CHAPTER ONE

Undertow

by Joni Mitchell

“Mason, get up,” I said, jostling him. Underneath the gray sheet, his chest rose and fell slowly. It was a rare treat for him to spend the night.

“Hmm, Lainie come back to bed.” He reached out from under the cover to pull me to him.

“Come on, I’m serious. It’s already nine thirty and Jacqs will be here soon. Isn’t Victoria expecting you home?”

“I told her my plane doesn’t arrive until this afternoon.” Mason looked up at me and pierced me with his ravishing, clear, blue eyes. “Can I come back after your brunch? I don’t know when I’ll be able to get away again.” He scooted up against the headboard, which caused the sheet to fall to his waist.

The smattering of hair on his chest and taut lower abs made me groan.

“Come here, love. We still have a few minutes.” He moved down on the mattress and held his arms out to me.

I climbed in and covered his body with mine. “We don’t have much time.”

“I love you, baby,” he said just before his lips touched mine.

I wouldn’t say I love you back, I couldn’t. It was not that I didn’t love him, I loved him so much it devastated me if I thought too far ahead, knowing that he would never truly be mine. I kissed him back hard, breathing him in, wanting to fuse our bodies together. My extra twenty-five pounds no longer deterred me with Mason; my full hips and soft belly seemed to inspire lust in him.

He flipped me over onto my back, spreading my long, smooth legs wide as he plunged in. “You’re so ready, it won’t take us long.” He groaned once he gained full penetration and held himself still. Peering down into my eyes, he said, “I want to play the game again when I come back later.”

I closed my eyes and shook my head no.

He shifted his weight to his right side and gripped my chin with his left hand so I was forced to look straight into his eyes. “You know you want to. I’m not sure why…” He said as he pulled his cock back slowly and rammed back into me, causing me to writhe. “you want to…” Then he leisurely stroked in and out of me. In his husky, deep voice he said, “pretend like you—ahhh yes I can feel you getting closer—pretend you don’t love the game.” He paused, but still held me in his gaze. “Come for me, baby. I want to feel your pussy grab onto my dick like only you can.” He resumed his deep, frantic pace as I equally met his incursions. “Don’t forget to breathe. Oh yeah, there you go, come for me.”

“Please!” A squeak escaped from me followed by a low groan. I quickly gulped in air, spinning as my release erupted.

“I’m coming with you,” Mason called out. He jerked rapidly and then held himself tightly against me.

The feel of his cock pulsing inside me almost got me off again. He rolled to the side, his chest rising and falling.

I nuzzled against his neck, breathing in his spicy aftershave and warm skin, a smell I would never forget. I glanced up at the clock and said, “Unless you want to meet Jacqs, we need to get the fuck up and get dressed.”

He drew me close. “I love when you talk dirty, baby.”

I tried to keep from laughing. “I’m serious.”

“Are you aware you say that a lot?”

He tickled me until I pushed away from his chest and said, “Get dressed and skedaddle. I’m hopping in the shower.”

“Text me when you’re free. Should I pick the game or would you like to?”

“Out with you. Now! I need to take a really quick shower because she’ll be here any minute.” I threw him his pale-blue, dress shirt and turned before he could distract me again with his sexy good looks. He had this way of knocking me senseless with his steely smile and stellar physique. “What am I going to do with you?” I mumbled on my way out of the room.

 

I heard bang, bang, bang as I stepped out of the shower.

My robe hung from the hook on the back of the door so I quickly covered myself and stepped out of the bathroom. “I’m coming,” I shouted.

I opened the door and Jacqueline blurred passed me in short, red shorts and a bright-orange top. She spun around to face me. Although short and petite, her personality gave the illusion of an Amazon. Her dark waves flowed to the middle of her back. Spring, or “flip-flop weather”, was finally upon us in South Florida and the heat index had us wearing as little as possible. She kicked her shoes off by the door.

“Have you seen the new guy who lives in your building? I saw him strolling through the parking lot. His walk is almost feline but totally masculine,” Jacqs said, placing her multicolored backpack on the table by the door. “I swear he looks like a tall Paul Newman—those light-blue eyes and gray hair at his temples. Swoon worthy.” She glanced up at me and then squinted her blue-green eyes.

I folded my arms over my robe.

“Have you met him already?”

“Let me get changed,” I said, turning away.

Jacqs followed me into the bedroom. “That’s not your mystery man is it?”

I peered over my shoulder at her and then slipped into a beige T-shirt and navy shorts.

“Oh my god, it is! He is so—so—damn good looking.” She stood there with her hands on her hips, staring as if to reassess me. Her mouth hung partially open.

“Don’t you think you already have your hands full with Red and Bond?”

“Well, I don’t mean for me. Damn, woman, I figured I must know him since you’ve been hiding him from me, but I don’t recognize him. Should I?”

“No, you’ve never met him before. Should we go out or would you like to cook?”

“Let’s stay in. You know I love cooking and this way you don’t have any excuses not to answer my questions. You promised you would finally tell me everything.”

I rolled my eyes, but Jacqs didn’t see. She was too busy walking to the kitchen and checking out the contents of my refrigerator.

“So how old is he? I’m guessing mid-forties.” She pulled out eggs, cheese, broccoli, a package of mixed, dark-green lettuces, and basil.

“Lettuce in eggs?”

“Have you ever not liked my cooking?” She didn’t wait for my answer. “You’re just stalling.”

“Fine, he’s forty-five,” I said, sitting on the stool that faced her across the wide granite countertop.

“Fifteen years older then. Kids?” She cracked an egg against the side of a bowl.

“Two: seven and ten.”

After turning on the stovetop and pouring the oil into the pan, she cut up the broccoli like a veteran sous-chef. “So three kids? Wow.”

“No, I meant two kids.” I lowered my forehead into my palm, not wanting to have the conversation. Talking to Jacqs made it more real and took away my ability to rationalize the situation.

“Oh, okay.” After spreading the oil around, she tossed in the broccoli and some basil leaves. “So how did you meet, and when did you find out he was married?”

“Do you remember the guy I sort of mentioned that I had two dates with?”

“Yes and you wouldn’t tell me his name. Did you meet him online?” Stretching up to the cabinets behind her, she tried to reach the spices on the second shelf.

“Let me do that,” I said, walking around to the other side of the island.

“Garlic salt and red pepper please.”

After handing her the spices, I returned to my stool and continued, “I met him by accident.”

The spatula paused in the pan. “What are you talking about, girl? Did you have a date or not?”

“Do you know GG’s Waterfront Bar and Grill? It’s much more upscale than it sounds.”

“I don’t think so. Anyway…” She resumed stirring the eggs.

“I was supposed to meet up at the bar with someone from one of my dating sites and he never showed.”

Jacqs threw in a fistful of greens and stirred them into the broccoli. “And Paul Newman’s doppelgänger did?”

As I shared how we met, I became lost in the crystal clear memory:

 

I felt hopeful as I got out of my silver, two-seater, convertible Saturn Sky. I smoothed down my black fitted skirt and made sure my sheer blouse hung just right. I’d worn my three-inch heels, foregoing my favorite five-inch pumps so I wouldn’t tower over my date.

 

I paused for a moment and watched Jacqs pour the eggs into the pan and sprinkle in cheese.

“According to my date’s online profile,” I said, “he also owned his own business, which you know is important to me.”

“So you really thought he had potential. Go on.”

 

I sat down at the bar, laying my small clutch in front of me.

“What would you like?” The bartender asked, tossing a square napkin on the bar. His crisp, white shirt and black vest suited the dark wood décor of the restaurant and bar.

“A Riesling and a glass of water would be nice.”

“You got it.”

Every time the door opened, I looked over my shoulder, expecting to see the guy from online. I lingered over my glass of wine, and once I had taken the last sip it was quickly replaced with another.

“I didn’t order this,” I said.

“Compliments of the gentleman,” he said, pointing down the bar.

I bent forward, searching to my right and gasped when I saw him. Doing my best to recover quickly, I took a sip of water and waved. “Thanks.”

“My pleasure,” his deep, resonating voice answered. He lifted his drink and stalked toward me like a predator—confident and strong.

I would willingly let him catch and eat me for dinner. I shook the thought away.

Moving as though it took him little effort to command his body, he settled himself in the stool next to me. “You’re waiting for someone.” He said it as a statement, not a question.

His proximity unnerved me. I had always thought of myself as someone above being controlled by chemistry and attraction.

 

“You mean controlled by hormones like me,” Jacqs said, holding out a plate with the omelet. “There’s coffee too.”

“Well, yes, if I’m being completely honest. It happens to be a first for me and part of the reason it’s been so hard to talk about, notwithstanding the promise I made to him. I had been in judgment of your crazy libido. Something I thought you should have control over.”

Jacqs burst out laughing and said, “Welcome to my world.”

We sat down at the round, dinner table and I took a couple bites of the eggs. “Oh, this is delicious. The lettuce gives it an earthy taste, almost like spinach.”

She gave me her I-told-you-so look and chewed a mouthful. She swallowed and said, “Well don’t keep me in suspense.”

“Okay…”

 

“Well, yes, I was waiting for someone,” I said, adjusting my blouse and trying to hide the tremble in my hands. “However, if he’d planned to show, he would’ve been here by now.”

“His loss is most definitely my gain.” His eyebrows raised and his wicked smile sent heat over the surface of my skin.

He reached across the distance between us and caressed my shoulder. “He doesn’t know what he’s missing.” His touch unleashed a frisson of excitement that caused me to shudder.

I stared at his fingers and then back into his eyes, not knowing what to make of the conversation or my body’s outlandish response.

Seconds, minutes, hours, ticked by, or so it seemed as the silence enveloped us. I could no longer hear the clicking of glasses or silverware. The flare of his pupils and the red heat that crawled up his neck let me know I wasn’t alone.

“Let’s get out of here,” he said, dropping his hand and pulling out his wallet.

“What? Wait! No,” I said, swallowing hard to get my heartbeat to slow.

He chuckled slightly and said, “I just meant, let’s go for a walk along the water. It’s beautiful out.”

“Oh, I…” I fumbled around for something plausible to say. I rested my hand on my upper chest, willing my pulse to settle down.

He smiled again and it devastated me.

In a daze, I watched him pay the bartender and leave a healthy tip. He took my hand in his and I let him lead me away from the bar and out of the restaurant. I kept a step behind him, my eyes trailing down to his small, round butt straining against his black slacks and then back up to the collar of his purple dress shirt that just skimmed the bottom of his salt-and-pepper hair. His strides were casual but strength infused each step.

“What’s your name?” he asked once we reached the dock that ran along the back of the restaurant.

“Lainie, and yours?”

“Mason.”

“Is that a family name?”

He stopped and casually leaned against the railing, looking out at the water with my hand still firmly in his. Lights refracted over the surface of the dark current of the Intracoastal.

“Like you can’t imagine.”

“What does that mean?” I asked.

“Would you believe me if I told you my name was Mason Mason?”

I laughed thinking he must be joking, but he didn’t smile. “Not really? Oh my god, do your parents have an odd sense of humor?”

“It was my great, great grandfather who put it into motion, and the males in my family have carried it on.”

“What does that make you?” I thought for a few seconds and said, “Mason Mason IV?”

“Only on my birth certificate.” He lowered his head and kissed my hand.

I felt it way more than I wished to. The heat of his lips seared my skin and sent a throb between my thighs. “Why did you do that?”

“I would do more, if you’d let me. Your long, sexy legs, clear, green eyes, and conservative demeanor make my hands vibrate with the need to strip away the artifice…”

“I don’t know what to say.”

“I want to know everything about you. What do you do for work? What are your passions? Are you happy?”

I held onto the dock railing with my free hand and cleared my throat. “That’s a lot all at once.”

He stood up and we resumed our walk, “How about one at a time?”

I pursed my lips, trying to keep from smiling. I found it hard to contain the fluttering inside me when I looked into his eyes. His powerful gaze drew me in. I felt him rapping on the fortress I had built around my heart from years of disappointment in the dating arena.

He tucked my long, sandy-brown hair behind my right ear and said, “I want to see your face when you tell me.”

I took a deep breath and plunged ahead into unchartered waters. “I own and manage a clothing boutique. I have now for five years or so.”

“Do you enjoy it?”

“I love it. Once the place was mine, I changed the name and upgraded the curb appeal with large front windows.”

We continued to stroll when he asked, “So you remodeled the store front?”

“Yes and reconfigured the floor plan.”

“That’s impressive.”

“Thank you.” I blushed. Get your shit together, woman. You are not one to lose it over a man. The wine must have gone straight to your head.

He led me over to a bench and we sat down. “How did you know what to do to the store?”

I adjusted my skirt and smoothed the fabric. Sitting down, he was a few inches taller than I. I looked up and said, “I studied business in college. Through high school and college I worked in clothing stores to help with expenses. The different shops helped me create the vision of what I thought would work best.

“To answer your second question, I’m passionate about music. I love going to live concerts and Broadway shows and I’m always on the hunt for new songs. My taste in music is eclectic, as is my taste in friends. Other than working, my friends fill up most of my time. Your turn.”

“You didn’t answer my last question. Are you happy?”

His attention felt more like an indomitable gravitational pull than mere interest.

“Lainie?” he whispered too close to my ear.

“Let’s save that one for another time,” I said, looking at him through my mascara-laden eyelashes.

“Are you saying you will see me again?”

I bit my lower lip and said, “Are you always this forward?”

“In business, definitely.”

“And otherwise?” I asked.

“When I meet a gorgeous woman who causes my heart to pound like you have, then yes.”

He thinks I’m gorgeous? The man who might have walked straight off the pages of GQ? “Thank you. I’m flattered.” Trying to deflect the emotions he stirred in me, I asked, “So what do you do?”

“I’m a CEO coach.”

I turned my knees toward him and said, “What does that mean?”

“I’m a paid mentor to CEOs, business owners, and senior executives. I help them achieve their goals in business, and in their personal lives.”

“I never knew that even existed. Do you enjoy it?”

“I love it. It’s exciting to help other people manifest their dreams.”

 

“Wow, I didn’t know that job existed either,” Jacqs said, pulling me out of my recollection.

“He has master’s degrees in both business and psychology.” I took a couple of bites of my omelet and followed it with a sip of coffee.

“That must mean he travels a lot.”

I nodded. “He does, and that’s how he was here today.”

Her brows pulled together as she scrunched her nose.

“He flew in yesterday, but his wife expects him home this afternoon.”

“Oh, so he’s local. This seems so unlike you, girl.”

I forced out a heavy sigh and said, “It’s something I swore I’d never do. I don’t have a good excuse other than he is simply every single fucking thing I’ve ever dreamt about.”

“Other than being married with small children.”

“Yes, other than that.” I nodded.

“When did you know?”

“Please don’t be mad at me, but he told me that very first night. He has been honest from the start. We were going to keep it at friendship level, but that flew out the window by the third time I saw him.”

Jacqs wore a look of utter skepticism.

“I get that he is lying to other people. That’s what kills me. I keep thinking I can stop it … that I can end it. And I have tried. Remember the day when you came here, before we went to Red’s together to hang out with everyone.”

“How can I forget? That’s the night Bond showed up drunk and outed Aidan and me to the whole gang.”

“Yeah.” I paused remembering that night and then asked, “So you’re calling Red ‘Aidan’ now? Are you still the happy threesome?”

“Don’t even try, girl. We aren’t talking about me until you finish your story.”

“Okay, fine. So where was I?”

“He told you what he does for a living and that he loves his job.” Jacqs cleared our plates so I had to project my voice to her in the kitchen.

 

The bench we sat on faced the dock, and I could see the current making ripples on the water. “It’s great to love your job, isn’t it?” I asked. I felt the overwhelming desire to run my hand up his neck and play with his hair. His manly scent inspired impulses I’d never considered, especially not with a stranger.

I felt his breath against my cheek and turned toward the warmth.

“Lainie,” he said almost like a groan. His deep, gravelly voice caused my nipples to harden in pure lust.

I tried to force it aside. I drew my head back slightly and asked, “Are you happy?”

He winced. “In some ways I’m very happy. I’m fit—”

“Clearly,” I said and clamped my mouth shut, wishing I could garner some self-control.

“Thank you.” The sides of his mouth curved up, but the smile didn’t reach his eyes. The soft lines in his forehead became more pronounced. His shift in energy placed a shroud over me, and I wanted to hug him to take away the pain.

“Tell me,” I whispered.

 

“And he did,” I said to Jacqs. “I’m not going to give you all the details because it’s not for me to tell. What I will say is that he is dead in love with his kids and will never leave them. His marriage is very troubled, and they’re working on finding a place of friendship. That doesn’t mean she would be okay with what we’re doing.

“We sat on that bench and talked for hours. I think I fell in love with him that very night.”

“Are you sure you’re not just hearing his side of things?” she asked.

“Do you trust Red and Bond?”

“With my life.” She sat back down at the table.

“I feel the very same way about Mason. I shouldn’t share this but I’ve heard some of his wife’s phone messages and she is venomous.”

“Look, Lainie, I don’t want to be judgmental, but there are always at least two sides of the story and I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“That’s unavoidable at this point. I’m in too deep. It will end someday and I try my best not to dwell on that. I have never loved like this before and I fear I might never again.” I closed my eyes, pushing the thought away.

“Isn’t this like me being stuck on Bond and hoping things will change?”

“Well, Jacqs, they have changed, but that’s not the point. If nothing else, we are honest with each other.”

“Will I get to meet him? I saw him, but I mean actually talk to him?”

“I don’t think so,” I said, shaking my head. “To him it’s an even bigger deceit to his family to infiltrate my life, and he says it’s worse for me too. He thinks I shouldn’t have to miss him in the very places I go for friendship and support, and I can’t argue with his logic.”

“Well, girl, I think you are now the one mired in drama.”

“It’s never dramatic when we’re together; it’s waiting for the next time I get to see him that nearly kills me.”

“I can imagine. Thank you for sharing with me.” She reached out and touched my hand. “I love you, girl.”

“I love you too.”

Both Jacqs and I turned our heads to the sound coming from the back of the condo.

“That’s my phone,” I said. I scurried into my bedroom and over to the nightstand. I brought up the screen on my cell and saw Mason’s text.

 

MM: Your professor needs to discuss your bad grade and how you will make it up. Are

you ready for me?

 

My body flushed in response, but our games still embarrassed me. Not when they were happening, never then. I enjoyed pleasing him, and had come to live for it. With Mason I had opened myself up to new sexual experiences I never imagined I would enjoy.

I texted him back.

 

Me: Not yet. I’ll text when she’s gone.

MM: Extra spanks with the paddle the longer you make me wait. I need to ravish your body again.

Me: Yes, Professor Mason. 😛

MM: You better give me that tongue when I get home.

 

Home, how I wished.

“Him?” Jacqs asked when I sat back down at the table.

“Yeah. So how’s your ménage à trois working out?”

Jacqs’s face reddened and she wriggled in her seat. “It’s wonderful, but I’m having a hard time really sinking into it. I’m expecting Bond to get bored at any moment and find someone more interesting. It’s only been a few weeks, but he still hasn’t dated anyone else. That must be some kind of record.”

“I’d say! And Red?”

She sighed slowly and smiled. “He’s amazing and I’ve never felt so loved, cherished, and cared for. As Bond keeps saying, we’re all taking it one day at a time.”

“Well you sure do seem relaxed and content; it’s a very nice change.”

“Thanks.” She paused and then I saw the wheels turning. “Have you heard from Stay?”

Stayman, or Stay as we all called him, was part of our group of friends, which met regularly at Red’s house. Jacqs brought me into the fold via her alliance with Bond.

“Yes, Stay called me last night. Did you put that into motion?” I said my lips pursed in displeasure.

“Wipe that look off your face, Lainie. He had two tickets for Ed Sheeran, and you know you love him. I thought I was doing you a favor.”

“Why, pray tell, does he have two tickets?” I folded my arms across my chest, feeling like I had been set up.

“I can only assume he bought them a while ago for him and his ex. Don’t go if you don’t want to. I thought you might enjoy it.”

“I already told him I would,” I said, shaking my head.

“Then what the fuck, girl?”

“You’re pushing us together, and it’s never going to happen.”

She tapped my arm and said, “Never is a mighty long time and would that be such a bad thing?”

“Let’s just drop it okay?”

She appeared to be considering it and then said, “Sure, back to the good stuff. I would guess he is just about your height?”

“Yeah, he’s six foot one like me, so the few times we’ve gone out, I’ve left my expensive heels at home.”

“Do you go out a lot?”

“Not at all anymore.” Then I thought about our game later and said, “He does love for me to wear them inside. That’s a first for me.”

“I’m sure your long legs look very sexy. Before I shove off I must know, is Mason a good lover?”

I blushed in mortification, like the young college student Mason wanted me to play.

“Boy, oh boy, that good?”

I just nodded.

She threw her head back and laughed. “And his cock? Tell me, is it stellar?”

“Jacqs!” I whined.

“Give it up, girl. You know all about my guys. Fess up.”

“He’s perfect for me,” I sighed. “You know I hate when their cock is too long and bangs up against my cervix.”

“I like that—”

“Yes, that has been well established.”

She grinned and said, “And…”

“I’d guess six to six and a half inches, and average thickness, but he gets harder than anyone I’ve ever been with. Oh, and the stamina…”

Jacqs chuckled again and said, “On that note, I’m going to take off.” She rubbed her thighs and stood. “Aidan wants to take Adjustable Bend into the open ocean today, and I think the boys have something planned for me.”

I stood up and faced her as she threw her backpack over her shoulder. “Now who’s blushing?” I asked.

“I think I have some idea of what they might have in mind.” She twitched her eyebrows and made a funny face.

“I hope you’re right.”

After we hugged goodbye and I closed the door, I rested my back against it. After a moment, I took a deep breath, stood up, and went to the bedroom to text Mason. Another message waited for me.

MM: Wear the short black skirt you know I like with the white blouse. You know the rest.

Me: I need a few minutes to get ready.

MM: She’s gone?

Me: Yes.

MM: On my way!

 

My pulse raced as I quickly disrobed and donned the schoolgirl outfit Mason had bought for me. He didn’t care for the knee-high, white socks or the saddle shoes that usually went with the look. In his version, the naughty college student had stockings and garters with very high heels. I slipped into my favorite red, Manolo Blahnik five-inch heels that I only wear indoors, and shut the bedroom door to see myself in the full-length mirror. The short skirt barely covered my butt so the black straps of the garters could be seen. Without a bra, the thin, white blouse didn’t hide much. My rosy areolas could be seen through it. I left the first three buttons undone so Mason could see some cleavage. My hair and makeup definitely needed some attention.

Dressing for the scenarios he created had an effect on me. Usually conservative, I was blossoming into a sexy, more confident version of myself.

I wasn’t sure how much time I had to get ready, so I moved with haste. I flipped my thick hair over, which was still partially wet from the shower, blow-dried it, then teased it with a comb to give it volume. I used a black, coal liner around my eyes and a heavy layer of mascara. After putting on deep-red lipstick, I took in my reflection. Perfectly slutty, I thought.

I hurried to the second bedroom and pulled the desk away from the wall, angling it so the office chair faced the door. The second chair in the room, I set on the opposite side of the desk facing in. Several blank sheets of paper sat in the middle of the desktop and I left them there. I tidied the penholder and lined up the printer so it sat flush with the edge. When I yanked open the bottom drawer, I found it empty.

“Shit! Where did that damn paddle get off to?” I frantically looked around the room, checking near the blue, covered futon couch and the closet. Then I remember and laughed. I went back into the living room and opened the drawer of the end table. The heavy, shellacked, wood paddle had Mason’s college fraternity’s Greek letters along the handle.

My eyes swept the area to find places that needed attention. I pushed the chairs flush with the dinner table and put the spices back in the cabinet. While I rinsed the sink, I heard a knock. I ran on tiptoe back into the second bedroom and shoved the paddle into the drawer of the desk. Back at the front door, I said, “One sec.” I tried to settle the excitement pounding in my chest by bouncing on my toes. Then I flipped the lock and opened the door.

He scanned me from head to toe and whistled. “You are stunning.”

I erupted into laughter over his outfit: the tweed coat with oval patches on the elbows and the loafers were a nice touch, as was the pipe with a man’s face carved in ivory in his hand, but the spectacles perched on the tip of his nose were what did it to me.

“Is that any way to greet your professor, the one who is willing to help out with your dismal grade in my class on the failure of American politics in the twenty-first century?”

“Well, no, um…” I tried to hold my breath so I wouldn’t giggle. I stood up to my full height, which made me taller than him in my five-inch pumps. I waved him through the door.

Even in his silly costume, he looked overwhelmingly handsome.

He turned to face me and I could almost feel his hands on me, as if his light-blue eyes held the power to penetrate the surface of my skin. Simultaneously I loved and hated that someone could have that kind of sway over me.

“I’ll be in my office,” he said as he slipped off his shoes by the door. Over his shoulder, he said, “I expect you there in one minute. Do not keep me waiting.”

“Yes, Professor Mason,” I said, using a soft, demure tone and getting into character.

After ducking into the bathroom to check my appearance I knocked on the door to the second bedroom, which he had left partially ajar. I leaned my head in. “Excuse me, Professor, do you have a minute to discuss the grade I received on my paper?” I asked in a wispy voice trying to channel a mix of Betty Boop and Marilyn Monroe.

He beckoned me in with one hand while looking down at the papers in front of him, the pipe hanging from his mouth.

I suppressed a chuckle and pulled down on the hem of my skirt. My heels sunk into the thick, cream-colored carpet as I kept shifting my weight from one leg to the other.

“Stop fidgeting,” he said, looking up over his glasses. “Sit.”

Settling into the chair that faced him, I crossed my legs.

“Keep your legs open,” he practically shouted.

“Yes, sir. Sorry, Professor.”

He removed his glasses and the pipe and placed them on the desk. “Now about your grade…”

His eyes locked on mine and I felt myself leaning forward, being pulled into his orbital field of love and lust. Although I pissed and moaned about the games we played, I couldn’t fail to recognize their purpose. If we made passionate, intimate love each time we came together, we would never part. This way we could still enjoy each other while creating a level of distance between us.

I believed, down to my soul, that he loved me. I couldn’t deny it when he looked at me like he did in that moment. The intensity brought tears to my eyes, which I hurriedly blinked away. I cleared my throat and said, “Yes?”

“How do you intend to make up your grade?”

“Um…” I said, getting back into character. “I thought you might have some ideas.” A coy smile played on my lips.

“I do. Fold your skirt up and spread your legs wide.” He propped his elbow on the desk and rested his chin on his hand.

“Excuse me, Professor Mason, but—”

“There are no buts except what I plan to do to yours in a few minutes. Either do what I say, or get out.” He leaned back in his chair and pointed to the door.

I looked to the door and then back to him, squirming in my chair. “But sir, what if someone comes in?”

“Well, I imagine they’ll know what a poor student you are and that you’re willing to pander to my whims to get better grades. I’m sure all the other professors will be thrilled to know.”

I did my best to look embarrassed and ashamed, dipping my head down. My nipples had trouble cooperating, they flared hard and erect.

“Ahem,” he muttered and pointed to my legs.

I stared directly at him, spread my legs wide, and slowly lifted the edge of my skirt. Moisture had already gathered between my thighs during the short scene.

“No panties and a smooth mound? I have to assume you’ve already met with Professor Charles.” His brow creased and his jaw tightened.

“No, no. I have never had a class with him. I promise.” I closed my thighs slightly.

“Keep your legs open. I can see you’re already wet. I want to observe you while you make yourself come.”

“Professor?”

“No ifs, ands, or buts. Get to it.”

“Yes sir.” I trembled slightly, I felt so turned on.

He circled around the desk and perched on the edge.

I snaked my right hand into my shirt and fondled my breast while my eyes took in his hard, cock straining against his pants. With my left hand, I caressed my thighs working slowly up towards the warm, wet cleft between my legs.

Spreading my knees even wider, I tickled around my aching pussy and delved my fingers into my wetness. Mason’s eyes flared when I brought my fingers to my lips and coated them with my natural juices.

“Ohhh man,” he groaned. “Oh sorry, fell out of character. Okay, I’m back.”

I licked my lips and dipped my fingers back into my pussy. He loved watching me fuck myself with my hand, so I forced my fingers in deep. My eyes trailed away from his as I caught him rubbing his erection through his clothes. I wanted to unzip his pants and free his cock, but it was his game and I committed myself to playing it through.

I tweaked my small nipples, pulling and rolling them until they were longer and distended.

“Undo another button on your shirt and pull your breasts out,” he ordered.

My tight, white shirt became more like a corset when I pulled it down around my breasts. Though still pert, my cleavage spilled over, and I could feel the cool air against my hardened peaks.

Scooting my ass forward in the chair, I trailed my right hand under the waist of my skirt, and found my already pulsing clit. I finger fucked myself with my left hand while I circled my arousal with my right.

He lowered his zipper and I looked up just in time to see him extract his cock and balls through the opening in his pants.

Masturbating for Mason coupled with watching him cup his testicles and draw a finger over the tip of his erection to coat the head with his pre-cum caused me to pant. “Oh god, I’m close.”

“Stop!” he shouted.

“What?” I said, completely breaking character and yanking my hand out from under my skirt.

“You are forbidden to come before your punishment. Remove all of your clothes except for your garters, stockings, and heels.”

“Yes, Professor Mason,” I said, with a wispy voice, playing the naughty college student again.

“Come around the desk and lay face forward across it.”

The cold air conditioning in the room along with the anticipation of the paddle had me shivering. I shifted into position, my arms folded under my chest, which allowed me to look over my shoulder. “What will you do to me?”

“Whatever I want, of course.” He opened the lower drawer. “Stay still and this will be over quickly. Ten, plus two extra swats for making me wait so long, and I expect you to count.” The punishment didn’t start right away; instead he ran the rope tassel that hung from the hole in the bottom of the handle across my back and over my full, round buttocks. Then he caressed each one and stepped back.

I felt the air move behind me before the first spank of the paddle landed on my right butt cheek. “Oof. Oh, one!”

“You have behaved well—so far—therefore your grade has moved up to a D. Let’s see if we can improve on that.”

The paddle hit my left cheek a bit harder and the heat quickly migrated to my pussy. “Two,” I grunted, struggling to stay still.

The strikes landed faster as I called out, “Three, four, five, six.”

He paused and said, “That’s worth at least a C. I’ve always known that students could be quite trainable.” He ran his hand over my tingling ass and trailed his fingers along my spine, up to my shoulders. He took me by surprise when he gripped my neck and held my head down, my cheek pressed to the desktop. I moved my arms to my side, my breasts sandwiched against the surface. “Let’s see if we can get that grade up even more. Take six straight thwacks in a row and I can safely bump you up to a solid B. Are you ready?”

“Yes, Professor.”

The strength of the punishment increased as did the wetness gathering between my legs. I yelled out each of the remaining swats, grunting and groaning, unable to move away.

“Very good,” the professor said. “Shall we shoot for an A?”

“Oh, sir,” I panted, “what would I have to do for that?”

“Spread your legs wide and find out.” He let go of my neck and situated himself behind me. I felt the swollen head of his cock rubbing at the entrance to my pussy.

“Oh yes,” I moaned as I felt him penetrate me. Already so turned on, I knew it wouldn’t take me long.

He stroked deep and long, using my shoulders for leverage. “Such a nice and tight pussy. I think your pussy deserves an A.”

Although the room was cool, all I felt was the warmth of his body and the intensity of being taken from behind and truly owned. I hissed and moaned as my first orgasm began to contract and spread the heat that caused me to combust.

A layer of perspiration began to form between us.

He continued his long thrusts while my contractions began to subside and I floated in the ethers of my release. Still rock-hard inside me, I knew I would have another explosive climax before he finished.

A melody interrupted the play and Mason said, “Shit.”

I recognized the ring tone.

“I have to take it,” he said, pulling out of me.

“I know.” I wavered out of the room and into the bathroom. I struggled to focus on the mundane actions required to clean up instead of on the harsh reality that had just interrupted my time with Mason. From the wicker top shelf, I retrieved a washcloth. I turned on the hot water and waited for it to warm up while I removed my heels, the garter belt, and stockings. After cleaning my saturated labia, I rinsed out the washcloth and then sat on the toilet with my head in my hands. Ragged breathing in my throat and chest signaled the impending breakdown. “No!” I said out loud.

As I washed my hands in the sink, I shook my head at my reflection. What the fuck are you doing? I grabbed another washcloth and removed the smudged makeup from my eyes. I wrapped my robe around me, sighed, and went out into the hall.

Mason waited for me on the overstuffed, beige couch in the living room. “I’m sorry, Lainie.”

“Yes, I know. Please, just go.”

“I’ll let you know when I can get away again. It sucks that we were interrupted but damn, baby, you were sexy as hell.” He held his arms out to me and said, “Come give me a kiss goodbye.”

Unable to resist him, I complied. I fell against him, his kiss confounding me. My heart broke with every departure, fracturing into a million pieces until he returned and his presence slowly re-glued each tiny piece together again. Every time my heart went through its demise and resurrection, the more fragile it became. Melting into his embrace, I thought, If I could just stay right here.

When we broke apart, he said, “I have to go. I’m already running late. I left the jacket and the other props in the closet.”

I looked away and said, “Okay.” I held open the door for him and watched him walk out of my life once again.