I had no idea what to do with the massive anatomy that stood before me. I had never really seen a penis this close up before. I had obviously touched Arturo the other night. I had touched the bulge through others’ clothing before, either with my hands or pressed up against someone, but never, ever like this, staring me in the face and making me wonder what to do next.

Arturo was patient, and I couldn’t have been more thankful in my awkwardness. I placed one hand on his firm hip and the other wrapped around him, watching a drop of liquid form on the end. I ran my thumb over the sticky whiteness and he moaned, placing his hand on the back of my head, running his own fingers through my hair.

He seemed hesitant, like he wanted to force me forward, but was holding back from scaring me. I leaned toward him and opened my mouth to take him in. At first, I wasn’t sure I was doing anything correctly other than sucking greedily on his shaft. He was smooth, and warm, and solid, and I forced him farther into my mouth. I let my tongue slap across him and trace up the vein in the center before pulling to the head and rolling my tongue around and around. Then I slipped my mouth down over him again and started all over.

I took his groan as encouragement and his hand tightened in my hair. He rocked toward me and I gagged slightly. He stopped immediately, mumbled an apology, and I placed both my hands on his hips to steady him, or possibly myself, as I continued to work up and down, up and down, sucking hard on him. Eventually my hand moved to massage the sac at the end of him and he hissed.

“Fuck, Guinie. You’re gonna make me come.” He gently tried to push me away, but I clamped my lips firmly around him and sucked upward.

“Guinie, I’m warning you, this part you might not…ah,” he growled, as I squeezed his balls and took him as far as I could inside my watering mouth. I felt the sudden shock of something squirting inside, and I swallowed hard the bitter salty taste, willing myself to finish him off.

He pushed my shoulders more forcefully this time and I released the suction hold I had on his body. I swallowed again and wiped my lips delicately as I felt myself drool.

“Guinie … that was incredible.”

I looked up to his face where his dark eyes beamed down at me in the dimly lit room. He looked satisfied and I had to smile up at him.

“My God, you are amazingly beautiful,” he said as he leaned down to kiss me sweetly before pulling back.

“I’m going to clean up and be right back.”

I watched him bend to pick up his clothing and cross the room. He didn’t re-dress and I ogled his muscular back and fine ass as he went to his own room. Uncertain what to do with myself; I made to move off the bed and retrieve something to put on when I heard his voice.

“Don’t move. And don’t dress.”

I waited a moment or two before he returned with only a pair of boxer briefs on and a T-shirt in hand.

“I like you in my clothing,” he said, as he held my arms up and slipped a soft, well-worn band T-shirt over me. The Nights, it said in an elaborate scroll across the chest.

He winked at me as he took in my appearance.

“Time for sleep,” he said, and helped me move into the center of the bed, pulled down the blanket, and slipped both of us underneath.

I faced him while he tucked us in and kissed me one more time before telling me to roll over. He pulled me into his warm protective shell with an arm over me, knees bent to cradle me from behind and feet braced under mine. He was like a coat of armor around me, nuzzling my hair for a few moments. I felt strung up and, although satiated, I didn’t think I could relax to sleep. I could feel every part of him pressed against me from behind and my blood was pumping increasingly faster through me.

“Guinie, you’re tense again. What’s wrong?” he said, as he kissed the back of my neck softly with a peck.

“I don’t know. I’m okay,” I sighed.

“Am I making you uncomfortable?” He kissed my shoulder.

“No.”

“Was it too much all at once?” He kissed the side of my neck.

“No.”

“I can’t let you go tonight, Guinie. Please don’t make me leave.” He nibbled on the spot between my neck and shoulder.

“Of course. It’s … it’s just that…”

He bit me gently and I squirmed.

“It’s just what, Guinie?” He blew on my neck lightly.

“You’re turning me on again,” I said boldly, and then tried to cover my face, even though he couldn’t see me from behind.

He pushed up on an elbow behind me and rolled me slightly so he could look at my face. He brushed my hand away and stared at me with a crooked smile.

“My Guinie has further needs?” he said as he leaned forward and kissed me lightly on the lips. “Your wish is my command,” he said with a laugh. He threw back the covers and rolled onto me, kissing me with his intense passion and firing up that pulse again to a full explosion between my legs.

A week passed in this nightly bliss of experimentation and discovery of one another’s body. I was new to the overwhelming sensations I felt all over, but I was eager to learn and Arturo was amazingly patient. I tried not to let my mind catch me up in the thought that this was the reason he was called a chivalrous lover. He was kind and giving, concerned that I enjoyed myself and was purely satisfied before he taught me how to satisfy him. He was encouraging of my adventuresome spirit, and I learned about myself that I was quite interested in doing everything with him. However, having sex with Arturo King had not happened. He did not pressure me for the final deed, assuring me that he was perfectly happy with how our physical relationship was developing. It was me who was growing restless with desire to know what Arturo might feel like inside me.

We spent our days in an unstructured schedule of Arturo and the band practicing in the barn while I practiced on my own in my room. In the afternoons, we would meet for lunch and some lazy activity in the pool, on the lake, or in the small town near Lake Avalon. For the first time in a long time, I felt happy, truly happy, but I was waiting for the other shoe to drop. I couldn’t help but think it was all too good to be true for me. Being with Arturo seemed too easy.

So a week after the first night Arturo slept in my room, the answers to my questioning concern began to slowly reveal themselves.

Arturo asked me to join him for dinner, and all I knew was to dress nicely and meet him near the pool. The night was surprisingly warm considering the northern position in the state and the heavily wooded area surrounding us. I had on another cotton maxi dress, strapless and loosely straight. In royal blue, my eyes glowed brighter in complement to this color, and I let my hair hang long and loose. I felt pretty as I walked around the dimly lit pool to meet Arturo next to a table set for two. The grounds were lit with sparkling white miniature lights and candles adorned the cement walkway and grassy area behind us. It was serene and beautiful, and I was overcome with the romantic nature of it.

Arturo had been pacing nervously back and forth as I crossed the flagstone patio and cornered the pool area. He appeared lost in thought until he acknowledged my presence and approached me. He was fierce in his embrace as he gripped my face and kissed me hard. It was as if he hadn’t seen me for months and he needed me for air. He sucked in my lips and kissed, and kissed, and kissed before forcing his tongue into my mouth to siege me with desire. The effect was instant. I whimpered as I melted into him, and the pulsing sensation I had grown to recognize in myself began instantly. My physical need for him was becoming an obsession. Once again, I tried to keep my mind clear of my emotions, which were rapidly growing into a major crush on this unobtainable man.

Arturo pulled back slowly, holding my eyes captive with his dark ones.

“You look beautiful,” he said in a husky voice, as he slipped his hands down my arms to take each of my hands in his and walk backward to bring us closer to the table. I took in the setting that included fine china, silverware, and glasses for champagne. I looked at him quizzically.

“I thought we’d celebrate,” he said as he released a hand to reach for the open bottle and pour me a glass.

I smiled at him as he presented me with one and took the other for himself.

“I’m not a fan of this stuff, but it seemed like the right beverage for a celebration.”

I laughed at the formality of his voice and vocabulary.

“And what are we celebrating?”

“My birthday.”

“What?” I said too loudly, lowering the glass that he was ready to toast against.

“Today is my birthday. I’m twenty-six.”

“Why didn’t I know this?” I said, slightly incredulous.

“Because you seem like the type to worry about buying a present, and I didn’t want you stressing over anything so silly. I have everything I need right now. I’m happy to share this night with you.”

I looked into his dark eyes to see he was completely serious.

“Still, I…” He covered my mouth with a quick kiss.

“Everything. I. Need.” He kissed me again. He pulled back and tapped his glass against mine.

“Happy birthday. To me.” He took a sip of the bubbly drink and I did the same.

“I actually have another reason for us to celebrate.”

I looked at him as he placed his glass on the table. He took mine from me and reclaimed his hold on both of my hands. I suddenly felt like he was holding onto me as if I might run away from him, and my heart began to race across my chest with a growing fear.

“I might have audiotaped you playing the other night at Morte’s concert. And I might have sent it in to my friend at 4G. And she might have really loved your sound. You have an interview with them in another week, on Monday.”

He continued to grip my hands harder, fear of flight definitely in his voice. He was attempting to be playful, but the hesitancy in his voice made me realize he was worried I would be angry. I should have been angry. He had taped my playing without my permission. He had sent the audition into his friend knowing I was still only considering the proposition. He had gotten the interview without consulting me, but his hopeful expression and its underlying excitement wouldn’t allow me to impart my anger.

I let my shoulders release the tension I clearly felt over his news when I realized it wasn’t so serious and I smiled partially.

“I wish you would have consulted with me before you did this,” I said and his eyes fell to my mouth.

“And had I known I might have played something edgier, knowing that your friend’s group is into that.” His head bent toward my feet.

“But I will admit I am intrigued and it was very thoughtful of you to be so concerned about me.” His head shot up so he could look at me.

“So thank you. I look forward to Monday.”

He kissed me again in his powerful way and I had to grip his wrists as his hands cupped my face in order to not fall backward at the invasion of his mouth. He pulled back sharply.

“I am concerned, you know, about everything that has to do with you. I care about you, Guinie, and I want things for you that I think will make you shine.”

I should have felt relief at these words, but I didn’t. For him to say he cared about me made me feel like something someone would say to a grandmother. I cared about him as well, but it was so much more than that. I cared about what he thought of me and I wanted him to like me. More than like me.

Arturo directed me to sit and this must have been a cue for the staff because they brought out dinner immediately. A mix of vegetables accompanied by small potatoes and filets were a rich compliment to the champagne that we finished while Arturo talked about his music and the band’s practice. Then we talked about my music and my practice, as well as the upcoming interview. He assured me he would accompany me, despite my admonishments that he didn’t need to go with me. Finally, he commented on spending time with me once we returned back to the city.

“I plan to spend lots of time with you, Guinie, when we return home. I don’t think I can handle not sleeping with you each night.”

I choked slightly on a swallow of my bubbly drink.

“You realize I still live with my father, right? I don’t have sleepovers, especially not boy-girl ones,” I giggled.

“We may need to change that,” he said, as he took a bite of his steak.

I continued to stare at him as he ate without missing a beat. He didn’t seem to realize what he was saying. I wasn’t sure what he was saying. Did he want me to spend each night with him? Did he expect to sleep at my home with my father in the same house? What was he suggesting? I didn’t have the chance to answer when he looked up at me and must have noticed something in my face. He put his fork down and asked me to dance with him.

“There’s no music,” I said quickly, as he stood and reached for my hand.

“I’ll make the music,” he said softly and wrapped his hands around mine. He pulled me close, holding one hand against his chest as the other circled his neck. His hand sat possessively low on my back. He began to hum a tune I didn’t recognize.

My love for you can only grow

One day I want to make you mine

Keep loving you when we get old

Stay the night to still the time

He was kissing my neck as he continued to hum the tune, no longer singing low against my skin when we heard another voice.

“Guinevere?” my father said in a firm tone.

Leo DeGrance did not have an imposing presence, despite his regal appearance in his forties, but his tone of voice was one I recognized as a warning. Whether he was about to embark on a lecture of my behavior or an explanation of his disappointment in something like when I was a child, I knew he was about to say something to imply I was in trouble.

“This looks very cozy,” he continued in a slightly strangled voice as his eyes took in the ambiance of the candles in the dark outdoors and the glasses of champagne.

“Am I interrupting?” he continued, when I could not find my voice. Arturo stepped back to put space between us, but still held his hand on my back. I felt it flatten then grip bits of my dress in his fingers.

“We were just celebrating my birthday … and Guinie’s job interview.”

My dad immediately looked at me. “Job? Where?”

Arturo began to speak but I cut him off instantly.

“There is a string quartet called the 4G. They are four girls who play string instruments and they travel throughout New England. Arturo has set up an interview for me.”

“I see,” Leo replied, glancing at Arturo before redirecting his eyes to me. “I had other plans for you, but we can discuss that later.” His eyes traveled back to Arturo. I saw something pass between the two men, but I was completely blind to its meaning.

“Celebrate with us,” Arturo said and reached for the champagne bottle. “I’ll go get another glass.” He kissed my exposed neck and walked past my father, patting him on the shoulder before circling the pool for the house.

I followed his exit like a homebound puppy watching his master drive away for work. I shook my head at the pull I recognized in myself to follow him and scorned myself for behaving so silly. I looked at my father.

“What’s going on here?” he asked, slightly gruff.

“We were celebrating, like Arturo mentioned.”

“Guinevere,” he said again in that warning tone.

“We were having dinner,” I tried again.

My father raised an eyebrow at me.

“I don’t know what’s going on exactly.”

“Are you … dating?”

“Dad. He’s hardly a man who’s exclusive.”

“He’s going to be if he’s with you.”

“Dad, please. Don’t make this more embarrassing for me. I don’t know what’s going on, but we’ve been spending time together and…”

I didn’t know how to further explain.

“Are you sleeping with him?”

“Dad,” I said sternly.

He shook his head and ran his fingers through his aging hair.

“I apologize,” he said softly under his breath. He reached for me and hugged me quickly. He wasn’t an affectionate man and the embrace startled me. I stumbled slightly when he let me go.

“Have you been drinking?” he asked without accusation. I shook my head in a negative response.

“Be careful,” he warned. “This isn’t progressing like I planned.”

I looked at my father quizzically, and was about to ask for answers, when Arturo suddenly appeared behind Dad, a third champagne glass in his hand.

“Leo,” he said, presenting my father with champagne. He returned my glass to me after topping it off and raised his own.

“Twenty-six,” he began, “to another year, may the next be as amazing as the past few weeks.” He sipped his drink, looking at my father over the brim of his glass. I noticed my father down his champagne in one long swallow.