He lunged deeper into Anna, and in his mind his fingers were unhooking the red spaghetti straps of Priestess’s dress, and letting the material peel slowly away from her naked body.
Then it was Priestess on top of him, not Anna, moaning as he pushed into her, kissing her slender neck and her beautiful, round, pink-tipped breasts.
“Oh, Mark, yes!” Priestess cried, arching her back and shuddering in orgasm. “Yes!”
And then it was Arianna, taking him in her mouth and sucking so hard her head tapped against the Xerox machine behind her.
“I love the way you taste,” Arianna said.
“No!” Priestess was on top of him again, riding him hard. “Me! There’s only me!”
He grunted, exploding inside her.
Screeching tyres… shattering glass… rending metal… the smell of gasoline…
Mark gasped and opened his eyes, disoriented. His whole body was covered in a sheen of sweat.
Anna was staring down at him.
“Mark, are you OK?”
“You didn’t hear?” Geoff asked the next morning at work.
“Hear what?” Mark asked.
“Arianna,” Geoff said. “She was driving home last night, and there was an accident. She’s dead.”
Mark stood frozen, his eyes staring off at nothing, his heart pounding.
“Mark, are you OK?”
The next Saturday was perfect beach weather. Mark and Anna decided to take the train over to Long Island and spend the day in the surf. The beach was crowded, and they were lucky enough to find a place to lay their towels without complaining that their spot was closer to the surrounding woods than to the ocean itself.
Mark looked around as they rested after a swim. Anna was reading a book and Mark, having neglected to bring anything, resorted to people-watching.
Once he spotted the woman in the yellow bikini walking on the sand, he was suddenly glad he’d forgotten his book. She had a perfect tan, and sun-bleached hair that blew behind her in the breeze. Her eyes were hidden behind black sunglasses, but Mark could still see her high cheekbones, thin nose and perfect mouth, highlighted by the dark birthmark near the corner of her upper lip. And her body; he hadn’t seen a body like that outside of swimsuit models. She was slender and well toned, the muscles of her tight abdomen glistening in the hot sun, and she generously filled out both the top and bottom of her skimpy yellow bikini.
And then she was gone, lost in the crowds.
Mark let his breath out slowly. He turned to look at Anna – reclining in her blue bikini, the water from the ocean rolling in thin streams off her body – and thought he was going to burst. She met his eyes over the top of her paperback, and smiled.
They disappeared into the woods, deep enough to avoid exposure. Anna slipped off her tight blue bikini bottom, and bent herself over a thick fallen tree. Mark lingered, looking at the dark tangle of her wet pubic hair, smelling the thick scent of her arousal through the salty sea water that still clung to her skin, and listening to the desire in her voice when she said, “I want you inside me.”
He slid easily into her, hunching over her back and kissing the nape of her neck. Mark’s hands glided along her smooth, wet skin, up her sides and around to her chest, cupping her breasts, the wet material of her blue bikini top crushing under his palms.
His hands undid the clasp of the yellow bikini top as he embraced and kissed the woman from the beach, letting their tongues swirl around each other like snakes. The top fell silently to the forest floor.
Her tits were perfect, mashing against him, her nipples so hard he could feel them pressing into his chest. He kissed her neck and, moving down her body, kissed the hollow between her collar bones and, finally, held those big, beautiful breasts in his hands and sucked at them until she gasped.
He spun her around and bent her over a fallen tree, tearing off the yellow bikini bottom and giving her the fuck of her life.
Mark pulled Anna’s blue bikini top off her shoulders and slid it down to her waist, then caressed her small, bare breasts from behind.
The woman from the beach cried, “I’m coming!” and trembled against him.
And then she was gone.
Priestess was bent over beneath him, moving her heart-shaped ass back and forth against his pelvis and moaning orgasmically. She twisted around to look at him, ran a warm hand over his chest and said, “There’s only me.”
He closed his eyes tight as he came inside her.
Rushing darkness… bursting lungs… no air…
Mark gasped, shaking and sweating, unable to remember where he was. Anna straightened, letting him slide back out of her. She turned around and looked at him, touching his arm in concern.
“Mark? What is it?”
“Nothing.” Mark shook himself again. He was burning under his skin. “I must be coming down with something.”
It was a small news story, buried deep in the last pages of the Quick City Sentinel. A local woman drowned at a Long Island beach over the weekend, apparently caught by a fierce undertow and pulled under before anyone could help.
There was a picture of the victim, a photograph from her modeling portfolio. She had sun-bleached hair, a beautiful smile, and a birthmark by the corner of her upper lip.
Mark did everything he could to convince himself it wasn’t the same woman he saw in the yellow bikini, the woman he fantasized about. It had to be a coincidence.
Mark straightened his tie as he followed Anna out of the taxi. It was nine o’clock, the summer sun had set just half an hour ago, and the sky was darkening quickly. He could tell the smile on Anna’s face was fixed there by sheer will; she wasn’t happy being in this kind of neighbourhood after dark, especially on their anniversary.
The street was lined with rows of dingy tenement buildings, their rusted fire escapes casting spiderweb shadows all around them under the radiance of the streetlights. Garbage was strewn all over the kerb, walls were brightly spray-painted, and the street was practically deserted. The taxi sped off as if the driver feared for his life.
“Where are we?” Anna asked.
Mark put a comforting arm around her shoulders. “We’re almost there.”
He led her toward one of the dark tenements, checking the address to make sure he had the right one. It looked no different from the other buildings surrounding it – dirty, rusty, spray-painted – but the address was right. Mark led her toward the steps leading down to the sunken metal door.
“I’m so excited about your big surprise,” Anna said, but her eyes told him she didn’t like being here.
Beyond the battered metal door was a cobblestone courtyard about five yards long, lit by strategically placed colored floodlights, peppered with tall potted plants, and lined with wrought-iron benches. At the other side of the courtyard was a red wooden door. There was also a red velvet rope, and a line of six people waiting behind it.
“Cancellations,” one of them said.
“I’ve got a reservation,” Mark replied.
“What is this place?” Anna asked excitedly. The fear was gone from her eyes, replaced with anticipation.
“My surprise.” Mark rang the bell next to the red door, and it swung open. A woman in a silk Oriental dress, tight and red and flowered, appeared in the dim doorway.
“Do you have a reservation?”
“Wagner, party of two.”
Anna tugged excitedly at his arm.
The woman stepped aside and said, “Come right in.”
The door closed behind them. They stood in a short, dark hallway with tastefully flowered wallpaper and a luxuriously deep carpet. Mark reached into his pocket and pulled out three hundred-dollar bills, handing them to the hostess.