Rendezvous With a Stranger by Lizbeth Dusseau Read Free Book Online

eye.   Without realizing what I’m doing I’m holding on to the headboard of the bed with arms above me, hands fused to the cold iron—as though he has me bound.   Not Robby, no, but the nameless man in my fantasies.  
           A wordless weekend gives way to a dreary Monday morning’s ride back to the city.   Rain has replaced the sunshine, the dew and the brisk scent of morning.   The bright leaves of autumn begin to loom bedraggled and gloomy, too tired to remain hanging on tired limbs.   The days of the season are dwindling away and I’m thinking I’ll never see my stranger again.   I wonder how a man’s passion can stand such long gaps in pleasure.   But then, of course, I’m assuming that I’m his only lover.   I might be one in a serial string of women duped by his unique power to attract them.   How many more has he taken into back alleys and screwed?
           Classes go well, all this so easy for me, getting inside the minds of my students. If I could only do as well with men—certain men, the ones I love and the others that consume me with lust.
           Walking home from campus at the end of the day, there’s a prickly feeling crawling up my back.   For an instant I think two eyes are boring into me.   I instantly assume it’s those eyes.   I turn about to smile at him, but there’s no one but a sullen kid of fifteen with black spiked hair and a black goatee.   Am I going crazy?
           Passing by Fellini’s deli, I remember him taking me out the back door into the alley, the last time we were together.   Just before I cross the street to Isaac’s building, I think I spot him inside the entrance, but he disappears like a phantom on a dark night.   Chilled by the thought of him, I hold off crossing the street, thinking he’ll be inside, hiding behind the door.   And then, because I’m feeling so silly, I finally bolt across the street and push my way inside the building.   There’s a full elevator when I enter, unusual for this small apartment house, but it appears that one of the neighbors is having a party.   These five are already drinking beer.   I smile wishing I could join them.   When the crowd exits at the third floor, I think I’m alone, then suddenly, I’m face to face with a man who’s seemed to have materialized out of nowhere.   My stranger.
           “Ellen Laurey,” he smiles as he stops the elevator between the third and fourth floor.  
           I pin myself to the back of the stalled metal box, and stare blankly.   While I remain passive on the outside, there’s a wild party going on inside me as the sweep of his energy grabs hold of me in many dear places.  
           “Open your blouse,” he instructs, with a voice that’s almost kind.
           I have a hard time with the command, feeling the gnawing agitation of tingling thighs and a belly about to spasm.   He waits and I pause longer.   But the stranger’s being patient.   I finally move, taking each button of my shirt and letting it slip through the small hole.   He sees a lacy bra underneath, cupping each full breast in black.
           “And the bra,” he adds.
           “Do you want me naked?” I ask.
           “No,” he shakes his head.   “Just do as I say.”  
           The more he speaks, the less uneasy I become. Compliance is easier. The bra with a front clasp opens without much effort and the twin spheres swing free. Their pinkish/yellow surface glimmers in the glow of the small lights overhead and I can smell the morning aroma of my perfume as though it has been waiting for the right moment to emerge from hiding. I follow the gaze from the stranger’s face to two nipples that clench tightly from the remaining trace of cool air in this closed compartment.
           “Kiss them,” he says staring.   I see a sheen of sweat begin to glow on my skin.   Lifting each breast to my mouth, my kiss is as tender as