The Burlington Manor Affair

She squirmed on the surface of the bed. How was it that he could turn her into a helpless piece of putty in his hands by adopting that commanding tone of voice? “I thought about you, and I’d lie down on my bed and shut my eyes and imagine...things.”

“Things?”

“The things I’d do if I weren’t a gauche virgin with a stupid crush.”

“Like what?”

“Like walking into your room and straddling you.” She forced herself on, because the confession had now become a burden she wanted rid of. “And I’d imagine that while I masturbated.”

The rush she experienced when she said that aloud was extreme.

“Good thing I didn’t know that. You wouldn’t have been safe in your bed.”

That turned her on even more. She clenched her thighs together. “If you’d known what I was thinking, you would have done something about it?”

“We came close enough as it was. If I’d known you were touching yourself while thinking about me there’d have been no restraint.”

Silence hung between them, an aching silence that felt like an echo of the longing she’d felt for him back then.

“Are you touching yourself now?” His tone had become more intimate, his voice even lower than before.

Carmen glanced down at where her hand rested on her hip bone, her fingers in the groove at the top of her right thigh. “Not quite.”

“What are you wearing?”

“A silky red nightdress. Mid-thigh-length.”

“Nothing else?”

“No.”

“Do you have a floor-length mirror?”

He was looking to test her. That was obvious. Nevertheless, she was intrigued. “Yes.”

“I want you to go to the mirror and do what you did that first weekend at Burlington. I want you to lift your skirt for me and I want you to look at yourself and see what I see.”

Carmen slid off the bed and made her way across the room. The sight of herself with the phone to her ear was surreal.

“Are you at the mirror?”

“Yes.”

“Tell me what you see.”

Even though he wasn’t there looking at her, it felt as if he was. It was the way he was able to control her so easily, with his voice alone. “I’m in front of the mirror, barefoot. Just this red satin nightie with spaghetti straps and black lace at the edges.”

“You’re avoiding the good stuff. Do you look aroused?”

She forced herself to do as he said. Staring at herself, she hardly recognized what she saw. Her eyes were dark with arousal, her nipples starkly apparent through the sheer slip of fabric she was wearing.

Is this what Rex sees? This breathless woman who hung on his every word. No wonder he thought he could have her so easily. She was weak with lust for him, and he knew that.

“Well, do you?”

“You know I do.” She heard the resentment in her own voice, but Rex just laughed at her tone.

He left her standing there looking at herself for a moment longer. “Time to lift your skirt for me.”