Duets: Sensual Shorts. Two Points of View. His. Hers.
Duets is a collection of serialized short stories written in collaboration by me, The Black and Nia Forrester. Each story chapter includes two parts, one written from the feminine perspective (by Nia Forrester) and one from the masculine perspective (by The Black), and posted on our respective blogs.
Throughout the course of his life a man desires many things: money and the things it can purchase; sometimes fame, but more often and especially as time passes, peace. The degree of his desire for those things will change as he matures and changes.
One desire, once it begins, remains constant: his desire for woman. Once his yearning for the feminine begins to burn the flame never weakens, even when the capabilities of his body lessens. Once ignited, a man’s desire for woman burns until his death.
He stood on his front porch with his hands stuffed in the pockets of his sweatpants, watching as she parked her car in his driveway. She got out perfect legs first, and he noted that as promised, she wore a skirt. If her promise were complete she would be wearing nothing under her skirt.
She’d made him promise not to wear anything beneath his sweats, and so as she walked toward the porch he felt his desire for her lurch and rub against cotton. The friction was a tease. He wanted more contact; needed more contact. From her.
She was wearing a pleated skirt, fashionably white for the spring season, a blouse of some crinkly material and sandals. He watched her and remembered her naked in his bed; remembered her soft smooth body in his arms, and the sensation of her silken wet heat yielding to him, accepting his desire for her, remembered her enveloping him as he held her close. His recollection of their sharing that ultimate intimacy on her last visit, which was their first time together, made him lurch again.
As she mounted the porch steps he took her hand, as much because he was dying to touch her after missing her for what seemed an eternity (though it had only been two weeks) as because he was a gentleman. The contact – the feel of her soft hand in his – turned his desire into need. As she made the porch he took her into his arms and covered her smile with his kiss.
They were on his porch, out in the open, and so he didn’t want to disrespect her. But it was all he could do as he held her, to not grasp her bottom through her skirt because he wanted to touch her that way, and because he wanted to know if she were sans panties as she’d promised. He couldn’t ask her; not yet. Their agreement was that they were going to play a little game. This time, until their initial intimacy was over, they would not speak.
She’d told him that whenever he wanted her, he could have her. They’d discussed the things they might do on this occasion. But since they weren’t speaking he couldn’t tell her what he wanted or how he wanted her. She’d also said that when it came to how he wanted her, she preferred that rather than ask, he simply go for it and they would play it by ear. He was anxious to get that started, so as he kissed her he backed them toward his front door. He throbbed and ached to be inside her again, in her mouth or lost in the sweetness of her treasure. If he didn’t get her inside in a hurry the neighbors were going to get a show.
That they wouldn’t speak, not even to comment on what they were about to do, made the moment more exciting. As his back contacted the storm door he lurched against cotton again, and because he was holding her close, lurched against her.
She felt his desire for her and broke their kiss.
He liked beautiful women, and in his experience they were the easiest to get into bed (or wherever). All he had to do to get an attractive woman was ignore her.
Beautiful women were accustomed to being hit on. Men – whether it was the bum sleeping on a sidewalk grate or the CEO of a Fortune 500 company – could not resist making a move on a woman whose looks placed her a cut above the average. And because a beautiful woman had been hit on since puberty, she became accustomed to it, and she expected it from men, just like she became accustomed to and expected jealous women to hate on her.
What he did when he encountered a new beauty and knew that he was going to be around her for a time was to act like he didn’t notice her physical charms. He wouldn’t even give a prolonged glance to suggest that he thought she was anything more than just one of the guys. He’d be a gentleman and treat her with the kind of old school respect that had become a lost art among men. And then he would wait. No matter what she looks like, every woman carries the baggage of insecurity. And so eventually and almost without fail, the beautiful woman’s fragile feminine ego and curiosity would get the best of her. She would have to know why he’d never asked her out or why he’d never come on to her. Some of the beautiful ones would even ask him what was wrong with them, why he wasn’t attracted to them. And then he was in.
It was such an easy game: Ignore the beautiful woman until she couldn’t stand being ignored. Resist her until she couldn’t resist him. The game had become so easy that it was almost boring.
His game had worked almost every time, without fail, until her. This beautiful woman was different. This one had surprised him. With her, the game was different. Rather than bore him, she fascinated him and challenged him. Challenge became desire. He wanted her more than he’d wanted any woman in a very long time, and she knew it. So she thought she was in control. That pissed him off.
In his living room, sunlight from the window at her back had turned her skirt transparent and provided him a vision in silhouette of her lovely body – the object of his yearning. And so with an anxiety that rivaled animal hunger he’d gotten her out of her blouse, and then tugged her skirt off her hips to let it float like angel’s gossamer down her perfect legs to the carpet. She’d already kicked off her sandals as she’d maneuvered them out of the foyer and now, finally, she stood naked.
As if knowing that she was standing there like a beautifully nude Nubian goddess, ribbons of morning sun slipped through the closed blinds to find her and praise her exposed femininity with golden worship. The backlight made her skin glow like burnished bronze.
Naked, she looked so beautiful that the sight of her made his heart gasp rather than beat. She looked so delectable that he wanted to touch and kiss her everywhere at once. In the two weeks since their first intimate encounter, the memory of her, the very idea of her, had canceled out his want for any other woman. What he wanted was her and only her; to possess her, to consume her, and in doing so, to give their bodies what each hungered for.
With his eyes drinking up her lovely body au natural, he took an anxious step toward her. But as he stepped forward she shook her head, kicked her feet out of the puddle of her skirt and backed up a step.
For today’s game they couldn’t speak, but her eyes and her smile spoke her challenge. They told him that even though she’d granted him the gift of her nakedness, she wasn’t going to allow what they knew was going to happen to happen too easily for him. She apparently intended to maintain some control by denying him what he wanted, at least for the moment.
He stared at her. Her return gaze said, I still am who I am and you are who you are. She was accustomed to being in control. For as long as he’d known her, this was how she played her games with people: Tempt, and then deny. In every situation, she used her power to maintain control of others.
To hell with that. She was in his house, in his space. He was in control here, and he wasn’t going to let her run the show, not when his pride and his body demanded otherwise.
He took another step toward her. She moved back, and the backs of her perfect calves bumped the sofa. Before she could decide whether to flee left or right he took a long step and closed the distance between them. He placed his hands on her waist, not grasping her, but just to let her know that if she tried to move away he wouldn’t let her.
Hungry for her, he planted quick kisses on her soft lips, her smooth face, then down her throat to her plump fruit, pausing to flick his tongue over and briefly suckle each chocolate kiss before continuing his journey to paradise. Heart still gasping, he dropped to his knees before her and trailed the tip of his tongue over the gentle curve of her belly.
He kissed his way lower.
He wanted to taste her, and under normal circumstances would have had no issue worshiping her feminine from his knees, of pleasing her in that way. But not today, when somehow they were playing for power as well as pleasure. He wasn’t going to give her what she wanted from a position of submission.
He gripped her hips and guided her back until the backs of her knees pressed against the sofa seat cushion edge, making her legs bend so that she sat naturally. She surprised him when without his urging she lay back and lifted her legs onto the cushion, extending her beautiful body in inviting repose.
He was tempted, so tempted. Everything that was male in him cried out for him to take her now, but that would mean that he was out of control and that even if she didn’t know it, she was in control. So not just yet.
He leaned over her as she lie on her back, kissed her soft mouth again, her face, her neck, kissed her prefect breasts and lower, down over her quivering belly and lower, until he could feel the heat of her need on his chin.
She was panting now. Actually panting. She spread her legs for him, wide. Wanting it now. Ready for it now. She probably thought he was ready too, and so was anticipating his mouth on her there. But not knowing what was coming next would make it better for her in the end, and so he kissed his way past her treasure and down along the inside of her thigh.
She almost said something but choked back her words to maintain their game of silence. He imagined that she’d probably intended to curse him.
Smiling to himself, he kissed his way down the inside of her left thigh, digging the warm, satiny smoothness of her skin against his mouth, imagining that if he took a bite out of her she might taste sweet. He trailed his tongue past her knee, along her calf, pausing for a moment to savor its rounded firmness. He was partial to lovely legs and hers were perfect, just perfect. Down her leg and over the arch of her delicate foot he went, kissing the tips of her toes and switching to her right foot to begin his journey back. He was ready now. He wanted to taste her.
Either she knew his intent or she couldn’t wait any longer, because as he kissed his way up the inside of her right thigh she draped her left thigh over his shoulder, trapping him where she needed him to be. If this were her power play she needn’t have bothered. He wasn’t going anywhere.
Lying on his stomach on the sofa, he slipped his hands between her bottom and the cushion and palmed the globes of her derrière. She draped her right leg over his shoulder, ready for it.
He pressed a kiss into the top of her cleft, to that spot below which her knew her sensitive bud lay hidden.
He slid a hand from beneath her bottom, and this time as he kissed the top of her cleft he used his thumb and forefinger to open her treasure and give him access to her most sensitive spot: her little bud. He flicked his out tongue.
She shuddered like she’d been shocked by electric current. He flicked at her again. She shuddered again.
She made another sound in her throat, and he remembered their first encounter, when she’d told him to Keep doing that, and to Stay right there. His passion translator told him that he was on point. So he stayed right there for her until she reached her bliss.
She’d told him before that she wasn’t particularly fond of lovers putting their fingers inside her, that it did nothing for her. That told him that she’d been dealing with so-called men who didn’t know what the hell they were doing. He turned his wrist so that his fingers were inside her, palm up. As he wrote his name on her bud with his tongue he found the firm ridge at the roof her treasure; that hardened bundle of nerves. He pressed the pads of his fingers against that spot and caressed it, simultaneously sucked her bud into his mouth.
That did the trick. She shivered and groaned and fed him her orgasm.
After her orgasm was over he rose up to his knees and gazed down at her, triumphant. She looked so sexy beautiful lying there nude, eyes closed as she basked in the glow of her aftergasm.
He looked at her mouth. He remembered their first time together two weeks ago and considered.
He looked at her plump treasure. He remembered and considered.
She opened her eyes and looked up at him, and then at the front of his sweatpants, which were tented out and pointed at her like a divining rod.
Now it was time to move them to the next phase of what he had planned. Based on his past experience with her, he thought that things might get very interesting…
As he entered the conference room for the Monday morning staff meeting he was still confused about what had happened on Saturday. She’d liked it. He knew she liked it. She’d liked it so much that she’d broken the rule of their game by breaking their silence and crying out when she came. But then she’d run away. Why had she run away?
It couldn’t be about losing herself because she’d come. Not speaking while they sexed each other was a game they’d agreed upon, but it wasn’t even a bet. So it wasn’t that serious. That couldn’t be why she’d hauled ass out of his house.
Had he been too rough with her? He didn’t think so. Even before she came he could tell that she was into the way he’d taken control and taken what he wanted. She liked to play her power games, but when it got right down to it she was just like any other woman. At her core, every now and then she needed affirmation that a man desired her so much that he just had to have her. He felt pretty certain that that’s what had gotten her off – why she’d come so hard.
But then she ran away.
He’d called her twice on Saturday evening and twice again on Sunday but she didn’t answer and hadn’t returned his messages, so he knew that she was avoiding him. But she wouldn’t be able to avoid him while they were at work.
Speaking of which, he had to put his questions about her on hold while he handled his business. He had a meeting to conduct with the company’s department heads and supervisors.
He stepped to the front of the conference room and watched as the meeting attendees filtered in and took their seats around the conference table. She came in chatting with Jeff Schwartz, one of the Sales supervisors.
She looked extra hot this morning in a pinstriped business skirt suit. Her skirt hugged her ass and hips and was just long enough to be business appropriate and just short enough to make a man wish he were one-foot tall so that he could climb her long legs like a tree. Watching the sway of her hips as she made her way around the conference table made him think about how she’d looked Saturday morning when the sun had made her flimsy skirt damn near transparent and showed off her goodies in silhouette. He felt a twinge in his gut at that memory of her loveliness.
Whatever Schwartz was saying to her had her smiling up at him and touching his sleeve as if he were talking about the greatest shit in the world. He tried to catch her eyes, but she didn’t look his way as she reached her seat, or as Schwartz rolled out her chair for her. As she sat she mouthed a “thank you” at the asshole that though it was silent, looked sexy; like a come on. Or maybe he was imagining that.
As Schwartz took his ass to his seat she finally looked his way. Their eyes met for a flash, but then she dropped hers to her notepad and began scribbling even though he hadn’t yet said anything.
So she was still avoiding him.
He began his briefing and covered the mundane information in hurry, then got to the meat of what he wanted to talk about.
“The Lighthouse Software bonus promotion quarter ended last week,” he said. “Unfortunately we didn’t meet their goal of a quarter million in sales, so we don’t get the offered fifty-thousand in bonus money. We missed it by three percent.”
Disappointed mutters and sighs around the table. He let them have their moment and then said, “We were on pace to meet the sales goal until the last week of the quarter. Every sales team was on target until then, and then one of your teams fell off.” He zeroed his gaze in on Jeff Schwartz and locked him in his visual crosshairs. “That was your team, Jeff. So what happened?”
Schwartz looked surprised at being singled out but recovered quickly. He cleared his throat and said, “Well um, you remember that that was the week we got the news about the Viper virus originating out of India. I figured I’d have my people push selling antivirus and anti-malware software to our clients – you know, strike while the iron was hot – so I guess they didn’t focus as much on selling Lighthouse products.”
He watched Schwartz giving his excuse and remembered how she’d smiled at him and touched his sleeve, and Schwartz pulling her chair out. He wondered if she’d ever gotten with that asshole, or if maybe she intended to.
He said, “So Jeff, you figured a couple thousand in antivirus software sales for your team was worth risking fifty grand in bonus money – money that would be spread among all the sales teams?”
In the space of a couple of seconds Schwartz’s face went cherry blossom pink and then red enough for him to be mistaken for a stop sign. He ran his finger around the inside of his shirt collar and muttered, “Well…”
“Well what?” He imagined her doing to Schwartz what she’d tried to do to him on Saturday – take him in her mouth. He wondered if she already had or would suck the asshole so good that he turned red in the face like this.
“I guess I didn’t think about it like that,” Schwartz said.
“No man, apparently you didn’t think at all.”
After the meeting he waited until everyone had left the conference room so that it wouldn’t be obvious that he was going after her. When the room was clear he hurried out. He caught her just as she was stepping into her office.
She glanced over her shoulder at him, expressionless, and stepped to the front of her desk. She crossed her arms, leaned her plump bottom against its edge and said, “You were kind of harsh on Jeff, don’t you think?”
“I presented facts. Not a word I said was untrue.”
“Some of your words were your personal opinion, and those words were harsh.”
“What happened on Saturday?”
“I don’t want to talk about that.”
“Well I do. So what happened? Why did you run out like that?”
She went around her desk and sat down, putting a three-foot mahogany barrier between them. Then she folded her hands on her desk pad and said, “Let’s not forget who runs this company and who just works here. You don’t make demands of me.”
“What happened on Saturday doesn’t have a damned thing to do with work or who’s the boss. So what happened?”
“You owe me an explanation,” he insisted.
She’d run out of the conference room after this morning’s staff meeting just like she’d run out of his house on Saturday. The only difference was that today she hadn’t needed to get dressed before making her escape. He followed her to her office, and now she sat behind her desk as if it protect her from having to provide him an answer.
“I owe you nothing,” she said. “We were attracted to each other, we acted on it, and now we’re done.”
Unblinking, she held his gaze. He knew that she was trying to show her strength, which was the giveaway that she was unsure of herself. He figured that if he pushed harder she might redouble her guard and he’d get nowhere. So it would be better to save the fight for another day, when she’d relaxed her defenses.
“So that’s it then,” he said.
He didn’t sound regretful, or even resigned. He sounded dispassionate. He sounded the way one might if they’d been momentarily been puzzling over some minor mystery—like where they might have left their car keys—and in short order recalled where they were.
“Yes,” she said, sticking out her chin. “That’s it.”
“Then you have a good morning.” He turned away and left her office.
As he headed down the corridor to his office he wondered what had changed since their first intimate encounter in her office last week, and the second one in his living on Saturday. It had been all good last week. After they did what they did, she suggested they go for it again; this time at his place. She wanted to play a little game of not talking, of just letting it be about the physical. He didn’t say, but knew it was another way to challenge each him, just as that first time in her office as had come about as a result of her challenging him.
Last week in her office, when they working late and everyone else was gone for the day she’d approached him as he was seated, making a very deliberate incursion into his personal space, violating that eighteen inches of territory around his body that psychologists said was reserved for one’s desired intimacy: for family, for one’s children, and for lovers.
On that night she’d moved so close to him that he’d had to look up to meet her gaze. And in her gaze he saw a glint of victory that matched the smug smile that played at the corner of her sensuous mouth. Her eyes said I dare you…
I dare you…
That’s what the look in her eyes said as she looked down at him. She was in his space, in his face, and she was daring him to do something about it, towering over him, cornering him. She was challenging him, probably confident that because she was a woman and his boss, he would do nothing, or better yet; he would run. Had she been a man he would have told her to back the fuck up, and if she’d refused, he would have made her back up by whatever means necessary. But he couldn’t do that do a woman.
And that’s not what she wanted him to do. Not really.
He knew what she was doing even if she didn’t. She wanted to be recognized as the boss but she wanted him to acknowledge her as an attractive woman as well. And by never previously acknowledging her feminine allure he’d made her wonder. Now, she was forcing his hand.
Looking up at her, he shook his head and smiled.
She blinked her confusion, and he knew it was because he wasn’t supposed to smile. He was supposed to be intimidated.
“What?” she snapped.
“You wanted to be close to me. Now you are. So what are you waiting for?”
She put her hands on her hips. “Excuse me?”
“Or, do you want me to make the first move?”
By invading his space she’d turned her business power-play personal, and in doing so exposed her true nature. Like all beautiful women, at the end of the day, all she wanted was acknowledgement. Now, the only remaining mystery was what would come after he gave it to her. If he did.
After a moment he made a decision. With eyes locked on hers, he placed his hand on the curve of her hip.
She said, “You must be out of your fucking mind.”
But she didn’t move away or try to move his hand away.
If this were a chess game she would only have one move left. Retreat. But considering what had happened so far, it would be the coward’s way out. And he knew from the way she had taken on her new duties at the company facing down all of the naysayers—himself included— that she might be many things, but she was definitely not a coward.
Keeping his eyes on hers he raised the stakes, wondering how she might respond.
“She came to where I was sitting on her office sofa and stood right in front of me; right over me. She was so close that she was standing between my legs and I had to look up to see her face.” He kept his voice emotionless and professional, the way he would if he were recounting tonight’s events to a Human Resources investigator.
Looking down at him, for an instant her eyes flashed as cold as Arctic ice. So she’d understood the intent of his words.
“Is that the way you want to play it?” she asked.
He didn’t move his hand from her hip, but spread his fingers so that they extended around the curve of her derrière. “I don’t know. Do you?”
She clicked her tongue. “Let’s not fool ourselves,” she said finally. “Whatever happens here tonight, if anything happens, it would be completely consensual. On both our parts.”
He leaned forward; half expecting her to back away. When she didn’t, he planted a soft kiss on the fabric of her skirt, just below her waistline.
She didn’t budge, just kept looking down at him. There was no ice in her eyes now. Rather, he thought he detected a low heat in their brown depths, smoldering. The warmth in her eyes was further confirmation of her words that whatever happened tonight would be consensual.
He said, “You’re beautiful.”
“You know you are, and I want to see you out of your clothes.”
She cut her eyes away from his, to his hand on her hip, and back. She cocked her brow as if to ask, “Well, what are you waiting for?”
He leaned to one side, looked past her to her office entry, and said, “The door is open.”
“Then go close it.”
For the rest of the workday he reflected on that first encounter last week in her office, on how good she’d been then and again on Saturday at his house. He ran over in his mind every moment he could recall – every word; every touch – and yet he still couldn’t come up with a reason for her to run away from him on Saturday. And she’d offered nothing by way of explanation today at work. As he arrived home on Monday evening he still had more questions than answers.
One thing he did know for certain: he wanted her again. As he stood in his living room loosening his tie he gazed at his sofa and remembered how she’d looked lying there, so lovely in her nakedness; so passionate in his arms. He contrasted that memory of her with how she looked at work, always so prim and professional, always so on her game.
He wanted her, and he wanted her for more than just a couple of brief encounters. He knew that about himself. He might have won a battle in the game they’d played, but his victory was a shallow one if it were already over, and with questions left unanswered. That would be the worst of it, the not knowing why. He’d backed of pushing her for an answer, but he knew that he would have to try again.
He wanted to know.
He headed for the kitchen, intending to pour himself a brandy, something to take the edge off his frustration.
His doorbell chiming stopped him in his tracks.
Nia Forrester is the author of Commitment, Maybe Never, Secret, The Art of Endings, The Seduction of Dylan Acosta and Unsuitable Men.
Visit Nia Forrester’s Amazon Author Page here.
The Black is the author of Dream Girl, A Southern Belle: Forbidden, Elle (Insatiable: Book One), Golden (Insatiable: Book Two), the Passion series, What Becomes of the Brokenhearted, The Rock and many other novels and novellas.
Visit The Black’s Amazon Author Page here.