I hear a door open and feel a flood of fresh air surround me. He lowers me directly into a chair. I can hear the noise of the city below and feel the warm humid air on my skin. I imagine the evening is as beautiful as the day was earlier. It feels good to be out of the tense energy of that room. My entire body shudders with relief at this new environment and sense of space around me.
‘Are you cold?’ He is obviously watching me as intently as I had supposed he was. Before I can stop myself, I shake my head, acknowledging his question. So much for ignoring him. I continue to sit as still and straight as possible. I sense that he continues his attempt to decipher my every mood and reaction.
‘Would you like some music, or would you prefer to sit in silence?’ He always had a knack for procuring an answer other than yes or no. I sigh inwardly but don’t answer him. This is his game, his rules, so I assume he will decide.
‘Music it is, then.’
Some light, mellow jazz music instantly commences at the end of his words. I am surprised
— the music sounds live and I tilt my head in the direction of the sound. The music is smooth and melodic, vaguely familiar although I can’t quite place it at this stage. A light aroma teases my olfactory sense and I pause to consider its identity. I can detect wonderfully fresh coriander, chilli, some ginger, perhaps sesame oil. I realise Jeremy is allowing me to smell and absorb one of my favourite Thai dishes. He raises it carefully to my lips, teasing me a little. I let him play his silly games.
‘God, you look so gorgeous sitting here, so beautiful, so vulnerable, so stubborn. The night is spectacular, let me describe it for you. There is a full moon rising from the east, looking magnificent, not a cloud in the sky. The city lights are shining neon everywhere around us. We’re on the rooftop of the hotel, and we are the only guests here, so you don’t need to worry about anyone recognising us. The table has been set simply but is sophisticated, like you. I have ordered your favourite foods, your favourite wine, your favourite music. We are finally able to share these things in style with no expense spared. Alexa, I have longed for this moment with you and it is even more perfect in reality. I have you all to myself. You sitting there so still, bound and blind, being so brave, it is just melting my heart. I would release your wrists, but the vision of you sitting before me like this is giving me such a surprising hard on, I am selfishly savouring the moment a little longer.’
His words leave me speechless, my body responding as it would to his touch. I hear music floating around my ears.
‘May I have this dance?’ It appears to be a rhetorical question as I am escorted to my feet.
He releases my wrists from behind my back only to refasten them together around his neck. It seems as if I’ll be dancing regardless. Does he honestly think I’m going to run away from a high-rise rooftop when I’m blind? The thought flitters flippantly through my mind … My brain finally recognises the riff that has been playing since our arrival. His hips start to move, I clumsily move with him, I don’t have much choice. He holds me close to him until we gain some form of synchronicity. He places my head on his shoulder and I can feel the smooth fibres of his shirt and, behind that, the heat from his chest. I’m intrigued by the specific choice of the song. I don’t resist the rhythm of his body. I inhale. I exhale. Words float into the music that he knows I love.
The saxophone, guitar, drums and percussion caress away the anxiety I experienced before, and I effortlessly glide in his arms as he leads me confidently around the dance floor. Jeremy carefully and skilfully dissolves my tension until I am literally melting into his arms. His touch is exquisite, not too much, not too little. The sexual chemistry cascading over our bodies is once again impossible to ignore.
We dance, we eat, we drink, we talk, we kiss, we laugh.
I am blind but no longer bound.
I allow myself to compartmentalise any fear I felt downstairs into a distant, shrunken corner of my mind. Maybe tonight is as much for him as it is for me, maybe it is about us, I don’t know.
Finally the scales tip and I can say I am here now more by choice, rather than force. After feeding me dessert, an extravaganza of taste sensations: smooth, silky chocolate ganache, with a hint of something — orange perhaps or some other citrus — in crisp, buttery pastry, accompanied by a sticky dessert wine. I am floating on air.
‘Alex, would you sing for me, while we have the band still with us?’
I smile at his question. ‘It’s been years since I have sung anything.’
‘Please, it is only us. Any song you choose. There is a guitar here for you.’
Jeremy used to love listening to my girlfriend Amy and I jam together on rainy Sunday afternoons. I was embarrassed at first but we became used to his presence on these occasions.
Even though I have consumed a considerable amount of alcohol since my arrival, I’m surprised that I feel only a little tipsy, not drunk. Perhaps more hours have passed than I realise, or the degree of sheer emotion and nervous energy scorching through my body has burned off the alcohol. The idea of doing something I haven’t done for years suddenly appeals to me.
‘Why not? Just one song.’
He sounds surprised and excited that I agree so readily. I want to keep the mood this way rather than revert back to my previous antagonism. I think of the words of the songs we have just been dancing to and wonder what our relationship is really about, what it means to him? I remember a song we sang and which he used to love to accompany us with improvised percussion on saucepan lids. It was about best friends and was always special between us.
Jeremy assists me with the guitar and I ask him to leave me with the band.
‘I’ll wait by the table. Enjoy!’ he encourages, as he kisses me on the cheek. It takes me a little while to get comfortable with the guitar and establish the right key. My fingertips have softened over the years from lack of playing; the strings feel raw and hard against them as I adjust to the sensation and slide my hand along the neck of the guitar. I have to go on feel rather than sight but thankfully I know the words and chords by heart. I begin …
A tear trickles out of my left eye as I finish the song to resounding applause from the band.
It felt incredible, to sing again, to play, to do something I thought I’d forgotten. I loved it! I’m euphoric as I blindly thank the band for the opportunity and they help me to put the guitar down. I can’t help but consider I would never have done this if I could see … As I stand up Jeremy swoops in to give me an all-encompassing hug.
‘That was fantastic. You were amazing!’ He pauses. ‘Is that emotion I detect on your cheek, Dr Blake?’
‘I think I found my voice again.’ I wonder why I use these words.
Another drop of emotion finds its way from my eye to my cheek. I can’t understand why I am feeling this way but singing and playing somehow strikes a chord in me, one that hasn’t been accessed for many years. I remember reading once that it was important to understand where your tears come from as they have a direct connection to your heart.
What is he doing to me? Another layer removed.
Jeremy lowers his lips to mine and before I can say anything, he kisses me so exquisitely and delicately, the effect so heavenly, that the feeling and memory will be etched in my psyche forever.
Our night on the rooftop comes to a close as I hear the members of the band pack up and say their goodbyes. I feel like I have been on a roller-coaster from the second I arrived in the hotel foyer. I have never experienced such intense emotions in such a whirlwind period of time. I wallow in the sensation of the warm, gentle breeze and relax in Jeremy’s arms. To be honest, I feel exhausted fighting him and exhilarated being so close to him. Maybe I should just let go, like he wants me to. What would be the worst that could happen? He’d never put our professional reputations at risk, it means too much to him. And apart from that, I want to be with Jeremy.
Mother, woman, wife, academic, all parts of me want Jeremy, have always wanted him if I’m completely
honest with myself, and my body certainly requires no rationalisation. I desperately want to prolong the perfection of the moment we are sharing.
I am considerably calmer now. The ambience of the music, the singing, dancing, dining, kissing, and maybe even the darkness — though I’d never dare admit it — is simply intoxicating, like floating on air. I feel a warm, light energy within me, a sparkling essence that I don’t believe I have experienced before. It is an unnatural sensation for me, though I happily absorb its presence.
‘What are you thinking right now?’ Jeremy asks as he plays with my hands and lightly places his thumb over my bottom lip. I can tell he is in a playful mood.
I answer him directly. ‘I’m thinking I want you, right now.’
‘Oh, really?’ He laughs. ‘And do you think you can have me?’
‘Mmm, yes, actually I do, now that I have my hands back.’
I find his belt and unbuckle it, quickly undoing his fly and sliding his trousers down over his firm, round butt cheeks.
‘Do you need any assistance?’
‘I may not be able to see, Jeremy, but I know what I’m looking for.’
I sense his smile as I feel the considerable bulge rising from inside his underpants. I play a little before removing the obstacle they present. My palms longingly stroke the flesh of his cock, my fingers desperate to knead his balls. He groans in unison with my touch.
‘You still like it like this, after all these years?’ I inquire.
‘Some things never change.’
I lower myself to my knees, continue fondling his balls while firming my grip on the base of his penis and ever so gently dart my tongue back and forth on his tip, eliciting a slick of salty juice that casually cascades over his rim, and pause. His hands have caressed my hair until this point; now he firmly holds my head — for balance? From need? I steady myself with my palms gripping his firm, muscled buttocks and I continue to tease, taking a little more of him in my mouth, stroke by stroke. My tongue loses its focus and becomes hungry for him. My mouth is all-encompassing, his length teases the back of my throat and I readily welcome him in, his smooth, hard cock filling my mouth as I take him deeper and deeper.
I love doing this to him and I can’t deny the burning flame it ignites between my thighs as I continue to suck, now long, deep and strong. Jeremy groans loudly and I know he is close, nearly there. I ease off a little, playing, revelling in his need for me, before thrusting him wholly into the back of my throat and wrapping my lips around his base. I feel the throbbing before the explosion that almost comes into my mouth. At the last second, I pull my mouth away, still maintaining my grip on his balls. He convulses at his climax, while his liquid must be landing somewhere over my shoulder. I remain kneeling until he recovers and returns to reality and lightly kiss his tip before standing, licking the remaining residue. His breathing is heavy, uneven.
‘Why do you always pull out at the last minute? I would love you to swallow.’
‘You know I don’t like it.’
‘Have you ever tried?’
‘Not exactly, and I’m not planning to.’
‘So it’s not just me.’
‘No, not just you, Jeremy. It’s just not something I do.’
‘But it feels so unbelievable when you do everything else. It would be heaven if you swallowed.’ Ah, here is an opportunity; I wonder whether he is willing to negotiate.
‘Would you give me my vision back, if I said I’d swallow?’ I tease.
‘Ah, as tempting as that would be … well, let’s just say I’m loving you blind.’
‘Well, here we have an impasse,’ I conclude.
He kisses my mouth, long and deep as his hand creeps underneath my dress, finding and fondling my inner lips. His fingers begin to explore, to probe. I sigh, ensuring my hands are entwined around his neck, trying to resist the temptation to join him.
His fingers continue their magic and my legs loosen their grip and stability on the rooftop.
‘You will take me wholly and completely that way one day,’ he states with confidence.
‘We’ll have to see about that,’ I retort while sighing, attempting to stay upright.
‘Indeed we will.’ He laughs, as he eases his fingers from their mission and once again scoops me off my feet and carries me back to the room.
My dress is discarded before I register its removal and his fingers resume their conquest with greater intensity than where they left off on the rooftop. Jeremy’s skill and precision is even more highly tuned than I recollect. Every shred of concentration leaves my mind and my moans echo within the silence of the room. As my brain has exhausted itself in its attempts to grasp the reality of the past few hours, my body greedily embraces the physical experience on offer.
Eventually, I fall asleep, warmly snuggling into Jeremy’s embrace. A deep, calm, strangely gratifying sleep.
There is a strange sensation on my feet. I try to push it away, dream it away, but it is like an itch I can’t get rid of. What is it? Someone? Something? I roll over trying to ignore whatever it is but this persistent tinkering with my feet is relentless.
Damn it, it’s still there … a finger?
No, too hard.
A brush? No.
A feather perhaps? Possibly.
These silly thoughts are making me lose my slumber. It is still dark so no need to wake up yet. I try kicking it away this time, ah yes, that works. I settle back into the gorgeous softness of the bed, crisp sheets and feathery pillow. Although, very different from my own. The thought makes my mind consider where I am. No, I think, as weird memories flood my mind, it must have been a really, really bizarre dream … My hand reaches out, wondering whether I will confirm a presence on the bed next to me. Nothing. No one. I have no idea how long I have been sleeping when suddenly it hits me. Where I am and who I’m with.
Reality strikes. I try to prise open my eyes, momentarily forgetting my current situation and hesitate before touching the blindfold, the memory of the same action from last night and the repercussions that followed preventing me from doing so. This was no dream and from what I understand, for me at least, it will be dark both night and day.
The persistent aggravation at my feet recommences, meandering its way past my ankles, along my lower leg, and toward my knee. A very ticklish spot for me, it has always been intolerable to be tickled there. I sit up, fully alert.
‘Hello there.’ Jeremy’s voice. Definitely not a dream.
I laugh nervously. ‘Hello there. How long have I been asleep?’
‘You ask a question in the first seconds of waking up. Be a good girl for me, Alex. No questions. Please just lie back down and keep quiet.’
I obey. I don’t want to argue. I feel the sheet being whisked off the bed, as I lie there, exposed, naked. The feathers continue their journey, making me squirm as they tease their way past my bellybutton to my nipples. I don’t need to see them to know how instantly they respond to this ticklish touch.
‘My body betrays me so easily,’ I whisper almost to myself.
‘It always has; when will you start listening to it?’
I ponder the question.
‘Please raise your arms above your head and keep them there.’ I do what I am told, his direct instructions for some reason becoming easier to follow as my mind flitters off on other tangents. The feathers play with my arms, my face, my neck. Being blindfolded, naked, and having feathers gently and carefully caressing my body without any idea as to where they could land is like nothing I have ever experienced. Their lightness is like butterflies fluttering in a gentle breeze, barely touching my skin, and the ever-so-mild sensation they deliver on contact sends shivers and goosebumps all over my body.
‘Please part your legs,’ Jeremy orders politely. Whether it is years of defensive or protective sexual behaviour I’m not sure, but these words immediately cause my legs to press firmly together and my hands lower themselves from above my head to cover my pubis.
‘Inte
resting …’ Jeremy murmurs. The feathers stop their crusade and nothing else is said. I can feel him waiting for my next reaction. My arms slowly return to their original position above my head.
Continued silence. My vulva pulses with so much anticipation I am scared to part my legs in case the throbbing looks as obvious to him as it feels to me. As if it wouldn’t be, I reprimand myself.
‘I’ll ask one more time, please open your legs.’
I sigh, embarrassed but enormously aroused. I slowly inch my thighs apart.
‘Further, please.’ His voice is adamant. God, he really has to make a point of things. I bend my knees as I open wider for him, the throbbing within me deepening with anticipation. I try not to move as the tickling recommences, but it is exceptionally difficult. I begin to wriggle and squirm, attempting to anticipate his next focus point on my body. An impossible task, but I manage to maintain my overall position as best I can. The tickling is insistent, teasing, yet so light, almost caressing, but not quite. My body yearns for more, longing for Jeremy’s touch. In all this time his skin never touches my body, not once. I am literally craving him. My breath grows shallow. How much longer can he keep this going? I can’t stand it. I need more pressure, more something, anything. I can’t help but lower my hands to my breasts as my back arches with the continuing sensation. I am hungry for him to be inside me, desperate for his physical touch. His patience is beyond what my body can bear and he knows it. He always loved testing my limits, pushing my boundaries further than I ever thought possible.
‘Jeremy.’ I call his name as I reach out for him.
‘Patience, sweetheart, patience. Until you lie completely still and do exactly as I ask, this will continue and relief will elude you. The more disciplined you are, the greater the reward.’
‘Oh, god,’ I groan, knowing all too well he is completely serious. His ability to tease, tickle and torment every inch of my body has been tried and tested on many occasions throughout our history. I sigh in utter frustration. I am too far gone to say no and he knows only too well I am craving release. I summon all my ‘inner zen’ to lie still, in the position he wants me in and accept the relentless torment without further protest or complaint. I try to count backwards from 100 and lose count as I arrive rapidly at eighty-nine, unable to focus my mind.