Home > life, writing > A Time To Fly (20)

A Time To Fly (20)

          “Anna,” the woman’s voice came back.  “It’s just Anna.  Please let me in, just for a few minutes.”  Belinda hesitated.  She didn’t know what Anna wanted from her, but she suspected what it was about.  She was reluctant, but the woman sounded desperate, and Belinda didn’t want anyone to see her carrying on at the door to her suite.  She peered out through the peephole and saw the Anna was alone.  She opened the door and stepped aside as Anna rushed in.

          “What is it, Anna,” Belinda said.  “Why are you here?”

          “I couldn’t bear to never see you again,” she said.  “Just… just let me stay with you for a little while.”

          “Doesn’t it matter to you that I don’t feel the same way?” Belinda said.  “I like men.  In fact I love men, and … you’re a good person, Anna, and I admit that it was not objectionable to… have sex with you.  But it was a one-time experience that I don’t wish to repeat.”

Anna stepped close to Belinda and held her tightly, kissing her neck, her cheeks, anywhere she could reach with her lips.  The woman’s ardour and the sensual feeling of her voluptuous body pressed against Belinda convinced Belinda that just a kiss couldn’t do any harm.  She turned her face so Anna could put her lips on Belinda’s and they kissed.  Anna forced her tongue between Belinda’s soft, dark lips while she slid her hand inside the robe to caress the black pubic area.

Belinda surrendered.  Anna slipped the white robe from Belinda’s shoulders and let it drop to the floor.  She stepped back, gazing appreciatively up and down Belinda’s glistening black body while she dropped her own dress to the floor.  She was naked beneath the light dress.  She stepped up to Belinda, who stood looking at Anna’s full, white body.  Anna knelt in front of Belinda and kissed the mat of pubic hair until Belinda relented and placed her feet farther apart so Anna could reach her desired goal.

Anna spent the night in Belinda’s bed.  They made love every way they could imagine.  They spent hours of ecstasy kissing each other’s breasts, exploring each other’s bodies intimately, and giving each other repeated orgasms with their oral caresses.  They lay together recuperating until Anna kissed Belinda’s wide, warm lips and got out of bed.  Belinda watched her through heavily-lidded eyes.  She felt satisfied and relaxed as Anna went to her bag on a chair across the room.  She watched Anna’s movements as she strode smoothly, her buttocks undulating.  Although she was a woman, Belinda had to admit to herself that Anna’s body seemed made for sex.

While Belinda watched, Anna strapped on an object like she’d never seen before.  It was a phallus.  A large, black penis made of firm, realistic latex.  Anna walked toward Belinda who continued to recline on the bed.  The sight of the voluptuous woman with her sensual movements walking with this magnificent organ protruding from her pubic hair sent a cascade of thrills through Belinda.  She didn’t resist as Anna mounted her, and with masculine movements, made love to her until they were both fatigued and slept until sunrise.  Anna rolled to Belinda, kissed her on the mouth, whispered ‘thank you’, dressed, and left.

Belinda slept in until noon.  When she finally decided to get out of bed, she took a long, lazy bath.  She reviewed the night with Anna.  She had enjoyed the experience very much, but it seemed to her superficial.  The presence of a man, his size, his fragrance, and the sound of him were missing.  It was like she had been making love with a good replica of a man.  However, like a print of Picasso, it’s a beautiful thing, but it lacks the thrill of the original.

Thoughts of Geoffrey Sarron gradually replaced memories of Anna.  She planned to make the best impression possible on this special man.  It was difficult to believe her good luck in finding him staying at the same hotel.  It was a small, obscure hotel, known for its quiet manner and tasteful services.  All the same, the man was here, and she was meeting him for supper.  She had deliberately suggested the café across the road for two reasons.  For one thing, it projected a casual attitude toward the event so it could progress in a relaxed manner.  Secondly, if by some miraculous chance they both caught fire and the chemistry worked, they could just return to the hotel across the street.

Belinda dried herself, spread lotion over her entire body, put on her robe, and went to her laptop on the desk.  She wrote to Maureen that she was to ‘have supper with Geoffrey Sarron of Marcus, Sarron, and Randolph.’  Maureen Silver’s response was prompt and direct: ‘Do more than just fraternise with the enemy… you nail that hunk.’

A professional password provided Belinda with access to a registry of lawyers.  She looked up the detailed information on Geoffrey Sarron.  He was forty-four years old, a widower with a thirteen-year-old son and a ten-year-old daughter.  His wife was a white woman whom he’d met at college and married soon after graduation.  Belinda was slightly uncomfortable about that fact.  She believed that some black men preferred not to form permanent relationships with black women.  She reminded herself that it was only two colleagues alone in a foreign land.  There was no reason for her to extrapolate the situation into a family in the suburbs with grandkids in the offing.

Belinda left the hotel early in the afternoon and took a taxi to the most exclusive fashion area in Rome.  She went from store to store, happily trying on a variety of dresses and ensembles.  Finally she settled on a light cotton dress in white, with an emerald coloured silk shawl around her shoulders and pumps to match.  She softened the pure white of the dress with a spray of faux ferns at her waist, interspersed with small orange flowers.

By the time Belinda returned to her hotel it was almost six o’clock.  She stripped down and showered away the stresses of a day of shopping.  Once dried, she again spread lotion over her entire body and face, enjoying the feeling of her own hands smoothing the cool cream over her gleaming flesh.

While she dressed, Belinda contemplated potential strategies.  If she arrives early, does it mean she’s too eager?  If she arrives late, does it mean she’s selfish, arrogant, or thoughtless?  Finally, she again remembered that they were meeting merely as colleagues, and decided to go to the café at precisely seven-thirty.  She concluded that this would signal dependability, reliability, respect, and thoughtfulness.

At precisely seven-twenty-nine, Belinda strode out of the hotel and across the cobblestone street to the sidewalk café.  It was more than half full, so she chose a table near the back that afforded a view of the hotel entrance.  She wanted to be somewhat hidden by people at other tables so she could watch Geoffrey approach.  Belinda ordered Martini & Rossi red and sipped it slowly.  She glanced at her watch.  It was seven-thirty-six, and she began to wonder if she’d made a fool of herself with her fixation on promptness.  Perhaps, she thought nervously, she had been stood up all together.  Perhaps the handsome, successful lawyer had thought better of it and decided it was inappropriate to dine with another lawyer’s assistant.

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