Tell Me What You Want by Megan Maxwell
As expected, Eric’s face betrays his surprise. From the way he’s looking at me, I can tell he was expecting any answer but that. But that’s what he gets for being so clever. I say good night and leave. I feel Eric’s gaze on my back, but I keep going. Who’s the boss here, huh? When I get to the elevator and the doors finally close, I let out a sigh of relief. But when I get to my room, I scream with frustration.
Irritated even by the air in the room, I head for the bathroom. I consider a bath but end up taking a shower. I don’t want to think about Eric. I get out of the shower and dry my hair. The hotel phone rings. I don’t answer it. I open my cell. Three missed calls from my sister. I decide to call her back some other time and instead place a call to a friend in Barcelona. As expected, she’s delighted I’m in the city, and we make a date. I turn off my cell. No one’s going to mess with my fun, least of all Eric.
Eager to get out of the hotel as soon as possible, I put on a stylish, short dress and high-heeled sandals. It’s horrendously hot, and the light dress suits me perfectly. When I’m ready to go, I open the door carefully and check out the hallway. No one in sight, so I take off.
I’m amused with my own gumption, and when I get outside, I practically leap with joy. But that doesn’t last long. I’m suddenly aware I’ve cleared the path for that she-wolf, Amanda, and my bad mood returns.
I flag down a cab and tell him where I’m going. My friend Miriam is waiting there for me. When I arrive, I spot her right away. She’s looking beautiful, and we immediately embrace. Miriam and I have been friends our whole lives.
“My God, girl, you look amazing!” she exclaims.
After more kisses, more hugs, and lots of compliments, we lock arms and stroll toward the port. Miriam knows I like pizza, so we head for a restaurant she’s sure I will love. As we always do, we order everything, accompanied by gallons of Coke, and we yak for hours. At about two in the morning, I’m tired and want to go back to the hotel. We say good night and agree to call each other the next day.
Happy from my time with Miriam, I return to the hotel. When the cab stops at the Hotel Arts’ lovely entrance, I pay the driver, say good night, and get out without realizing there’s a white limo parked to the right.
I’m taking a step toward the hotel when I hear someone calling my name.
“Judith!”
I turn around, and my heart skips a beat. Through the limo window, I see Eric’s stony face; the Iceman indeed. My stomach flips. His mouth gives away how angry he is, and the look he casts at me confirms it. I don’t want it to bother me, but it does. He matters to me. I walk slowly toward the car. He looks me over but doesn’t move. When I get close, I lean in to peer through the window.
“Where were you?” he snarls.
“Having fun.”
An uncomfortable silence encloses us, until I decide to proceed.
“And how was your night? Did you have a good time with Amanda?”
Eric lets out a heavy sigh. His eyes shoot me a scorching look.
“You should have told me where you were,” he snarls again. “I’ve called you a thousand times and . . .”
“Mr. Zimmerman,” I say to interrupt him, and my voice is just this side of argumentative, “if I recall, you gave me the option of whether I wanted to dine with you and Amanda . . . Don’t you remember?”
He doesn’t respond.
“I simply decided to have as much fun as you, or more,” the little bitch in me says.
That infuriates him. I can see it in his eyes. I look at his hands—his knuckles are white. Suddenly, he opens the limo door.
“Get in,” he demands.
I consider it for a few seconds. Just enough to make him even angrier. In the end, I decide to get in. The truth is, all of me wants him. I close the door. Eric looks at me as if he’s daring me. Without taking his eyes off me, he presses a button.
“Drive,” he says.
The limo starts to move.
“For your information, Miss Flores,” he adds, his jaw still tense, “dinner with Amanda was all business.”
“I hope you had a good time in her company, at least,” I say, not wanting to give an inch.
Eric’s look fries me. Though he’s mere inches from me, he doesn’t move to come closer. A thousand butterflies start fluttering in my stomach.
“I assure you, whether you choose to believe it or not, I would have much preferred your company. But before you continue acting like a spoiled brat, I need to know who you were with and where. I’ve been sitting in this limousine for hours, waiting for you, and I demand an explanation.”
“You’ve been waiting hours for me?”
“Yes.”
“Eric, that’s so sweet,” I whisper tenderly. “I’m sorry. I thought . . .”
I notice his shoulders relaxing.
“Well . . . ,” he says without softening his harsh tone, “I’m Eric again, Miss Flores?”
That makes me smile. Oh, my Iceman. And since he’s already touched the part of me that always falls for him, I move closer. I think his face is relaxing too.
“Eric . . . I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry. Just act like an adult. I don’t think it’s too much to ask.”
There we go. He just called me a child.
At another time, I might have gotten out of the car and slammed the door in his face, but I can’t. His magic has cast a spell on me again. He continues to avert his eyes, to avoid looking at me, but I persist.
“I spent all day thinking about getting naked for you. But when you mentioned having dinner with Amanda, I . . .”
“This is a business trip, remember?”
My breathing changes at his harshness, and I can’t contain my Spanish temper.
“I’m well aware this is a business trip. That was quite clear before we left Madrid. But today you stopped a meeting, threw everybody out of the room, and ripped my tanga off me. What, you think I’m made of stone? Or that I’m one more of the many toys in your toy box?” He doesn’t respond, so I continue. “I understand the terms of our trip. I take responsibility for allowing myself to be here with you . . .”
“Right now, are you wearing a tanga or panties?”
Aghast, I furrow my brow and move away from him. My temper explodes. “For the love of God! We’re arguing, and out of the blue, you ask me if I’m wearing a tanga or panties?”
“Yes.”
I refuse to answer.
“You still haven’t told me who you were with this evening, nor where.”
I sigh. Arguing with him is exhausting.
I let my body fall into the contours of the car seat and surrender.
“I had dinner with my friend Miriam down at the port, and I’m wearing panties.”
“Just the two of you?”
For an instant, I consider telling him a lie and saying that I dined out with the city’s rugby team, but I don’t feel like dealing with his temper.
“Yes, just the two of us.”
My answer appears to please him, and his mouth softens. I feel him moving in his seat, then coming closer, as if he is going to kiss me.
“Give me your panties,” he says.
“What, why?” I protest.
Eric smiles and kisses me. Finally, a truce! But after the kiss, he moves away from me.
“Because the last time I was with you, you weren’t wearing any underwear, and I haven’t given you permission to put panties back on.”
“So you’re telling me I should have gone commando all night in Barcelona?” But he doesn’t like my little joke, so I just take them off. “Here are my goddamned panties.”
He bunches them in his hand and sticks them in the pocket of his linen pants. He’s super handsome in those loose pants and that bluish T-shirt. He looks at my legs. He touches them while his gaze climbs up to my breasts.
“I see you’re not wearing a bra.”
“No, I don’t need one with this dress.”
He nods. He touches my b
“Sit in front of me.”
I don’t argue. I just get up and sit in the seat in front of him. He stretches his hand and touches my leg.
“I love how soft you are.”
My short dress only goes down to my thighs, and he pushes it up an inch or two. Then he makes me part my knees.
“Excellent and tempting.”
I’m breathing a little harder now. I go to close my legs, but he doesn’t let me.
“Keep them open for me.”
All of me is getting excited. I want him.
The car stops. Eric pulls my dress down, and two seconds later, the door opens. We’re in front of a local place called “Chaining,” according to the sign.
Eric takes my hand to help me out of the limo as the wind swirls around my legs. My dress is too short, and without my panties, I feel practically naked. Eric puts a hand on my lower back as the doorman opens the door. Eric says something to him, and he lets us in. Once inside, we’re surrounded by music and people. Eric’s hand has moved to my butt, and that gets me going again. He guides me toward the bar, where we order our drinks. The waiter brings a whisky for him and a rum and Coke for me. I take a long swallow. I’m thirsty. I look around, curious, and see everyone laughing and talking very animatedly. Then I feel Eric close to my ear.
“You deserve punishment for your bad behavior tonight.”
I just look at him, surprised.
“Mr. Zimmerman, I like you a lot, but if you dare touch me in any way I find offensive, I promise you’ll pay.”
He smiles in all his arrogance. He takes a drink from his glass, then comes so close to my face, he gives me goose bumps.
“Sweetness, my punishments have nothing to do with what you’re thinking,” he whispers. “Remember that.”
With our eyes on each other, we drink from our glasses, and my thirst, coupled with my anxiety, drives me to quickly finish. Eric takes my head and kisses me passionately.
“Follow me,” he murmurs as soon as his mouth leaves my lips.
Delighted, I follow as he clears our way, making it so no one as much as brushes up against me. This is exciting. Seconds later, we enter another room. This one is less crowded. The music is not so loud, and people seem calmer. We go up to the bar. We sit in a corner this time, and he orders the same drinks. The waiter leaves them in front of us, along with an ice bucket, water, and some linen napkins. Eric grabs a tall stool and invites me to sit. Under his spell again, I do as he says. My shoes are starting to torture my feet.
When I sit, I cross my legs.
The idea that anyone might see I’m not wearing panties gives me pause. Eric hugs me. He puts his hands on my waist, and I encircle his neck with my arms. A romantic moment. This time, I’m the one who brings my mouth to his. I poke my tongue out. I suck on his upper lip, but when I’m about to do the same to his lower lip, he moves his hand from my waist to my neck and kisses me possessively. He jams his tongue into my mouth and assaults it with genuine fervor, which makes me feel like putty in his hands.
“Open your legs for me, Jude.”
I look at him for a second or two, then survey my surroundings.
I calculate that the darkness in this place and the way we’re positioned at the bar will make it so no one can see I’m not wearing panties. I smile. I uncross my legs without taking my eyes off him, then do what he says, hooking the heels of my shoes on the stool’s crossbars.
Eric places his hands on my knees, and I watch how they climb very, very slowly. He brings his mouth to mine and says, “You thrill me.” I close my eyes and feel his hands running up along my inner thighs. I stir, restlessly. I want more. I’m nervous about doing it in a place full of people, but that arouses me. He realizes this and brings his mouth to my ear.
“Relax, sweetness. This is a swingers’ club, and everyone’s here for the same thing.”
That throws me.
A swingers’ club?
I’m frozen in place.
Eric spins my stool and makes me look at the people around us. Suddenly, I’m aware there are several men, of different ages, who are watching us, observing us.
“They all want to have their hand under your dress,” Eric whispers in my ear. “Their faces tell me they’d die to suck your nipples, to undress you, and—if I were to let them—to fuck you until you came. Don’t you see it in their faces? They’re excited, and what they want is to trap your clit between their teeth until you scream with pleasure.”
My pulse is racing. I’ve never done anything like this, but I’m excited. Imagining what Eric is describing makes me hot. Very hot. I try to turn the stool back, but Eric is blocking me.
“You told me to tell you everything I like, sweetness, and this is what I like. Experimenting. We’re in a private sex club where people fuck and let themselves get carried away by their hunger. Here, people lose their inhibitions and think only of pleasure and play.”
My neck is itching . . . The rash!
Eric sees it, takes my hand, and blows on my neck.
“In places like this,” he continues, “people offer their bodies for nothing. There are couples who swing, others who look for a third party, and others who simply join an orgy. There are several differently themed rooms. Right now, we’re in the sex-game lobby. Here, you decide if you want to play or not and, most important, whom you want to play with.”
Eric turns the stool. He’s looking me in the eyes.
“Jude, I’m dying to play. I’m dying to fuck you. We’re a couple, so we can just go right through to the club’s back door.”
My mouth is dry. I pick up my glass and take a swallow.
“You’ve been here before, right?”
“Yes, here and in other places like it.”
We’re silent for a few seconds.
“What’s behind that door?”
“A dark room in which people touch and are touched without knowing who’s touching them. After that, there’s a smaller room with chairs, separated by black curtains, for those who don’t want to go as far as the beds; two Jacuzzis; several private rooms to play with whomever you want without being seen; and then a large room with several beds everyone can see, next to the second Jacuzzi, where whoever wants to can join an orgy.”
My legs are trembling. Where has this man brought me?
I’m glad I’m sitting, because otherwise I think I’d fall to the floor. Eric realizes the state I’m in and presses himself against me.
“Sweetness . . . I’m never going to do anything you don’t OK beforehand. I want you to know your game is my game. Your bliss is mine, and you and I are the only masters of our bodies.”
“That’s very poetic,” I manage to say.
Eric calmly takes a drink from his glass while I feel my heart accelerating in my chest. This is a very strange world for me, but I realize it doesn’t scare me; on the contrary, I find myself attracted to it.
“Listen, Jude, between us, when we’re in places like this, or with other people between four walls, there are two conditions. The first is, our kisses are just for us. OK?”
“OK.”
I’m glad about that. I’d hate for him to kiss someone else and then kiss me.
“And the second is respect. If something doesn’t feel right to you or to me, we have to say so. If you don’t want somebody to touch you, or fuck you, or suck you, you need to tell me, and I’ll stop it immediately. Same goes in reverse. Agreed?”
“Agreed.” In the thinnest voice, I add, “Eric . . . I’m . . . I’m not ready for any of what you’ve just described.”
I see him smiling, nodding in agreement.
Then he places his hands between my legs and brings them up to my wet vagina.
“You’re ready, wanting, and wet. But relax. We’re only going to do what you want to do. Even if all you want to do is look. That said, I’m going to fuck you when we get back to the hotel because I’m ready to explode.”
I feel a terrible heat
Eric keeps rubbing his hand between my thighs and then places the palm of his hand against my sex.
“You’re soaked . . . juicy . . . receptive. Are you excited about being here?”
It would be silly to deny it. I nod.
“Yes, but what excites me most is hearing you talk.”
“Mmm . . . what I’m saying excites you?”
“Very much.”
His hand is pressing on my sex.
I can’t help but moan.
With his other hand, he puts one of mine on his hard-on. I touch him through his pants, and my whole being melts. He’s hard. Incredibly hard. He kisses me. He sucks my lips.
“I’m going to turn the stool to show those men,” he says, pulling back just inches from my face. “Don’t close your legs, and don’t pull down your dress.”
I’m on fire. And when I’m sitting with my legs splayed in front of them, a wild explosion goes off in me and my breathing turns rapid.
Three men are watching me. They’re eating me alive with their eyes. Their gaze goes from my thighs to my sex, and I can see their arousal. They want to possess me; in a way, they’re doing so with their eyes. They long to touch me. Suddenly, against all expectation, I feel explosive and perverse, and my nipples get hard as rocks as my legs open and I show them my private parts.
Standing behind me, Eric presses his cheek to mine, and I can tell he’s smiling.
He caresses my thighs with his hands and exposes me even more. He slides a finger down my slit, lets it dip inside me, then takes it out and brings it to my mouth. I suck on it, and like in a porn movie, I smack my lips as I watch the raunchy looks on the men’s faces. Just then, Eric spins the stool so that we’re face to face again.
“Do you like how you feel when you’re being watched?”
I nod.
“Would you like it if I and one, or several, of those guys got us a private room where we could undress you?” My pulse jolts and Eric goes on. “I’d open your legs and offer you to them. They’d suck and touch you while I held you and . . .”
My sex tightens and I nod again.
I close my eyes. I’m practically coming just from hearing him talk. I want to do everything he’s describing. He kisses me as I feel the gaze of those three men on my back. Eric loves that. He introduces one finger into my vagina. Then two, and then he begins moving them. I open my legs even more, knowing they’re watching. I want more. I’m in flames, and just as I’m about to come, Eric stops.