lift.
“Would you ever get a fish again?”
“No, I don’t think so.”
“I’m pretty sure no one would try to take it from you now.” I pictured Didier’s bare body, wondering if he knew how to exploit that physique for violence as well as art.
“I think my time for fish has passed. I would enjoy its company, but I would always think, what kind of a life is this, living in a tiny bowl with no other fish, your only purpose in life to be a living trinket for some other animal, in exchange for food?”
I shifted in my seat, knowing too well that, to some, this man must boil down to nothing more than a six-foot-something trinket.
“I am too sensitive now for the pet shop,” Didier concluded. He smiled suddenly. “And I am too depressing a date this evening. Forgive me.”
“I don’t mind. Everyone’s allowed to feel sad now and then.”
“I am carrying on about goldfish when you are here for romance. So come, let’s leave all that behind us.” He took my hand and put it to his lips, a gesture I’d imagined before but always skeptically, always as a stereotype of the cheesiest ilk. But in reality, I liked it.
He stared at my fingers and squeezed them gently, one by one. “Have you any idea what you would like from me, this evening?”
“No. I’d like to kiss you again, but beyond that, I’m not sure.”
“Whatever you wish.”
I looked to him nervously and he got the hint. He took the glass from me and set it aside. His hands were warm as he cupped my neck, his mouth bold, lips tart from the wine I’d purchased with exactly this in mind. Just as his kisses grew deep and my head grew cloudy, he pulled away.
“May I tell you something?”
“Sure.”
“I thought of you, Friday afternoon. I touched myself and I imagined it was you, pleasuring me.”
Every inch of me tightened and released, heat dropping over me like a sheet. Our eyes darted, his dark ones mesmerizing in the warm light of the lamp.
“Really?”
“Yes. I bathed and I remembered how it felt to have you watch, and before I knew it my hand was wrapped around my cock. Your hand, in my mind.”
I conjured the scene, thick lather dripping from his fist. “I’ve thought about you as well.” But strangely enough, I hadn’t come since meeting Didier on Thursday. I’d been wound up beyond reason, but each time I thought I might touch myself, misgivings gave me pause. Had I known he’d still thought of me after I disappeared down his stairs—that he’d come , thinking about me—I’d have given myself permission to indulge in my own memories. But as it was, I’d been afraid as always that my lust was laughably one-sided.
Yet for some incredible reason, despite that fact that he’s the finest man I’ve ever seen and miles out of my league…I believed him, just then. And I realized something I never had before. Deep down, I want to be seen as an object too. I want to be coveted and sought after. I want to be taken apart and understood, reassembled, filed away in Didier’s cabinet. I don’t even need to be pretty to have this. I only have to allow him to open me up.
After more kissing I said, “I know you’ve said that what women want from you is different, depending on who they are.”
“Of course.” I loved how rough his voice sounded then, and knowing it was partly my doing.
“Well, what do you like? If the woman had no preference and it was all up to you, what do you like best?”
“I cannot divorce the two that easily. Even in my own head, by myself, what I imagine has everything to do with the woman in my thoughts.”
“Even if she was just a totally neutral, up-for-anything woman?”
He smiled. “As much as I love clockwork, I would never want to fuck a woman as soulless and without preference as a robot.”
I sighed, pretending to be outrageously exasperated.
Didier laughed, a glorious noise. “Do you really want me to have some singular need? Do you want some secret key to pleasing me? Because
“Would you ever get a fish again?”
“No, I don’t think so.”
“I’m pretty sure no one would try to take it from you now.” I pictured Didier’s bare body, wondering if he knew how to exploit that physique for violence as well as art.
“I think my time for fish has passed. I would enjoy its company, but I would always think, what kind of a life is this, living in a tiny bowl with no other fish, your only purpose in life to be a living trinket for some other animal, in exchange for food?”
I shifted in my seat, knowing too well that, to some, this man must boil down to nothing more than a six-foot-something trinket.
“I am too sensitive now for the pet shop,” Didier concluded. He smiled suddenly. “And I am too depressing a date this evening. Forgive me.”
“I don’t mind. Everyone’s allowed to feel sad now and then.”
“I am carrying on about goldfish when you are here for romance. So come, let’s leave all that behind us.” He took my hand and put it to his lips, a gesture I’d imagined before but always skeptically, always as a stereotype of the cheesiest ilk. But in reality, I liked it.
He stared at my fingers and squeezed them gently, one by one. “Have you any idea what you would like from me, this evening?”
“No. I’d like to kiss you again, but beyond that, I’m not sure.”
“Whatever you wish.”
I looked to him nervously and he got the hint. He took the glass from me and set it aside. His hands were warm as he cupped my neck, his mouth bold, lips tart from the wine I’d purchased with exactly this in mind. Just as his kisses grew deep and my head grew cloudy, he pulled away.
“May I tell you something?”
“Sure.”
“I thought of you, Friday afternoon. I touched myself and I imagined it was you, pleasuring me.”
Every inch of me tightened and released, heat dropping over me like a sheet. Our eyes darted, his dark ones mesmerizing in the warm light of the lamp.
“Really?”
“Yes. I bathed and I remembered how it felt to have you watch, and before I knew it my hand was wrapped around my cock. Your hand, in my mind.”
I conjured the scene, thick lather dripping from his fist. “I’ve thought about you as well.” But strangely enough, I hadn’t come since meeting Didier on Thursday. I’d been wound up beyond reason, but each time I thought I might touch myself, misgivings gave me pause. Had I known he’d still thought of me after I disappeared down his stairs—that he’d come , thinking about me—I’d have given myself permission to indulge in my own memories. But as it was, I’d been afraid as always that my lust was laughably one-sided.
Yet for some incredible reason, despite that fact that he’s the finest man I’ve ever seen and miles out of my league…I believed him, just then. And I realized something I never had before. Deep down, I want to be seen as an object too. I want to be coveted and sought after. I want to be taken apart and understood, reassembled, filed away in Didier’s cabinet. I don’t even need to be pretty to have this. I only have to allow him to open me up.
After more kissing I said, “I know you’ve said that what women want from you is different, depending on who they are.”
“Of course.” I loved how rough his voice sounded then, and knowing it was partly my doing.
“Well, what do you like? If the woman had no preference and it was all up to you, what do you like best?”
“I cannot divorce the two that easily. Even in my own head, by myself, what I imagine has everything to do with the woman in my thoughts.”
“Even if she was just a totally neutral, up-for-anything woman?”
He smiled. “As much as I love clockwork, I would never want to fuck a woman as soulless and without preference as a robot.”
I sighed, pretending to be outrageously exasperated.
Didier laughed, a glorious noise. “Do you really want me to have some singular need? Do you want some secret key to pleasing me? Because
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