The Siren

A closed door beckoned and Nora passed from the living room into his bedroom.

There was nothing in his bedroom but the bed itself and a small table with his alarm clock. She appreciated his priorities—a bed was all they’d need. The bed was made, she noted. That wife of his had him so well-trained. She opened the closet and found a white shirt with French cuffs that Zach wore on occasion. She never told him how insanely attractive she found him when he wore it. Knowing him, he’d stop wearing it around her just out of spite.

Nora pulled it off the hanger and laid it on the bed. She tapped something with her foot, and bent and pulled the mysterious object from underneath Zach’s bed. It was a copy of her manuscript. Zach had apparently reserved her book for bedtime reading. She took that as a compliment.

Nora pulled off her boots and undressed quickly. It felt delicious standing naked and alone in Zach’s bedroom. She put the dress shirt on and buttoned only the two middle buttons. With a flourish she pulled the covers back from his bed and slid between the sheets. She reached for a pillow and placed it underneath her hips. As her legs fell open her mind found its way to Zach.

Zach…Zach knew her books and because of that she sometimes felt he might know her better than anyone. His body was long and lean and his lower back had the most exquisite arch and his fingers and hands were strong and it wouldn’t be long before they were on her and in her and he was inside her completely with nothing—not the book, not his wife, not his fears and his secrets—between them. What would it be like to look up into those ice-blue eyes and see them on fire?

Nora came hard on her hand and wiped her fingers on his pillowcase. She looked at the clock and saw it was still early. Zach wouldn’t be home for hours. She slipped her hands between her legs again. Time for at least one more.

Or maybe two.

* * *

Long after seven had passed, Zach trudged his way home, exhausted from a day at work. He’d felt miserable ever since Grace called. He’d snapped at Mary for no reason and hung up on J.P. in the middle of a call. He’d apologized to both of them and then wished he hadn’t. They were so damn sympathetic he felt he was wearing a scarlet D for dumped. As soon as he turned the key in his lock and opened his door, Zach perked up a bit. He inhaled Nora’s perfume, that unmistakable scent of hothouse flowers, and knew she’d been here.

“Nora?” he called out as he dropped his messenger bag by the door and shrugged off his coat. He saw nothing had been moved or altered. His books were all in place, his furniture, his glasses. Curious, Zach moved toward the bedroom and saw his normally closed door standing ajar. He peered around the door half expecting, half hoping to find Nora lying on his bed. But the room sat empty. Still it was clear she’d been in his bedroom. The bed was unmade, the covers pulled back and the imprint of her body still on the sheets. Zach started to inspect the bed, looking for any note she might have left. The moment his hands touched the sheets the phone rang. This time Zach knew it was Nora.

“Somebody’s been sleeping in my bed,” he said as he answered.

“And it was just right. How are you today, Zach?”

“Exhausted. But the excitement of thinking my flat had been broken into did wake me up a bit. You know, if someone caught you in the act, you might have been arrested.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time. Hope you don’t mind but I masturbated in your bed.”

Zach coughed in response.

“Did you?”

“Three times. I only planned on the one but your sheets smelled so good, just like you. And I couldn’t help but notice that you had my dirty little book by your bed. Can’t imagine why my book gets such a place of honor…can you?”

“I often read in bed.”

“Don’t be coy, darling. We both know you’ve masturbated to my scenes. Haven’t you?”

Zach considered lying or not answering at all. But what was the point of either? Nora would know. “Yes,” he admitted. “Once.”

“I’m flattered. Can’t blame you, though. I’m pretty good on the page. Tell me something,” she said, her voice turning to warm honey. “What’s your favorite position?”

“I usually play winger.”

“Zach, I adore you, but you can’t make soccer jokes during phone sex. It just isn’t done.”

“We’re having phone sex, are we?”

“Yes, we are. We’ve both worked too hard this week. Playtime. This is an easy game.”

“No chance I could talk you into a hand or two of whist, could I?”

“Not a chance. I left you a present in your nightstand.”

Warily, Zach opened the drawer in his night table. Nora had left him a tube of lubricant. Why were people always giving him lube?

“How kind,” he said with a clenched jaw.

“Comfortable? I suggest lying back on your pillows. I wonder if you can guess which pillow I put under my hips when I masturbated.”

Zach’s heart fluttered at her brash words. He and Grace had been married two years before he could even talk her into performing in front of him. He would have given his right hand to have watched Nora in his bed. Well, maybe his left hand.

Zach ran his subtly trembling hands over his pillows. He flipped one over and saw a small watermark on one that hadn’t been there that morning. Grateful Nora wasn’t there to see him, he lifted the pillow to his face and inhaled. A thousand sensory memories returned with that one breath. The scent was the unmistakable mark of a woman’s arousal, utterly potent and completely erotic.