She was visibly squirming now, unwilling to say it, what she thought he wanted her to say. Glancing once more at the barren mattress, she said, “I-I’ll sleep with you–make you happy.”
Thomas sighed. Charlotte probably thought she had just made the ultimate sacrifice. But the way she had just said it, as if she were offering a dog scraps from the dining table, couldn’t have been further from the mark.
“So, you’re willing to fuck me–is that what you are saying?” Thomas said.
Charlotte lowered her head and nodded.
“Well, that’s very generous,” Thomas said. “I’m sure Peter would be most proud of you.”
She looked up and a tear trickled down her flushed cheek.
Thomas went over to the refrigerator, retrieved a bottle of bourbon, and poured himself a glass.
“Well, if you’re going to offer me your body, you’d better show me what you’ve got,” he said, leaning against the table.
She looked at him, eyes wide.
“Come on, Charlotte,” Thomas said. “You’ve just offered yourself to me like a whore. What were you expecting? That we would do it under the covers with the lights out? Sorry, but it’s been eight years. I need to see what I will be getting for my trouble.”
“Please, I can’t,” Charlotte sniffed.
Thomas took a swallow of bourbon.
“That’s okay,” he said. “You don’t have to.”
A spark of hope flashed in Charlotte’s eyes.
“I don’t?”
“Nope. In fact, I think you should just go.”
Thomas finished his glass and refilled it.
Charlotte shuffled her feet on the concrete floor and Thomas looked at her.
“Are you still here? Go on. I said you can leave.”
Charlotte didn’t move. “Um–what about my husband?”
“It’s not looking good for him, is it?” Thomas shrugged. “Personally, I think you should file for divorce and find yourself a new man. Peter will be old and gray by the time you see him again. I wouldn’t waste your best years if I were you.”
More tears ran down Charlotte’s cheeks. “Please, what do you want from me?”
“Me? Nothing.”
“B-But you brought me here!”
“That I did. But if you are going to be difficult, then I will have to withdraw my proposal.”
To Thomas’s delight, Charlotte still didn’t move. He had been afraid that his reverse psychology might not work–but she had taken the bait, hook, line and sinker!
“I’m sorry, Thomas–I do want to stay here!” she said.
Thomas could have danced with joy, but he kept control and just looked at her impassively.
“I don’t know,” he said. “Maybe I made a mistake waiting all these years–you’re probably too old now.”
He waited while she stalled for time and then he pointedly looked at his watch.
Then Charlotte took a deep breath, looked away, and pulled her shirt out from the waistband of her jeans. Thomas sipped his drink and tried to appear aloof. But then she raised her shirt and he saw her flat stomach and her indented navel, and next her white bra came into view, and then she pulled her shirt over her head and clutched it against her chest, and his pulse quickened.
He guessed she must have been waiting for him to say something, but when he didn’t, she dropped her shirt on the bed and then crossed her arms over her chest. This would probably have been marginally easier for her if he had said something, but having gained the advantage, that wasn’t how he intended for this to play out at all–it had to be her decision to get naked in front of him.
When she still didn’t move, Thomas picked up his phone, pretending to see a message.
“Well, if that’s it, I have a meeting to–”
“No!”
Charlotte quickly reached behind and unhooked her bra. Thomas watched the straps fall off her shoulders and then she pulled the cups away and dropped her bra on the bed with her shirt. She had her elbows crossed in front of her and Thomas looked at his phone again.
“So–”
Charlotte let out a shuddering sigh and lowered her arms to her sides.
My God!
Her breasts were firm and round with big, puffy areolas! A fantasy Thomas had dreamed of for years–now right there in front of his eyes!
He forced himself to look at his phone again and he heard her pop the stud on her jeans and then roll them down her legs. He kept on studying his home screen as she shuffled her panties down her thighs, and after a mental count of three, he looked up again.
Charlotte was standing naked before him–and she still had the body of a teenager. He gazed adoringly at her prominent cunt which was covered by a layer of wispy black hair.
Then he said, “Why, Mrs. Blanchard! You’ve taken all your clothes off! May I take a photograph?”
Chapter Four
“What? No!”
Charlotte lifted a knee and put an arm across her breasts–she had never felt so ashamed in her entire life! She knew that he was toying with her, but that didn’t change the fact that she had just stripped naked for him after he had already told her to leave. He was twisting it all around! They both knew that he wanted her, but he was making her come on to him!
“Oh, I misunderstood,” Thomas said. “I thought you wanted me to see your body.”
“Yes, but I can’t pose for photographs–”
“Why not? So that after your husband is freed there’ll be no evidence that this ever happened?”
“Yes! I mean no–but I just can’t!”
“In that case you should get dressed and go home. What a shame–I think Peter would have wanted you to have made more of an effort for him. Well, it was nice meeting you again, Charlotte.”
He turned to go, and Charlotte let out a sob of exasperation.
“Okay!” she groaned, and she haltingly lowered her arms.
Thomas paused and turned back to her. Even though he was acting as if he didn’t care, the lust in his eyes was plain to see and Charlotte had to force herself to keep her arms down as she waited for his next instruction.
But instead, he simply said, “What’s okay?”
He’s going to make me spell it out for him! He wants to humiliate me because I once humiliated him!
“You–can take a picture of me,” Charlotte mumbled, feeling her cheeks burning.
“I can?” Thomas said. “What kind of picture?”
Huh?
“A–nude picture?” Charlotte said.
“Nude, eh? How quaint,” Thomas said. “Sort of like art?”
Now he was making fun of her and her cheeks burned brighter.
“I was thinking of something a little more risque,” he said.
Risque?
“How does that sound?” Thomas said.
It sounded extremely worrying, but aware of her–and Peter’s–precarious circumstances, she nodded warily.
“Say it,” Thomas said, pointing his phone at her.
Say what?
“Um, okay?”
“No, tell the camera that you want me to take dirty pictures of you. I have the sound on.”
Oh, crap!
“I-I would like you to take–dirty pictures of me,” Charlotte said.
“Ask nicely,” said Thomas.
You vindictive pig!
“Please will you take dirty pictures of me?” she tried.
“Use my name.”
Charlotte swallowed and said, “Please will you take dirty pictures of me, Mr. Mosley.”
“Say Thomas.”
For fuck’s sake!
“Please will you take dirty pictures of me, Thomas?”
Thomas looked at his phone and replayed the video clip. Charlotte listened to her pleading voice and looked down at her bare feet.
“Yes, I guess that sounds convincing enough,” Thomas said.
Charlotte looked up at him sharply.
Convincing for who?
“Now I’d like you to get onto the bed for me,” Thomas said.