He hesitated as I debated which box on the page to check. “My advice, if it really was ‘no,’ you wouldn’t have to ask for my input.”
I did as the man said, solely because he was right. I didn’t really want Joel to give up on me. I didn’t really know what I wanted. I knew what was right, and for the first time in a long time what I wanted and what was right were two opposing things.
The singer didn’t say anything as I marked the paper and handed it back to him, thanking him once again before he left to catch up with the rest of the group.
Walking back into the house, I thought about what to expect next. Joel was anything but normal when it came to getting what he wanted. I was starting to learn he wasn’t above using every means to get what he wanted. It was a bit disconcerting that he now had my cell phone number, but chose not to use it. Maybe he was scared I wouldn’t answer, or worse that I would answer just to tell him no, which would most likely happen if he continued to push too hard. No, I wasn’t meeting with him. I had already made up my mind. So why did it feel like even thinking that felt like a lie?
***
I hadn’t checked the mail since the postal service announced they were returning to their routes almost a week before. It wasn’t like I received a lot of mail anyway, but I had been too busy with work to bother unloading a box I assumed was filled to the brim with mailers. I unlocked the box and noticed a thick, padded manila envelope underneath everything else. I hadn’t ordered anything, and when I flipped the envelope over, there was no return address or any indication as to who sent it. Shuffling the rest of the mail underneath my arm, I used both hands to open the small package.
Just as I got to my front door, I pulled out the contents only to find a single CD without so much as a card or permanent marker signaling what it was.
All of the rest of the mail was thrown on my kitchen counter before I carried the blank CD to my office to see what was on it. I’d never had something so suspicious and ominous as a blank CD sent to my home—and addressed to me specifically, no less.
Once seated at my desk, I shoved the CD in and waited for my computer to load the contents. When the multimedia icon popped up on my screen, I clicked play noticing at the last minute that it was a video and not an audio file. Immediately, my screen filled with the image of a half-naked man. He wore jeans, no shoes, no shirt. His face couldn’t be seen based on the angle of the camera, but I knew that chest anywhere. His words verified my presumption.
“Mmm, pretty bird…I’ve been thinking about you,” Joel groaned and it was the sound of need amplified through my speakers that had me pressing pause quickly, as if I were in a crowded library and porn sounds blasted from my speakers. I clutched my chest to calm my racing heart. Is this what I think it is? If so, he’s pulling out all the stops. He’s making it so I’ll have no choice but to meet him—if only to cure the ache that’s blooming through my body with the tenor of those words. Words that were meant especially for me.
I moved through my house to retrieve my headphones bundled at the bottom of my purse. My house was empty and very rarely did I even receive the random solicitor, but it felt too revealing to watch this video and listen to the sexual hunger he possessed, with the remote chance that someone walking down the sidewalk could make out one word of what was meant for my ears and eyes only. There was something significant about Joel sending me this. It spoke of a trust I wasn’t even sure I deserved. Granted, his face wasn’t in the picture, but anyone who knew Joel would be able to say that was his voice. If not, they could probably recognize his body. He wasn’t tattooed and didn’t have any significant scars marring his perfect skin, but even in Vegas, it was hard to find a man who had a body as perfect as his. He could work at Chippendales or Thunder Down Under, and I’m sure he’d be their biggest moneymaker. Women would line up outside the door just to see him reveal even a small glimpse of his perfectly chiseled chest and commanding thighs.
The heat of excitement of being able to watch his body in action washed over me. I would have a front row seat to whatever awaited me once I was back in the office and pressed play. Having sex with Joel was its own experience. Yes, I watched his body as he moved in and out of me, but more so, I was focused on the pleasure he drew out of me. Now, I would be able to completely focus on the beauty of Joel’s movements.
I plugged my headphones in. The mouse hovered over the play button, waiting for me to click it. It wasn’t even a question whether I would press play or not, which was a sure sign that I absolutely shouldn’t have watched. However, I couldn’t control the sudden urge that overtook me. I needed to see Joel, needed to hear his voice. Even if I couldn’t see that cocky smile, I wanted to hear it in his words.
“You know what they say. If the mountain won’t come to Muhammad…then Muhammad must go to the mountain. That sounds like I’m calling you a mountain. You know what? Never mind.”
I chuckled lightly at his words, but choked on the next laugh that came. Joel, still standing, dropped his jeans and stood with his feet apart, drawing my eyes up to his very obvious erection, already thick and ruddy. In the light that painted the room, I could see every vein that curved down his length clear to his cock-head. His torso twisted away from the camera, and my eyes zeroed in on his piercing, prompting flashbacks of what it felt like between my fingers, on my tongue, and slipping through my folds.
He walked closer to where the camera was positioned. The camera jostled then zoomed in on the bed in the background. Was this Joel’s bed? It fit him perfectly. The headboard was made of large, thick pieces of wood that climbed so far up the wall I couldn’t see the top with the camera zoomed in. Heather-gray colored sheets matched the natural colors I’d captured glimpses of when I first popped the CD in.
He hopped on the bed with enough gusto to make the whole bed shake beneath his weight.
“Those thirty minutes at the Cosmopolitan got me thinking. You don’t remember much of that first night we met, but I do.”
He’s right. After too much tequila and not enough in my stomach to absorb all of the liquor that burned through my body, I was so drunk that my memory could only grasp bits and pieces of the night that united us in some weird last-people-on-Earth type of way. But what I could remember was enough to make even Kerri blush. His hands were warm and seemed to burn me wherever he touched—which was everywhere. His skin was soft despite his rigid muscles, but it was also the things he said and how he handled my body. His touch vacillated between soft caresses and a tough grip, making me feel like he was imprinting my soul with the touch of his hand, so I would never forget him.
“You were so responsive to my touch.”
He spread out on the bed, his face still out of frame, but the camera now directed from his lower chest down to his thick thighs and swollen shaft. Joel grabbed his dick with the same touch that I was familiar with. He handled my body with the same tenacity as he handled his own. He pumped and I watched in fascination at the thick erection that he stroked nice and slow, as if drawing it out to build up the pressure building in my core. I felt a flush descend over my body and wondered where his eyes were. The eyes I couldn’t see but remembered how they watched me. Were they imagining me now, waiting for the moment I would lose control and cave into my body’s need, or were they watching with rapt fascination at how his cock disappeared beneath his palm?
I licked my lips at the first sight of pre-come bubbling at the surface.