embarrassment; I can actually feel his body heating up.
“Lazy sperm. During my last year at school I had mumps, and that seems to have permanently damaged the—Christ. I can’t believe I’m making you listen to this!”
“No, go on!”
“Well, it all counts against me, doesn’t it? I should look for a woman my own age, past child-bearing, not one young enough to be my—”
“Don’t say it!” I warn him. “And I’m not!”
“It’s all so bloody wrong!”
“It doesn’t feel wrong,” I point out.
He looks at me, his face open and his eyes alert.
“No, that’s the problem.”
“I think I need another sip of that there firewater.” I sit up on his lap and reach across for our glasses of whisky. “What am I drinking?”
“Talisker. It’s made on the Isle of Skye. Do you like it?”
“I do. I can’t think of anything I’d rather have right now. It’s suitably overpowering.”
We laugh together, and the laughter—and the alcohol—clears the air a little.
“I think you should take one of those layers off.”
So much for his qualms. Relieved that I haven’t lost him, I scramble out of my thick woolen pullover.
“Doctor Lieberman!”
“What?”
“You’re wearing a Columbia sweater!”
“Oh. Ah. Yes.”
“Now, for that show of disloyalty you forfeit that same sweater.”
“Oh, okay.” Meekly I lose the sweatshirt, too. When I reappear, I nudge him with my elbow. “Go on then.”
“Doctor Lieberman! You’re wearing a very cute t-shirt with a little…let me see, sunflower on it.”
“No! I mean—I’m zero for two here.”
“What, this?” He tugs at his Norwegian sweater. Hesitates.
“M-hm. Yes, this.”
Reluctantly he pulls it over his head. He’s wearing his white Ashley Wilkes shirt underneath, and I don’t really see what the fuss was about.
“This is nice…why were you so—oh.”
I am enjoying the feel of his lean chest underneath the shirt and had just wrapped my arms around him again when a certain female odor reaches my nostrils.
He smiles and raises his eyebrows in self-mockery. The rosy tinge in his cheeks is so adorable that I could eat him; at the same time I remember the crumpled underwear in my washing machine and feel ashamed.
“Giles, that is…”
“Pathetic?”
“…so sweet!”
He groans at my delight, and when I shift on his lap to be able to sit astride him, unbutton his shirt, and plant slow, lingering kisses on his throat and chest, he groans again, but differently. Undressing him is like undressing a girl. He watches me with that slight blush on his face, his eyes move from my face down to my hands on his shirt buttons, on the smooth skin of his chest, with just a small nest of gray curls in the hollow of his ribcage, around the dark pink nipples…then back up to my eyes. He’s watching me like a girl who feels the touch of a man for the first time, and under the flat of my palm I feel his heart beat hard, and his breath quicken. Blood pulses in my lips, and I lean in to kiss him. I want to make him beg for it. I clasp his wrists and pin them to the back of the chair above his head; he crooks his elbows willingly and watches me, waiting, his eyes a dark, moist green.
“I wish I was strong enough to hold you like you held me,” I whisper into his ear.
“You do? What would you do?”
I drive his wrists into the upholstery with both hands and swoop down to bite his neck. The odd thing is, I can’t. My jaw seems to lock just before my teeth would begin to pinch his flesh; it’s as if I lost control over my muscles. I can’t bite him. I can’t.
“I wouldn’t hurt you…I couldn’t.”
“Did I? Hurt you?” He’s serious, troubled, underneath his arousal. I don’t want to make him feel bad, but I don’t want to lie, either.
“No, but you almost frightened me.”
He nods. Lowers his arms to draw me against himself. “I was so lonely. And you were so…lovely.” His hands slide under my t-shirt and up my naked back. “Did I leave any marks?” His fingers inch upward to caress my shoulders.
“You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Actually, I don’t know.”
“I think I should have a look.” He clasps my waist and pushes up my t-shirt with the backs of his hands. Is there anything better in this world than slowly undressing with an appreciative partner? I wriggle out of his arms and slide onto my knees on the rug on the floor.
“You did notice, didn’t you, that I’m not circumcised?” The corners of