Page 3 of Jonah Noble - Anticipation Is Everything (Interview With a Master 2.5)

“It was when I was eighteen,” Leticia said as she began to quickly recount the details. “I was at my girlfriend’s house for the weekend. I woke up in the middle of the night and found her with her lover in her parent’s bedroom. They were having sex – and I stood in the doorway and watched it all.”

I remembered suddenly, and I sat up with a dawning sense of understanding.

“Yes,” I said. “It’s coming back to me.”

Leticia nodded. “I watched them having sex, and they put on a show because they knew I was watching. They wanted me to watch them. It was as arousing for them as it was for me. They even pushed the door wide open so I could have a better view and invited me to join them… which I did not.”

“But you still had an orgasm.”

“Yes,” Leticia blushed suddenly. “I had an orgasm just from watching them.”

We fell silent for a long moment. Leticia was perhaps reliving that night from so long ago. I was suddenly seeing the pieces of the puzzle that was Leticia falling into place.

“Do you remember anything else about the first time I interviewed you?” she asked softly. “Do you recall the conversation after I told you about that encounter?”

“No,” I admitted with a sound of apology.

“You asked me if I still think about that night,” Leticia said, then turned her face to mine and stared deeply into my eyes with a desperate kind of plea for me to understand. “And I answered you,” she went on. “I told you I still think about that experience. Every. Single. Day.”

I sat back as everything suddenly began to make sense, but through the thinning haze, Leticia was still talking.

“I think it’s in my nature,” Leticia shrugged. “My fantasies all revolve around that night. If I don’t recall that particular incident, then the things I do think about all revolve around me being a spectator – watching the sexual exploits of others through a door, or a window… or like images on a screen,” she shrugged her shoulders and let out a long sigh that sounded like relief – like the lifting of some heavy burden. “It’s probably why I became a journalist,” she added. “My job is all about observing – watching and recording the lives and incidents of others.”

I reached out at last and took Leticia’s hand. It was cold, her fingers trembling.

“I understand,” I said gravely. “And it makes sense. We are the product of our experiences,” I agreed. I was sad because I realized Leticia and I were divided by a sexual incompatibility that I saw no way to bridge. “It seems we have a problem…”

Leticia sat stiffly for long seconds. The empty house seemed to press in around us. Her eyes were closed, and her expression grim. Her brow furrowed with a crease of resolve. She opened her eyes slowly, like she was waking from a nightmare, relieved that the fears she had dreamed were not reality, and then she fixed her gaze on me with a stubborn determination.

“It’s either a problem… or an opportunity,” she said. “It’s going to depend on how we both decide to look at it.”

* * *

I flashed Leticia a wild look, and then studied her face carefully, as if it were something new and intriguing to be explored. Her gaze was steady but behind her eyes swirled a smoke of emotion and nervousness.

“What do you mean?” I asked, muttering each word with exaggerated care.

Leticia arched her eyebrows for a wicked instant, and then the demure mask she normally wore slipped back over her features.

“It’s late, Jonah,” she pleaded wearily. “And this is something new for you to think about,” she squeezed my hand. “I’ve been struggling with these thoughts for months – twisting and turning, looking for ways we can make this relationship work without losing the essence of what makes you the man you are, and me the woman that I am. Why don’t we sleep on it, and then we can talk again tomorrow?”

She got to her feet quickly and her hand slipped from mine. She stood, arching her back as though stretching after a long drive over a thousand miles of bad road. Her breasts pressed against the fabric of her sweater. She had her head thrown back, her face lifted to the ceiling with her eyes closed. She yawned dramatically and then drifted towards the staircase. When she reached the banister she cast me a sultry look back over her shoulder.

“Are you coming up to bed?”

* * *

I rose from out of a dream into a wakefulness swirling with exquisite sensations. I lay, bewildered for an instant, and then blinked my eyes open. It was utterly dark, but I could see the silhouette of Leticia propped on her knees beside my head. She was leaning over me – and then I realized with a start what was happening.

Her tongue flickered low across my naked abdomen and then with a single lunge, she took me into the warm wetness of her hungry mouth. I heard her moan, a whimper that sounded like contentment, and then I felt the instinctive response of my own body as I hardened between her lips.

“What are you doing?” I hissed in surprise.

Leticia let me slide from her mouth and stroked me lightly with her hand. “I would have thought that was obvious,” she whispered in the darkness, wicked mischief in her voice. She arched her back so that I felt her nipples brush against my abdomen, and then dipped her head back over the top of my shaft so that I could feel the ravenous swirl of her tongue.

“Why?” I persisted. It was out of the ordinary for Leticia to behave this way.

Leticia didn’t answer. I felt the wetness of her lips slide back down over me, and then the hot moist grip of her mouth once more.

I felt myself swelling, felt the flutter of her tongue along the underside of my shaft as she massaged the ridges and veins of my cock. I grunted, felt my breath seize in my chest and the start of my quickening pulse. I reached up and ran my hand along her naked back, tracing the shape of her body until my fingers dipped between the cleft of her bottom and she shuffled her knees wider on the mattress like an invitation.

My fingers brushed the wetness of her and I heard Leticia sigh and then her body seemed to go soft. My cunning fingers found the hard little nub of her clit and she pushed back instinctively, craving my touch. I feathered my palm lightly between her thighs until she began rocking her hips and the play of her mouth up and down the length of my shaft became erratic as her own arousal overwhelmed her.

“Yes!” she hissed. “God, yes, Jonah!” She went stiff for a moment and I saw her throw back her head, the silhouette of her outlined against pale moonlight through the big bedroom window. I saw the long perfect line of her throat and the pointed curve of her breasts. One of my fingers dipped inside her and Leticia gave a gurgling shudder that sounded like a growl.

“What have you been thinking about?” I growled.

Leticia rocked her hips, drawing the press of my finger more deeply inside of her. I heard a ragged rasp of her excitement and then the silence of her holding her breath. She was stroking me slowly, her focus suddenly on her own need.

“I couldn’t sleep,” Leticia muttered.

“So what have you been thinking about?” my tone became more demanding. Leticia’s head fell forward and I felt the tickle of her hair as it fell between my thighs. Her body was clenching and then going soft as if she were moving to some primal rhythm. She tried to take me back into her mouth but I withdrew my finger like a threat.

“What have you been thinking about?” I insisted. Leticia whimpered, suddenly deprived of the thrust of my fingers. She swayed back with her hips to keep contact. I flicked my touch across her clit and she seemed to fold at the waist as if her muscles had turned to melted wax.

“You!” she hissed. The sound of her voice was strained, as though she spoke through clenched teeth. I felt the grip of her hand around my length pulse tight and then release, like she was mirroring the clenching rhythm of h

er own body.

“What am I doing in your fantasy?” I asked carefully.

Leticia stayed silent. Her body was trembling, her skin seeming to spark with the fire of her passion. I slid my finger deep inside her and she began to undulate. She sobbed and her arms went weak. Her upper body collapsed until her cheek was resting on my torso, her hot breath coming in ragged pants against the pulsing flex of my cock between her fingertips.

“You’re training a woman – teaching her how to submit to you,” Leticia confessed. “It’s the same…” she cut the words off suddenly with a gasp that became a low throaty moan as I slid a second finger inside her.

“The same what?” I was relentless now. Leticia began to push back against me until my fingers could go no deeper and the palm of my hand was a tease against her clit.

“The same fantasy I’ve been having for months!” the words when they came were tortured by her lust and her embarrassment.

“And this arouses you?”

“Yes,” Leticia cried out, and then changed to a small soft voice that I barely heard, “because I’m in the room too. I’m watching you both.”

Leticia’s sudden orgasm seemed to wrench her in half. Her knees collapsed and she writhed on the bed as her muscles clenched fiercely around my thrusting fingers. She groaned and then cried out again – a sound that was unmistakable and yet with no coherent form. It was the sound of her release, a shattering climax that left her broken and gasping, breathless and trembling.

I said nothing.

I lay in the darkness, Leticia close beside me, the scent of her arousal like a perfume that hung on the air. She was croaking gulps of air, the sound of her ragged breath rattling in her throat as she came down from the perilous peak of pleasure, drifting back to earth like a fallen leaf.

Leticia had told me everything she had been thinking – told me in perhaps the only way she knew how for I doubted she would ever have the resolve and nerve to tell me the dark depths of her fantasies through reasoned conversation.

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