Page 10 of In Love With a Master (Interview With a Master 2)

I turned the tap on, washed my hands in hot water, then turned the tap off and came back into the hallway, quietly satisfied. Leticia was just ending her call. She threw the phone down with a frustrated huff and took a long, deep breath to calm herself.

“Problem?” I asked as we met in the middle of the living room floor.

Leticia sighed and then shook her head. “Not really,” she said. “That was the newspaper editor. He wanted me to give him an idea of the word count for the interviews.”

“He is a bit premature, isn’t he? We haven’t even begun the interviews.”

Leticia nodded her head. “That’s what I was trying to explain to him. He wants me down at the newspaper’s office before the end of the week with a draft of the articles.”

I nodded. “Well, we knew he would want his pound of flesh for you to take three months leave,” I said flatly. “The sooner we get these interviews done, the sooner we can be left alone to our own wicked devices.”

Leticia started to smile. “They are your wicked devices, mister.”

She threw her arms around my neck, rose up on tiptoes, and we kissed. There were still traces of passion on Leticia’s lips, lingering like tendrils of smoke long after the fire had burned out. She leaned back within my arms and her eyes searched my face with an expression of awe or maybe wonder.

“Jonah… last night…” Leticia shook her head slowly, searching for the words, “What you made me feel on the phone… that… that was – ”

“ – Just the beginning,” I cut her off smoothly.

My arms were wrapped loosely around Leticia’s waist. She was wearing tight, blue denim jeans and a loose-fitting grey blouse that had some kind of crazy pattern printed onto the front. The sleeves of the top had been cut off and gaped around the top of her arms. I slid my hands down over her hips and hooked my thumbs into the waistband of her pants.

Leticia felt the glide of my hands and arched her back, like a cat responding to a caress.

“When a man hooks his thumbs into the front of his jeans it is actually a very powerful body language message,” I explained casually. “Subconsciously what he is doing with his other fingers is pointing at his crotch. What the man is actually saying through his body is that he is on the prowl.”

Leticia made a soft humming noise in the back of her throat. She hooded her eyes seductively. “Well,” she said, her voice soft and dreamlike. “You learn something every day…”

I smiled into her eyes. “More than one thing,” I promised. “Remember what I told you last night in the training room. The next time we were alone the pleasure would be mine,” I reminded her. I slid my hands around to the front of her jeans and then very gently cupped her sex. Leticia rocked her hips, the movement an instinctive reflex of arousal. “Before we finish here today, you will have learnt much more about sex than just some simple body language knowledge.”

Leticia’s phone rang again, breaking the spell of intimacy. I felt her go stiff within my embrace. She sighed. “I need to get that.”

She slid out of my arms and turned to snatch up the phone. I shrugged off my jacket and hung it over the back of a chair, then loosened my tie an inch and unfastened the top button of my shirt. I had a feeling this was going to be a long day.

I caught snatches of Leticia’s conversation – brief exchanges. Leticia dropped onto the sofa with the phone pressed to her ear and her hair fell forward across her face. I guessed by the tone of her voice that it was her editor again. Leticia’s tone was polite and restrained. She chopped at the air, using gestures to put emphasis and animation into her words. She ended the call and buried the phone deep beneath a sofa cushion.

“That was the office again,” Leticia swept the hair from her face with the back of her hand. “They want the interview about anticipation first,” she explained. “The boss wants to make that the feature piece, and run the other two articles around it.”

I nodded. “Then let’s get started,” I said. “The sooner we get this down on paper, then the sooner I can get you down on your knees.”

Leticia gave me a coy smile of invitation and then became business-like. There was a notepad and pen on the coffee table. She snatched them up and then settled herself comfortably, curling her long legs beneath her. She stared up at me, pen poised, with a look of expectation.

I thrust my hands deep into my pockets and stood silently for long seconds, my shoulders hunched, my eyes closed, forcing myself to concentrate.

I began.

“The secret to love making is anticipation,” I explained carefully. “Anticipation… is everything. It transforms a simple setting, it transcends all insecurities and uncertainties – anticipation allows a man to create exquisite moments of sexual tension by drawing out the expected until it becomes something remarkable and surprising. Does that make sense?”

“No.”

I sighed, and then smiled. I pulled my hands from my trousers and rubbed at my chin for a thoughtful moment. Leticia was a small town girl with little experience in life. I had to remember that.

“When I am making love to a woman, I want to keep her on edge. I want her whole body to come alive to my touch. I want to feel the fire just below her skin so that each and every caress is something special – something exquisite,” I began to explain. “Most men are clumsy and heavy handed. They grip, they don’t touch. They squeeze, rather than arouse. They push, rather than stroke. To tantalize a woman in a truly erotic way, a man’s hands can never be quite still, nor can he ever touch a woman in the same way twice.” I paused for a moment. I stared at Leticia but without really seeing her. My mind was focused and sharp. I narrowed my eyes.

“Imagine a woman’s body as a beautiful musical instrument – a violin – because that’s exactly how I see you,” I said. “In the hands of someone who does not appreciate or understand music, the instrument is just a lump of wood, but in the hands of a skilled musician who knows how to coax the sweetest notes, that violin becomes something capable of the most beautiful music, the most moving sounds, the most uplifting melody.”

My eyes became focused on Leticia again. She was writing furiously, her hand racing across the page. I waited until she looked up at me, pen poised.

“Did you get all that?”

“Yes.”

“Does that help explain?”

Leticia shook her head. “Not really…”

I sighed and thought for a moment until I had a wicked flash of inspiration. “Let me demonstrate the concept of anticipation in a way you can’t possibly mistake,” I said. “Stand up and unbutton your blouse.”

Leticia’s eyes fluttered, then narrowed, and then became big again.

“Trust me,” I said softly.

She nodded and obediently began to unfasten the buttons of her blouse. The fabric fell open like a silk curtain – I could see the pink, soft lace of her bra and the dark shadow of her nipples captured and held within the lingerie.

“Take it off.”

Leticia paused uncertainly and then held her breath and slid the blouse off her shoulders. She straightened her back and the movement of her body gave the mounds of her breasts a small uplifted swell.

“Now close your eyes.”

I circled around behind her, standing very close so that she could sense the heat and presence of me. Then I came back to stand before her.

“Anticipation takes the expected and elevates it to the remarkable – the sensual,” I repeated. “Now, focus on the touch of my fingers.”

Leticia took a tremulous breath and I felt her whole body give a nervous little shudder. She exhaled in a long, slow gasp.

I put my finger on the point of her shoulder and slid it lazily down her forearm and back up to her shoulder. She shivered, and a rash of goosebumps sprung up across her flesh. I kept my finger connected to her skin, now drawing it down and across her chest, circling in slow motions, but moving inexorably closer to the rising swell of her breasts. Leticia’s breathing became more he

---