by Gwen Masters
(10/04/06)

No one could see us.

Outside the windows of the limousine, the people walking along the street might as well have been ghosts. We were alone in the center of the crowd, our speed creeping through warm bodies and separating them with gentleness and the occasional sharp retort of a horn. Rain battered the windows.

The rattle of ice cubes was startling in the small space. The neon lights of Times Square flashed and glowed in the cubes. He poured a splash of Absolut over the ice and swirled it, considered the amount, then poured another, more generous measure. The door of the small refrigerator closed with a small, secretive snicker.

"What's wrong with you?" Robbie asked. The crystal glass shook in his hand, and I knew he knew exactly what was wrong with me, because the same thing was wrong with him.

I watched Macy's slide by outside. A man with pink hair worn in spikes glanced at our limousine. A taxi edged past us, the driver looking bored. On the corner stood a man with glasses and an expensive overcoat, a spattering of gray in his hair and beard, a briefcase in hand and a hard set to his mouth. I thought it was my boyfriend, and I gasped aloud.

Then we passed the man and of course it wasn't my boyfriend. It was just a non-descript man on a famous city street.

A neon sign caught my eye. X-Rated, it said.

I laughed out loud.

Robbie drank down the vodka and set the glass carefully in the little circle of corkwood and chrome that was designed to hold it. I looked at him for the first time since we had climbed into the limousine, the first time since his hand had crept down my spine in the privacy of that space between the door and the outside world, the first time since his lips had brushed across my cheek, not quite kissing me but suggesting the possibility, and he had whispered something that might have been I want you or This is wrong or Who gives a fuck. Or maybe it was all those things at once.

Robbie looked back at me.

The limousine came to a slow and gentle stop. The driver's voice was just as understated and pleasant as the motion had been. "Pardon my interruption, sir. We are at the hotel. Would you prefer the private entrance?"

Robbie's eyes never left mine. "Yes, please."

The limousine began to move again, turning directly into the building and whisking into darkness. The neon was replaced with small slivers of light from the ceiling as the black sedan moved through the tiny space. The lights bounced from Robbie's golden hair to create tiny halos that were there one instant, gone the next.

His hand slipped into mine. I looked away from him, out my window, but I didn't pull my hand away.

I wondered what I was doing here, why in the world I was with Robbie-the-ex-boyfriend, what possessed me to come to New York with him in the first place.

He was still my boss. That was why. Right? Of course it was...

"The job didn't end when we did," I whispered, chastising myself.

"What?" He asked quietly.

"Nothing."

Perhaps the most astonishing part of the whole trip was that I hadn't told my boyfriend where I was going. He had been working on a project for his company and hadn't answered his phone, so I simply told his answering machine that I had been called away for work for a few days. I didn't say that I was going to be only a few miles from his apartment. Why didn't I tell him?

The door opened with a sudden whoosh and I sat perfectly still, lost in my thoughts and momentarily surprised at the absence of the rain. I stepped onto concrete and then onto carpeting. Robbie let go of my hand only when he had no choice but to do so.

He followed me through the door, through the hallway, to the elevator that hosted a doorman dressed as though he were expecting the royal family. I opened my mouth to protest, to mention something about the fact that this was not the way to my hotel room. Robbie produced a key and I didn't try to hide my surprise when it turned neatly in the lock. A key like that in a hotel like this meant only one thing. For an eternity we ascended and I stared at the key, anything to keep from staring at Robbie.

"Penthouse, sir," the doorman intoned as the elevator opened.

I stared at the impossible expanse of a room, the windows that rose from floor to ceiling. It was nothing like a hotel room. Robbie's luggage waited in neat little piles on the plush carpeting. I looked down at the stand that held three brand-new umbrellas and laughed out loud.

Robbie smiled for the first time in hours. "What's funny?"

I pointed at the umbrella stand. "That doesn't make sense to me. Where would you possibly go to get wet? By the time you get downstairs from this high up, the rain would be gone anyway."

Robbie contemplated this. "The windows open. I think. There's a balcony."

"I didn't even consider going to my own room," I said abruptly. Robbie stood with his back to me, looking out at the balcony. He didn't move while I continued. "Why do you think that is? That I just let you take control and take over and bring me up here to the Penthouse?"

He didn't answer.

I looked around and touched a vase that had to have cost thousands. "The Penthouse. You've moved up in the world, Robbie."

"I've worked for it," he said, his voice tight. "It's what I wanted."

"Do you always get what you want?"

Robbie turned. His jacket slipped from his shoulders as he looked at me. "We're going to find out, aren't we?"

He kicked off his shoes and left them lying haphazardly in the middle of the floor. His tie joined the pile, crumpling on the carpet, looking sad and discarded. The bar was huge, larger than one found in most taverns and stocked to the hilt. He stepped behind it and found the Tanqueray.

"You're drinking too much," I pointed out. Robbie eschewed a glass and simply drank straight from the bottle as he walked to the balcony doors. The doors opened soundlessly and the rain was louder up here, much louder, making thought almost impossible.

"I'm not drinking nearly enough," he said, and stepped out into the rain.

The torrent instantly drenched him. His dark hair fell from its perfection into an explosion of unruly curls, black against the white of his shirt. The starched material clung to his body. He looked up at the rain and took a swig from the bottle.

I was utterly speechless. It was the last thing I expected from him. He was a tight-ass, anal bastard most of the time, a guy who wouldn't do anything surprising if his life depended on it. His very success was based on the fact that he was steady and sure.

I stepped toward the balcony doors. His gaze stopped me in my tracks.

"I started drinking when you left me," he admitted. "I might lose my job."

I shook my head once, as if I could throw off the stifling blanket of responsibility.

"Am I supposed to feel guilty?" I asked, though I already did.

"No."

"Then why are you telling me?"

Robbie contemplated that without seeming to find an answer. He took another drink instead.

"I've been in AA for three months now," he said carefully as the raindrops slid down his nose. He gestured with the bottle and chuckled wryly. "It isn't helping."

He held out his hand.

Raindrops were touching the top of the bottle, sliding inside, slithering into a communion with the alcohol. Two steps and I was at the door. One more step and the rain hit me full-blast, cold enough that it took my breath away. When I would have dove for the warmth and comfort of the Penthouse, Robbie grabbed my arm and hauled me out onto the balcony.

The air was thin between the raindrops. I held onto the railing and looked over, watched those raindrops fall down from their impossible height. The lights below were a blur of subdued color. Robbie's hand was on my back, tracing my spine through the wet fabric.

"He will never know," Robbie said, and that was the first acknowledgment that there was someone else, someone who had taken his place.

His hands were shaking and so I was the one who unbuttoned my blouse. It fell to the floor of the balcony in a sodden mass of fabric. My bra went right after that and the skirt followed. Within moments I was completely naked, save for his wandering gaze that followed every raindrop as it slid down my curves.

As I unbuttoned his dress slacks, he took another drink of the gin. As I slid his clothes from his body, he poured some of the alcohol into my mouth. It burned all the way down, lit a fire in my belly that could only be quenched with a different kind of taste.

The rain suddenly slackened, and the absence of the roar threatened to bring me to my senses.

I dropped to my knees in the puddles.

Robbie moaned the same way he always did. I swirled my tongue around his cock, drank the raindrops from his velvet skin. I looked up as he drank from the bottle. Drops of liquor slid down his chin and mingled with the rain to land on his belly and slide their way down. I licked them from his skin.

The rain suddenly came down in another deluge. I blinked up at it, felt it hit my lashes and drip onto my face like tears. It was a strange feeling, for tears were the last things that would be coming from me at a time like this. Robbie's cock was hard in my mouth, my pussy was throbbing right along with my racing heart and I knew I was going to fuck him until we were both drunk on the thrill. Tomorrow could take care of itself.

I pushed him back against the railing of the balcony. Robbie grabbed a handful of my wet hair as I went down on him. Soon he was rising against me, driving his cock deeper into my mouth with every thrust. I clung to his hips and silently urged him to come. I wanted to know if he tasted the same way he used to taste. I wanted to know if he would still come as much as he did back then. I wanted to know how much had changed.

Robbie told me to stop. I didn't pay any attention. I knew he was the kind of man who needed hours to recover from one good orgasm, and that was absolutely fine with me. We had a lot of talking to do before he would be driving into me on that big bed in that big Penthouse. In the meantime, I wanted the taste of his semen lingering in my mouth.

"Oh God," he whimpered, and then I had what I wanted. I swallowed once, then a second time. The bottle of gin fell to the balcony floor and made a sound louder than the rain, but did not shatter. His hands came around the back of my head and he pulled me into him, made me take more of his cock. He tasted a little different, and that had to be the liquor. But he didn't feel any different; that sweet pulsing was the same, and so was the way his knees went weak, and the way his hands started to shake as soon as the sensation began to ebb away.

The rain poured down. I looked up at him through the mist.

"Let's go get warm," I said.

Back on the bed, my hair made wet spots on the satin pillows. Robbie didn't seem to mind. He fired up a cigarette and I watched the amber end of it glowing in the darkness. Every now and then lightning shone through the wide windows, lit up the room and made his eyes look beautifully dark.

"Should I ask who he is?" he said into the silence.

"I suppose you could ask, but he doesn't matter."

Robbie raised one eyebrow as the lightning flashed. We lay in silence, long enough for his cigarette to be reduced so ash, long enough for a dozen peals of thunder to roll over the New York City skyline. Finally Robbie took a deep breath and let it out with a slow whoosh.

"That means I know him."

I fired up a cigarette of my own. Robbie watched me. "You smoke now?"

"Only when I'm nervous."

Robbie took the cigarette out of my hands and crushed it out in the ashtray on the bedside table. His cock was hard against my thigh as he slid his hand up the inside of my leg. He found my clit, already wet and waiting, and pressed on it. I arched into his hand.

"Why are you nervous?"

I looked into his eyes. "Because you're going to fuck me. As hard as you can. And I'm not sure I will be able to take it. I'm going to be sore for days."

Robbie smiled slowly. He climbed on top of me and took my hands in his, held them down above my head. One thrust and he was buried deep. How long had it been? We fit so deliciously; it was as though we had done this every day for as long as either of us could remember.

I spread my legs for him. Robbie buried his face in my shoulder and started slowly at first. His cock was thicker than I remembered it, or maybe I was just tighter. I thought of my boyfriend; he didn't feel nearly this good inside me.

Then I wasn't thinking about anything at all, because Robbie was fucking me harder, hard enough to make me struggle for breath with every plunge. His strokes were long and deep, not an ounce of mercy in sight and I had the sudden thought that my assumption was wrong. I wouldn't be sore for days. I would be sore for weeks.

I tried to touch him and he wouldn't let me. I tried to wrap my legs around him and he wouldn't let me do that either. He bit down hard on my neck, hard enough to leave a bruise. I arched into him and silently asked for more. He moved up just enough, changed the angle. He was grinding against my clit every time he pounded into me. It was savage and I was going to come. The climax was building, almost frightening in its force.

When I came, it was with a primal scream. The deep throbbing was delightfully good, a sweet pulsing that seemed to run through my veins. Robbie's voice was filled with triumph. He growled and bucked and flooded me until I was lightheaded. His breath came in sharp rasps as he collapsed next to me.

Neither of us moved. My whole body ached. The storm raged outside and the lightning lit up the room, a natural strobe light. It seemed to keep pace with my heart, which was still tripping over itself.

I was almost asleep when Robbie spoke. "Who is he?" he whispered.

I thought about the man I saw on the street, the jolt of my heart in the instant I thought perhaps it was my boyfriend standing there. Then I thought about how it hadn't stopped me from coming to this room with Robbie. And it wouldn't keep me from staying here as long as he wanted me to stay.

"Who is he?" Robbie asked again, more urgently this time.

I reached up to touch his jaw, his still-damp hair, and did the one thing I hadn't done yet, the one thing I had wanted to do ever since I had seen him in that limousine.

I kissed him.

"He's ancient history," I murmured against Robbie's lips.

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