Page 13 of Tell Me What You Want

“Nooooooo,” I respond too effusively. “But I ...”

“I get it. I understand. You’re more into conventional sex, right?”

Like a fool, I nod.

He turns my face so I’ll look at the trio; they continue with their ardent game.

“They’re also into conventional sex,” he says. “It’s just that now and again they play and experiment with different things. It really doesn’t turn you on?”

I don’t want to take my eyes off them. I can see how much that woman is enjoying herself, and I unwittingly groan. I’m aroused.

“No ... I ...,” I respond.

“Does it make you uncomfortable to talk about sex?”

I’m flabbergasted.

“Your eyes betray agitation, but your lips proclaim desire,” he insists. “You can’t deny that what you’re seeing makes you hot, right?”

I don’t respond. I refuse to.

“You’ll have a great time, Jude,” Eric whispers in my ear. “I’ll take care of all your needs. All you have to do is ask.”

Like a fool, I nod again. Never in my life would I have imagined something like this. I’m so inflamed, I’m ashamed to admit it. The place, the moment, and the man next to me make it impossible to think straight.

“In these especially reserved rooms, whoever wants to can have an exquisite meal and then ... something else. Only a select group of people has access to these. So if you want to play after dinner, all you have to do is push that button, and the glass partitions disappear.”

Suddenly, I’m beyond nervous. I don’t want any of what he’s proposing. I try to get up, but Eric doesn’t let me move.

“I want to leave,” I whisper, my breathing hard and fast.

“It’s only eleven.”

“I don’t care ... I want to go.”

“Why, Jude?” When I don’t respond, he adds, “I think I remember your saying you were willing to do whatever I wanted.”

“I wasn’t referring to that. I ... I don’t do those things.”

Holding me even tighter, he forces me to look at him.

“You might surprise yourself if you tried it,” he murmurs as his eyes stare into mine.

“Eric, I don’t ...”

“Jude, sex is a fun game. You just have to dare to experiment.”

I shake my head. A prisoner of my nerves. I don’t want to experiment. The conventional sex I know is more than enough. After a few more seconds that seem like an eternity, Eric presses the buttons and the moans disappear. A few more seconds and the glass turns dark again. The curtains fall.

“Thank you,” I whimper.

He lifts me off his lap and looks at me gravely.

“C’mon, Jude. I’ll take you home.” Half an hour later and after a strange but not uncomfortable silence, broken only by his phone conversation with some woman, we finally turn onto my street. He exits the car and comes in with me. He’s cold and distant again. He accompanies me in the elevator. When we get to my door, I want to ask him in, but he doesn’t let me.

“It was a very pleasant dinner, Ms.Flores,” he says. “Thank you for your company.”

Then he kisses my hand and leaves. I’m Ms.Flores again?

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