Giuliana was marking something when he got in. Felix had driven back to the apartment by one of those freak journeys, a miracle where he couldn’t actually remember long stretches of the road. Nor could he remember what he had been thinking about. It unnerved him. It also made him aroused.
“What the hell,” she said as his arms went around her.
“Is it a bad time?”
“It’s not that.”
He heard her voice change and she was pushing the papers and her empty cup away. He slid his hands under her T-shirt, and felt the dampness by her armpits.
“Jesus,” she murmured. “You’re hardly in the door.”
“Pretty close. Come on.”
He covered her mouth with his, and felt her rising from the chair. Her breasts flattened against him and his hand traced her spine up and back to her hips, straining now against her track pants.
“You want me so badly,” he whispered. “I just know it.”
“You goof,” she said.
His hand slid around her and pulled her into him. He felt her hips push back and she settled her crotch with a small movement against him. He thought of her ass, of how she was embarrassed in the beginning always but then gave way and stretched, with that cat smile, her eyes almost closed.
She gave a little sigh and he felt her breath puff onto his ear.
His fingers sought the parted flesh and slid over the hairs there, finding their way to her bone and the soft folds he sought.
“You’re terrible,” she whispered. “What’s gotten into you?”
“It’s called ‘We’re on holiday.’ And you made me do it.”
“Me?”
He raised his arms under the T-shirt and did too as he pulled it over her head.
“No staring,” she whispered, but her eyes were almost closed already.
“Will if I want.”
His breath was coming out in short deep gusts now. She held her arms behind her head and opened her eyes.
“Not fair,” she said. “You, you first.”
He tried to keep his eyes on hers while he got his clothes off.
He almost lost his balance with the first leg of his pants.
“How long have you been walking around with that?”
“With what?”
She threw her arms down and lifted the band of his underpants. Then she dropped to one knee to draw them down. Before she had reached his knee, she had grabbed at him.
“No,” he said, lying. “No.”
He felt her teeth settle in, leave and settle in again.
“No, Giuliana?”
She lifted her head, and she slid back on the carpet and kicked off her pants. Her scent reached him and seemed to envelop him, and he stared at her bush as her legs went up, until the cleft appeared. She pulled the last leg off her foot and her hand reached for her crotch.
“Is that what’s on your mind?”
He tried to nod but the muscles in his neck were so tight that he shuddered instead. She was staring at him and the smile was gone. Her hips made a small, sliding movement.
“Let me,” he said. It came out as a croak.
“Let you what?” she whispered. “What should I let you do?”
“Let me do it for you. Come on.”
Her eyelids almost closed.
“Tell me what you want to do.”
He stepped out of his underpants, his penis giving a spasm. His belly contracted in a shiver. Her forefinger had disappeared, he saw.
There was a roaring in his ears, like he was underwater.
He got down on his knees. She reached a leg around him.
“Let me.”
“I haven’t had my shower,” she said.
It was the old fake, and he’d guessed from the start that she’d say it. It was the same way she said her ass was too big, or that her boobs wouldn’t ever go out on a topless beach. It was to dare herself, and him.
He stilled her hand, drew it away. Her hair was like breath on his face, and the soft tissue that met his mouth seemed to dissolve.
She sighed, and seemed to want to draw back. He pulled her more to him until at last he felt her hips begin to move, and to push gently against him.
“You,” she said in a clear voice. “I want to.”
He slowed, and raised his head. Her face was flushed and strange.
“Lie,” she said, turning, and drew up her leg.
“I don’t,” he tried.
“I know I know,” she said, and she pushed against his chest.
She was not tender now. She moved around a lot, tugging and releasing, only to use her tongue in the intervals.
“You should stop,” he said again.
When he felt it, he tried to pull her up.
“Giuliana!”
She pushed at him and then he was lost to the brushing of her hair on his belly. She worked harder, even when he cried out. He tried to sit up again, but then he let go and her mouth clasped around him, and he went still.
Things cascaded through him, an avalanche, as the last tics got weaker. Guilt, some frantic wish he couldn’t pin down, and his senses exploding as everything raced through him, fled, and then crashed over him again.
“Not fair,” he said weakly. “Not fair.”
Then her face was over his. He felt her breasts drag across his chest. She looked at him with an expression that was almost a smile.
“Let me,” he said.
But as he reached for her, she was up.
“We’re not finished,” he called out.
He heard a tap running.
“Be quiet,” she said. “I know. I can’t just get off like that. Not now.”
He listened to the tap water, heard it divert and splash.
When she came back there were water drops on her breasts.
She knelt on the bed and sat back on her legs.
“Let me,” he said. “I want to.”
She smiled now, and it reminded him of how he’d seen a blindman smile.
“I know,” she murmured and let herself be pushed back. “You are so spoiled, kiddie, so spoiled.”