eating bowls of presweetened cereal. She'd let sugar win the war over natural fiber years ago, having decided that the final victory wouldn't be worth the morning battles. She kissed and hugged her children in turn before starting the coffeemaker.
"Tonight's the night of the carnival, Mom," Matt reminded her through a mouthful of empty calories and pastel, teeth-rotting goo.
"That's right."
She tried to interject enthusiasm into her voice. All week, she'd avoided thinking about this Saturday night, as if thinking about it would attach some special significance to it.
She hadn't seen Thad since he'd walked her to her back door Monday evening. The children had given her daily progress reports on Penny's puppies, but she hadn't solicited any information about Thad. It was almost a relief that the dreaded day had finally arrived. By this time tomorrow, it would be over and done with.
"Don't be late getting home. Thad said he'd be here a few minutes before seven to pick us up," Megan told her.
"I promise not to be late," Elizabeth said a little too sharply. She modified her tone and said, "I'll get here in plenty of time to change. Just be sure that all your chores are done. I'm leaving a list for Mrs Alder."
Ordinarily on Saturdays the hours she spent in Fantasy crawled by. She was guiltily aware that her children were out of school and spending a great part of their weekend at home without her. But this Saturday, the time flew. She couldn't retard the hours' rapid march no matter how many menial tasks she masochistically assigned herself. Five o'clock arrived. She locked up and drove home.
The children were so excited they nearly tackled her when she came through the door. "Thad called and said he'd be here at six forty-five. Hurry, Mom."
"Megan, that's an hour and a half away. I'll be ready. I promise."