Then she takes a deep breath as if steeling herself.

Her small fingers brush against my chest through linen uncertain with the stiff fabric. She pushes the button through the hole tugging the fabric apart no more than a centimeter.

Another button and another.

She opens my shirt down to my navel before spreading it apart.

I look down trying to imagine what I look like for her dark hair and tanned skin. My body is acceptable. I work out enough to keep myself trim to bulge a few muscles for the clients who like such things but that is not my strong suit. There are weight lifters and ball players on the payroll for women who prefer men like that. Myself I am tall and somewhat spare. It is my smile that makes them choose me not my body but Bea looks at me with awe.

“Do you like what you see?” I ask my voice pure gravel.

I expect her to be demure to shake her head and avert her eyes what any well-behaved ingenue would do. Instead she meets my gaze with an impish smile. “Feeling insecure are you?”

My laugh comes out full-bodied. It takes me by surprise. “A man does like to feel wanted.”

“I do want you” she says with a candor I’ve come to admire from her. An eagerness I’ve already learned to crave. “But I’m not sure I should have you.”

“Do you think I’ll hurt you?” I don’t think that’s her worry but I have to be certain. It would break me if she thought I would force her to do anything she didn’t want to. “We can call the service right now. They can send someone else.”

“No” she says a little too loud turning pink. “No not that. It’s just that I’ve spent so long here in these four walls. Seeing the same group of people. Doing the same things.”

I hear the starvation in her words the darkness that closes in on her. “You’re afraid because I’m new. Because what we’re doing is new. So we will only do what you’ve already done.”

“Do you mean watch me…”

“Masturbate? Oui I could watch that. I would gladly but I would also love to make you come. It would be a feeling you’ve had before only with my fingers instead of yours.”

She likes that I see the excitement brighten her eyes. Her fear recedes into the night. “Here?”

I look around at the small bar and the sofa beyond. “Where do you usually do it?”

“In bed.”

My hand links in hers and we go there together. This is the room where I began this journey the dresser still slightly ajar from the wall. The mismatched furniture at odds with the sleekness of the penthouse suite. The bed neatly made in anticipation of what’s to come white ruffles in neat alignment. The thought of her wet and horny under this spread is enough to dampen a spot of precum on my boxers. Already my cock hurts with how long I’ve been hard but I will wait as long as she needs. Forever if that’s what it takes to make her comfortable.

She turns off the lamp and I let her but only because she would normally do this in the dark. There is only the light spilling in from the doorway barely enough to see her by.

I pull back the bedspread messing up her ordered work. The sheets are cool beneath my palm and I smooth them smooth them making them warm and ready.

When I turn back to face her she looks up at me with luminescent eyes.

Every thought of teaching her of tutoring her of remaining aloof from her disappears from my head. There’s only the need to kiss her and the physical movement to make it happen. Her lips yield under mine softer now quicksand and I’m sinking.

This time when I touch her she sighs into my mouth a sound of infinite relief. I give in to my baser impulses and touch her plump ass knead and mold her and then it’s my turn to sigh in relief. She is everything warm and vibrant in my arms.

I know a move for every situation practiced and choreographed to maximize her pleasure but it’s clumsy hands that press her back to the bed that lift her heavy lace dress in pursuit of ecstasy. I slide my palm up the inside of her thigh and her hips lift shocked and seeking.

“Spread for me Bea.”

She does wordless her eyes wide moons. There is enough mystery there to make me uncertain about my reception but then I touch her—ah there. And she’s wet for me drenched and swollen for my cock. It isn’t my cock that she’ll get though only the stroke of my forefinger making her cry out.

“Tell me what you feel.”

“I feel wild” she whispers. “And so good. And it hurts. Why does it hurt?”

Beautiful. She’s goddamn beautiful. “Because your body knows what it needs.” I press my thumb in front of her clit hovering there in the slickness. “Reach for it.”

And then she does lifting her body in a timeless rhythm. She doesn’t need my lessons that much is clear not the way she writhes in relentless time pressing her clit against me.

She could come this way but I want more. Not only for her.

For me.

I slip my finger inside her. God she’s tight. She would be a vise around my cock and I feel myself flex inside my pants. I have one knee on the bed the other leg still planted on the floor. I’m bent over one of the most beautiful women I’ve ever seen but I’m still fully dressed.

Part of me wants to open my pants and release myself. To slip inside her heat and take what she’s already paid for. But something holds me back.

“Please” she whispers.

Then I’m helpless except to kiss her to thrust my tongue into her mouth with the same steady gait as I slip my finger inside her. And still she fucks her body against my thumb the friction making her gasp against my lips.

There is no longer a spiral to the top; she’s hovered there trapped in suspended agony.

Afraid I realize with a terrible dread.

It’s the first time I’ve ever wondered if I might not make a woman come. Her body is with me but her mind is afraid. I bite her lip once more and her attention focuses on me. “Nothing will happen to you” I tell her even though I have no ability to protect her. No right. “I won’t let anything happen to you. Let go for me Bea. Let go.”

She comes with a glorious rush of arousal her body jerking in wild abandon. I pet her clit with firm strokes of my thumb through her orgasm and then stroke her sex softly as she comes down pressing kisses over her nose and across her forehead telling her how beautiful she is how sweet. My brave girl.

Everything is perfect in this moment. Her body and its response to me. Even the fact that I’m rock-hard and suffering beneath my suit cannot mar this.

Until her gaze snaps to mine and everything changes.

All the fear rushes back tenfold. I see it march in like a thousand pinpoints of darkness blotting out her bright arousal. And then she bursts into tears.


Like most boys in Tangier I ran wild in the streets while my mother worked twelve-hour shifts. I swiped fruit from the backs of donkeys on their way into the market and learned to pick pockets from the men with glittering women. Almost a million people live between the city walls speaking ten languages as commonly as the national Arabic but for the poor son of a hotel maid there was only the dust and the clamor and the dry burn of the sun. It was a rough existence but also a joyful one. I didn’t know anything else.

I knew early not to cry. There was no time with the caregiver with ten babies in the other room. And when I was older there was always another boy to lash out. And so tears dried before they came out even when my favorite street dog was run over in front of me her leg twisted away held to her only by flesh and tendon part of her belly exposed. She lay whimpering in my arms until I used my pocket knife to end her suffering. And still I did not cry.

I don’t know what to do with the sobbing young woman on the bed.

My throat feels tight. I’ve made women moan and scream and beg. Never this. “Did I hurt you? Was I too rough? Forgive me Bea. I never meant to—”

“It wasn’t that.” She shakes her head glancing at me with tearstained eyes pleading. She wants me to understand but I don’t. Somehow my experience is failing me. My charm is failing me. If she wanted me to whisper to her in Italian on the rooftop I could do that. If she wanted me to lick her pussy until her body went limp I could do that. What is it she wants from me?

She buries her face in her hands shoulders shaking trying to muffle the sounds of her distress. “Just go. I’m okay. You can go.”

There is no way that I can leave her like this. For a moment I stand there helpless still fully dressed my arms outstretched as if to hold her my cock still uselessly hard in my slacks.

There’s a hard pit in my stomach that reminds me of that hot afternoon with the dog limp in my arms frozen frozen the horror of knowing I could do nothing to help.

Except this isn’t a packed dirt street in Tangier.

And I’m not a powerless little boy.

I lift her body into my arms hearing her startled little gasp and climb into the bed. With gentle determination I cradle her body in my arms. After a frozen moment she buries her face against my chest. Only then can I breathe fully knowing she’s accepted my comfort little though it is.

My words are useless now all I have to offer her is my body. That’s all I ever have really. I rock her slowly back and forth holding her tight as her sobs slow and then stop.

“This isn’t how you usually finish your dates?” she asks her voice still thick from tears.

My heart squeezes that she’s going for humor that she’s trying to make this more comfortable for me. “We finish with whatever you need.”

She shudders her way through a sigh. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize to me. It tears a strip of skin from me when you do.”

Her eyes meet mine framed by damp lashes. “That makes me want to apologize more.”

From somewhere I find the strength to laugh a light thing to let her know this is normal even though it’s not it’s not it’s not. I’ve never made a woman cry. I’ve never been with a virgin before either. This was a terrible idea. What made me think I could do this? That because I can make a woman come her body clench and convulse that I should be trusted with her first time?

“Hey” she says. “I see you blaming yourself. But it wasn’t you.”

“I’m sure you cry also when room service arrives.”

She gives a huff of laughter. “No I’m sure that would freak Rene out.”

“Consider me freaked out” I tell her even though I’m relieved. Thirty seconds ago she was bawling her eyes out. But this a woman in need of laughter and reassurance I can do.

She bites her lip. “I just didn’t expect it to feel good.”

“You must tell me where you learned these horrible ideas about sex.”

“I mean I knew about orgasms. I’ve seen them on movies and read about them in books. And I’ve given them to myself. But this was completely different. Like all my life I’ve been seeing water through thick glass and then one day I dive in.”

“It makes you sad this?”

“Yes” she whispers. “It makes me sad thinking of all those days I never dipped a toe in. Because I was too afraid. That’s the only reason.”

“And you wonder what else you’re missing.”

“I know what else I’m missing but that doesn’t make the fear go away.”

“Then what does?”

Her green eyes meet mine a little fearful a little wry. “Apparently you.”


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