-Tasha Evanoff

I dress in red. My mother says blondes should always dress in red when they want to be sexy. I stand in front of the mirror but I don’t look sexy. I look pale and washed out. Blusher. More blusher. That’s what I need. I pick up the blusher brush and dust color on the apple of my cheeks.

And what of your eyes? What can be done with sadness in them?

I turn away from the mirror.

I bend down and kiss Sergei. ‘This is my last time so no guilt trips from you, you hear?’ I tell him.

He whimpers and I pull him into my arms for a hug. He remains very still and when I pull away he cries.

‘Be a good boy and wait for me, okay?’

I stand and he stands too. To my surprise he barks at me.

‘Shhh … no barking. Everybody is sleeping,’ I say, quickly getting back down on the floor and hugging him tightly once again. I understand why he is like this. He is picking up on my distress.

‘It’s okay,’ I coax. ‘I’m fine. I will be fine. This feeling will pass. Everything can be forgotten. I’ll be back in the morning and we’ll go walkies in the park. Be a good boy for mummy, okay?’

I give him a treat, but he refuses to eat it.

‘I’ll just leave it here, and you eat it later when you feel like it, hmmm?’

I kiss him again and walk to the door, but he follows and whimpers pitifully and cries as if I have physically hurt him when I close the door. I stand for a moment hearing him scratching at the wood and feeling terrible, then knowing that there is nothing I can do about it, I take my shoes off and go down the stairs.

The house is so quiet I can hear my heart hammering in my chest. I was never risking anything except my father’s displeasure before. If discovered, what I am doing now is dangerous to all the people I love most. I always thought my father loved me in his own way, but now I know. I am just a pawn in his game. I have no value to him beyond opening a door to the most esteemed echelons of society.

Fortunately, the nervousness and that sinking feeling that everything is going to go wrong doesn’t translate into anything bad. I scale the wall easily in my red dress, the taxi is waiting at the end of the road, and before I know it I am standing outside Noah’s door. I ring it and he opens it.

Even though I am smiling at him, he takes one look at my face and asks, ‘What’s wrong?’

‘Now that I’m here, nothing. Absolutely nothing,’ I lie.

He pulls me in as his eyes roam my body. ‘You look fabulous,’ he murmurs, nuzzling my neck. There is music in the background. When A Man Loves A Woman is playing.

I don’t want to cry. I don’t want to be sad. I just want to hide in a dance and a smile. ‘Will you dance with me?’ I whisper. A last dance. To forget my great misery.

He lifts his head and smiles softly. ‘Does the pope pray?’

I smile as he tightens his arms around me and we move slowly in time to the music. I bury my face in his neck and inhale the lovely male scent of him.

‘Sergei didn’t want me to come tonight,’ I whisper.

He pulls a little away to look at me. ‘Why not?’

I don’t know for sure.

‘Are you going to tell me what’s wrong or am I going to have to use my secret method of extracting information,’ he teases, even though his eyes are actually very serious.

‘You’re going to have to use the secret method,’ I tell him.

‘Right. You asked for it.’

He picks me up and carries me to the bedroom.

I laugh while my heart cries, don’t leave me.

He puts me on the bed and looks down at me. His eyes are dark and hungry. ‘God, you’re so beautiful, Tasha,’ he says, his exhaled breath almost a hiss.

‘I don’t want you to use a condom. I want to feel you come inside me. I want you to fill me with cum.’

He narrows his eyes. ‘Are you protected?’

I shake my head.

‘But—’

I grasp his hand urgently. ‘It’s what I want.’

‘Are you sure?’

‘I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.’

Very gently he removes my dress and my underwear. Then he begins to kiss every nook and cranny of my body. Every inch, every tip, every swollen bit of flesh, every wet thing, until my body feels as soft as warm butter, and I feel as if I have no will of my own. I feel the heat seep into my pussy as if I’ve been sitting with my legs open for a long time in the sun.

‘How do you feel?’ he asks.

‘Mmmm.’ I can’t speak. My sex-hazed mind can’t even think. I let out a small moan as I feel the thick head of his cock enter me. My muscles wrap around it eagerly.

‘How does this feel?’ I ask, squeezing his shaft.

‘Tight, hot, and wet.’ He pushes all the way in.

‘Fuck,’ we both say in unison.

‘I love watching my cock disappear into you,’ he growls as he jams into me hard.

‘Don’t let me go, Noah.’ The words in my heart slip out of my mouth.

He stops moving. We stare at each other. ‘Understand something, Tasha. I will never give up on you or let you go, no matter how hard it gets. You are my woman. I will cover your body with my death if I have to.’

And just like that the tears begin to flow out of my eyes.

‘Tasha, what’s the matter?’

I shake my head. ‘Don’t stop.’

He looks down at me worriedly. ‘Are you all right?’

He tries to pull out of me, but I grab his hips. ‘No. Don’t stop. Please finish. Please make me come. Make it the most beautiful sex we’ve ever had.’

‘I can’t. Not when you’re crying …’

‘I’m fine. Honestly. Please. For me.’ The tears run freely down my temples as I struggle to master my emotions.

He looks down at me, a strange expression on his face, then he plunges back into me, going as deeply as he can. I look at his face, contorted with passion and I memorize it. The day will come when these twilight hours when I have been so happy, will no longer fill me with grief. Then I will learn the art of being happy that I had them at all. For they are a gift. I will weather the winter and one day, April will come again.

Slowly, I become completely consumed with the intense feeling rushing through me that I notice even the littlest change in his face. I see he is ready to climax, but he can think only of making me come.

His thrusts become rougher and more forceful as he slides in and out of me. I see his breathing quicken, his nostrils flare, and the muscles of his neck and shoulders work as he pumps into me. His eyes stare into mine, wanting, needing me to come. He won’t let go until I do.

I feel the climax approaching as if from a long tunnel, almost, but not quite there. I realize it’s not going to come. Not when I’m in this mood.

‘Sorry. I don’t think I can come,’ I apologize.

‘There’s no rush. Just relax and let it come, Tasha.’

All his muscles are tight. His control is barely leashed. ‘Don’t wait for me,’ I whisper.

‘You’re coming with me, or nobody is coming tonight,’ he says, his brow clinched together in concentration.

He bends his head and sucks my nipples causing a jolt of electrifying pleasure in my body. My brain becomes cloudy. My fingers clench into his shoulders. The jolts of sensation magnify in intensity. I groan and he increases the pace of his thrusts.

I wrap my legs around his hips and let go, come what may.

His movements become even harsher and faster.

The train starts hurtling towards me until it body slams into me and the strangest thing happens. For a moment I disappear. The moment is infinitesimally small, but its impact is massive. During that second I’m no longer me, an individual, or confined to my body. I dissolve into the unity of the all, knowing no limitation, infinite.

There it is, the true secret of sexual orgasm in its purest form.

Melting and becoming one with the trees, the stars, the sky, the rocks, the ocean, the man inside your body. It is merging. The sinner and the sage, the good into bad, night into day, death into life, and back again. That single moment without distinction is holier than spending years in a monastery or temple. It is that moment Baba spoke of when you enter a lake and meet your own soul.

Then the moment is over and I am just a woman underneath her man.

I look into his eyes and they are so … so very sad. I want to reach out a hand and touch his cheek. I want to tell him I love him, but I can do neither, my hands are immobilized, and my mouth will not move.

I look up at him from underneath drenched lashes. He seems very still, resting on his elbows, his breathing deep and heavy as he stares down at me.