Chapter 4

The cool night air has a fresh crispness that only come after a day of purging rains and brooding clouds. Wrapped in a fluffy blanket, Connie sits on the marble slab, legs curled beneath her as she watches the man walking back from the car. His profile is lit by the headlights.

Words have failed to express the complexity of his thoughts over the last week. So he has defaulted to sex as a means of release. The blanket is Connie’s need for comfort and modesty while she collects herself. After a steamy fuck in the cemetery, during which they had exchanged torrid kisses and embraces, he had said he needed to make a trip to the car.

When she had gotten into the car, she had expected a trip around the corner and a quick fuck. Instead, Robert has driven them here. He pulled her from the car and she had been assailed by sudden unexpected reticence. It happens. Connie has seen it before in men that pay for sex.

Robert returns and stabs the shovel into the earth. “What’s that for?” Connie asks.

“Don’t worry about it,” he says as he crawls onto the marble slab next to her. He gathers her in his arms and settles back onto the cool stone, gently taking her chin in his fingers to tilt her face toward his. He lets the silence spin out between them since he feels the need for it at the moment.

Connie purses her lips, her smooth forehead furrowing in an effort to not let the sudden fear creep into her. She goes to break the silence, but before she can part her lips to speak, Robert’s warm embrace surrounds her. One hand tugs away the blanket as if unwrapping a precious gift. His lips press to her throat. “Are you afraid of something?” The question is a tender inquisition against her collarbone, and the firm rubbing and pressure of her erect nipple against his chest distracts her.

“I ... I don’t know...” she murmurs. “There’s something about you. I’m...” Connie struggles for the right words, but is cut off by the wet suction that the man applies to her stiff nipple. It is simultaneously arousing and unnerving.

Robert pauses, moving to the edge of the marble slab. “You can trust me, Connie,” he assures her. “This is going to be an adventure for the both of us.” As he speaks, she watches him lift a large rope. “Maybe this time we can just take it slow.”

Connie sits up, starting toward the edge of the rectangular stone. Their first time was hard and fast. Robert was like a wild man, almost to the point of hurting her. She has had rough before. It comes with the territory of being a prostitute. But he truly scared her. Now he is really scaring her.

Robert reads her intent and smiles. “There is no one to see us. No one comes around here at night, believe me. I’m paying for your time, and you will give it to me. Now lay back.”

“Why?”

The slight edge of nervousness in her question only makes him more determined. He bends to place a gentle kiss on the sole of her foot before stretching her shapely leg out, her toes pointing toward the corner of the stone. “Trust,” he murmurs, running his digits over her ankle. “Don’t think of anything else right now. Just feel and trust me. I won’t hurt you.”

Connie’s mind begins to race as she offers her leg to the rope binding that the man has created. This is obviously something he has planned as everything seems to be ready already. Perhaps mistaking the tremor in her limb for strain, he knots the rough rope firmly, but not overly tight, crawling over her bound leg to secure the other. The stiff nudge of his erection against her knees is an instantaneous instrument of arousal as a blush creeps into her cheeks.

By the time he has reached her wrists, his desire is transparent both from his expression and the tense way he moves over her as if he is trying to remain steady and calm. “You look so beautiful bound,” he whispers as he finishes the knot at her wrist. Sitting back, he lets his eyes drink in their fill. Connie’s eyes flick to the one remaining rope he holds. In response, he lifts it up for her inspection. “Are you comfortable?”

“Yes...” the woman replies, though in through while the stone is smooth, it is cold and hard and thus slightly uncomfortable. It wasn’t before, but before it was just wild passion and sex. Now though...

Robert is inwardly thrilled to see the woman so tentative splayed across the stone slab. Her cheeks are flushed, her nipples painfully erect. She is biting her lower lip in what ... trepidation, anxiety, uncertainty? “Don’t look so worried. It is all right. I promise.” And with that, he moves up to sit beside her chest, pulling out a scarf to slowly cover her widening eyes. With great care, Robert fastens the knot behind Connie’s head, being sure that none of her dark hair is tugged in the process.

Once finished, he sits at the edge of the marble slab and says, “You seduced me lonely in your hell. Naked, hungry I crawl into your cell. A virtual drugstore is piled on your bed. I can’t resist with your tongue inside me head. How can I be justified by you? How can everything be justified by you?” He wipes the tears from his eyes. “You get on watching me bleed. You get off on feeding my disease. This time will be perfect, you explain. Your tongue is deadly as a needle through my vein.” Then with a heavy sigh, he lies down beside the woman and look over the side into the hole. “I’m tired of living for your touch. I’m tired of needing you so much. How can my demise be justified by you? When did I decide to be crucified by you?”

Connie’s heart races, ready to burst out of her chest. Never before has she ever been tied down. Now she is in a cemetery of all places. His words are strange and scary to her. The disorienting addition of a lack of sight only heightens her nervousness. “Robert?” she asks in a small and tremulous tone. “Are you... ?”

“Right here,” he answers, and the words caress her ears and thrills her flesh. The tone is suggestive with hunger and delivers softly the undercurrent of lust and excitement obvious. “You’re safe. I’m right here.”

Warm lips brush her breast. The scratchy friction of his bears against her rounded flesh makes her gasp. Robert’s mouth travels downward, burning a trail of need to her belly button, where the warm flick of his mouth muscle flutters against the silken depression. And then he is gone.
The prostitute begins to squirm in her bonds. Her breaths are an anxious rhythm that makes her chest rise and fall appealingly. She is drifting. Her thoughts a jumble of desire as the cool night air makes it more difficult to tell where the man has gone.

With a coy smile, Robert tips the container of red liquid. It falls in a thin rivulet over first over one nipple and then the other, leaving a sticky trail over her fair skin. The woman winces in surprise, her muscles tensing, toe and fingers curling. “Shh...” he croons with his lips close to her ear. He allows the base of the plastic container to touch lightly between her breasts. The plastic is cool against her flesh as it travels downward for the corner to dip into her belly button for an instant. Then it pauses just above the neatly trimmed hair above her crotch.