A Lemon Twist

When I was four years old I ate an entire tube of lemon scented Chapstick. I remember it like it was yesterday. My mother needed to cash her paycheck that afternoon. She pulled in to the parking lot of our local Bank of America, parked the station wagon, and told me to wait while she ‘ran in.’ That’s what mothers did back then, they left their small children unattended in cars while they completed errands. Oh, how the times have changed.

It was an opportunity and I seized it. The moment she was out of sight I opened the glove box and grabbed the tiny plastic treasure. I had been told it was not candy, I had been instructed on how to apply it to my lips, but never to eat it because it only smelled like lemons. But anyone who has ever licked their lips knows that Chapstick does taste like it smells… well almost. I opened the cap and sampled it, just a nibble, and it was so damned sweet. Then I twisted the bottom like my mother had shown me, pushing the warm Chapstick up from the tube. I took a quick bite and then another. It was soft and tasty just like candy and I felt so sly. I hid the empty container under the seat of the car. I felt like a criminal mastermind outwitting the police, I was unstoppable. If my mother ever found it she didn’t say a word.

I’ve always been naughty, but only a bit. Always broken the rules and bent the truth, but never out of malice. I’m just self-involved. I simply want what I want and I don’t see why I shouldn’t have it. No means: not now, not yet, not here, not until, or unless and then—yes. I’m the villain in this story. I will cheat and I will lie, but you will forgive me my transgressions because secretly you wish the rules didn’t apply to you either.

I met Hugh at a low-budget performance of Julius Caesar put on by a bunch of college students in a tiny black box theater. The theatre is a great place to meet aspiring actors, out of work stan-up comedians, and lonely souls craving basic human connection. It was a crisp fall night in a gentrified part of the city. You know the kind of neighborhoods where the houses start at a million but the artists have clung to the old cafes and run-down art spaces, for now. The kind of neighborhood we all wish we lived in, with great architecture and peek-a-boo views of the ocean. Yeah, you know the kind.

I had arrived early and taken myself out to dinner at a nearby pub and then popped into a café that doubled as a used book store. It was charming and warm inside so I bought myself a coffee and a ratty paperback and took a seat at the window where I could watch the stylish couples walking their dogs. It was also just close enough to the only other patrons in the café to hear their conversation without intruding. As I sat eavesdropping on the old men playing backgammon behind me, I looked out the window and blew on my too-hotout-of-work coffee. A tall man in a classic wool coat strolled into view and I watched as he passed. As my gaze followed him down the sidewalk I noticed the thread holding the back kick pleat of his coat closed had not been cut and it pulled awkwardly with his every step.

Poor sap, I thought sipping my coffee and wondering how long he’d been wearing the coat around with that embarrassing faux pas. Obviously single. I opened my book and resumed eavesdropping while pretending to read. After a couple of minutes I determined these gents were a dead end, just two poor retirees passing the evening for the price of a cup of coffee. I drained my cup and headed for the theater.

Sometimes luck is on your side, or not. The man in the offending coat was queued up in front of me at the ticket counter. I did the only decent thing and offered to cut his flap open with the tiny scissors I carry on my keychain for just such fashion emergencies. The procedure was a success and his flaps swung freely as nature intended. We had a good laugh and went about the business of buying our tickets. My good deed done for the day I settled into a chair in the lobby to await the opening of the auditorium doors. The crowd skewed young and I noticed they were all engrossed by their phone screens, no eye contact, no conversation, tragic. I decided to actually read my newly acquired novel as an act of rebellion. Screw this generation of screen slaves.

I hadn’t gotten far when the man in the coat approached me and asked if he might join me.

“Assuming you are not truly interested in reading that book, but killing time until the doors open,” he said flashing a charming smile. He had also come alone, was also older than this crowd, and I suspected was feeling emboldened by my kindness. I invited him to sit and we began the dance. Hugh.

He told me he was in the film industry and came to these small shows regularly hunting for fresh talent. Ironic as I was also on a hunting expedition of sorts. He was chatting me up, no doubt about it, but he was interesting and intelligent, and made surprisingly good company. When the doors opened we decided to continue our acquaintance and sit together. The conversation was effortless and flowed until the room darkened for the play to begin.

By intermission, I had seen enough of the Avant-Garde production for one night and invited my new friend to escape with me before it was too late. We ducked out of the theater and headed back toward the pub where I had eaten dinner. I ordered my usual, a vodka soda with a twist and an extra slice of lemon. “So it seems less sad,” I said to Hugh with a flirtatious smile. He ordered a pint and we settled into a booth in the back of the bar. Our conversation continued to flow as we drank and laughed—this was going to be too easy—I almost felt bad for the guy. But it was time for me to get to work.

The paperback jutted out of the top of my open handbag. I ran my thumb across the edge of the pages making them flutter like a flipbook. “So, what are you reading?” Hugh asked, right on cue. I could tell he didn’t really care what I was reading as his eyes drifted from my hand up my arm and over to the swell of my breasts beneath my sweater.

“I didn’t get very far because I was so rudely interrupted at the theater…” I teased. “But from what I’ve gathered it is about a couple on holiday fucking around with whips and chains.” Hugh nearly choked on a mouthful of lager. I took my hand off the cover of the book and placed it lightly on his forearm. “I’m sorry,” I said squeezing his arm gently. “I didn’t expect that to offend you-- my taste in books is really broad; sci-fi, fantasy, history, poetry-- I just thought I’d be all alone in my hotel room tonight…” I lied.

Bingo! I could feel his arm tense under my hand as he squirmed ever so slightly in his set. His face flushed noticeably as I watched him over the rim of my glass. I excused myself to the restroom where I checked my reflection in the dirty mirror and reapplied my lemon Chapstick. I licked my lips and I was unstoppable. I ordered us another round on my way back to the table. We enjoyed our drinks and exchanged more witty banter punctuated by laughter and meaningful glances. The foundation had been laid and it was less than twenty minutes before he took my hand in his as we crossed the street towards his place.

Hugh’s house was everything I had expected from our conversation. Large west-facing windows that surely offered views of the water during the day, tasteful décor, meticulously clean, and lonely. There was a smattering of family pictures, mostly his kids, but no kids lived here, that was obvious. We left our jackets and our shoes in the entry and I set my purse down on the kitchen counter as he led me by the hand. We passed empty “guest” rooms decorated to welcome his family home, but I doubted they visited often, the rooms felt staged. I wondered how long they had been out of the house… were they young adults living on their own now, or did their mother take them after the divorce? Was it messy? I wasn’t fool enough to ask out loud, no reason to shift the mood.

He seemed to gain confidence as we entered his bedroom, like he had reached his safe place and could stand a little taller. He turned to face me for the first time since entering the house and I suddenly felt exposed. He took his time, really looking at me, taking me in with his eyes. It wasn’t warm out and my thin sweater clung to my chest revealing my erect nipples. His eyes lingered for a moment so I removed my sweater and dropped it to the floor at my feet. He took a step closer to me and placed his hand gently on the curve of my waist. I took his other hand and placed his open palm on my black lace bra. He looked into my eyes with an expression of such open wonder and gratitude that I momentarily lost myself, lost sight of the objective. I cupped his chin in my hands and kissed him deeply. His mouth was soft and warm. I parted my lips and let his eager tongue explore. His grip tightened around my waist and he pulled me closer, I imagined him tasting the lemon on my lips and his hunger for me.

My kiss was the consent he needed and he quickly took charge pushing me toward the wall as he kissed my neck. His deft hands unclasped my bra and his warm mouth was on my breasts kissing, then sucking gently on my hard nipples, and tracing his tongue lightly across my cleavage. I smiled down at him, this was better than I expected. Suddenly he was down on his knees unzipping my jeans and sliding them down my hips exposing my panties. He covered my belly in kisses and then slid his hand between my legs. As he rubbed his fingers across my mound I pushed my back against the wall for stability and wriggled free from the confines of the jeans he had left around my ankles. With my new mobility, I spread my legs wider granting him unfettered access to my sex. He slipped his hand under the lace panties and penetrated me with his fingers. A moan escaped my lips as he pressed my clit with confident precision. He leaned in and pulled my underwear to the side so he could lick my pussy. My legs began to tremble slightly and he stopped immediately, stood up, and guided me to his bed.

I watched as he undressed revealing a lightly muscled physique and a glorious erection. He pulled my panties off and spread my legs wide getting back to the delightful business at hand. His thrusting tongue was perfectly timed. My hips rose to meet his mouth, I wanted more and now. I cried out as he made me cum. He slowed his kisses moving to my thighs, my stomach, my breasts. He kissed my mouth and I could smell my pussy mingled with his aftershave. I was ready to go again. God damn! This was not at all what I had expected.

I pushed Hugh onto his back and climbed on top of him. He was hard and ready but I needed to take charge. Who did he think he was making me cum like that? This was my game to control. I kissed his mouth pressing my breasts against his chest. I slowly trailed kisses down his neck, over his shoulder, down his arm. I licked the crease of his elbow and then moved to his chest. I flicked my tongue over his nipples and then gently grazed each one with my teeth. Then I bit him. Not too hard, but hard enough. He sucked in a surprised breath and I was back in control of the situation.

“Where’s your closet?” I asked.

“W-w-what?” he stammered confused.

“Your closet.” I repeated. “We need some props…” I said tweaking his nipple with my thumb and index finger. He smiled and pointed to a closed door across the room. “You stay right here.” I said climbing off of him and heading towards the closet.

It was a large walk-in with a custom organizational system. The poles were hung with beautiful suits and a rainbow of crisp shirts. The man had impeccable taste. How on earth had he been walking around town with a coat flap still tacked down? Ah yes, no wife. I chuckled and started opening drawers. “Where do you keep your ties?” I asked loudly to mask the sound of my rifling.

“In the back, on the left, do you want help? I can co—”

“No, no.” I cut him off. “I’ve got it you stay put!” I said, quickly. “I can see them.” I lied again. I didn’t see them because I wasn’t looking for them. I had found exactly what I was looking for there in the back of Hugh’s sock drawer. Rolled up neatly like little hay bales was a large sum of money. I guessed it to be at least $5,000 maybe more. These divorcees were so predictable! The Ex can’t claim what she doesn’t know about. Banks are for bachelors and happily married men. I gently closed the drawer and moved quietly to the ties grabbing the first two I touched and heading back into the bedroom.

“Did you miss me?” I asked playfully swinging the ties like a hypnotist’s watch. He absolutely beamed back at me with adoration. I crawled up to the head of the bed and wrapped the first tie around his wrists then tied it to the bed frame. I wrapped the second tie snugly around his head covering his eyes like a blindfold. “How’s that?” I whispered into his ear.

“Perfection.” He said in a voice heavy with lust.

I straddled him again, my hands on his chest, my ass on his cock. He looked so good under me that before I knew what I was saying I asked, “Why did she leave? You’re so much fun!” I regretted it instantly. Stupid, stupid girl. His smile slipped just the slightest bit.

“What?” He asked, perplexed.

“Your wife…” I offered lamely. “Why did she leave you?”

“Oh.” He said quietly. “She didn’t… uhm… my wife died three years ago. Car crash, drunk driver.” He said matter of factly.

Thank god for the blindfold! My mouth hung open as his words hit me. Shit! I felt like such an asshole. But there was no going back now, I mean I was in too deep at this point. I had to think fast. I didn’t come here to leave empty-handed, or worse… become involved. “Oh! I’m so sorry, I didn’t… I mean I just assumed you were divorced. A good-looking, successful guy... your age…” I was floundering. “Let me just pull my foot out of my mouth and I can fix this. I saw wine in the kitchen, right? Let me just grab us a drink and we can get this train back on the tracks.” I giggled nervously. I sounded like an idiot. “I’ll be right back!” I said jumping up without giving him a chance to respond or disagree.

“Just a sec!” I said and then ducked silently into the closet. I grabbed the cash out of his sock drawer along with one particularly nice vintage Rolex that had caught my eye. I swept up my clothes as I tip-toed to the hall. I looked back at Hugh once from the doorway. His glorious erection had faded to rest on his belly and his fingers probed the necktie that bound him. I was almost sorry again, but only almost, and mostly because I had fully intended to fuck him senseless. I find it lessens the sting. I dumped the cash in my purse and rattled some glassware around loudly as I dressed.

“Corkscrew?” I yelled down the hall, buying myself another precious minute to make my escape. I don’t know if he answered, or not, because I was slipping on my jacket and heading out the front door. As I walked casually down the sidewalk towards my car I felt so sly, and it was so sweet.