I can’t lie, a big part of me was curious about what Alexis was like when Aiden first told me about her. But now that I’ve seen her…I was not expecting her to be quite that drop dead gorgeous. Standing outside the bar, I still can’t believe that she actually crashed our date. And what about that assistant of Aiden’s? Did she really tell her where we were?

It has been years since they were married and yet…the relationship between the two of them seems way too close. I want to leave and go home, but Aiden urges me to stay. He convinces me with his ’please’. I wait as Aiden cuts his conversation with Alexis short and puts her into a cab. When he comes back to me, he invites me back inside. But that place has been soured. Now, all I can think about is his ex-wife and how long her legs are in comparison to mine.

“I’m so, so sorry about that,” Aiden says. “You have to believe me. We are completely through.”

“So, why does she still come around? I thought she lived in Ohio. Why is she acting like you’re not?”

A cold gust of wind blows and I regret the fact that I didn’t bring a coat. These warm summer nights are quickly fading into autumn.

“No, she lives in New York now with her husband and kid. Her parents are paying for their apartment. The thing is that Alexis has a lot of issues. After we broke up, she got pregnant right away with her high school boyfriend’s baby. They got married because her parents insisted on it and their marriage hasn’t been good for anyone involved, including the baby. She was in a bad car accident a few years back and got hooked on pain pills and has been in and out of rehab ever since.”

“But what does any of this have to do with you?” I ask. Aiden takes off his jacket and puts it around my shoulders. It’s hot from his body heat and I revel in its warmth.

“Frankly, I don’t know.” He shrugs. “Except that somehow we became friends again over the years and I was always there for her through her rehabs and her issues. I was the one person who she could turn to.”

“Did you two…ever get back together?” I ask, carefully choosing my words. First loves are difficult to get over and tend to stick with people for life. And that doesn’t even count those who have been married.

“No.” Aiden shakes his head. “Absolutely not. I was over her even before we officially got divorced, Ellie. She’s just this complicated aspect of my life who is still there. I’m a friend. I care about her daughter. I want her to get better and find a better man. But I do not, and I mean it, I do not want that man to be me.”

Aiden looks straight into my eyes as he says that. There’s certainty in the tone of his voice and in the conviction with which he speaks and that makes me feel relieved. He is telling the truth. I know it.

“If you don't want to go back to the bar, will you come over for a nightcap?” Aiden asks.

“Doesn’t a nightcap usually take place at the end of the night?” I ask, flashing him a smile.

“Well, tonight was nothing if not exciting, wouldn’t you say?”

On the second visit to his beautiful apartment, I notice all the details that I’ve missed before. The exquisite banister, the gorgeous crown molding, the beautiful window frames around the floor-to-ceiling windows lining his living room. There are also books everywhere. Besides the vast library, there are books on practically every end table and console table. Much to my surprise, a number of them are novels.

“Have you read this one?” He points to A Widow for One Year by John Irving.

“Actually, John Irving is one of my favorite authors,” I say. “Have you read his latest, In One Person?”

“Yes, I have. It’s exquisite,” he says, running his fingers along my forearm as I thumb through A Widow for One Year. “What kind of books do you read?”

“All kinds actually. I like Irving, but I also like Jane Austen and Charles Dickens. And Anne Rice, and E. L. James, and Sylvia Day.”

He smiles coyly.

“What? You don’t think some of those fit in with the rest?”

“Oh, no, not at all.” He shakes his head. “I love reading all sorts of books. But given how I like to spend the nights, I have a real taste for romance as well. More than your typical guy.”

“I’d say that,” I agree. “Most don’t come anywhere near fiction, let alone romance. And the ones that do like to read fiction tend to end their education with Hemingway.”

“Oh, but there’re so many amazing stories out there. I mean, what about Marquez, and De Sade, and Isabel Allende? Though I can enjoy a traditional male narrative yarn like those spun by Jim Harrison as well.”

I shake my head in amazement. The authors he had just listed were my favorites as well. But after so many years of disappointment, I gave up on trying to convince my literary-inclined friends at Yale about the merits of Danielle Steel, E. L. James, and Stephanie Meyer, they allowed their snobbish attitudes to keep them away from fun and enticing contemporary fiction. And yet, here was this man, who actually got me. It’s like he understood where I was coming from on this innate level that I hadn’t even shared with him yet. He got me because he felt the same way.

“I just don’t think we need to create these boxes between literary and popular fiction. I think it’s all about the goal of the book. Popular fiction is there to entertain and allow you to escape while literary fiction is there to challenge your thinking and show you a different perspective. Of course, the holy grail of any writer is to create a piece of work that’s both challenging and important, as well as relevant and popular. And if you ask a million critics about what that book is they’ll have a million different opinions. Mainly because what’s relevant and entertaining to one person tends to be something different for another.”

I reach up and press my lips against his. I can't help it. When you hear someone say exactly what you’re thinking but in a way that’s way better than you could ever conceptualize in your mind, you just have to show him what that means to you.

“What’s that for?” Aiden asks.

“You’re just amazing, do you know that?” I ask.

“I don’t know. I think you’ll have to show me.”

“I’d love to,” I say.

“Oh, really?” Aiden raises his eyebrows. “Well, in that case, I have a surprise for you.”

He grabs my hand and leads me to the master bedroom. There, in the middle of the room, right in front of his spacious bed, I see a swing.

“What’s that?” I ask, walking over and tugging on it. It’s attached to the ceiling and the swing itself is made of a soft but sturdy fabric, which feels a bit like silk.

“This wasn’t here before,” I say.

“No, it wasn’t.” He shakes his head. “I only take it out for special occasions. Like tonight.”

“Hmm,” I say, licking my lips. I don't know how it works but I would be lying if I said I wasn’t excited to find out.

“Do you think you want to take it for a spin?” Aiden asks.

I think about it for a moment. “Yes, I would, Mr. Black.”

A serious expression comes over his face. He spins me around and unzips my dress. I like the force and the power with which he works. It feels like I'm almost a rag doll under his strong hands and I love being a rag doll. He slips the dress down, leaving me in a strapless bra and panties. Then he puts my hands up in the air and ties them to the top of the swing. The restraints are soft but strong. I tug on them but I can’t break free.

“You’ve been a bad girl, Ellie,” Aiden says with all seriousness. Suddenly, he is completely within the character of Mr. Black, the man I met what seems like a century ago on his yacht. While Aiden is complicated and multi-textured, Mr. Black is not. He has razor-sharp focus on one thing - pleasure - and that’s what I crave most about him.

“Yes, I have,” I say.

“Yes, you have, what?” Mr. Black asks.

“Yes, I have been a bad girl, sir,” I correct myself.

I’ve always thought it was a little cheesy when I heard or read about women calling men sir in the sexual context, but something about it is ridiculously hot. I’ve given him control. He’s in charge, at least in this moment. There’s something completely freeing about it.

“That’s better.”

“Now, what am I going to do with you?” Mr. Black asks, walking around me and staring at my body.

My heart skips a beat as I wait on his decision. Slowly, he undoes my bra and pulls down my panties. Then he bends down and puts one of my breasts into his mouth. He squeezes lightly and I feel a little shock of electricity rush through my body. While flicking my nipples with his tongue, he reaches in between my legs and pushes them apart. Then he sticks his finger deep within me and starts to massage me. My clit begins to throb. I’ve never had anyone touch me like this while I was standing up and the feeling is overwhelming.

A few moments later, he presses something against my inner thigh. It’s a small vibrator, which he expertly maneuvers right onto my clit while pushing his fingers deep inside of me and not taking his mouth off my breasts. I start to moan immediately. Not being able to move my hands, and being forced to experience pleasure in such a restrained environment, makes my whole body pulsate with feeling. My calves start to cramp up and a warm soothing sensation from deep inside is about to erupt to the surface.

“Oh, no, sweetie,” Mr. Black says, pulling away from me and slowing down. “You can’t orgasm so easily. What would be the fun in that?”

“I can’t?” I plead. “But I want to. I really, really want to.”

“Oh, I know, sweetie. But you didn’t call me sir. And you haven’t been teased enough quite yet.”

I let out a little sigh as he presses the vibrator deep within me and my whole body starts to shake with pleasure.

“Okay, I’m going to try something a little different now. Let’s see how you like it.”

Mr. Black walks around and ties the loose ends of the fabric around my breasts and torso. He puts my arms behind my back and ties them behind as well. Then he drops me to the floor and ties the other loose ends of the swing around the upper part of my thighs, bending my legs back and tying my ankles to my thighs. Finally, he ties all parts of me together, connecting my thighs to my ankles to my torso.

“Now, I’m going to pull you up until you’re parallel to the floor. Does that sound good?”

“Yes, sir.” I nod, my body shivering in anticipation. Mr. Black pulls up and, within a moment, I’m suspended in mid-air completely parallel to the floor. My legs are wide open and my pussy is completely exposed. He spins me a little to get me just in the place that he wants me. Then he takes his fingers and presses them deep inside of me. When he moves them around a bit, I feel myself get completely wet.

“Oh my God,” I moan in pleasure.

I hear him kneel down somewhere behind me and press his lips to me. His tongue runs up and around my clit and then makes its way deep inside of me. The sensation is unlike anything I’ve ever experienced before. The weightlessness that’s provided by the swing exposes and concentrates all attention on my pleasure center, making me give off moans unlike the kind I’ve ever given off before.

A few moments later, Mr. Black swings me away from him and then back toward him. I love how the air feels as I push it out of my way with my body. On one of the times that I come back toward him, he enters me, sending my body into overdrive. Mr. Black holds onto the swing as he pushes in and out of me, filling me completely.

“Oh, Aiden,” I moan.

“Do you want to cum?” he asks.

“Yes, I do. I really do, sir,” I mumble. There’s no way I could stop the orgasm if I wanted to. A familiar soothing sensation starts to pulsate through my body as I let myself go completely.

“Ellie!” Mr. Black screams a few moments later as he pounds into me over and over. I feel myself closing in around his large cock, taking him deep within me. I want to stay in this moment forever.