The dark of the night had always been the hardest. Since she was a girl, it had filled her with foreboding; now, with the demons bearing down upon her with each waking breath, it threatened to swallow her whole. Each sip of bourbon was easier than the last as she fought against the current that carried her ever further towards an ocean of melancholy, and soon her mind began to mercifully fog. The clock hands twisted, unreadable in her drunken haze, and she waited with bated breath.
He was standing before her in no time at all, his real eye cast towards the floor while the painted one lingered on her with a cold, disconcerting insistence. She would be lying to herself if she failed to acknowledge the warmth radiating from deep within her at the sight of his lean but capable limbs and the swelling in his trousers that betrayed his naive reticence.
"I wasn't sure if you would come," she said, as sweetly as she could manage, though she knew that he hadn't come here for affection. She ignored the strange hum that escaped his throat as she sauntered towards him, aware of the silken fabric of her kimono drooping down one shoulder. She undressed him as a mother would, gingerly freeing each button in turn and feeling his breath quicken at her touch. Her power over him excited her more than she dared to let on.
"Gillian," he growled, the roughness in his damaged voice sending shivers down her spine.
"Perhaps it's best if we don't speak." She slid his shirt from his shoulders, letting her hands explore the taut muscles of his arms as she eased them from his sleeves. He caught her hands and gripped them with a frightening intensity. Her eyes flashed to his, but she looked away before she could truly register the pain contained therein. With a sly smile, she lifted his hands to her shoulders and led them to the edges of her robe, which slipped to the floor with little effort. Standing there, her bare skin luminescent in the lamplight, she waited for him to grab her, to grope and fondle as all men had, but he stood frozen before her in his undershirt and trousers, fingers twisting in his nervous hands. She found the tic infuriating at the best of times, but now took it as a challenge.
It was these anxious hands that she took in hers, pressing them to her chest as she luxuriated in the tremors that swept through her as his fingers began tentatively to play along. She hurried her work of undressing him, freeing him from his trousers and catching his swollen member in her experienced hands. She had been surprised by his endowment before, but had yearned for it in spite of herself ever since.
She led him back to the desk without letting her hand leave his throbbing skin; her free hand gripped his undershirt, the only stitch of clothing still hiding him from her. Her strokes were sure and calculated as she commanded his pleasure with malicious satisfaction. Each grunt and panting breath was a victory against him; each tease of her thumb on its head reasserted her dominance.
Again, she reached for his hand, leaning back against the desk as she led his fingers between her legs. Eyes closed, she pressed one of his long fingers against her quivering bundle of nerves, guiding his touch until he found a rhythm that sent her reeling before she eased his hand inside of her; his free hand found her breast hungrily, and she tossed her head back in unintended ecstasy as the throws of her climax overcame her.
Suddenly she needed him more than ever. She threw his hand to the wayside and grabbed his cock, plunging it deep within her with a guttural gasp. He lifted her onto the desk, pushing himself deeper with each thrust as her nails dug into his back and her head began to spin with images of Jimmy hovering over her in the dark, filling her with his love and with his pain as she assured him again and again that it was all right, that it wasn't wrong, that this was how they were supposed to feel. Her tears stung and she steadied Richards hips, slowing his progress just as she could feel him nearing release.
She struggled to push Jimmy from her mind, gripping Richard's buttocks and willing the tears away. She could feel him suppressing the coming explosion, as Jimmy had so many years before, and let him push himself ever further within her. She chanced a look into his eye to find it as reddened as her own; she lifted herself off of him just in time to see a stream of pearly ejaculate cascade to the floor.
Again, he stood frozen in place as she slid from her perch, sidestepping the sticky pool to retrieve her robe from where it laid abandoned at their feet. His shoulders hunched forward as he stared at the floor, naked and vulnerable, but she took no pleasure in the sight. I expect that to be tidied up by morning," she said coldly as she washed her hands in the porcelain washbasin, avoiding the sight of her reflection in the mirror.
In the corner of her eye, she caught his curt nod. He was mercifully quick, dressing and leaving her to her nothing but her aching thoughts before the darkness overtook her once more.