Moonlit Surrender

Lucy climbed the many stairs of the apartment building located in the scenic part of downtown, positive now that the address John had given her was his own. As part of the town's history, the building was a treasure and only minimally altered to accommodate modern occupants, with exception to the installation of an elevator.

After a lengthy climb to the second highest floor, she found herself face to face with a worn apartment plate to a private residence. She left a couple modest knocks on the door, trying to silence the internal debate screaming in her head. This is stupid. This is how bad things happen.

Nothing is going to happen, dumbass. We just hang out and talk.

Driving to another man's home in the middle of the night is a recipe for mischief.

No it isn't. It's fucking fine.

Oh so all those dirty thoughts were what?

Shut up! Nothing is going to happen.

What about Ben? What would he say?

Nothing, because Ben doesn't need to know, because he'd misconstrue it too. It's nothing. Shut up. I'm not cheating on him. I haven't even touched John.

The door opened and John stood in the doorway dressed down with his sleeves rolled up and his sapphire blue tie loosened around his neck with the first button popped open. "Come in," he waved his hand for her to enter.

Lucy carefully stepped over the threshold and was greeted by a modest, but very warm, open concept apartment. The space was well defined by an area rug that looked to be a piece of art all on its own. Its cheery colors and careful designs beckoned her to the vintage pieces of furniture circled around an old coffee table, warmed by a beautiful marble fireplace that filled the room with its soft crackling. Its stunning mantle was lined with old, heavy looking books and a couple lion head bookends. Above it hung a stunning replica of Vermeer's Girl with a Pearl Earring.

"This is one of my favorite paintings." She smiled back at him, then turned back to the masterpiece in awe. "And what a fantastic copy. Whoever painted this has just as skilled a hand. It's beautiful."

It was a moment before she turned to find him staring not at the painting, but taking in with fine detail the wonder written on her face. He smiled when she caught him watching her.

"I'm quite fond of it as well." He left her to cross the room to the kitchen, defined only by a row of counters dividing it from the rest of the room. He pulled out two beautiful crystal wine glasses and a bottle from a rack on the counter. After a quick pour into both glasses, he was back at her side and extending one to her.

She thanked him as she took it, but hesitated drinking it.

"Something wrong?” he asked, noting her reluctance.

"I don't want to be rude. I just don't really like red wines."

"It's not rude at all to let me know what you like or dislike. Excuse me for the assumption. Will you humor me and try a sip anyway?"

She cringed apprehensively, anticipating the strength of the drink, but when it passed her lips, she was surprised to find it quite sweet. Her eyes widened and she smiled. "It's really good."

"Now, you're not just saying that, are you? I prefer honesty."

"It really is." She smiled, in a bit of disbelief herself. "I guess I like your taste in wine."

He smiled and motioned for her to take a seat on the couch as he sat down on the worn high-backed chair adjacent.

She continued examining the modest room and saw shelf upon shelf overflowing with countless books. "You must know everything there is to know on any given subject."

"What makes you say that?"

She waved her hand around the room. "I don't think I've ever seen so many books in one place. You must read constantly."

He smiled. "A little. My profession demands it, but it is also for pleasure. I suppose I'm well acquainted with a few subjects."

"Just a few? You have the look of a man who's lived possibly a thousand lifetimes and has experienced almost everything life has to offer," she said softly.

"Just a thousand? I'll have to work on my brooding. I was aiming for a million."

She laughed genuinely and turned to face him better.

He hesitated a moment. "I'm sorry about earlier, at the restaurant." He paused thoughtfully. "Doris doesn't have very good boundaries. Or manners." "You don't need to apologize. She's clearly your significant other, right?"

"She is," he started and paused for a contemplative moment, "a mistake."

Lucy rolled her eyes. "You're very good at dancing around questions. You speak, but you never seem to actually answer. It's infuriatingly endearing." He grinned mischievously.

"I'm glad you find my antics endearing. I suppose statistically it was bound to happen."

"So is she your girlfriend then?" Lucy ignored his dodging.

"She is not. Does that answer your question well enough?"

"Your wife then?"

"No. She is a friend under the impression we are more. It is a complicated situation to defuse."

Thank God. That explains everything.

"More?" John asked, noticing her empty glass.

"I really shouldn't."

He waved his hand dismissively. "There are a lot of things we shouldn't but are sometimes needed. Like chocolate. Or orgasms. Sometimes you just need to have a little more wine than you ought to in order to unwind from a stressful week." Lucy looked up at him caught between surprise and arousal. "Orgasms?"

He poured her another helping, accidentally to the brim. He apologized and bent down to sip up the excess before it could spill over.

Lucy wasn't sober enough to avert her eyes from staring intently at the way his lips kissed the rim and the way his gaze flicked up to hers as he did so.

"The oldest way to deal with stress," he answered suddenly as he set the bottle down on the coffee table and retook his seat.

"What?" she asked flustered, her thoughts scattered.

"Orgasms. It's the best remedy for a stressful week."

She wasn't drunk enough to not feel a little shame from the heat that suddenly spread through her pussy at his cavalier mention of pleasure. "Masturbation is unsatisfying though. For each one achieved solo, it seems to require two more to subdue the frustration."

John smiled and nodded. "True. It is a poor relief."

"It pokes a hole in your theory then," she stated triumphantly, besting the professor at his own game with a smug gulp.

John sat relaxed, cross-legged in his old chair, with a knowing smirk. “It was not of masturbation I was speaking, sweetheart."

It was a great effort for Lucy to make sure she swallowed her gulp before her jaw fell slack in surprise and poorly concealed arousal. She licked her lips, ignoring her inner compass. Were they flirting? Never had Ben been so subtle or artful in his flirtations. It was always obvious when and what he was looking for. Whatever this new delicate back and forth was, it felt good. It had been so long since she had felt this good.

John grinned mischievously. "Now now," he chuckled. "That wasn't an invitation, just a fact."

She swallowed hard, still unable to push out the naughty images of him flickering around in her curious mind.

He rose from his chair and leaned forward to grab the bottle off the table. "Another glass?"

She finally broke her gaze from him and took in a shaky breath. "Um, I think maybe I should go. I think I've had more than enough." She stood up on wobbly knees. Was it the liquor or the desire that turned her legs to jelly?

John reached out a hand to grasp her upper arm. Her legs shook a little more and she could feel the warm puddle gathering between her thighs at his strong grip.

Lucy felt his other hand grasp her to keep her from toppling backwards onto the couch. "I-I should really go."

"Forgive me. I didn't mean to get you so liquored up." He smirked, then in a more serious tone added, "Lucy, I don't think you should drive."

Her name sounded like music on his lips. "It's not the wine," she mumbled.

"What?" he asked.

She was unsure if he truly hadn't heard her or was simply feigning ignorance. She was just sober enough to rethink it and correct her sentence. "I said it's definitely the wine."

"Well your options are either stay on this couch or let me drive you home."

My bare skin on his soft couch, his body grinding on top of mine, our sweat mingling as our moans fill the room. God, yes. Please!

She touched her forehead, trying to use whatever small part of her brain that wasn't drowned by alcohol and lust. "Um. Maybe drive me home. Thank you."

John nodded and ducked under her arm to support her and guided her to the door. They made it to the stairs in their awkward waddle with his six-foot-something height kneeling beneath her five and some odd inches frame before he sighed in frustration and looked down at her.

Lucy could barely keep her eyes open now, growing tired from their drinking and the late hour. She felt his other arm swoop down behind her knees and gasped as she flew into the air. "The fuck?” she mumbled.

He didn't look like he was straining under her weight. He carried her surely down each flight of stairs, never shaking, wobbling, or coming close to dropping her. The rhythm of his steps was soothing and she found herself instinctively relaxing into him as she curled her fingers around his loose tie for support and breathed deep the intoxicating aroma of his cologne. She groaned in disappointment when it felt all too sudden that he was setting her gingerly into the passenger seat of his car and buckling her in.

As he reached across her with the seatbelt, she saw his stubbly neck fully exposed and couldn't help herself. Without thinking, she reached her lips up to taste his skin.

John managed to get the seatbelt buckled, but then cursed under the soft kiss. He fell still, letting her taste him and nibble across to the lobe of his ear just for a moment before he sighed and snapped his head to hers forcefully. His hand shot up to her cheek and he kissed her hard with a great passion she had never experienced before, pushing her back into the headrest with the most delicious sounding moan. His mouth moved over hers, his tongue taking small tastes of her plump lips until there was nothing but the ghost of her lipstick left on them.

Lucy groaned and grabbed him by the tie to pull him closer. He resisted the tug at first, but then gave in to her tongue darting shyly at first into his mouth, then more confidently to fully taste him. It was probably just her liquored daze that she thought he tasted a little metallic, and his canines seemed a little too sharp, but she didn't care. She had wanted to kiss him for so long. The feel of him responding to her reckless advances was more delicious than she could've imagined. He broke their kiss with a heavy sigh. "Lucy, I need to take you home now."

"No," she groaned.

He smiled but shook his head. "I shouldn't have," he paused to collect himself. "I don't want you to regret this." He seemed unusually flustered and it only seemed to turn her on more.

"I won't," she promised. "I don't. Please, I want you."

She felt his hand tremble as it pulled away. "I want you too. But no. I'll take you home so you can sleep this off." He let out a deep exhale and ducked his head out of the car and made his way around to the driver's side.

The ride home was silent, but Lucy watched him carefully, watched his hand rest idly on the shifter as he drove her home, hoping it would wander its way onto her knee, maybe up her thigh, but he held true to his rejection and kept his hands to himself.

Lucy felt herself sobering as they pulled up to the cute little house Ben had surprised her with after his big promotion a year or so ago. She had been so excited then. It was strange to feel disappointment as she stared at the worn walkway leading up to the red door with the gargoyle knocker she had installed herself at the great dismay of her fiancé and soon-to-be in-laws.

John shifted into park and unlocked the doors.

She looked down at her hands in her lap, embarrassed by her actions outside his apartment now that she was face to face with her reality once more.

"I imagine your fiancé would not be too happy about me walking you in. Can you manage?"

She sighed. "Yeah, he wouldn't. He thinks I'm out with friends. He knows you and I sometimes text back and forth, and thinks it's weird, but he doesn't know how frequently I see you."

"I didn't realize I was your dirty little secret."

She lifted her eyes up to him.

God he looks so good.

You have a whole other life prepackaged and waiting for you behind that red door.

"I'm sorry I kissed you. I didn't mean to..." She trailed off, knowing full well she had meant it.

His hand rested on top of hers and stopped her. "Trust me, dear. I enjoyed it. I want it. I want you." He paused, staring into her eyes in a way that made her feel utterly exposed. "But I want you sober, with all your faculties, with no regrets." She could feel herself melting into the seat. She had never wanted someone so badly.

"Now go ahead in and get yourself some rest. We can talk more another time."

She unbuckled her seatbelt but turned to face him instead of the door. "Can...?" She stopped herself.

"Yes, sweetheart?"

"Can I have one more kiss?"

The smile that tugged at his mouth came so naturally. "Just one," he said sternly, trying to hide it.

She didn't attack him the way she had earlier, instead letting him come to her. He reached over the center console and cupped her cheek in his palm again and pressed his lips to hers gently. She leaned in and let him set the pace. He started slow and sensual, soft touches, teasing her.

Lucy sighed.

His tongue darted out finally and licked her lips and he moaned, low and deep, rumbling into her mouth. It was maddeningly sexy and she was beginning to forget all the reasons why she wasn't supposed to be enjoying something so impossibly good.

His fingers slid up into her hair and began to comb through her soft black waves. Then he slid his tongue in between her lips, cool, as if he had just finished a chilled beverage, but soft as velvet. His hand grabbed a fistful of the hair at the back of her head and held her in place as he claimed every inch of her mouth.

Lucy was glad she wasn't standing or she undoubtedly would have collapsed beneath the weight of her desire. She had never been kissed so passionately, so perfectly. There was a dark place inside her that responded to his control as he held her firmly while he had his way with her. The tone, the intensity, was this the more she had been craving for so long?

John eventually pulled away and smoothed out her hair as best he could while she stared up at him speechless.

The smirk was still there, turning up the corner of his lips in a devilish slant. "Now go inside and get some sleep, young lady."

She nodded dumbly and let herself out of his car and carefully made her way across the humble yard to the humming yellow light hanging over the door. She turned around just in time to watch him pull away before she headed inside the dark house and back to the very different life that had already been planned for her.