Page 11 of Tell Me What You Want

Zimmerman tilts his head.

“Jude, I don’t know you well, but there’s a rash breaking out all over your neck,” he says, surprising me. “What’s going on?”

“I can’t help it.” Oh, this Mr.Zimmerman, nothing gets by him. “The truth?”

“Always,” he insists.

“I don’t really like wine. And I’m dying for a cold Coke.”

Mouth agape and quite amused, he looks at me as if I’d just saidTeletubbiesis my favorite TV show and SpongeBob SquarePants is my boyfriend.

“Do it for me and just taste it. If you don’t like it, of course, I’ll get you a Coke.”

I taste it immediately.

“Well?” he asks without taking his penetrating eyes off me.

“Sumptuous. Better than I would have thought.”

“Shall I get you that Coke?”

I shake my head. In that instant, the curtain opens again to reveal two waiters with various dishes.

“I took the liberty of ordering for both of us. Is that OK?”

I nod. I don’t really have a choice. And then, as we chat, I savor an exquisite shrimp cocktail, a fine eggplant pâté, and, afterward, a delicious salmon à l’orange.

That’s when I become aware of an orange light blinking on the right side of the room.

“What’s that?”

“Maybe I’ll show it to you after dessert.”

That piques my interest, and I take another sip of wine, which certainly tastes better each time.

When I finish my salmon, the waiters come in and take the plates. Seconds later, another waiter leaves a slice of chocolate torte, accompanied by a pink ball, right before me.

“Mmm, delicious.” And then I see he hasn’t been served. “You don’t like dessert?”

He doesn’t answer. Instead, he gets up, takes his chair, and comes to sit by my side. He flusters me. He’s so sexy, it’s impossible not to think about a thousand and one desires in the moment. He picks up the spoon, cuts a piece of the torte, and scoops up some pink ice cream with it.

“Open your mouth.”

I blink, surprised.

“What?”

He doesn’t repeat himself. He lifts the spoon, and I automatically open my mouth. I’m mesmerized. He inserts the spoon very slowly, and I close my lips around it. He gazes at me. I smile bashfully and swallow. I start to say something, but he cuts me off.

“Delicious?”

I nod and he comes closer.

“Can I try it?”

I agree, and to my astonishment, what he tastes are my lips. My mouth. He places his generous lips on mine and savors them. Like he did this morning in the archive room, he advances his tongue first, separates my upper lip, then the lower; then there’s a nibble. Finally, he kisses me, and I close my eyes, ready for more. When I feel his hand on my knee, my breathing hastens, but I don’t move. Slowly, he brings it to my inner thigh and caresses me there. His hand reaches my panties, but he quickly pulls away from me and returns to his position on the chair.

My cheeks are burning. What is happening to me? A kiss and a simple brush of his hand have practically brought me to orgasm. Eric is observing me. I see desire in his eyes.

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